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cehara-leanne · 1 year

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Blood Borne- Part 1

A FANMADE NOVEL

By: CeHara Evens

CONTINUATION OF THE RED QUEEN SERIES

By: Victoria Aveyard

Author’s note: This chapter contains spoilers for the book series Red Queen! If you don’t know what is going on, read the books! Not everything in this fanfic is, I repeat DOES NOT belong to me! I got mad at a character's death, and decided to fix it! That does not make the contents of this fanfic canon! Nor do I take ownership of all its characters! The characters and locations that I did not create belong to, one of my personal favorite authors, Victoria Aveyard! If you don’t know what things belong to her and what things belong to me…THEN READ HER BOOK!! This fanfic can also be considered a self-insert x reader situation, just don’t use the name of the character I created to fix this situation! That’s all!

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“NOW! WE WILL BEGIN THE EXECUTION!”

The executioner’s voice rang out into the arena but was soon drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. Hundreds of people…thousands of people. Screamed in agreeance. Those that were not present inside the arena sat outside its walls screaming for the same thing. In pubs. In millions of Nortan homes. They all yelled for the same thing. Retribution. But it was all on deaf ears. The deaf ears of the convicted. The deaf ears…

“OF MAVEN MERANDUS CALORE!” the executioner yelled.

Screams of bloody murder were heard at the mention of the former king’s name. His body was dragged out of a prison adjacent to the palace’s arena. Two burly sentinels carried his weight over to the public cutting board. To his death. Maven’s short black hair was disheveled, and his crystalline blue eyes were faded with indifference. His military uniform, one that he wore hundreds of times before in front of these same subjects, was covered in dust and sweat. The dungeons were hot. More humid if anything. And dirty. The weight of its Silencing Stone caused Maven’s muscles to spasm and crap, so much so that they felt like lead. The two sentinels forced Maven to his knees before the chopping block. Before the thousands of screaming people wanting his head. No resistance was shown against it other than the automatic stiffness of one’s knees when suddenly falling.

“It’s so bright outside…so bright, and so pretty.”

Maven thought to himself while his head hang heavy, looking at nothing in particular. Everything was a tired blur.

“I could think of a more sophisticated word than that…pretty…but it is pretty out here…”

“I should have come outside more often…”

“MAVEN MERANDUS CALORE! AGE EIGHTEEN! HAS BEEN TRIED FOR HIGH TREASON AGAINST THE ROYAL CROWN!” The executioner continued his address to the crowd.

“These shackles sting…but it’s a reminder that I can feel I guess…”

Maven released a dry chuckle.

“Ironic that I can feel now, out of all times.”

His chuckle did not go unnoticed by the sentinel to his left and earned him a strong kick to the stomach. Maven fell to his side at the blow to his abdomen, coughing out dryly and groaning. The crowd roared in approval of the treatment.

“Lucky me…”

“HIS TREASON BEGINS! WITH THE MURDER OF HIS FATHER! THE LATE KING! TIBERIAS CALORE VI!” The executioner yelled out to the crowd, eliciting more reactions.

“I did murder him didn’t I…without lifting a finger, I was the cause of my father’s death…”

Maven sat himself up again, looking down at the block before him. The executioner waved his hand slightly towards the sentinels on either side of Maven. Both soldiers moved forward and pressed the former king’s cheek into the chopping block.

“All because mother wanted me to have his power…Mother…”

His eyes stung thinking about it, but Maven refused to cry at this moment. How could he be a heartless, ruthless leader by crying while faced with death? That meant he had a heart. He couldn’t…

“AS WELL AS! THE ATTEMPTED MURDER! OF NORTA’S CURRENT RULER! KING TIBERIAS VII!”

At the mention of his brother, Maven moved his head to look upwards and scanned the crowd. People screamed and spat in his direction. None of them mattered. Maven moved his eyes upwards, above all the malice. Above the hatred towards him. And there he found his brother.

“Cal…My…Big brother…I never called you that very often, did I. At least…not to your face...Pity…”

In a booth above the middle section of the arena stood Cal, his black military uniform well ironed and the medals adorning his chest glimmering in the sunlight. His dark black hair was freshly cut for this “occasion”, and upon his head sat the royal crown. Its jewels shone in the afternoon sun like blazing fire. Cal’s bronze eyes looked fierce. Grim. But Maven could see how bloodshot they were. Rubbed raw from tears the court would never see. To either of Cal’s sides stood the family of his late mother, Coraine Jacos. To his right stood his uncle Julian Jacos, and to his left stood his aunt Sara Skonos. Support systems for this trying time. They knew, that even with the horrid things he did, Maven was still Cal’s younger brother…and that it hurt to watch his brother like this. Maven felt the very same.

“You always deserved a better brother than me…you were…wonderful…”

He long noticed Cal’s stance was stiff while he stood on the balcony of the middle booth. Very stiff. Holding back everything that wanted to spill out while watching the display before him. His younger brother pressed into a chopping block. Maven’s demise was imminent the moment Cal nodded toward the executioner. And Maven could tell that his brother never wanted to give that command. That he ever wanted to be the cause of his disappearance from this world. Which is why Maven couldn’t…he just couldn’t…

“You have to be strong. Stronger than you are now or else…Or else you’ll never survive…”

Maven wished he could cry, that he could express what he really felt towards his older brother. That he could let Cal know that he loved him. That he loved their father. No matter how many times that love was wiped from his mind by his mother. By Elara. In exchange for power. And in exchange for hatred. That he would always have something in his heart for both of them…but he couldn’t. Because if he did…then Cal would try to save him. Like he always did. And the Silver High Houses of Norta would eat Cal alive for his weakness. And Maven couldn’t let that happen. To have those vultures. Those tyrants. Exploit his older brother’s love for him. Exploit his weakness…that would make them and Maven too similar. Maven couldn’t bear that comparison, as much as he knew it was true. So Maven couldn’t have a heart. Not right now. Not ever again. The executioner continued his speel of Maven’s crimes, of his lack of honor. The young former king was unfazed by every remark.

“I don’t need to hear all of this, where is…ah. There you are.”

Maven scanned the crowd frantically, feeling that his headman’s speech would be coming to a close soon. It was hard to look but he had found her.

“Mare Barrow.”

People shouted into the arena and threw things in anger toward Maven, but he could make her out easily. In a random booth filled with random people, Mare could be seen at its edge. Staring intensely. Her brown hair flowed gently in the wind, the silver and purple tips of it catching the light of the sun. She wore simple clothes. A loose, white button-up top and brown cargo pants. Her light brown skin was littered with scars, only visible when the wind swayed her shirt a certain way. Maven caught sight of the “M” branded into her collarbone. After some moments Mare tried to avert her gaze, only to have Maven try to follow it to the best of his ability.

“You are beautiful you know…my Red Queen…But you can’t meet my eyes…not the way you used to.”

He felt the intensity of her gaze holding so many different feelings. So many different questions and emotions. The one he saw the most was her anger. Her anger for thinking she had killed him, even though she didn’t. Her anger for having to be here. To watch him die at a public event. Rather than having the privacy of vengeance offered to her. By killing him with her bare hands. Sickly enough, Maven felt that he only wanted her eyes on his. No matter what feelings were warranted by them, he felt the need to feel her gaze on him. He had caused her so much suffering. Killed her brother. Tortured her. Scarred her physically and mentally.

“You can’t meet my eyes with admiration. Or security. Or…hope. Those looks are reserved for my brother now…aren’t they.”

Maven wished he could be upset, but he wasn’t. His obsession with Mare made his body surge forward if only to be pressed down harder by the sentinels restraining him. All he wanted was her. He started a war for her. Killed her closest friends and relatives for her. Caused pain and suffering for her. It was twisted, dark and twisted, but all Maven wanted was her. But she didn’t want him. She never asked for what he gave her. The broken boy before her, that she had met before. The shadow of his brother, whom she comforted and loved. That was what Mare wanted. What she wished to save. But she never wanted this. Mare left the random booth she stood in and Maven’s squirming stopped. What was he doing? Making a scene for her…he would never understand.

“FOR THESE CRIMES! MAVEN MERANDUS CALORE! HAS BEEN SENTENCED TO DEATH BY BEHEADING!”

At Mare’s exit, Maven settled down. The tenseness of his muscles against the strength of the sentinels dissipated into nothing. His head was calm.

Maven could hear everything all at once….

The shouting of the crowd.

The executioner’s sword being unsheathed for use.

His heartbeat in his ears. His breathing heavy. Steady….

Maven could see everything all at once…

The dust particles floating in the air in front of him, reflecting in the sun’s light.

The random, meaningless objects thrown into the arena by angry onlookers.

His brother’s slight nod towards the executioner. Stiff…

Maven could feel everything all at once….

The steel of the unsheathed blade lining up with the nape of his neck.

The light yet searing pain of a mark being cut into his neck, used to make the strike precise.

The rays of the afternoon sun shining onto the arena. Warm…

“It’s bright outside…and it’s pretty…”

The executioner’s sword stood high in the air, catching the light of the sun.

“The Sun feels warm…but why…why do I feel…”

The sword came downward, cutting through the air.

“...So cold…”

A girl sat inside the royal palace, high in the air on the palace ceiling beams. She picked at a golden vase with a fork. Stolen from the kitchen. She picked at the small diamonds on the vase, never the large ones. The larger diamonds were too noticeable. She looked at the T.V. screen broadcasting the current execution. The girl let out an exasperated sigh before looking down at the vase again.

“Jesus,” the girl grumbled, “ these royals are so dramatic…”

End Part 1

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