#Maven is already more often a womans name so no need to change it when gender bending him

[drawredasdawn]

“Ever since Maven was barely old enough to walk she was called the ‘Treasured Jewel of Norta’ and Mare had never thought it fit as much as it did right now, in that garden, at midnight in July” ID: Three similar pictures of gender bent Maven Calore. In each, Maven is wearing a silver triangular crown with a red jewel in the middle, and a cowl-neck red dress in the midst of a rose bush at night. Maven's shoulder-lenght hair is black and wavy. The first photo is dark and in night lighting, the second only the eyes and red gem of her crown are highlighted and in the third is soft lighting. end ID]

[elliemarchetti]

Do you plan to update your red queen fanfics anytime soon?

I take the opportunity of this ask to publish the update of Pride and Prejudice AU but apart from this story, which I intend to finish as soon as possible, I am not sure that I will continue the others, as long as I no longer receive feedback and some requests on how to continue. I hope you enjoy this chapter and quench your thirst for new Red Queen fanfiction! @lilyharvord I must also apologize to you for the very long wait, but life has definitely come between me and my interests

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Words: 2450

After breakfast, the girls took a walk in the village to find out if Mr. Maven was back, and to complain about his absence at the ball. He joined them as soon as they entered the city and he and Mr. Thomas took them home, a double advantage, as Mare could spend time with him undisturbed and the opportunity was propitious to present him to her father and mother. Immediately upon returning home, Miss Skonos was delivered a letter which was immediately opened: the envelope contained an elegant sheet of satin filled paper with beautiful, flowing feminine handwriting, which however changed her expression as she read it. It was from Evangeline Samos, and what it contained surprised her greatly, as the whole party had left the Stilts, with no intention of returning. When, later, Mare too was able to read it, she looked at the high-sounding expressions used with all the indifference of suspicion and, although surprised by the rapidity of that departure, she saw nothing really worrying: there was nothing to suggest that their absence would also prevent Mr. Samos from returning, and about the loss of their company, she was convinced that Wren would’ve certainly stopped worrying about it, being able to enjoy his. Sure it was unfortunate that she hadn't been able to see her friends again before they left the countryside, and that none of them were willing to return that winter, but wasn't that the reason why those who could afford it owned two houses?

"But you don't know everything. I'll read you the passage that particularly hurt me, since I don't want to hide anything from you," added her friend, and finally Mare noticed the second sheet she was holding in her hands.

"I am truly convinced that my dear friend, Lady Elane Haven, has no equal in terms of beauty, elegance and quality, and I don't think I'm at fault if I take it for granted that you agree with me. The affection she has inspired me for years is intensified by something even more significant, namely the hope of soon being able to call her my sister-in-law. I don't know if I have ever told you my feelings about it, but I won’t leave without trusting you, and I believe you won’t find them unreasonable. My brother already admires her very much, all her relatives desire this union for her as much as we do, and I don't think I am deceived by the partiality of a sister if I say that Ptolemus is certainly capable of winning the heart of any woman. With all these circumstances in favour of a bond and none that can prevent it, I am perhaps wrong to indulge in the hope of an event that will ensure the happiness of this many people?"

Mare was stunned. So this was the plan, it wasn't a marriage already orchestrated between Miss Samos and the General, but between her friend and her brother! Wren, however, didn’t want to believe her, and her words about the undeniable affection he felt for her seemed to do nothing but further hurt her broken heart as upstream they didn’t think the same about the letter's emissary, for not to mention that she was convinced that she wouldn’t be able to derive any joy from a marriage to a man whose friends and relatives hoped he would marry another woman.

"You must be the one to decide," said Mare, "and if after mature reflection you discover that the pain of doing a rudeness to his sister is greater than the happiness of being his wife, I certainly recommend you to refuse.”

These words brought Wren a smile, as they both knew perfectly well that she wouldn’t hesitate to accept his proposal, but the shadow of the possibility that he wouldn’t return in six months continued to cast a dark shadow on the general mood, to the point that only Diana’s invitation, addressed to both of them, managed to dispel that constant thought a little, replacing it with genuine curiosity, since she and Wren were by no means intimate enough for such a proposal. The answer to all their questions, however, came the next day when the Colonel's daughter told them that she needed female help, and that Mare was too involved to be the only opinion she would hear. From anyone else, this would’ve been an intolerable rudeness, but Mare knew her friend well, and if it was about romance, an assumption that soon turned out to be correct, she didn't want to be wrong and analyzed every single detail to the point of making the least gesture the most rational. The summary of the matter, however, was that Mr. Jesper had woken up early the previous morning, and unannounced, had gone under her window to ask her for a clandestine meeting. Diana accepted, and he, very awkwardly, revealed his interest in her, as well as his intention to marry her, if she accepted. The entire Farley family would’ve been thrilled with the event, but she had asked him for time to think about it, although she was already certain that she wouldn’t come to any conclusion alone, so she had bestowed that invitation. Wren, who was good-natured, greatly appreciated the gesture, and considered it an unspoken compliment to her sensibility and handling of the matter with Mr. Samos, so she quickly got busy, and all the years they had spent politely ignoring each other were recovered within an afternoon. Mare, however, wasn’t so well disposed towards the idea: she appreciated that Diana had asked for more help to reach the most favourable of conclusions, but she would’ve preferred that she had talked about it with her brother, as Shade had been silently courting her for years, and watched her from afar become the only woman he certainly wanted to marry; the prospect that she might want another man had bothered him and not a little, Mare had noticed, although she hadn't said anything, too absorbed in her own problems, but the real possibility that she might decide to marry another man would certainly have prompted him to declare himself, and everyone knew that those two were meant for each other, something that she wanted to remind to her friend.

"Mr. Jesper is smart and pleasant, and it’s certainly inviting for a woman to be the only one who can put a man at ease, not to say reassuring, even if he doesn’t seem like that kind of person. On the other hand, I can already see the blame on your face, Mare, and I want you to remember that your friendship is the thing I care about most in the world and even if I know how you feel, remember I too would behave differently if my perspectives were different, but they’re not, so I’m just asking you to be happy for me if I accept.”

"I will be," Mare assured her, though she wasn't sure she would ever be able to rejoice in her brother's unhappiness, "I just ask you to tell Shade before making any decisions. Do you think you can?"

To the affirmative answer of the other, Mare waited a time that she considered reasonable and took leave, followed by Wren, who asked her if she wanted to be accompanied home, which Mare refused, determined to be left alone with her considerations. It took her time before she could reconcile herself with the idea of ​​such an inappropriate union as she never imagined that, once called to decide, her friend would sacrifice all her best feelings. The next day, Mare was sitting with her mother and sister when Colonel Farley appeared and requested an audience with Mr. Barrow. Terrified of what might have happened, Mare remained tense the entire time they spent in the library, but the tones never rose, and when he left, the Colonel looked as calm as when he arrived. Mare waited a while before reaching her father and asking him what had happened, fearing a reproach for her advice to her friend, which could’ve broken the relationship between the two families, if the situation between Diana and Shade had been from her misunderstood, but he replied very calmly, saying he was happy and satisfied that Miss Farley, whom he had always thought fairly intelligent, wasn’t as foolish as his wife or daughter Gisa. Although this didn’t gave an explicit answer to her question, it reassured Mare, who was convinced that she could get more direct answers once her brother, who had gone out with Bree and Tramy, returned, as she didn’t want to be pressing with Diana, who could also have took offense at how things went the last time they met. At first, Shade seemed a little surprised by all that attention, but when he realized that Mare’s wasn’t just a fervent desire to know some new gossip but real concern, he told her not to worry, and that everything would turn out right in due time, a time that however established a reserve between the two friend that became a silence so heavy that convinced Mare their confidence was stained forever. Furthermore, these gloomy feelings certainly didn’t help Wren's mood, who hadn’t heard from Mr. Samos for a week and hadn’t even received an answer to her letter for his sister. Even Mare was beginning to have fears, not so much that Mr. Samos was indifferent, but that his sister could keep him far. Reluctant as she was to admit such a devastating idea to the happiness of the only friend she had left, and so dishonourable about the constancy of her love, she couldn't help but think about it often. The united efforts of two insensitive women and a friend so influential, favoured by the charm and amusement of Archeon, might’ve proved to be too much, so she feared, for strength of his affection. As for Wren, her anxiety about that uncertainty was, of course, more painful than Mare's, but whatever she felt she just wanted to hide it, and therefore between her and her friend there were never any allusions to that subject. The mother, on the other hand, wasn’t held back by such delicacy and hardly an hour passed without speaking of Mr. Samos, expressing the impatience for his return, or even asking her daughter to admit that if he didn't come back she would feel treated very bad. It took all of Wren's mild steadfastness to endure those attacks with acceptable tranquillity, which diminished, however, upon the arrival of Miss Samos' letter of reply, which removed any doubt about their winter accommodation, they would have settled in the General's residence, and, according to Wren, also regarding the feelings of Mr. Samos towards Lady Haven. Mare paid no attention to those speculations, she hadn’t seen, in fact, any warmth between the two in the time they had spent at the Hall of the Sun, but the fact that Evangeline was so evil she could take pleasure in the idea of undermine her own brother’s happiness, and in such a mean way, filled her with indignation and resentment, equal only to the concern she felt for her friend, who had fallen in love with a man of such lightness of character, a slave to intriguing friend, willing to sacrifice his own happiness at the whim of their desires. If, however, it was only his happiness

that was sacrificed, he could play with it as he wanted, but it was also Wren's that was involved and she believed he should be aware of it. In short, it was a topic that could’ve been thought about for a long time, even if, perhaps, to no avail, but she could do nothing else, and whether Mr. Samos's affection had really died down or had been suffocated by the interference of his friends, whether he had been aware of Wren's feelings or they had escaped his observation, in any case, even if the judgment would’ve been concretely influenced in the different hypotheses, the situation remained the same, and the peace of the girl equally wounded. It was a couple of days after, that Wren found the courage to talk about her feelings with Mare, but in the end, left alone by Mrs. Skonos, after a longer than usual rant on the Hall of the Sun and his owner, she said: "Oh! If my dear mother controlled herself more, she has no idea how much pain her constant considerations about him give me. But I don't want to complain, since it won't last long. He will be forgotten, and we will all be as before."

Mare looked at her friend with affectionate disbelief, but said nothing, although the doubt about those words could be read on her face like lines from an open book. Wren blushed: she knew that this man, who had been so lovable to her, would live forever in her memory, but that was all. If she had something to hope, fear, or even blame him for, the situation would’ve been different, and time would’ve done nothing but make the pain greater, but in that case she had the immediate comfort that it was nothing more than an error of her imagination, which had hurt no one but herself. If she had said those words aloud, Mare would’ve told her she was too good, and she would’ve attributed ethereal adjectives to her sweetness and impartiality, but it wasn't praise for her character that she needed to hear at the moment, only how much she was loved, words that not even her mother seemed willing to give. Even her father considered it only a mere disappointment, and indeed, he seemed inclined to joke about it when the Barrows went to visit them, inciting Mare to have her own heartbreak with Mr. Maven, who seemed a very nice and stylish man. Regarding him, it can be said that his company helped to dispel the melancholy into which the last, unfortunate events had thrown the two friends, who saw him often and had been able to add to the long list of his qualities the total absence of reserve, as the whole story already exposed to Mare soon became public, and everyone was satisfied thinking about how much they had always thought the General unpleasant before coming to knowledge of the whole matter. The only one who could imagine that there could be some extenuating circumstance in the matter was Miss Skonos, whose mild and firm candour always put forward justifications, and insisted on the possibility that there were misunderstandings, but by all the others the General had been labelled like the worst of men.

[lilyharvord]

i need some marecal fluff please help

hehe, ask and ye shall receive. Here, have some older Marecal. (((: 

Grace 

I don’t remember when I stopped looking like myself.

Maybe it was after Coriane. I’m doubtful of that conclusion. She was a tiny baby, and I had bounced back into my uniforms at a pace that Farley had grumbled about for months. I was convinced that I would be able replicate the process almost five years later. My pregnancy with Shade had been a whole different beast though.

It had to be after Shade then.

I turn to the side, and twist my lips at my image in the mirror. No amount of training had been able to remove that pouch between my hips. Nothing could get rid of those stretch marks that crept up the sides of my stomach either. Sara had told me they were beautiful when I mentioned quietly how I felt about them. They’re a testament that you carried two babies in there, and they’re a reminder of that wonderful process, she had told me as she spooned applesauce into her second son’s mouth. She had adopted him out of a war torn Piedmont family, and she adored him as if he came from her own body.

I didn’t need reminders of that process. I had two reminders already, running and shrieking in my house, waking me up at ungodly hours by tapping on my cheek, or driving me up the wall with their antics. I was fine with just having that, I didn’t need the reminder on my body too.

I just didn’t look like myself anymore.

Running a scrutinizing eye over the rest of my body, I feel my lips pull down into an even deeper frown at what I see. My hips are wider than I remember them being a few years ago, and my breasts are definitely two different sizes. I blame Shade and Coriane for that. My son had refused to stop nursing, and my daughter had been terrible at nursing in general. I have more scars than I remember, and those thick branching ones on my back seem to get a little wider every month.

Mare Barrow of the Stilts would be shocked to know what her body would like at 35. She knew she might look like her mother someday, thin and wispy, with a little more chipping off like old paint every day. She probably hadn’t pictured what would happen after countless battle injuries, living more comfortably than she even could have imagined, and two children though. I bet if I went back in time to tell her what she would become, who she would become, she would laugh in my face and spit at my eye sometime between throwing insults.

“Mommy.”

Snapping my robe closed with my heart pounding in embarrassment, I glance over my shoulder to spot one part of my musings. Standing there trying to do his little tie, Shade shows me his tangled up fingers with a pout.

I chuckle softly at his expression and beckon him to me. He hurries across my bedroom so I can crouch down in front of him and untangle his hands.

“Why didn’t dad help you with this?”


“He’s busy on a call from uncle Kilorn. I told him I could do it myself.”


“Uh huh.” I nod with mock seriousness as I start the knot over. He’s only seven, but he’s got an independent streak that puts him in some tight spots that Cal and I have to rescue him from more often than not. He watches my hands with narrowed eyes as I work, probably trying to memorize the movements. When I finish, I ask, “What is Cori doing?”

“She’s done getting ready. She’s in the family room reading.” Shade shrugs as I tighten the knot just a smidge more and adjust the collar of his little suit jacket.

“Did she brush her hair?”


“I dunno.”

“Does her hair look like a lion’s mane?” I tease and he throws his hands over his mouth to hide his smirk, his only tell when he lies. At least he inherited his father’s complete inability to lie. Coriane on the other hand could lie her way to the moon if she wanted, and I blame my parenting for that. I taught her young how to get out of things, I regret that now.

“Did she tell you to lie to mommy and say she brushed her hair?”

He shakes his head quickly but doesn’t take his hands away from his mouth. Raising my brow at him, I wait for him to break completely.

He sits in silence, his eyes darting left and right. Eventually I notice his face progressively getting redder and redder.

“You can’t hold your breath and pass out to get out of this.” I snort before rising from my crouch, deciding to let him off the hook. I hear his rapid exhale and inhale as I leave my room and head downstairs.

Sure enough, my daughter is curled up in the window seat, her nose buried in a book. She’s dressed in the nice pants and shirt Gisa made for this occasion. Unfortunately, her hair is hastily tied back into a ponytail. It looks more like a bush attached to the back of her head than hair.

“What have we talked about?” I ask her as I approach. Her shoulders pull up to her ears at the sound of my voice, and she glances at me with a sheepish smile.

“I’m almost done though; can’t I just finish?”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get your butt upstairs and brush your hair.” I admonish, as I hold my hand out for the book. Her face falls, before it shifts dramatically into that pleading face she knows gets her anything she wants.

“Just one more chapter? Pleeeeeeeaaaase?” She bats the thick, long lashes she got from Cal and although a part of me still melts at the sight, I’ve learned my lesson. Give her rope, and she’ll walk for miles.

“No, no more one chapter. You stayed up until two reading.” She blushes red, and she opens her mouth to refute my words. “Don’t even try. Dad went to bed then and saw the light on in your room.”

Her lips twist to the side, and she chapters her book off before handing it to me, begrudged. I take it as she slides out of the window box, a knowing smile touching my lips. Giving her a little nudge between her shoulders blades when she hesitates and gazes longingly back at the book, I say, “You can have it back at the dinner tonight. And I’ll even let you bring a second book to start.”

Her eyes light up and she takes off, her feet pounding on the stairs as she goes. Setting that book down on the side table, I follow her. As I enter the hallway, I can hear Shade in her room, chattering away. I can almost picture the layout of her room perfectly. He’s perched on her bed, kicking his heels and playing with the fringe on her blanket. Coriane sits at her little vanity, brushing her hair so quickly she’s probably pulling it out in chunks, while nodding along to whatever he says.

My children remind me so much of Shade and myself that it makes my chest ache somedays. I’m sure it reminds Cal of Maven too. We have yet to truly discuss that with our children. I wonder if I’ll be able to tell them what truly happened. We’d have to do it sooner rather than later though. Coriane is starting higher school soon, and when she does, her history classes will start to turn toward the Nortian Civil war. She’ll need to understand what the names on those pages mean.

I pass my bedroom, and lightly knock on the ajar office door. Cal’s eyes dart up from the papers in his hand when I open it further and stick my head in. I give him a fake smile and hold my hand up to tap my wrist. He rolls his eyes and gestures to the phone he’s balancing in his ear. Huffing at that, I storm across the room before pulling it away from him.

Pressing the receiver to my ear, I try to ignore the look Cal throws my direction. “Kilorn, the speech sounds fine. You’ve had ten different people read it, including me.” I glower at Cal then, who simply shrugs in response. “Now if you don’t mind, I do need to steal my husband so that he can handle our children because I’m not dressed yet, and I don’t plan to be late to my best friend’s inauguration.”

Kilorn is quiet on the other end before saying, “It’s going to be good right? I’m not going to sound too… wishy washy?”

“If you sounded wishy washy, I wouldn’t have voted for you. I’m hanging up now, we’ll see you at the ceremony.” I press the receiver down before he can reply and drag a hand down my face.

“You gave him a much needed confidence boost there.” Cal teases as he sets Kilorn’s speech aside and rises from the chair. His shirt is still unbuttoned, and he’s missing his jacket. I grab at the shirt and start buttoning it up, ignoring the teasing smile he gives me when my cheeks flush slightly.

“You should have done exactly what I did and then helped Shade with his tie. He got his fingers all tangled up.” I admonish before patting the finished buttoned-up product. He tilts his head down to smile before sliding his fingers under my chin and lifting my head a bit more. “Plus, I had to corral Coriane who definitely did not put her conditioner in last night, so we’re going to have to deal with that mess before we leave.”

“They’re going to look fine. Besides, no one is going to be looking at us. This is all about Kilorn today.” He murmurs before pressing a light kiss to the tip of my nose.

I sigh in exasperation at his words. “People will look, they always look.”

“And we’re going to look just fine.” He presses one kiss to my temple, and then turns my head to press one on the other side.

“You’ll like fine; you always look fine.” I close my eyes at the feather light touches, melting just a bit.

A kiss gets pressed to one of my eyelids. “You are always the most beautiful woman at these things, you know that.” Another kiss lands on my other eye. I scrunch up my nose in distaste and open my eyes. He slowly pulls away to tuck my hair behind my ear in response.

Sliding a hand around my waist he pulls me up so that our bodies are flushed against each other. He hasn’t changed much over the years. At 38 he still looks like he’s pushing 24. All those good silver genes that have been passed through the generations. There are laugh lines starting to cut around his mouth, but that’s hardly a fault. I hope Shade ages like him. I don’t have to worry about Coriane, she looked like Cal the day she was born, and she’ll look like him for the rest of her life. She has the same amber eyes, and the same jet black hair. My features are hidden, but they’re there. In the shape of her nose, the hint of honey brown in her hair, and her smaller size. Everything else is her father though.

He guides my arms up to wrap around his neck before sliding his hands down my body to rest on my waist. With a smile that has always coaxed me back into bed on mornings when our children are still sleeping, he whispers, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and will ever see.”

“Now your pushing it.” I grumble as I try to escape his embrace. He pulls me up against him though so that I have no hope of getting away, and presses a kiss into the hollow below my ear. My eyes close involuntarily and my mouth falls open in a soft exhale at the sensation.

He presses another kiss against my neck and breathes against my skin. “You are, and always will be.”

I can feel my entire body responding to him. Damn, if he’s not careful I’m going to drag him down the hall to deal with this properly. We’ll definitely be late to the inauguration then.

“You know I’m not who I was when you first fell in love with me,” I whisper that thought quietly against his jaw. It had been nagging at me for days, and this morning it had really come to the fore as I stood in front of the mirror. He could say I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen all he liked, but that didn’t mean I had to believe it.

His hands trail along my back and he whispers into my hair, “And I’m not the same either. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Don’t lie. We both you know look the exact same as you did when we first met.” I grumble, earning a little laugh from him.

“Do not. Besides, what does it matter what you look like now?” He pulls away enough to bring a hand up and trace his thumb along my lower lip. With another gentle smile he tips my chin down to press a kiss to the space between my brows. “You’ve brought two beautiful children into the world, and that still hasn’t stopped you from running head first into battle. You are still the force nature I feel in love with.”

I can’t help the smile that creeps to my lips as he presses soft kisses down the ridge of my nose. When he reaches my lips, I hug my arms a little tighter around his neck. “Careful, if you keep talking like this it might be three children.”

His eyes light up, and he presses the ghost of a kiss against my lips. “I would not be opposed.”

“Ew.”

I pull away from the actual kiss to glance over my shoulder with a light laugh. Shade stands in the doorway with his sister, looking every bit as disgusted as he sounds. He makes a face and pretends to gag in the hallway. Even Coriane looks a tad more disgusted than usual. Her lips twist to the side as she looks at us. “Are you two going to make out? Cause that’s gross.”

“Bleh.” Shade makes another pretend gag sound in the hallway.

“It’s hardy bleh.” Cal teases before sweeping me to the side and into a dip. “Your mother is beautiful and I plan to kiss her as long as I can.” I gasp at the sensation of falling backwards before smirking as he presses another kiss to my lips.

“Gross!”

“Yuck!”

“You guys are so gross!”

“Yuck, yuck, yuck!” They sprint down the hallway on the tail end of Shade’s words, both of them making gagging sounds that were comical no matter how unreal they sounded.

“That certainly got rid of them.” Cal smirks as he pulls me back up to my feet. I smack his shoulder playfully in response.

“If they heard what I said, I am not going to deal with the fallout of that.” I adjust my robe that had fallen open slightly and push my hair into some resemblance of order.

“I’m sure they know where babies come from by now, Mare. Coriane is twelve, and kids talk.” He passes by me, but not before hooking the top of my robe and pulling it away from my shoulder to press an open mouthed kiss there. I push his face away and wrestle my robe closed.

“Later, you pain in the ass.” I tease at his back. He doesn’t even give me a response. Instead, he calls down the hallway for the kids, already telling Coriane to get in the bathroom so they can fix whatever else she’s done with her hair. I hear Shade shriek with laughter a heartbeat later which means he must have chased him and caught him.

Smirking, I slip out of the office and close the door behind me. Immediately I can hear Coriane in the bathroom whining that there’s too much conditioner, which Shade immediately laughs about too. Pacing along the wall, I glance over the pictures we have hanging there. Tracing the one of Coriane holding Shade the day he was born, I let my fingers hover over that one the longest.

Another loud protest from Coriane draws my attention back to the bathroom and I glance inside at the scene before leaning against the doorway. Coriane pouts at her reflection while Shade perches on the edge of the bathtub watching the whole thing. Cal continues to thread his fingers through our daughter’s hair through her protests, taming the curls as best as possible. Even when his fingers get caught on a particularly nasty knot and she pulls an ugly face that makes Shade howl with laughter.

Yes, Mare Barrow from the Stilts definitely wouldn’t have been able to guess that this is what she would be watching on a spring day in her future. But in some ways, it’s better than anything she could have imagined.

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Skies and Ashes - The Library

Maven x Nikolai - A Red Queen/Grishaverse Crossover

Part I - A Walk in the Garden

Find this on Wattpad and on AO3

Nikolai POV

My guards already knew what to do – to keep their distance while they did their job, so I could feel almost private. Fortunately, no one else was in the library of Norta’s capital at this hour in the early evening. I walked along the shelves made of dark, lacquered wood, their tops showing off elaborate carvings. The setting sun cast its reddish light on the rich hall, falling on the wood and walls painted with warm ochre stripes.

I relished more the cool temperature in here than the architecture and the hosted books protected by the Grisha craft maintaining the coolness. The climate in Norta was generally humid and warm, especially now since the rain season had started, and the weather didn’t need long to make me uncomfortable. Extreme climates ached me, only that “extreme” was becoming a more and more loose term. The heaviness of my bones, the cramping muscles, the itching skin – they all came at me so often there was hardly a point in avoiding its triggers. Nor did I want to, if it meant giving up the skies and seas and my way of handling politics. Even when they pained me, I needed them, because they reminded me of who I was. So I’d decided to try my best to live with the aches.

But after a few minutes, even the controlled climate lost its soothing effect and suddenly, I began to feel too cool, and a harmless shiver became the harbinger of the more severe and familiar symptoms crawling beneath my skin.

I moaned. Not now, even though now was better than another time. I pulled off the gloves and let my fingers glide over shelves and the leather- and paper-spines of the tomes as I searched for a place to recline in. A glance behind me and I saw one of my guards approaching, sensing the change in my demeanour.

So awfully competent, aren’t you?

I passed seat after seat, table after table. I didn’t want to give in so early, but I also disliked most of the chairs in the colours of flames which were made of ostentatiously stuffed and embroidered velvet, itching and hard. They’d only give me more sensory issues.

Down the corridors, I could see a set of chairs in a different colouring, offering me slight hopes. And indeed – there were two soft and brown and cozy leather armchairs, next to a table decorated with an inlaid chessboard and engraved flames, over which stacks of books and papers were piled.

I sunk into the armchair and sighed. I knew how much this rest, just a few minutes of it, would help. I still felt the itches and shivers on and under my skin, but I had to accept that. The weariness, the strangeness, were what really terrified me. I thought my own specific ailments were the reason I usually preferred Genya to accompany me on journeys, even over skies and seas. She knew how to treat my kind of wounds and scars, enduring some of them herself. It was easy to trust her with them, despite her previous machinations.

But it wasn’t the same. As severe as her scars were, in the end, there remained on the surface. She couldn’t relate to being a stranger in your own body, down to your blood and bones, to wake up and wonder who you’d see on the mirror, and if your voice was still there or if you could only scream in your own head.

Which was probably a cruel way to think of it, as if a woman with a maimed face didn’t have moments of doubt s about the person in the mirror.

I leaned back further and closed my eyes, having given up any interest in the books on the table. It was deceptively relaxing, but the nightmares and scars wouldn’t go away, and likely, I’d still feel weary when I got up. Reprieve never lasted, even when a warm beam of sunlight fell on my cheek. I couldn’t not think of Alina, and how the war against the Darkling had left us, her without her Grisha powers, me scarred and sickly, both of us haunted my memories of what we lost and couldn’t have been.

One of my guards cleared his throat, just when a cold gush billowed through the air. I shuddered. Seems like the Nortans’ Grisha crafts to climate rooms wasn’t perfect –

A warm hand touched my shoulder and I opened my eyes with a start. “Are you cold, Your Majesty?” Prince Maven whispered, looming over me from behind my chair.

“No … I,” I stuttered, then cleared my throat. “This library is stunning, Your Highness. I assume you like it since you come here at this time?” Instead of chatting with the court before dinner.

He chuckled, still so close to me. He met my eyes for a long moment, making his following, “indeed,” almost unnecessary. His palm lingered on me even as he straightened and moved back a step, his warmth staying with me. A welcome feeling, although as temporary as everything I’d tried to ease my state.

“That’s my chair,” he said as he pointed at me and leaned against the one next to mine. The other chair was of the same material, but apparently, that still didn’t make it good enough for the prince who continued to watch me – in his seat.

I changed my position, from dozing idiot to lounging, but formidable monarch. The corners of Maven’s mouth twitched at this. I grinned. “I’m truly sorry, Your Highness. I’ll be gone soon, but for a while, you may take a seat and keep me company.”

He raised an eyebrow, I raised mine. Maven refrained from properly seating himself and remained sitting on the armrest. “Certainly, Your Majesty,” Maven said. “Do you wish a tour of the locality? Or are you content with spying on my lecture?”

I hadn’t spared a glance on the books and papers; now Maven pulled out a stack and skimmed through it. “You think the king of Ravka himself would take part in the ignoble profession of spying?” I said, with a faux shocked expression.

He shrugged, lowering the stack onto his thigh. “According to rumours, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

That didn’t sound too well for my Sturmhond persona, as it was already getting harder to hide it nowadays. “But what are rumours to us, Maven?” I asked.

For a second, he was put aback, before he regained his usual mocking but regal composure. He lifted his hand, a motion so elegant it drew my eyes to him like a puppet on a string. Frilly laces fell over his long fingers. “On the contrary, Your Majesty,” he began. “We are affected most of all. You’ve heard of my mother? She was exalted by rumours,” he balled his fist, “and she was put down by rumours.” With a sweep, he outstretched his arm, going down, turned and opened his hand to indicate the fall of his – currently imprisoned – mother.

“And this happens to kings as well,” he added gloomily, resting his hand on his thigh. But as dramatic as his gesture had been, I noticed the pinch of melancholy in his face. Still his eyes were fixed on me, and now probably pondering on the other rumours about me.

I wasn’t in the mood for his superficial concern. “Don’t tell me you find rumours amusing, Your Highness,” I said.

“No, I find them curious,” he replied. He threw his papers onto the table, bent over, and picked up a book. “A history of Ravka, written last year,” Maven informed me. He licked his fingers and started to thumb through the tome, which appeared quite used despite its relatively young age. “I’ve found it very interesting,” Maven went on, “and helpful so far. It’s one of my favourites.”

I smiled at that for a second. His favourite book was a blend of facts and exotic fiction? That said something about him, I supposed. It needed not to be a bad thing, though. As much time as I spent with scientific reports from engineers, I still loved best the book I’d read as a child, a legend about a girl who wanted to fly, succeeded, but got lost in the end. The story continued to fascinate me.

“I wonder,” said Maven, pulling me out of my memory, “if Your Majesty might not help me with the uncertain matters I’ve encountered in this book, to clarify the facts?”

I frowned. “I hope this interest is purely scholarly and political, Your Highness. Or do you intend to talk about my relationship to the Sun Summoner again?”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “But the Darkling, Your Majesty. You saw him in person.”

That he wasn’t phrasing this as a question was testament to his burning curiosity. It made me ball my fists, turning my knuckles white. “Too often,” I said, inwardly cursing at my lack of subterfuge.

He hesitated. “The author,” he said eventually, “doesn’t know what to make of the shadows soldiers appearing in the year of the Darkling’s rebellion. He isn’t even sure of their name. Nichevo’ya, I think – “

“Rebellion?” I snapped. Maven winced. “You believe that is the correct expression for that traitor’s deeds?”

“It’s … you’re right, Your Majesty. The term itself is up for discussion as well, which makes your experiences even more important.”

For history, he might’ve added. And still his eyes gleamed with the curiosity that made me sick. “You sound awfully excited, Your Highness, if I may say so.”

He startled, throat bobbing above his lace cravat. I thought he was a royal and courtier through and through, born and bred, and used to the theatre and power-play. But a part of him was as insecure as everyone else. “I’m sorry to have overstepped,” he said, finally looking down. “The Darkling is a fascinating figure in Norta. He was … like us, well, like my ancestors. My great-grandfather ended Norta’s endless wars by winning them and he became the first king. His acts re-created Norta. Many people – scholars, I mean – see the Darkling as a similar figure. A person of change, a politician and general of inspiration, a symbol –

I couldn’t listen to this any longer. I jumped up, slammed my hand on the table and grabbed Maven by the chin. Now I was the one to fix him with my stare. “You have no idea, do you?” I snapped. “He wasn’t a figure, a symbol, a role-model or whatever your historians say. He was a threat and a terror, and he made me feel wrong in my own skin.”

The outburst relieved me, yet I didn’t let go, not sure I said enough, or too much. Nothing was ever enough, because nothing would ever undo his crimes and abominations.

As I did nothing, Maven’s hands grabbed me by the elbows, and sudden warmth and cold crossing through my uniform and into my flesh. He noticed my surprise.

“Nice trick,” I groaned.

He smiled weakly. “A minor one. Temperature control.”

I let go of his chin with hesitation. It lingered on my fingers, the feeling of the soft skin of his jaw, with only little stubble, the skin of a vain man who shaved frequently. Only as I broke the contact did I realize how much I’d craved and enjoyed doing that. Touching him.

Now Maven maintained our touch, his hands travelling from my elbows to my wrists. I leaned back a little, not pulling away, as he turned my palms down and contemplated my bare hands, with all their scars.

I said nothing, so he might think those were the simple scars of soldier or a sportsman. But if they were that simple, they would’ve been healed by Grisha craft long ago.

When he looked up, a sunbeam, red from the sunset, fell on his light, pale cheek. “So that rumour is true,” he said quietly, his hands once more emitting that soothing warmth. “You are a king of scars, Nikolai.”

I was still remaining silent, barely inclining my head as I took in his handsome angular face, illuminated and set alight by sunlight bright as fire.

I wondered how beautiful he was when using his Grisha gift for real. When he burned.

A/N: I didn't mention this in the note to chapter one, but they language they speak is Ravkan (the Nortan tongue is a derivative of the Shu-Han proto language). Maven is actually quite skilled with languages, and while Nikolai knows how to communicate in many tongues, I think Maven would be the more elaborate speaker of the foreign language.

FYI, I haven’t read the Sneak Peeks into King of Scars so far.

Edit: I should’ve thought a little longer before I said something like “the Nortan tongue is a derivative of the Shu-Han proto language“, when it doesn’t really show in the text. Of course I kept many names from RQ with little changes for the sake of recognition, but that hardly explains the rather English names in a pseudo-Asian language similar to Shu-Han. I’m sorry for that, but I don’t know how to invent new “Shu-Han” names which would be halfway accurate either. In general, I imagine the Nortan tongue has many influences, like a derivative of Fjerdan since the country has many immigrants heralding from there as well, and from the other cultures of the people who travelled to Norta over time (Norta has very few Ravkan immigrants though). And at least I should’ve kept the Shu-Han patronyms although I think Nortans have both - patronyms and family names - while the patronyms are rather like middle names there.

I should really get the map drawn, right? -.-°

@moikorolrezni @mareshmallow @christineflame @flameandshadowx @runexandra @warstoned @ihnejgafa @noirmagic1 @themavencycle @i-tried-mare @a-3-g @bharatanatyamdancers @lovelysillynightmare @sunnsummoner @afigurativegameofchess @mcvencallore @riseredasthedawn3 @niinazenlk @head-full-of-books @tarynduartte @the-classystudentwizard  @indiefangirlflash

[phantom-le6]

Episode Reviews - Batman: The Animated Series Season 1 (3 of 10)

We’re now into our third instalment from season 1 of Batman: The Animated Series, and this one begins with the re-invention of a formerly minor character that made that character a major foe of the Batman, albeit a bit infamous in the history of the live-action films.

Episode 14: Heart of Ice

Plot (as given by me):

In the middle of the hottest August in record for the people of Gotham, a series of cold-related crimes that involve the use of a freezing gun are occurring.  The crimes all involve thefts of equipment from facilities owned by GothCorp. Batman deduces that the equipment all fits together to create a larger and more powerful version of the freeze gun, and that the final component is only made by a single GothCorp manufacturing plant.

 That night, the thieves strike and Batman intercepts them, learning that the thieves are led by a man calling himself Mr Freeze, and it is Freeze who uses the cold gun in committing the robberies. Batman’s efforts to stop the theft fail, and when Freeze leaves one of his men behind who was hit by the freeze gun, Batman takes him back to the batcave to thaw him out.  At the same time, the dark knight begins to demonstrate that he has picked up a cold.

 Batman meets with GothCorp CEO Ferris Boyle the following day in his Bruce Wayne identity to try and find out why the company has been targeted.  Boyle claims the only person who would hate GothCorp so much died in an explosion when he was fired over an unauthorised experiment.  Batman suspects a cover-up and returns to GothCorp that night to investigate.  He finds a video tape showing that GothCorp scientist Victor Fries developed a form of cryogenics technology with GothCorp resources to save the life of his ailing wife Nora.  When Boyle tried to end the experiment, Fries fought for his wife’s life, resulting in Boyle kicking Fries into vials of coolant.  At that point Mr Freeze, who is in fact Victor Fries, enters and fires at Batman with his freeze gun.

 Back at Mr Freeze’s hideout, Batman deduces the suit Freeze wears is a result of the coolant altering his biology.  Freeze confirms he is no longer able to live outside of a sub-zero environment, compelling him to lash out at Boyle for the change.  Freeze leaves with his men and the freezing canon, as well as Batman’s utility belt. However, the caped crusader is able to free himself and pursues Freeze to a building where Boyle is being given an award for being the “humanitarian industrialist of the year”.  When Batman attacks and retrieves his utility belt, Freeze opts to enter and confront Boyle directly.

 Inside, Freeze reveals his true identity to Boyle as he freezes him up to his waist, but Batman intervenes before he can complete his revenge.  The suit that keeps Freeze cool also triples his strength, making direct combat useless, but Batman is able to stop him by cracking a thermos of chicken soup (given to him earlier by Alfred) against Freeze’s glass helmet.  Batman gives a tape showing Boyle’s actions to the press and sarcastically bids the half-frozen CEO good night.  Later, Freeze is incarcerated in a specially chilled jail cell.

Review:

This episode is another example of how much of an impact this series had on the Batman’s comic books and other mediums. Before this, Mr Freeze was apparently a minor rogue, simply being a guy with a freezing gun that would have been not much different from the Flash’s long-time enemy Captain Cold.  The tragic backstory and Freeze’s need to remain in a sub-zero environment were created for this episode, and as a result the Mr Freeze the fans of today know and love now exist.  Sadly, Joel Schumacher’s Batman and Robin film never did the whole thing justice, meaning that live-action film audiences who have never seen this episode or read any comics related to Mr Freeze from after this episode have never been given this character as he should be seen.

 The episode also features what was technically the first voice role in the series for Mark Hamill; he provides the voice of Freeze’s target Ferris Boyle, and only gained the role of the Joker later when Tim Curry found he couldn’t do a Joker voice without straining his vocal cords. It’s weird to learn this given that three Joker stories were already produced by this point, and perhaps it was this sort of re-casting and re-recording that at least contributed to the episodes not airing in their intended order.

 It’s a good story, and easily stands up as a fairly flawless example of the show’s quality.  I especially like how Batman empathises with Freeze enough to leave Boyle frozen after exposing him to the press.  A pity more unethical people in power never receive similar comeuppance. Another top scorer, 10 out of 10 for this episode.

Episode 15: The Cat and The Claw (Part 1)

Plot (as given by me):

Batman investigates a cat burglar and discovers it to be a woman; more specifically, Catwoman.  Catwoman uses a trained cat named Isis to assist her in her burglaries, and upon meeting Batman, she battles and attempts to flee him while also flirting with him.  There is a moment where her escape is almost ruined by the near-running over of Isis, but Batman saves the cat before losing both the cat and her owner.

 Later, Bruce Wayne attends a charity auction in aid of an animal charity, where the featured lot is a date with him.  The bidding initially only reaches the low thousands before wealthy animal rights activist Selina Kyle bids $10,000 for the date. Bruce is immediately attracted to Selina and insists on honouring the date, despite Selina’s protestation that she only made the bid to help the animals and has no real interest in a date. Gunfire is then heard from outside, prompting Bruce to leave so he can act as Batman.

 The gunfire turns out to be a group of terrorists trying to steal a truck of US army weaponry, but Batman manages to interfere and foil the theft.  Commissioner Gordon explains that a mysterious terrorist leader known only as Red Claw is in Gotham, and Batman promises to investigate.  The next day, Bruce turns up for his date with Selina, but beforehand Selina confesses to her secretary Maven that she is more interested in Batman.  The date is prematurely spoilt, however, when Selina learns that some land she was trying to acquire for a mountain lion reserve has been nabbed by a business cartel, Multigon International.

 Bruce uses his influence to arrange for Selina to meet Stern, the chairman of Multigon, who claims they’ll be developing the land into a luxury resort.  Selina is unconvinced and tells Stern she will have every environmental group putting Multigon under a microscope.  Unknown to Selina, Stern and Multigon are in league with Red Claw, who orders Selina monitored so she can’t jeopardise their plans.  That night, Batman grills the local mobs for intel on Red Claw, while Selina returns to Multigon in her alternate identity as Catwoman.

 Catwoman and Isis manage to gain information on Multigon’s real plans, unaware that Red Claw and her men are on the premises and planning the theft of a virus from a military transport train.  When Catwoman trips an alarm, Red Claw’s men try to capture her.  She almost makes a clean getaway, but Red Claw foils this by firing explosive ordnance at a ledge she is clinging to.  Batman manages to save Catwoman, only for her to then escape him.  She returns home with Isis and reports her success to Maven, unaware that one of Red Claw’s men has followed her and seen her unmask.

Review:

As the show’s introduction to Catwoman, I’ve often felt this episode and its part 2 follow-up had one major flaw; the inclusion of another villain.  Much as it’s cool to have Kate Mulgrew of Star Trek: Voyager fame voicing the TV show original villainess Red Claw, I think Catwoman should have been a featured solo villain rather just being the top-billed villain out of two.  After all, she doesn’t need an additional antagonist to tip her into villainy like Two-Face did, and she’s certainly the most well-known and high-profile of Batman’s female adversaries to the general public, especially in the early 90’s.  As with this show’s initial version of the Penguin, animated series Catwoman is based on the Michelle Pfieffer Selina Kyle in a grey catsuit.

 The Pfieffer influence on this character is less of an issue than styling the Penguin after the one played by Danny DeVito, since it only boils down to a hair colour and not a physical deformity. However, that’s about where the influence ends, as this version isn’t just a pure cat-burglar, nor is she seeking revenge as I understand the Pfieffer version did.  Instead, we’ve ended up with someone who is to cats, and to a lesser extent other wildlife, what Poison Ivy is to the plant world. In other words, an eco-warrior, albeit one that commits theft to finance activism where Ivy is more about direct eco-terrorism in most cases.  On the one hand it keeps the character unique from past versions of Catwoman, but it also detracts from the simple uniqueness of her being a thief where most of Batman’s other adversaries are either criminally insane or part of organised crime.

 Overall, part 1 is ok, but I feel like they should have been split into different stories so a simpler version of Catowman could have commanded the spotlight in her series intro.  For me, this episode only warrants 7 out of 10.

Episode 16: The Cat and the Claw (part 2)

Plot (as given by me):

The mob boss leaned on by Batman in part 1 informs him of an impending train heist being made by someone outside the local criminal underworld.  With nothing on the public schedules and no last-minute changes communicated to Commissioner Gordon, he and Batman deduce the train must be a classified military one. The train is soon raided by Red Claw and her men; they manage to secure the canister of virus before Batman can intervene, and he is forced to let them go in order to avoid them unleashing the virus.

 The next day, Bruce tries to take Selina out for their re-arranged date, but they are pursued by Red Claw’s men, who try to run the couple off the road.  Bruce manages to defeat the thugs by executing a series of evasive driving manoeuvres and then running them off a bridge by playing chicken.  He urges Selina to let him help, having deduced the men were after her and revealing he truly cares for her.  However, Selina insists she can take care of herself.  Later, back at the Batcave, Batman struggles to work out why Red Claw’s men would target Selina until Alfred finds a cat hair on Bruce Wayne’s suit jacket.  The colour is unique and matches cat hairs left by Catwoman’s cat Isis, causing Batman to realise Selina is Catwoman.

 That night, Batman rescues Maven from one of Red Claw’s men and asks her where Selina is.  Maven reveals that Selina has gone to the Multigon site on the land she’d wanted for the mountain lion refuge.  Maven also reveals to Batman that Selina loves him, but if this has any impact on him, he doesn’t show it.  At the site, Catwoman is caught taking photos of weapons stored in an abandoned military bunker, and has to be saved by Batman, but then both are captured. Red Claw, who is in the process of holding Gotham to ransom with the virus, opts to use it to kill Batman and Catwoman as her forces evacuate, believing a placebo will have the same effect. However, the pair of them manage to escape, and Batman quickly works to set the bunker on fire to destroy the virus while Catwoman gets out.

 Batman’s efforts not only destroy the bunker and the virus, but he heads a fuel truck into the side of the transport helicopter Red Claw’s men meant to use for escape.  Police helicopters then arrive to arrest the men, along with Stern as well. Red Claw, rather than flee, attempts to attack Catwoman, but is instead attacked and pinned by a mountain lion. Catwoman is then able to escape, but back at her apartment, Batman reluctantly arrests her.

Review:

This episode is mostly more of the same as what part 1 gave us, but the pay-off isn’t really any better than the build-up. In fact, if anything it’s a little anti-climactic, and in large part that’s due to everything to do with Red Claw and this version of Catwoman not just being a straight-up thief.  For me, I can’t really say much more and only give this part 6 out of 10.

Episode 17: See No Evil

Plot (as given by me):

A thief with a suit that makes him invisible commits numerous robberies across Gotham, using most of it to provide money for himself, but also giving some of the stolen items to a little girl called Kimmy, who believes her invisible benefactor to be her imaginary friend Mojo. One robbery occurs while Bruce Wayne is out shopping for a new watch, and he promptly intercedes as Batman. However, the invisible thief is able to get the drop on Batman and escape, and Batman begins to investigate further.

 It turns out that the suit is made from a plastic that bends light instead of absorbing it when an electrical current is supplied.  In the process, however, the plastic becomes toxic; the inventor has died and one of his assistants is trying to dispose of it, but some has been stolen by the other assistant, an ex-con named Lloyd Ventrix.  Kimmy is Lloyd’s estranged daughter, and he is using the invisibility suit to circumvent a court order keeping him away from Kimmy and her mother. With Kimmy believing Lloyd to be Mojo, she has informed him that she and her mother will move soon, prompting Lloyd to use Kimmy’s belief to abduct her.

 Batman pursues Ventrix to a nearby empty drive-in movie theatre, where Kimmy is now recoiling from her father after learning who he truly is.  With Ventrix’s head visible following his reveal, Batman is able to knock him aside, enabling Kimmy to flee to her house and her mother nearby.  Batman and Ventrix then engage in a protracted battle which leads them from the drive-in theatre to the Gotham rooftops.  There, Batman is able to make a water tower rain down on Ventrix, rendering him visible long enough for Batman to subdue him for the police.  Later, Kimmy confides in Batman that she and her mother will soon be moving, though her mother believes she has just developed another imaginary friend to replace ‘Mojo’.

Review:

This episode seems to have elements that make it a slight homage to the H.G. Wells’ story The Invisible Man, and fans of the 2020 modernised remake film of the story may be interested to note that the film’s lead actress Elisabeth Moss actually appears in as the voice of Kimmy. Personally, I know her better as Zoe Bartlett from TV drama series the West Wing, but it’s still interesting to note that she’s twice had acting roles relating to stories about invisible men. For me, though, the greater interest lies in getting to see Batman involved in what ultimately boils down to a domestic dispute that goes sideways as badly as a show like this can allow. It’s rare to see Batman, or any superhero, deal with a situation like this, and it’s a refreshing change not just in this show, but in superhero lore as a whole.

 My only real complaint with this episode is that Batman never once tries to employ an alternate mode of vision to see his invisible adversary.  His first confrontation with Ventrix reveals the suit’s current could be increased to produce a heating effect, suggesting the suit would emit a thermal signature. As such, infra-red lenses designed to register thermal energy instead of light energy would have been a clear and obvious solution.  The fact that Batman never even tries this feels like very poor attention to detail on the part of the show’s makers.  Batman is, among other things, a highly skilled tactician, and anyone deducing they’d fought an invisible thief once should surely have gone into their second bout with a better counter-measure than ‘fight across half the city and hope to luck into something like a water tower’.  For me, this episode gets 7 out of 10.

Episode 18: Beware the Gray Ghost

Plot (as given by me):

A series of bombings occur across Gotham City, and Batman finds evidence that suggests the bomber is mimicking the plot of a TV show he watched as a child, ‘The Grey Ghost’.  Unfortunately, the original reels of the shows were apparently destroyed in a fire years ago, so the series has never been committed to video. This prompts Batman to track down the show’s lead actor, a man named Simon Trent.  Trent is out of work because his time spent playing the Grey Ghost type-cast him, and he is forced to sell off the last of his Grey Ghost memorabilia to cover his rent.

 Batman uses his wealth as Bruce Wayne to return Trent’s collection to him and enlists his aid in the case.  At first, Trent is reluctant, but eventually gives Batman a copy of the relevant episode, asking to be left in peace.  Batman watches the episode in his civilian attire back at Wayne Manor, and learns the bombs are being hidden in remote-control toy cars. At the next bombing, the police and Batman have more success preventing major damage, but at one point the bomb cars almost kill Batman, and only Trent’s intervention in his old Grey Ghost costume saves the dark knight.

 After the two costumed crime fighters evade more of the bomb cars, they head back to the Batcave to analyse one decoy car Batman managed to retrieve.  Trent is shocked when he discovers the only evidence on the car leads back to himself, but then realises that Ted, the toy collector he has sold his memorabilia to, is behind the bombings.  Batman confronts Ted, who reveals he is a toy addict that has had to turn to crime in order to finance his collecting.  He tries to trap Batman with some of the bomb cars, but Trent then intervenes as the Gray Ghost.  The ensuing confrontation results in a fire that destroys Ted’s collection, and he is soon taken into police custody.

 In the aftermath, Trent’s popularity soars and his reels of the show are turned into a video release of the old Grey Ghost series.  As he autographs copies of the series, he does one for Bruce Wayne, who reveals his secret identity to Trent through a call-back to something he’d said earlier as Batman.

Review:

This episode literally has one thing going for it; the worst live-action Batman actor of all time having a guest role alongside one of the best Batman actors ever (Jason O’Mara of the DC Animated Movie Universe holds joint-top spot with Kevin Conroy in my estimation at present). While I know many people love and respect West’s version of Batman, I cannot stand it.  Granted, West was forced to play the character as it was at that time, which was a horrible campy parody of what Batman originally was, and later returned to when the comics code that stemmed from 1950’s McCarthyism was relaxed, and then ultimately scrapped in favour of age-based certification similar to the film and TV industry.

 However, that doesn’t change the fact that West’s Batman was simply too light and silly to be a true Batman.  Frankly, I see this episode less as an homage to West’s real-life story (though it does use his struggles with being type-cast as a plot point), and more as the actor’s redemption.  Here, he gets to play a role in a serious version of Batman, and he actually does it very well.  It’s such a shame, however, that in the end they’re just dealing with a toy collector gone mad enough for crime, yet not mad enough to really develop the full supervillain melodrama of costumes, gadgets, etc.  For once, we have an adversary so underwhelming as to prove there’s such a thing as a Batman story being too grounded.  For me, the episode only warrants 5 out of 10.

Episode 19: Prophecy of Doom

Plot (as given by me):

Bruce becomes concerned when fellow businessman Ethan Clark claims that psychic fortune-teller Nostromos has been saving him a fortune by steering him clear of certain disaster.  Ethan’s daughter Lisa is convinced Nostromos is a con-man, and that he makes accidents happen according to his predictions just to prove them true.  Bruce attends an event with Nostromos, who claims an accident will soon befall him. Shortly after he claims this, Bruce’s glass shatters seemingly of its own accord.

 Suspecting the glass was broken by a device emitting high-frequency sound, Batman later identifies Nostromos as former actor and ex-con Carl Fowler.  Fowler’s associate, Lucas, is a special effects man, which suggests how the con is being pulled, but not its ultimate conclusion.  The next day, Lucas tries to kill Bruce Wayne in his personal elevator at Wayne Enterprises, but Bruce manages to escape as Batman.  He is unable to catch Lucas, and feigns falling for the con after the near-death experience to learn the intended conclusion.

 It turns out Nostromos is predicting a massive societal collapse, and is convincing his wealthy followers to stash their funds in a single combined account so it will be unaffected by the collapse.  However, Nostromos can’t touch the funds without Ethan Clark’s written authorisation. Lisa also discovers the con, but is captured by Lucas before she can tell her father.  Bruce realises Nostromos will somehow try to leverage Ethan into signing his consent ahead of the supposed collapse so he and Lucas can walk away with all the money.

 At the observatory where Nostromos has based himself, the fake psychic convinced Ethan to sign the papers, otherwise Lisa will be killed in the giant mechanised model of the solar system suspended from the ceiling.  Batman arrives just after Nostromos and Lucas have tied Ethan up, and he manages to defeat them both and save Lisa in a battle that wrecks the solar system model in the process.  The two con-men are taken to jail, and as Ethan ponders how he was easily misled, Bruce quotes a Shakespearean passage about the fault lying not in the stars, but in ourselves.

Review:

This episode is quite ‘meh’ compared to others in the series.  While seeing Batman bust up a con operation is a bit of something different, the sheer ridiculousness of the whole pretence makes it almost cringeworthy to watch. I’m not quite sure where this episode’s idea came from or what its purpose was, but if it was to teach audiences not to buy into such things, I think they should have toned the con down a bit.  Frankly, if anyone bought into a con as badly acted and generally blatant as this one was in real life, they’d have to be way too gullible to even live, much less accumulate enough wealth to make a worthy mark.  4 out of 10 for this one.

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse part 5

Find this on wattpad

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: This is kinda the single ladies girls squad chapter @queenmareena and @lilyharvord have requested. But there’s a lot of verbal slaying and sparring too. And pain. Yeah. And it’s super-long. Thanks @thomaven for advice^^ Enjoy~

Mare POV

In the end, Evangeline gets what she wanted and group of volunteers sets out to hunt for Maven. I’m one of them. But the boy king is astoundingly good at running away. We start with checking the breaches in the wall and the tunnels though there isn’t much to see, with the remains of the dead soldiers moved away. So, we run across the fields around the city, searching for Maven’s traces.

It’s strange to be here, when the memories of the battle in the blizzard still linger in my mind. But the sun is shining now, although not as hot as in Piedmont, and in some places, green grass is growing. Actually, if I turn away from the fortress, the landscape is weirdly peaceful. An unsettling thought, and the other members of the hunting party, most of them Silvers, seem to have almost similar feelings as they frown and move reluctantly. There’re no trails of Maven and his army to be found and probably, they vanished as they came. And why should they stay? It’s easy to forget that the war has ended when its dread loomed over us Reds for generations. Yet it was a ruse all along and the conflict was solved as easily as salt in water.

Maven’s and the Lakelanders’ retreat bring back the option of abandoning Corvium, an idea which was raised in the last meeting. Without the war and the choke’s trenches filled with soldiers, Corvium is just a huge but random stronghold instead of a death gate. It’s a reasonable plan, but it might be yet another trap by Maven to lure us away and to dissemble from his real schemes.

Evangeline, who was the first to volunteer, doesn’t give up so easily. Her dress is changed partly into an armour, partly formed into makeshift weapons and trinkets which she throws on the ground to use as anchors to jump away from. It’s almost like flying and I gaped when I saw it for the first time. Now, two hours later, I only glance at her every now and then, fascinated by the beauty of it and yet noticing her sombre mood. Fighting and using her ability seem like her only release and I can relate to that. While she still denies how fruitless this search is, I want to run to the electricon hill and call my lightning with Ella, Tyton and Rafe. Maybe they’re doing exactly that, only here instead of in Piedmont. So I spin on my heal and dash back to the city.

The huge breach where we fought catches my attention and I see Farley walking there, her hands on the wall. I go to her and she turns to me. She looks around as I approach her. “Hey Mare, are you alone? Good.”

I frown.

“Did you know,” she says, “there’s a Newblood in the Piedmont base who can control and shape rocks?”

I shake my head.

“That’s not surprising. He’s arrived recently with his family. He would’ve been very handy in this fight, of course. But he’s only fourteen and much too young for this.”

“Right,” I agree, and think of Cameron. She wasn’t much older when we recruited – abducted – her, and she needed a long time to arrange herself with the situation. We deserved her reproaches. We shouldn’t repeat this way of “recruitment” ever again. Then I work out why Farley was nervous before. “You don’t want the Silvers to know about this boy?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. The Silvers don’t have that kind of respect for childhoods, do they?”

From the corner of my eyes, I can still see Evangeline’s jumps. 

Corvium changes dramatically in the next two weeks and it turns more and more into a garrison, with almost relaxed inhabitants. At least they can feel like that. Enough Reds  - and some Silvers – start to believe in the alliance and it unsettles me how easily they’re convinced. I guess anything is better than waiting for death in the trenches or by Maven’s revenge. I can’t trust the idea that Maven will give up Corvium like this. Maybe it’s easier for the Red soldiers who are less tense and waiting for relocation, as that’s what’s happening. Farley is in charge of them and while she’s recruiting those willing to fight on and to become members of the Scarlet Guard, she often goes to Corvium’s sister city Rocasta where the released Red soldiers are stationed. Those who can’t live like this any longer. They wait to be relocated but that option has to be restricted, as both travelling and safe places are limited. Of course, most of them want to be with their families, but while we can’t force anyone to stay who’s willing to run on their own risks, if they returned to their homes, the shadow of rebel collaboration might fall on them, especially if their home town is loyal to Maven.

To my surprise, the Silvers don’t object, as long as Farley, General Akkadi and the other Red officers report on their numbers and the Silvers deem them high enough, high enough to build their joint army. While most soldiers cling to their own, one division is mixed where the Silvers include some Reds as officers among the Silver ones. It’s supposed to be a revolutionary project, but it isn’t, as Maven did the same thing with his Newbloods. Ironically, the joint army was Tiberias’s idea, as was the shadow legion a year ago. I wonder if that satisfies him, to somehow revive his concept and to train the soldiers himself. He seems to when he talks about them and he even dares to look at me more often during these reports. Those glances are invitations, I think, to come and visit their training, at best to stand beside Tiberias, the rightful king, and witness the cooperation of Reds, Silvers and Newbloods. Only that it happens on Tiberias’s terms, not the Scarlet Guard’s

I’ve carefully avoided to visit and I left the part of Tiberias’s Red partner as commander and trainer to a woman of Farley’s and Davidson’s choice. Her name is Saraline Barnes and spends her spare time often with Farley. They must have known each other for some time and that past connects them. With her, Farley seems almost girlish. I suspect Farley carries a photo of Clara around and has shown it to Saraline who’s happy for her, despite everything else. Saraline, a black woman, is a soldier of the Guard and has been in Corvium for months, almost since I’ve learned of my powers, and she’s as battle-hardened as Farley. As many of us are. I don’t know what she went through, but she has lost neither her assertiveness, nor the ability to smile for a friend, and I’m glad for both of them to have met again.

Instead, I end up training with the Newbloods. I think Kilorn would be disappointed with us Guards in Corvium. But I try to take his efforts to heart and sometimes go with Farley to meet with the Red soldiers. Fortunately, her commanding presence keeps them from treating me as either some kind of icon or a traitor. Or maybe I’ve finally become Operative Barrow to them, instead of the legendary Lightning Girl.

I reserve my lightning for the Newbloods and their commander, General Akkadi. She’s as authoritative as any of the Silvers. Her Newblood soldiers are loyal to a fault and she secures them places to live and train in as good as can be. I meet her during a bustling training session but unlike to actual battle, it’s possible to talk. She’s curious to learn about Guard members, such as me, as I’m curious about her. Her first name is Selene. She has bronze skin and is in her mid-fourties, although her hair is already grey and fixed in a long braid. She grew up in Montfort and tells me her ability is prophecy and for a second, I flinch, thinking of Jon. But she isn’t like him, she’s more like an Eagrie eye, a seer of the immediate future. She has a far greater reach than them though, and superhuman reflexes to act on her visions.

I understand better what she means when I see her fight other Newbloods. Neither a strongarm, swift nor teleporter are able to lay a hand or foot on her as she dodges all their attacks. Instead she aims at their weak spots with an uncanny precision, often scoring a potentially fatal blow in seconds.

“Close combat isn’t everything,” I say when she leaves the ring.

“True, true,” she admits, unperturbed by my little tease. “But that’s not all I can do.” She smirks. “A battle is different, as being a commander is different. I can see the future of … the whole of the fight and of almost every soldier in my vision as well. So, I might order them to act as if each of them has my gift.

"In theory, at least. It’s hard to communicate and making them understand what I need them to do in the chaos. I’ve learned to deal with the distraction visions can be, but nothing is ideal.” A dry laugh escapes her throat. “If we had a whisper or someone similar, they might transmit what I see to everyone else, like a perfect conduit. If we could trust them, that is,” she adds, noticing my severe frown at the thought of a whisper among us.

Tiberias wishes for one as well, for very different reasons.

The idea of someone else in my head continues to make me shiver with horrible memories and I need several moments to focus again on the here and now.

Akkadi doesn’t touch me but turns around and squats in front of me. Her dark brown eyes are warm, but something more than compassion sparkles in them.

“There’s a woman in Maven’s army who’s like me,” she tells me. “A Silver, but maybe the most powerful eye there is.”

Ambition, I realize. The Silver woman wakes Akkadi’s joy about challenge and competition. “General Aude Eagrie,” she explains. “She has whispers to aid her. She’s the heir to her house and has been at the choke for ages, a venerable veteran. Yet she’s lost Corvium twice now.”

Akkadi probably desires to meet the Silver general in person and to duel her herself to examine who’s truly the better of them. I don’t know much about this Aude. I heard of some quarrel about the inheritance of the title of House Eagrie, the candidates being an eccentric young man, a lady with royal blood and a lady general who must be Aude. I wonder if her efforts in the fake war can really outbalance her long absences from court. Then I banish the idea. I doubt the family quarrels are severe enough to get them at each other’s throats and if we’re lucky, the High Houses are done with before the question becomes serious. The Eagrie title isn’t my problem, but I realize I’m still trying to memorize, analyse and use all information I can get, as I did during my imprisonment.

I slap my thighs, clench my fists and take a breath. I jump from my seat. “You’re impressing, General,” I say to Akkadi. “But now it’s my time to spar”. I catch Ella’s eyes from the other end of the gym. She nods and I faintly see she’s smiling as I move to the ring. 

The daily pre-lunch meetings of Red and Silver officers are another kind of battle. Although words and gestures are the only weapons, these discussions are fiercer than training. They’re pretend, of course. I understand that we sit down every day to talk as if we’re truly allies but we quarrel the whole time. If Davidson’s trying to deceive the Silvers through false promises and information, I’m unaware of his means. It’s like the people at this table deciding over the fate of Corvium are just actors in his play.

I don’t forget my suspicion but it’s no excuse from being unfocused in those meetings. People like the Samos’ or Anabel, who call themselves royals, are too dangerous to be disregarded.

But these table discussions are revealed to be fake and useless once you know about the subterfuge.

I almost pity Tiberias sitting at his place of honour. He’s learned to present a majestic image outside of battle by now, as he’s dressed in a tailored and bejewelled uniform. I’m not immune against his sight, as handsome as ever. But the longer I dare to look at him, the more I feel the sting. He’s the perfect Silver prince again, one of them, as if he’s never been a rebel. At least Maven is aware of the difference between truth and image whereas Tiberias seems – as if he likes part of it? No, that can’t be, I can see how uncomfortable he is beneath his regal mask. And it’s not like I’ve granted him a chance to be with me at other places than this table.

Tiberias remains silent for most of the time and lets his allies and new advisors talk, in some kind of imitation of Volo Samos. Volo, in turn, still prefers to have his son present his side, as if Ptolemus is some kind of apprentice prince.

“Maven is again on a tour across Norta and is difficult to locate in advance,” Ptolemus explains.

Maven’s probably inspecting his defenses.

“It’s likely he’s expanded his railway network,” he adds and then pauses. I see the interest on Ptolemus’s face. Despite his and Evangeline’s unrest during our first trip with the train, he’s developed a fancy for the vehicle. He clears his throat. “General … Farley,” he begins, “It’s no secret the Scarlet Guard possesses access over a railway network, too. It would be a great advantage to our alliance if we had the same means …,” he stops mid-sentence as he looks up from his papers and notices that Farley doesn’t even glance in his direction. She’s literally turning away from him, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles turn white.

I realize she’s never looked at him when he talked. Ptolemus gapes and searches the table for reassurance for a second. All he gets is the steely expression on his father’s face. He can only continue.

“General Farley, I, in the name of my father, ask you for the locations as well as a map of the Guard’s trains.”

Finally, Farley turns with a swift motion into an adamant demeanour. “No,” she answers with a vicious smile.

Ptolemus blinks. “May I remind you we agreed to cooperate to tumble Maven’s regime? Withholding information -”

“I can’t remember a promise of sharing all of our assets and intelligence,” she interrupts him sharply. Her smile has vanished and is exchanged for an icy glare.

She walks a thin line between displaying the smallest shred of diplomacy and her outright contempt for him. Maybe it’s not the best course of action, but I can’t help feeling a little proud of her.

Ptolemus touches the bridge of his nose. “You’re obstinate. General. After all, we’ve done our best to support and provide for your re – ah, soldiers – “

“You mean we poor Reds should be grateful that you finally grant us enough food and good lodgings?!” I erupt. “Oh, of course, we’re barely able to take care of ourselves, are we?”

Ptolemus’s confusion is quickly replaced by angry indignation. “Indeed, we …, ” he starts to explain himself before his face changes into a sneer. “What are you even doing her, Barrow? This is a congregation of nobles and officers.”

His jibe merely fuels me. I grin until my scars hurt and turn to the future king of Norta. “Tiberias, what do you say to that? And I not allowed to be here?”

The way his expression changes when our eyes meet nowadays has become familiar, and it’s both hurt and satisfaction for the two of us. One after the other, disbelief, rejoice and then disappointment rush over his face. Then he regains his princely appearance and declares, “Mare Barrow deserves to be here and is a welcome member of this committee. She stays, as long as she wishes.” His grandmother frowns at this while Tiberias loses his seriousness for a moment and gives me a tiny smile.

I feel the corners of my mouth twitching as well. I turn away quickly. By now Farley’s aggressive posture has relaxed a little, but she’s still tense. I know she’s proud of her position as a general, but it’s not easy for her. She’s new to the job, and with Townsend dead, she’s the only Command general of the Scarlet Guard present in Corvium. She has to make these important decisions on its behalf in this volatile alliance and I’m not sure how much information she’s been able to glean from the secretive Command so far.

“So, we’ll do nothing about the trains?” Ptolemus asks into the silence, not letting go of his idea.

There’s no answer until a chair scratches on the floor and Davidson stands up. “May you excuse my interruption, your Highness. We should keep this option in mind. Sirs, madams, I fear we’re over the scheduled time already. If there are no other urgent topics,” he smiles excessively friendly, “I think we should return to our tasks at hand.”

Murmurs and relief replace the tension at the table. A few people voice agreement while others can’t wait to get up. I’m one of them. 

I follow Farley when we leave the conference room. This time, she storms off. Anger fuels her and while I feel my own upset about Cal, I cling to her. I see Cameron joining us as well. She wasn’t in any of the meetings, but she comes with us nonetheless. She looks worried. Farley stops and turns when she notices her. She snorts.

“Cole,” she barks, “you were more right that I would’ve ever thought.”

Cameron nods gravely but Farley sighs when she looks at me. “Those Silvers will always be a pain in the ass. Why can’t that little Samos bastard be dead already!”

I flinch at the mention of Ptolemus and it doesn’t escape Farley’s keen eyes. “Mare? Don’t you agree?”

I want to nod, to shout, yes, I want to electrocute him by returning to the meeting room immediately. But my memory remains, the promise I made to Evangeline. I shouldn’t care about it, as they haven’t ever cared about me. But I’ve seen the love and despair in Evangeline’s eyes that day and whatever I think of Shade’s killer, the idea of revenge becomes a double-edged sword.

I want to see him dead, sometimes all of them. But where would that end?

Love – loss – and despair are the emotions that show on Farley’s face now as well. I should’ve realized before. She’s raged against Evangeline and her parents before, but they weren’t the cause of her anger. I overlooked how deliberately she avoided Ptolemus’s sight. Because she wants to see him dead and shredded as much as I did.

“I … let’s go to your room.” I spin my head to stress the need for privacy, and Farley seems to agree, reluctantly. Her fierce expression doesn’t lose intensity once we’re in. Cameron still tags along, both worried and curious.

I take a breath but it doesn’t help me face Farley when I say it. “Evangeline freed me in exchange for promising not to kill her brother.”

I glance at her from the corners of my eyes. Disbelief washes over her. “How could you …?” she whispers, barely audible.

I stop eschewing her. “Yeah, I had the same thought. But what choice did I have?!”

Farley winces and inclines her head in understanding. Yet her anger doesn’t vanish. She’s the one to look away now, her hands on her hips.

“Farley,” Cameron calls out finally. Just her voice seems to level the heated mood in the room for a moment. I wish she would go on, but Farley speaks again.

“Then I’ll have to kill him.”

I’m used to her determination and relentlessness, but her thirst for revenge unsettles me. I shouldn’t judge her, I shouldn’t discourage her, but I remember too well how powerless I felt next to the magnetrons during the six months of my imprisonment and a part of me fears for her, despite her prowess in battle.

“Farley,” Cameron says again. “There’s more than murder at stake.” Farley glances at her, then clears her throat and blinks.

Pretty words aren’t much aid with such pain and grief as hers - or mine. It still gnaws on her, and I know nothing to do but say, “Diana. You told me it’s better to live for something.” I don’t dare to be plainer because she deserves better than to be berated about being overeager and rash or uncaring about risking her life and leaving Clara as an orphan. She must know this herself, even if I feel the need to remind her.

She gapes at first, then laughs joylessly. “Right, who says I’d die? Or do anything rash? The Samos brat isn’t worth it.”

To my surprise, Cameron says, “I’d help you.”

To my greater surprise, I add, “I would as well.” Both turn their heads to me as my bad conscience kicks back in. Yet deep down, the urge for vengeance has never left me.

I shake my head. “The goal is to end Silver monarchies. So, I’ll finish Ptolemus Samos well before he ascends another throne.” I almost expect another dirty laugh but Farley remains quiet this time. She merely nods with her arms crossed. Cameron starts to leave and I’m about to follow her, but then Farley closes the distance between us - and hugs each of us. Cameron seems even more startled than I but her expression softens quickly. “I’m your friend,” she says. “And we’ll end it.”

I hear Farley’s heavy breathing while she embraces me and I wonder if she’s fighting tears, and how many times she’s fought them in her life already.

“I wished so often – “ she murmurs. “I thought the greater good is enough, but – how  could I ever explain to Clara that he lives?”

I stroke her back. “I know.”

The harmonic moment doesn’t last long. We let go and smile at each other. Grimly. Cameron mentions something about repairs to be made and rushes off. She has found something else to do, while her life as a techie has given her knowledge she uses of her own terms now. I want to leave as well, but I’m less sure where to go. I hesitate, fumbling for words, and make some random gestures as I moves to the door.

“Mare, wait,” Farley’s voice cuts through the room and I frown at her sudden change of tone, her amusement gone. I turn to her, but she doesn’t continue. Not yet. I wonder if she still plots against Ptolemus and can’t let go so easily.

“I’m sorry, Mare. I should’ve apologized long ago,” she says instead and I blink in confusion. Farley lowers her head but her eyes are focused on me, as intense as ever.

“I have – I’ve never given you a choice either. I’ve lied to you, and used you, and it’s time to stop acting innocent and righteous about this. We need to be honest.”

I feel myself plummeting into a hole, into dark times I’m not ready to face out of a sudden. I don’t want to think about what she might mean, but the memory of that moment on the Blackrun, when we screamed at each other with Shade’s corpse between us, shoves itself into my consciousness.

Farley comes closer to me. “Mare? I’m sorry to throw you off your guard like this. I mean … I should just say it.” Yet she hesitates and her hand faintly brushes my shoulder. I take several breaths. My vision blurs and clears again and I lift my head to her. I stare back, knowing I should listen to her and be done with it. It’ll never be easy. I can deal with it, then I can still yell at her.

Farley seems to understand my agreement. She nods. “You might’ve figured out that I always knew that Shade wasn’t dead …  back then.” She has to clear her throat at those words. “I used your grief and anger to motivate you to join the Guard.”

She’s right, I’ve figured this out long ago but I had much greater worries during that time. And what is the point now? Shade is still dead and I can’t regret joining the rebellion. I regret many things, but not that. I shake my head. “Yes, that was heartless, Farley. I didn’t need that motivation and Shade should’ve known that, too. Because you did meet him while I was Mareena, didn’t you?”

She blushes at my indication and her stance wavers slightly. “Indeed,” she confirms, “we should’ve realized. But have you never thought it could’ve been different? I could’ve gotten you out of the palace if I’d tried, if you’d asked.”

“Since when do we talk about lost chances? I haven’t asked because I thought I was doing the right thing.” I cackle. “You don’t have to pamper me.”

She sighs but doesn’t relax. She isn’t done yet. “But I’m still a liar. I didn’t notice immediately, but once I did, I felt too coward to bring this up. That you believed me when I requested that money for transporting you and Kilorn. But I was joking. I would’ve helped you anyway. For Shade.”

Again, I need a moment to process her words. I understand all that could’ve been avoided if she’d been more honest and plain. How different everything could’ve been, if Gisa’s hand was never injured? Despite my former dismissal, I feel my anger rise. My life hasn’t been my own for such a long time. Maybe never. I ’ve been a pawn shoved back and forth by players other than me. I think about how Maven was made, no, all of us, myself included. Will it never end?

I bat Farley’s chest so she has to step back. Tears run over my cheeks as I spit at her when I yell, “you’re such an awfully good actress, Diana Farley! Are you hoping to manipulate people so you’ll get what you want?”

She has the decency to lower her head, but that only lasts a moment. She isn’t afraid to face me, she never is. My rage already starts to calm as reason kicks in. I know why she did all that and that she’ll never stop fighting until we’ve won. But that can’t change the way betrayal feels.

“I know what I am and what I’ve done,” Farley admits. “But even when you shout at me and resent me for this, and feel down because of me, we both know that you deserve better than play pretend. You deserve the truth, especially now. And I don’t want to be your friend if I lie to you.” After these words, she turns away.

I move to her bed and sit down. I cover my eyes with my palms to stop the tears but of course it doesn’t work like that. I hear how Farley sits down next to me yet she doesn’t touch me or tries to comfort me in another way. Her presence has to be enough. Eventually, I uncover my eyes and see her open palm, outstretched like it’s an invitation. I take it and squeeze.

“I forgive you,” I say, as haughtily as possible with a tear-stained voice.

Farley squeezes back. “All of us have made mistakes and lost important things … and people. But while you and I and other rebels have fucked things up, not everything is our fault. In the end, it’s the Silvers who are guilty, and those are who we fight. We can’t forget that.” She sighs. “I’m just trying to be better.”

There’s grief in her voice. I realize how much she’s changed since I met her for the first time, how loss and love have shaped her anew. I suppose she wants to be a good leader, mother and friend. But I mourn how much pain she has suffered to grow to become a better person. And I know the same applies to me.

I lean against her. For the second time this day, we just hug and take comfort from each other. It relaxes me, calms me, but after a few minutes, I realize this isn’t enough. There’s still too much frustration boiling inside of me and I long for activity. I let go of her, rise and walk to the door.

“Where are you going?” Farley stands up as well and goes after me. I don’t turn to her.

“Do you intend to follow me all day now?”

She comes closer until I see her crossing her arms from the corner of my eyes. “Do you want to be alone?”

What do I want?

To see Maven’s corpse and I know I no longer have to fear him.

To slap Tiberias – Cal, and yell at him for his mistakes, half-heartedness and lack of compassion until he kneels before me in submission.

To have Cal kiss me, hug me, touch me, fuck me, until I’m burning inside and feel only love and passion instead of despair.

Or I just want to go out, grab Ella and have her teach me how to make a storm huge enough so I’ll feel nothing but its voltage and the electric current coursing through me.

Finally, I turn to Farley. “I’m going to train with Ella.”

She cocks her head yet abstains from the obvious reply, wondering if I’m not too keyed up to use my ability. What else should I do? Training, or just running, is the best way to calm me down. Physical exercise is the only thing that makes me sleep at night when I slowly get used to being alone again.

Before I say anything else, Farley gives me an encouraging smile. “I’ve nothing else to do. I’m coming with you.”

The gym is buzzing with excitement when we arrive. I make out General Akkadi fighting once more on the sparring grounds.

She has it harder today. Her movements to dodge her opponent’s attacks are slower, as if this duel has lasted for some time. Or the opponent is just stronger and more vicious because - to my astonishment - she’s fighting Evangeline.

I wince. I’ve no idea how she escaped her family and their Silver cronies and got past our soldiers patrolling these quarters. The crowd doesn’t seem to mind and watches in awe. It’s really the end of the duel. Akkadi closes the distance to Evangeline despite the metal shards hurled into the air. Akkadi snatches one of them and holds it against Evangeline’s bare throat while she punches her gut.

Evangeline stumbles despite her armour and Akkadi just turns and says, “I win,” as she leaves the ring. She sees Farley and me, grins, and greets us.

“General Farley, have I told you about my son yet?” I hear her say behind me because I find myself walking to the ring where Evangeline remains standing.

“Do you have the power for another duel in you, Princess?” I say. 

A/N: IDK if I can say this at another point, so I explain here. Akkadi has a teenage son who currently lives with her ex-husband. They’re co-parents and the son a Newblood too, a swift, and Akkadi thinks Farley would like to know about stuff like that. 

And I finally brought Saraline from Steel Scars back into the story.

@universegamer @clarafarleybarrow @mikey-waysjawline @redqueenfandom @xsonnydelavegax @wrenskonos @maudthebookeater @mayamalfoy @asewhj @clara-farl3y @tiygreen37 @maven-notmyking @a-gods-cursed @acourtofmareandcal @burnersbetrayal @didmavenkillyou--metoo

[jsmulligan]

“You've got to hold those zones!” the voice of Lord Shaxx, Crucible Handler, rang through the arena, frustration evident in his tone.

Shaxx was a legendary figure, a mountain of a man who had lead famed charges into harrowing conflict, then built the Crucible as we know it to train Guardians to be ready for anything that would come their way.  He was very hands on with his creation, monitoring each match that happened.  He served as announcer for some matches, others he would just chime in from time to time with comments directed toward the competitors.  Normally, hearing him getting so caught up in a match was nearly as entertaining as the action itself.  When it was directed at your team, the entertainment value dropped substantially.

“Oh, is THAT what we're supposed to be doing,” Hunter Celeste Etain muttered to the left of me.  “And here I thought we were just supposed to dance around them and look at the pretty flags.”

As she spoke, Celeste spun out into the open, drawing her Void bow and loosing an arrow at Zone B.  The arrow pierced through one defender.  Where he fell, a ball of purple Light blossomed with tendrils of energy lancing outward to snare the other two.  I followed her action up by tossing grenade that attached to one and exploded.  The energy of the explosion transferred through the Void tethers, killing both of them.

“Maybe that's what Baruch was doing,” Titan Kana-4 chimed in over the comms, her tone teasing.  “It would explain why we lost C just now.”

She sprinted into view, performing a crisp slide into the circle that marked the Control point.  Celeste and I quickly moved into it as well, the three of us watching for approaching enemies while waiting to be awarded the capture.

“I was not dancing,” Titan Baruch Maor groused after a few seconds, his usual lack of humor evident in his tone.  “They shot me out of the air before I could land my slam.  I had them dead to rights.”

“And that is why you don't leap high in the air before you do it,” I chided.  “At least until you've managed to better control you speed of descent.  We've talked about that.”

He did not reply to that, but I could imagine the Awoken man grumbling under his breath.  Despite being newly risen, Baruch was very self-assured.  That could be a good thing, but it often turned into arrogance or just thick-headed stubbornness.  If I could manage to shape it properly, it could result in a stalwart Guardian that others would follow into anything.  For now, however, it just made me want to beat my head against the Wall until visions of prancing Thrall filled my skull.

“Tanton.  Astrid.  How are you progressing?” I asked.

“Got one,” was the Hunter's terse reply.

“We found her by A and took her out,” Astrid's young voice replied.  “About to move to capture.”

“Nice work,” Celeste complemented.

“Thanks,” Astrid said, the mini-Titan's voice full of joy.  “She never saw me coming.  Dove into the back of her knees, then Tanton finished her off with his knife.”

“You and knees,” I muttered, not necessarily intending to be heard.

“It's fun,” she said.  “No one ever expects it.”

Motion to my left.  I turned and fired, three rounds leaping from my Parthian Shot pulse rifle.  They found their mark, striking a Guardian who had tried sneaking up on us.  Kana reacted and fired an inaccurate spray from her auto rifle.  It was not the best bit of shooting, but enough rounds found their mark to finish off the enemy combatant.

“Heavy ammo inbound,” suddenly sounded through the arena.

“We'll get the close one here,” I said.  “We'll do out best to wait for the rest of you to get here before opening it.”

“Not me,” Baruch stated.  “I've still got a Fist of Havoc that I need to hit someone with.  I'm going after the other drop.”

The heavy ammo crate trasmatted into its designated spot.  I erected a Ward of Dawn around it, giving us protection while we grabbed the ammo synths and loaded our weapons.  Across the bottom of my HUD, I saw several notifications scroll by in rapid succession:

BRAVO has picked up heavy ammo.

Baruch Maor killed Baris-7, Fist of Havoc

Baruch Maor killed Lee Christoph, Fist of Havoc

Baruch Maor killed David Ryn, Fist of Havoc

ALPHA has taken the lead.

Jarus Corbin killed Baruch Maor, sniper rifle

“Four of them got the heavy ammo, but I took out three,” Baruch said moments later, after being revived and transmatted back into the arena.

“Nice work,” I replied.  “Let's finish them off.”

Having five members of our team with heavy weapons available, versus only one of theirs, gave us a strong advantage.  We stuck together, working to take out approaching Guardians before they could pick us off or unleash their Light.  This let us stretch out the slim lead Baruch had gotten us, and we were able to hold on for the victory. It wasn't the prettiest match I had ever been part of, but a win is a win.  The team seemed to be coming together nicely.  Well, the team and Astrid, the irrepressible “Wild Child”.

Once the match was called, Celeste made her way to the nearest control point and was started dancing near the flag.  Kana cheered her on while clapping a beat.  Baruch, Tanton, and Astrid gathered nearby and were watching the two of them.

“Alright everyone, let's call it a day and get out of here,” I said.

“Aww, but I'm holding the zone like Shaxx said,” Celeste jokingly pouted.

“Yeah, someone has to show Baruch how it's done,” added Kana, casting a glance at the other Titan.

“Try it out next time we're in a match and see how it works for you,” the other Awoken man grumbled.  

“Well, if you want to stick around, that's up to you,” I replied, “but Fireteam Painted Truth is officially off duty for now.”

“Fireteam?” a familiar voice questioned behind me.  I turned around to see Jarus Corbin approaching.  He had already removed his helmet and a broad smile was creasing his dark features.  “Claney Beamard in an honest-to-goodness fireteam?  And here I thought I'd seen everything.”

“Jarus,” I nodded, extending a hand which the Hunter shook. “It's been a while.”

“Yes it has,” he responded, glancing past me at the other five Guardians.  “I thought you'd sworn off fireteams.  In fact, I remember you making a big deal about it when Iniko tried to get you to join ours a few years back.”

“It's a long story,” I said.  “But the short version is that it was something that I'd thought about for a while and the Vanguard assigned three kinderguardians to work with me and Celeste.”

“And the half-pint?”  Jarus asked.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said quickly, holding a hand up.  “Don't let her hear you say that, unless you feel like eating a Hammer. What's the phrase?  '… though she be but little, she is fierce'? And to answer your question, she's not fully part of the team. Astrid is still only allowed to participate in the Crucible. Officially.  Unofficially, I'd be willing to wager just about anything that she manages to slip out and get herself more field experience than anyone would guess.”

A warning appeared on my HUD just then.  We had remained too long and needed to clear the arena before the next match.  I'd seen people ignore those warnings and had no desire to be cleared from the arena by the Redjacks.

“Let's finish this conversation back at the Tower,” I said to Jarus before turning my attention to my team.  “Now it's really time to go.  Clear out, head back home.”

…

I changed out of my armor into something more casual while on transit to the Tower.  Jarus, the team, and I all transmatted into the Courtyard about the same time, and it looked like they all had the same idea.  We briefly discussed heading to the Hangar bar or the City, but decided to continue the conversation at the fireteam quarters.  Astrid opted to head back to the Anusky's.  We reached our destination and the Hunter paused at the door where Celeste had painted the team's name in large letters.

“Painted Truth?” he asked, glancing at me.

“Celeste picked the name,” I replied with a shrug.

“Don't be jealous your team didn't think of something as interesting,” she smirked and passed through the doorway.  

Jarus just shook his head and followed her in.  I let Kana, Baruch, and Tanton enter as well before stepping in last.  By the time I entered, Jarus and Celeste had each found seats in the common area. Baruch and Kana were looking for seats, and Tanton was disappearing into his bunk.  I watched him go and then dropped heavily into an empty armchair.

“Jarus Corbin, this is Celeste Etain, Kana-4, and Baruch Maor.  The one who disappeared into his room is Tanton Holter.  Team, Jarus.” I indicated each member of the team as I said their names, and they each nodded or waved in turn.  “I've worked with Jarus a few times in the past.”

“Yep.  And I saved his life every single time, regardless of what he tells you,” the Hunter said.  “So, I take it we have time for the longer version now?” Jarus asked.

“I suppose we do,” I said, then took a moment to gather my thoughts.  “Well, it starts with a woman...”

“The best stories always do,” Jarus commented, winking at Kana who gave an impressive roll of her optics.

“... named Zillah Arvid,” I continued, ignoring both him and the sound Celeste made at the mention of Zillah's name.  “An Awoken Warlock.  She, Celeste, another Warlock named Scott-20, and I went on a mission that turned into something much bigger.  She suggested we form a team.”

“I can't help but notice there's nobody here that matches that description,” he said.  “Is she...”

“Dead?  No.  She left shortly after making the suggestion and hasn't been seen since.  The other Warlock suffered some injuries during the events and decided he preferred life in his study to the field.  He is our unofficial sixth member, acting as an information maven as well as facilitating communications and tinkering with gear.

“That left me and Celeste.  We work together all the time, but two people do not a fireteam make.  It seemed like the end of it.  I've spent the better part of the last year stationed at the Tower helping to mentor and train newly revived Titans.  Celeste stuck around for a time, but then ventured back into the wilds as you Hunters do. Still, I couldn't seem to shake the idea of putting a team together. Eventually I convinced Celeste to come back and brought the idea up to the Vanguard.  They assigned Kana, Baruch, and Tanton to us to make the team, though there wasn't a sixth at the time.”

“Dad and I...” Celeste began before Jarus interrupted again.

“Wait.  Dad?”

“I was there when she was resurrected,” I said quickly.  “Right after helping you and Iniko, actually.  Have you seen any old cartoons where the baby bird hatches and thinks that whatever the first thing it sees is its mother?  Same basic concept.”

“Shush,” Celeste laughed, tossing a throw pillow at me.  “Anyway. Yes, my dad.  We agreed to the assignment and have been spending way too much time in the Crucible ever since to, as the old man put it, 'build team report.'”

“Well that just sounds super boring,” Jarus remarked, smirking at me.

“Oh, it is,” Kana agreed.

“Well, if you get tired of it, Team Tosia could always has room a few extra members.  We'd actually let you out to shoot stuff.  Just ditch the 'old man' here and come on over.”

“Poaching from my team and inciting mutiny.  Remind me to not invite you back,” I said, shaking my head.

“What can I say?  I like to stir the pot,” the Hunter replied.

“I'm well aware of that.  Speaking of Team Tosia, how are things?”

“Knew they had a boring name,” Celeste muttered under her breath. Jarus either did not hear or just ignored it.

“Not bad, not bad.  Broke in a new member not too long ago when someone left the team.  We've been keeping active; taking strikes from the Vanguard, doing work for the factions, the usual.  It is getting a little weird out there, though.”

“How so?”

Jarus shifted as he spoke, leaning forward, “The numbers of enemy combatants we're seeing and the way they're moving.  I mean, given everything that has happened over the last few years, taking the Black Garden, killing Hive Gods, stopping the Devils and SIVA, it would stand to reason that we would see changes.  But... I don't know.  Something feels off about the way it's going down.  I can't really put my finger on it, though.”

I nodded, thoughtful.  Baruch and Kana seemed to listen intently with a definite hunger in their eyes.  Maybe it was time to get them out in the field instead of just drilling in the Crucible.

“I will say one thing for sure,” Jarus continued, “there is something going on with the Cabal on Mars.  Something seems to have lit a fire under them and they are starting to push harder against us and the Vex.  Mobilizing in a way I haven't seen since they were right before Oryx wrecked them on Phobos.  Tosia has recommended to the Vanguard that we increase our presence there.”

“You think they're planning to try to move against us?”

“Maybe.  Or maybe they're a canary.”

“A what?” Baruch questioned.

“A canary,” Jarus repeated.  “Back long before the Golden Age, when people would mine underground for minerals, they would sometimes have a canary with them in order to detect lethal gas.”

“Did the birds offer some sort of warning?” Kana asked.

“No,” Jarus replied, “they just died faster than people.  So if the canary dropped dead, they miners would know there was a deadly substance in the air and get out.”

“Oh,” was the only response the Exo offered.

“And you think that the Cabal are reacting to something big coming that we haven't detected yet?” I asked.

“They were like an ant hill someone kicked over before Oryx came in, they're starting to get that way now.  One doesn't necessarily mean the other, but...,” the Hunter shrugged.

“You may have a point.”

Just then, my Ghost Elgan materialized and floated over to me.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the Vanguard are calling for you.”

“Okay.”

“They want to speak to you in private,” he said.

I excused myself from the conversation and crossed the room to my bunk.  I closed the door and sat on the far side of the small room. Elgan flittered over to hover just in front of me, the pieces of his shell rotating in opposite directions.  I looked at him, and he connected me to the Vanguard.  The calm, deep voice of Commander Zavala emerged.

“Claney?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“There is an urgent matter that the Speaker wishes to discuss with you.  He is requesting that you come to his study alone.  He says it is something of a sensitive nature and would prefer no one else know that you are coming to speak with him.”

“Any idea what so I'm not going in blind?” I asked.

“No,” the Commander replied, a slight hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.  He did not seem to be thrilled to have the Speaker keeping him in the dark either.

“Fair enough.  I will head there right away.  Claney out.”

The connection severed and I sat still for a moment.  For the life of me I could not figure out what the Speaker would need to speak to me about.  No point in keeping him waiting, however.  I emerged from the room and all eyes turned to me.

“I have to go deal with something.  I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Celeste gave me an inquisitive look, and I shook my head then headed out the door.

...

AN:

This is the first chapter of my recently started fic over at fanfiction.net.  I saw posts about Destiny week, and that it was fireteam day.  I hadn’t contributed up ‘til now, but better late than never?  The story itself is a sequel to A Not So Simple Patrol and lead in to Destiny 2.

As always, Astrid is the property of @yourspunkpunk

[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.

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Light in your eyes

Warning: This is my crackship Farley x Ada aka Fada, but it's not a big thing between them yet. I think it's worth to read for the angst even without agreeing on the ship, but that's just me ... ;-)

As this is a w/w ship, there will be a lot of she/her pronouns. I hope I made everything clear, but if it's not, just ask.

Find this on wattpad

Warning: This is my crackship Farley x Ada aka Fada, but it’s not a big thing between them yet. I think it’s worth to read for the angst even without agreeing on the ship, but that’s just me … ;-)

As this is a w/w ship, there will be a lot of she/her pronouns. I hope I made everything clear, but if it’s not, just ask. 

 I’d die for you.

It was an obvious thing to say. Diana Farley would do everything for her daughter so she might grow up in a better world than her parents did. Thus Farley continued to kill and risk her own life for the victory of the Scarlet Guard.

It was also a wrong thing.

Ruth Barrow reminded her every time she left Clara in the care of her grandmother, as if she didn’t know herself. She did know, while not minding Ruth’s constant insisting either.

“Don’t you dare let my grandchild grow up as an orphan, Diana Farley,” Ruth would chide her when she took Clara into her arms and Farley would nod.

“I promise that I’ll come back,” she pledged. “I’ll see you soon, dove,” she then whispered to Clara, and turned around to take part in another confrontation with Silver warlords.

Farley didn’t dare to tell Ruth about the letters she wrote for Clara in case she would not return, despite her promises. You could never know, not after what had happened to Shade. Not after what had almost happened to Mare. But she swore to herself she would read those letters to Clara herself one day, to show her how much she loved her - and to tell her about her father.

She wasn’t going to let anyone forget who Shade Barrow had been, least of all their daughter or herself. But it was a strain, a sting in her heart, to be beholden to a dead man while desperately trying to live.

The colonel’s questioning gaze was aimed at Farley for most of the meeting. She understood him, really, because the Guard’s current strategy, her strategy, seemed strange enough for those that weren’t told about it.

Her father kept insisting on involving the rebels in the battles – to not call them outright civil war – between the Lerolan-governed Delphie region and Maven in Archeon.

“It’s the perfect chance to evacuate the techies in Gray Town,” the colonel proposed. “With the industry in the Rift withholding resources, Maven Calore cannot maintain the capitol. General,” he addressed Farley and she still felt the amazement of hearing the colonel pleading to her.

But she merely cleared her throat. It wouldn’t stop him for long, so she added, “we support the techie Reds with supplies. That must be enough, as we’ll need the factories for our own plans. Just as the Lerolan Silvers can deal by themselves.”

The colonel frowned, but he realized when he had to withdraw until later. Yet his stare lingered, he would not give up. Farley glared back for a moment before changing the topic. Next to her, Ada Wallace illustrated Farley’s statements without a prompt. Ada’s thinking was quick in more than one regard and Farley patted the other woman’s thigh in thanks. Ada turned slightly to wink at her.

But inwardly, she sighed. All of this only because she had no clearance to tell the colonel about Davidson’s plot to turn the Silvers against each other. It was well within Scarlet Guard practice to keep operations classified, but this still seemed stupid.

When she had to tell the colonel about Cal’s acceptance to reclaim the throne of Norta, he looked like he was going to explode until he started to shout in frustration instead. Fortunately, he stopped after a few seconds, or Farley would’ve seriously considered shoving Clara into his arms, if only to see what would happen. He was very reluctant to touch his granddaughter, and a part of Farley was angry about that. He was one of the reasons why she brought the child to her meetings.

Otherwise, the colonel’s disagreement was reasonable. Why should the Scarlet Guard support another Silver king, even less so when his ascension led to the visible break between him and Mare Barrow, both of them faces of the rebellion?

Thus Farley cursed Davidson for issuing a gag order on her. But that didn’t mean she was unable to deal with the situation. Diana Farley hadn’t risen to a general’s rank for nothing. She’d only prefer to make decisions by herself instead of listening to the Monfort Newbloods.

If Mare felt the same, she didn’t let it show. The girl had become more and more of a mistress in masking her thoughts, in public at least. Farley took care to pay attention to Mare’s mental well-being, something she, Shade and Cal had missed to do before Mare’s imprisonment. Nevertheless, Mare had a mind for politics and consequently, she and Farley as two of the few people aware of the scheme, were the ones to make decisions for the soldiers stationed at the Piedmont base.

It was a burden Farley would like to share, most of all with Ada. Farley doubted the Newblood hadn’t already figured Davidson out, and if not, it could not take much longer. Farley felt as much when she met Ada’s kind but shrewd golden eyes settling on her. They weren’t accusing but offering help and she was tempted. She didn’t get into this position because she was good at following orders after all. It was a decision she could make by herself, and she was ready to trust Ada with her life. 

Yet when there were only her and Ada left in her office, she circled around the truth, letting Ada prattle about everything else as well as letting her take care of Clara when she cried because of her growing teeth. Farley smiled at the sight as they stood in front of her, Ada’s ochre skin illuminated by the reddish-golden light of the sunset.

“What will you do when she’s older, General? Like three?” Ada asked out of a sudden.

Farley blinked and turned back to her papers. “What?”

“I mean when Clara’s old enough to understand what we’re talking about in the meetings. Would you still want her to be there?” Ada explained.

“That is … ”

“And what about your weapons lying around? Clara might just … ” Ada shrugged.

Farley knew that she was blushing. “You’re right, Lieutenant Wallace, I’m aware – “

“It’s Ada, we’re not in a meeting.”

Farley laughed drily. “Right, Ada. I wonder myself.”

Ada moved into the seat in front of her desk. “Why is it so important to you to bring her along?” she asked eventually. It could’ve sounded too inquiring, too nosy, but she seemed merely curious – and compassionate.

Farley hesitated to answer, although she knew very well why. She continued to look at the maps on her desk. “It’s just ... I want to,” she confessed after a while. “Have her with me whenever I can. I … need to, as a reminder.” She shrugged.

Finally, she raised her head, just in time to see an emotion flicker over Ada’s face. It almost looked like regret.

She woke with a jolt. Oh, she thought, oh. Why did it have to end?

Well, the reason was obvious, Clara had cried out, having woken up herself. The child was calming quickly, but Farley picked her up nonetheless.

“What is it, dove? Not hungry or dirty? The teeth again?” Clara only grabbed her mother’s shirt and fell asleep again.

Farley sighed. “You didn’t need a reason, do you?” She didn’t put Clara back into the cot, not yet. She needed to hold her for a moment while the memory of a passionate dream lingered in her mind. And her body.

The truth was, she had already forgotten what had happened in the dream, or with whom. What remained was the want, the desire that hadn’t showed itself for the first time in the last year. Farley couldn’t deny that she yearned for more than discussing, scheming and fighting, for even more than seeing Clara grow up.

The solution was simple. She wanted Shade. But he wasn’t coming back. Never, neither for their daughter nor for her.

She laid Clara back into her own bed and stayed standing next to it.

It wasn’t a new thought, but a fact that had slammed into her mind a for a long time now. Just when Clara was born, Shade had been dead for already half a year. And half a year was the whole amount of time Farley had known him. It was such a short period, all in all, yet it was nothing she could – or want to – ever forget. She remembered every second of it, even before their relationship became physical, like every time they eyes had met, when his hands had touched her or when he had said her name with such intensity.

It had hurt to remember for a long time. But the pain had started to lessen as well when acceptance began to set in. At times, she would go back to mourn Shade and what could’ve been, but those thoughts no longer overwhelmed her; she could think about him more with fondness than with grief.

Yet as she did, going thoroughly over those moments, she realized some of them were repeating themselves when she was with Ada: The glances, the smiles, her constant presence at Farley’s side.

She wasn’t certain how often she had already touched Ada for support, not knowing why she did it. She blushed, realizing how selfishly she’d grasped that support at times. Did she truly long for that, did she even have the time? Ada was there for her and she enjoyed to be with her. Yet Farley was unsure if she wasn’t making everything up. Why should Ada have in interest in her apart from their friendship and mutual cause? On the other hand, she had thought the same thing about Shade back then.

It didn’t help that Ada had golden eyes, just like him.

She glanced at Clara, watching her breath regularly. Yet another golden-person close to her. Gently, she felt for the child’s heartbeat.

“I love you more than anything else in the world,” she whispered. “But,” she sighed, “but. We aren’t alone in it, are we?”

Farley fought for a better world, yet there already was so much more than pain, sorrow and grief in it. She could not mourn and long for Shade for the rest of her life. It would take too much from her, even if that life only lasted for another week.

She went back to bed and tried to sleep while pondering about golden eyes piercing her heart. Of course, she didn’t fall asleep again for what felt like hours, not before she started to touch herself.

I could talk to Ada, she thought. And for a moment, that included, I could go to her right now. Then Farley was embarrassed about her excitement.

Don’t be rash, General. You know better now, and you’re beyond rashness.

I ’ll wait for a day.

Diana Farley was quite a coward when it came to confessing. Her determination waxed and waned from minute to minute and that didn’t even take into account her lack of words. It was night again, and one and a half days away from another relocation. It was the right thing to settle – this, before it would be buried under new duties. Ada lodged just on the other side of the corridor. Yet Farley didn’t move and continued to stare at Clara, first for five, then for ten minutes.

"What if Ada feels uncomfortable to be intimate with her superior?” she asked aloud. Of course, Clara didn’t answer, so she did it herself. “No, that’s a lame excuse.” Ada was the most rational person in the world, she had to be able to deal with Farley’s feelings, even if she didn’t reciprocate them.

Farley had stood up before she stopped herself as she realized what bullshit that thought was. Just because Ada is so very intelligent doesn’t mean that she can’t feel overburdened, you idiot.

But still, even if she was wrong about Ada, there was no danger in asking, was there? She just had to be careful with her words, casually inquiring if Ada had any romantic interests at all.

So she stood at the door and hesitated. Parental worry took control of her for a moment. How could she leave her little girl alone to go flirting? She shook her head and convinced herself that Clara wasn’t going to die in the next five minutes.

Ada invited Farley into the room after two long seconds since she knocked. The Newblood seemed content and relaxed with a book in her hand and even more piled on her desk.

“It’s not that tidy in here, General,” Ada said with a self-deprecating smirk. Of course it was tidy by anyone else’s standards but the former housemaid’s. “Alas, what do you want?”

There. As Ada looked at Farley, all her carefully prepared words escaped from her mind. She returned the gaze until Ada eased herself and leaned against the desk with the corners of her mouth twitching.

It was time. “Well. We’ve fought together for so long now, Ada, and I think we should finally get to know each other better,” Farley wrung out the phrases and cursed herself for her bluntness.

“I see,” Ada replied and drank from a mug. “What do you want to know? Or would you like to talk about yourself first?”

That settled it.

“I’d like to know if you like me too, Ada,” she said without thinking any further and she was glad to be out with it.

Because Ada started to laugh as happy and freely as Farley had never heard her laugh before. She felt the same sound rising from her stomach before she joined in.

That was when Ada touched her shoulder and pulled her closer which sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She placed her hands in Ada’s sides to turn it into a real embrace.

“I couldn’t exactly go and ask you myself,” Ada whispered against her neck. “I had to wait for your choice.” She paused. “Didn’t I?”

Farley hadn’t thought about it like that. But Ada had been right about that and her consideration for Farley’s grief created a lump in her throat. She leaned her head against Ada’s.

“Yes,” she whispered. “You were right. Thank you.”

For the moment, it was enough to stand there in each other’s arms. This was merely a beginning, still small and budding. So, after some time and more whispered words, Farley carefully pulled away. Her fingertips brushed Ada’s cheek.

“I left Clara alone,” she explained. “I need to go back.”

Ada nodded and took her other hand. “Until next time, Diana Farley.”

Her golden eyes didn’t leave Farley out of sight until she was on the corridor. Just like Farley’s lingered on her.

Commentary:

I still hope no one wants to kill me.

I probably overused the eye fucking, didn’t? I tried to tone it done a little, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

I definitely overused but and yet. 

Ada really has golden eyes, I’ve looked that up. Too good not to mention.

I kept the time frame ambiguous on purpose. I don’t want to set up an amount of time which I deem as an appropriate mourning period. That is individual and not for me or anyone else to judge.

As I’ve said before, I think it is a bad trope to treat a (kind of) widowed single mother as unshippable. It’s certainly not the same with male characters and so I’m making a point with Farley. That doesn’t mean I need every character in a relationship in the end.

Titled after a song by Flyleaf. I would’ve posted this yesterday, but I really struggled with a title.

Not sure who to tag....

@clarafarleybarrow @redqueenfandom  @lilyharvord @queenmareena @maudthebookeater @iwishmydearlaurens   @red-queen-em-for-a-dream