#Slight Marecal

[lucy-the-cat]

Lover’s Curse Chapter One - A Twist of Fate

Mare

Prisoners aren’t usually bridesmaids.  Brides don’t usually smile at a woman their groom loves.  Manacles usually aren’t clothed in silk, chaining an honored guest whose weakened frame has become impossible to hide.

But Maven has always had an unusual attachment to me.

Iris extinguishes his fire with a hiss, a smirk tugging her lips.  Nymphs always triumph over Burners.  It disappears once they kiss, however brief and passionless.  Princesses do not marry for love.

Neither do kings.

He should know better than to look.  He won’t like what he finds.  But his eyes drift towards me anyway, as if there were no distance between us, as if Maven and I are the only people in the room.

What emotion would hurt the most?  The hollow eyes of a broken promise?  Or the benevolent smile of a girl who will never love him again?

I settle for an eye roll.

At my left, Evangeline chuckles.  Her gown may gleam whiter than the bride’s, but she’s in no hurry to switch places.  She nestles against her brother, razors of her dress brushing against his hand.  I hope it draws blood.

Thunder booms.  The air crackles with electricity, and everyone turns to stare at me.  But this is not my storm.

In the distance, blue lightning cracks across the sky.  Green joins it, striking closer.  Iris raises her hands, droplets of water condensing and growing into a thin shield above the guests.  A white bolt strikes it, sizzle brilliant as a wedding cake.

I want to taste it.

“I’ll take her.”  Evangeline’s hand closes around my wrist.  “You’ve never been good at combat, and you’ll do worse with a prisoner slowing you down.”

Maven hesitates, gaze lingering on her pearly white dress.  “Let her go.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let her go.”  He extends his hand, not to Evangeline, but to me.  “She’ll slow you down, when we need you to fight these vermin.  They won’t get their hands on her.”  His palm clasps on mine like the lid of a tomb.  “I will ensure it.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty.”  Ptolemus joins his sister, inclining his head.  “Your safety is our highest priority.  I know you are a compassionate man--”  I suppress a snort.  “--and you don’t wish to endanger your subjects.  But my sister and I are honored to serve, and it would pain us greatly were you harmed by a job which should have been ours.”

“Interesting.”  Maven’s eyes narrow.  “Would it pain you to know I’d be on the train already had you not argued with me?  Release her.  Or I’ll reconsider the placement of Samos in my court.”

A razor darts from Evangeline’s dress to his neck.  “We don’t take orders from you.”

“Traitors.”  His throat wobbles.  “My brother will net you nothing, not glory, not riches, and certainly not a throne.  Will this be your legacy?”

He cannot fight Evangeline and win.  The rest of his entourage has fled, seeking the protection of Iris and her watery shield.  I can finally be rid of him.

Unless Evangeline murders me.

I’ll take that chance.

More razors swoop at his neck, forming a noose of barbed wire.  Maven doesn’t fight.  He releases my hand, angling his own to the sky.  No flames curl at his fingertips.  Instead, he lets his sleeve fall, leaving his arm bare.  At least, it should be.

The bracelet is brilliant: strands of textured metal woven around a scattering of black jewels, catching light from every direction.  Evangeline’s handiwork.

“Where did you get that?”  The razors falter.

Maven feigns surprise.  “This?  Lovely piece, isn’t it?  I was planning to gift it to my wife after the ceremony.  Shame we were interrupted.”

“Where.  Did.  You.  Get.  It.”

“It doesn’t befit a prisoner to don something so lavish.  Don’t tell my wife.”  He winks.  “She thinks it’s an ancient heirloom.”

“I will cut you.”

He clucks his tongue.  “How violent.  You ought to take some cues from that prisoner.  She was so polite when we apprehended her this morning.  No boasting.  No threats.  Such a nice girl.  Elane, was it?”

“What have you done to her?”  Evangeline whispers.  Her razors draw dark silver blood, and I can’t look away.

“Samson is interrogating her as I speak, and I ordered him to dispose of her afterwards.  Give me Mare, and I might arrive in time to save her.”  Maven plucks a razor from his neck with a pained smile.  “Tick tock.”

Metal presses against my throat.  I never expected to see guilt and regret in Evangeline’s eyes, but she’s surprised me a lot these past weeks.  “Follow him.”

“Burn in hell.”  I stagger to his side.

“Long as you join me.”

“Joke’s on you.  I’m already there.”

Evangeline retreats to the other side of the pavilion, but Maven doesn’t call after her.  He slips his sleeve into place, eyes to the trains and arm at my side.  “Come.”

I punch him in the face.

My fists don’t have the strength to harm him, but his shock is blow enough.  I twist to the ground, springing to my feet, sprinting for the exit.  Freedom.  I can have freedom, if only my legs stay true.

They do not.

Something trips my foot and I sprawl onto the floor.  Everything burns, aches, throbs and I want nothing more than the ground to swallow me.  If I can’t have freedom, give me oblivion.

“Get up.”

Is this how I die?

“Don’t make me carry you.”

Let me die.

“Have it your way.”  Arms slide beneath my knees and back, hesitating.  I don’t move.  The ground leaves me to the mercy of his arms, his hand gripping my shoulder, cradling me to his chest.  Everything is fuzzy.

I think he wants to kiss me.

He carries me in silence, breath hot against my cheek.  I will myself to become heavier, struggling and kicking, stiffening so I might slip to the ground.

Maven tightens his grip.  “If you run, I’ll trip you again.”

So it was him.

“You’re mine.”

“I will never be yours.”

“Liar.”  He stills, and I hear the whoosh of a door sliding open.  “You already are.”

The train rushes forward, and I lurch to my feet.  No.  This can’t be it.  I have to get out.  I have to.  The door won’t budge.  The window won’t shatter.

I am trapped.

“Stop throwing yourself at the doors.”  Maven tugs my elbow, and I realize I’ve jumped from his arms.  “It’ll give you bruises.”

I wrench away.  “You’d hate that, wouldn’t you?”

“Spite is the weapon of fools, Mare.”

“So long as you’re a fool with me.”  I flail at the doors, but he holds me fast.  “Let.  Me.  Go.”

“Not a chance.”

The landscape disappears into the distance, and I struggle for a few fruitless seconds until I give in and settle beside him.  Maven hovers an arm around my shoulder, not quite touching.  “No one will take you from me.”

“You’re married.”

His eyelids flutter.  “I am.”

“Poor Iris.”

Maven pulls his arm away, and I catch another glimpse of his bracelet.  Elane and I did not interact much, though it’s hard to imagine her beautiful face tortured by Samson.  Her brain shattered by his whispers, scoured for information as he did mine.  “She’s already dead, isn’t she?”

“Iris?”

“Elane.”

“Oh, Mare.”  He shakes his head, laughing.  “I thought you were smarter than that.”

Samson was at the wedding.

“I found it in her chambers the night she fled with her house.  I sensed Evangeline’s loyalties were wearing thin, so I brought some insurance.”  He slips it from his wrist.  “Such beautiful craftsmanship.  If you want it, it’s yours.”

He doesn’t wait for a response.

The bracelet slides on with a chink, and I don’t have the energy to argue.  Another mind game.  Another empty victory for us to gnaw over, to gnash our teeth until the other obeys.

There’ll be plenty more to come.

A/N: I loved the first half of King’s Cage so I wrote more of it

If you were looking for a fic where Mare fixes Maven with her love, this is not that story.  If you're looking for a fic where Maven's abuse and trauma don't matter because he is an irredeemable monster, this is not that story either.

Content Warning: Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Intent, Abuse, Trauma, Alcohol, Self-Harm, Sex, Toxic Relationships, Slutshaming, Unhealthy BDSM Dynamics, Manipulation, Codependency,  Gaslighting, PTSD, justifications for toxic and abusive behaviors, Depression, Self-loathing, Grief, Sexual Coercion, Terrible Coping Mechanisms, Maven being an insufferable LARPer, Cycle of Abuse, Humor about disturbing subjects and probably more I can't think of off the top of my head

Mild smut, but nothing too explicit.  I'm a lesbian; I don't wanna think about dicks.

This fic gets pretty heavy, so feel free to put it down and take a break if you need to.  At the end of the day, these characters are fictional and you are not.  Take care of yourself.

I might make jokes about the topics I speak about, but rest assured I am taking them seriously.  Humor and irony keep me sane.

It's deconstruction time, baby!

Eventual reconstruction but ssshhh I didn't tell you that

Updates every three days.

[mareslightning]

Random thoughts about Red Queen

So, Mare basically had 4 men thirsting over her throughout the series.

I mean, Kilorn is the guy who probably always had feelings for her, but cares about her and is decent enough to accept Mare's rejection and still be her friend. I never actually pictured them as a couple, but I was a mess when my little boy was sad and heartbroken. (I freaking adore mare and kilorn's friendship btw)

Now Cal, c'mon, he's head over heels for her. Like, she instantly enchanted him while trying to steal from him, betrayed him in the first book, and even after that problematic phase she had in glass sword (which I don't judge, and actually think it was great for the plot) he tried to understand her. And lastly, he respected her space when she asked for it and that was just amazing!

Okay, now our boy Maven. He was using her but he was also in love, obsessed, but still in love. I was a Marecal whore shipper since "thief" "obviously", but I can't deny that Mareven was kinda cute before the plot twist. But he obviously fucked up, and it got to a point where I got sick of what he made Mare and everyone else go through.

And the fourth one is polemic, and nothing was actually said, but Tyton was a little into her, just a slight crush, like when you feel attracted to someone bc of their beauty or talent or whatever it is. Their friendship is great and I would definitely not like them as a couple but there was something going on there.

[king-maven-calore]

A N N I E

i'm storming over to your fucking house right now and screaming at your window... HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME WITH THIS FIC? I SHOULD'VE KNOWN THIS WOULD END TERRIBLY WHEN YOU HAD THE DEVIL EMOJI IN THE TAGS 😫

I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA BE A *PURELY* HAPPY CHRISTMAS GIFT TO US, BUT NO NO NO

YOU THINK I CAN DEAL WITH MARECAL ANGST? AFTER I READ OVE?? ARGHHH YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO MEEE 😭

I WENT FROM AWW TO WTAF I'M SO CONFUSED WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MY BABIES

MA'AM YOU CHOSE VIOLENCE AT THE WRONG TIME, ESP SINCE 1) I DON'T EVEN CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS, 2) I HAVE SLIGHT HOLIDAY BLUES AND 3) I'VE BEEN DYING IN A DESERT BC I MISS YOUR WRITING 🤧

...ok i need to blow the smoke out of my nose, like this is getting out of hand

here's my love btw 💝💝💝, coz your writing is top tier as always (you literally marinated a masterpiece), and you still somehow managed to break and soothe my marecal heart

...and i need to ask (literally the only ask part of this ask lol), is pt 4 coming soon? 👉👈 or will i have to wallow in HURT for months?? 💀

so many emotions in this ask, I feel flattered. Don't forget bestie "Hell was the journey, but it brought me heaven" IT'S IN THE SONG OK? I did not make up the lyrics. There is no part 4, this is the last part but we still have 2 chapters left (coming very soon!). hope that helps <3

[themadauthorshatter]

OH MY, GOODNESS!

RED SCHOOL UA HEADCANONS/STORY!

Sorry for not picking this up earlier. This part we are focusing on Arc 2: where the RQ cast meets the SGE cast.

Sophie is über excited at meeting the crown prince, but Agatha is less enthused because she's a realist and doesn't know HOW the RQ crew is getting over to the SGE.

Tedros and his friends are ecstatic they're meeting the Nortan princes. They even wonder if there are more than just Cal and Maven.

The students are all on the hot topic of Nortans visiting, though Agatha is pulled aside by Hester, Dot and Anadil, who all express their anger and impatience at Sophie, who won't shut up about Cal in particular, even though he's betrothed. Agatha assures them everything will be fine when Sophie sees that Cal and Evangeline are an item. (Yeah right. Marecal all the way.)

In Norta, it's rumor city among the Silvers, who aren't exactly looking forward to entertaining a bunch of school children.

Our main three in Norta are talking about their upcoming excursion to the school in the Endless Woods, Cal being apprehensive to leave Norta practically unguarded for an unspecified amount of time, but excited at the idea of seeing new lands, Maven just not wanting to go because it seems like a waste of time, effort, and resources, and Mare not exactly sharing her thoughts because she'll be even further away from her family than before.

Evangeline is not amused. At all. She's just playing along until they get back and never have to deal with the students of the School for Good and Evil again.

Regardless, they don't know what could be there, so they need to make sure they're not potentially making any new enemies by this complete accident on Tibe's part. Or, that's his thought process at least. And he's only told Cal this information, as, from what he can tell, the SGE isn't Red and Silver and instead use magic, a concept only found in fairytales. With an entire school of teenage witches and wizards and warlocks, and maybe a dragon or two, assuming this place is prestigious and in the higher end, it's better to make an ally rather than an enemy. And the idea of warring aginst school children does not sit well with Cal.

In training later, though, Maven and Mare see that Cal is absolutely faking his excitement at least a little bit, like 58% faking it. It shows when Arven pits him against Evangeline, Sonya, and Elane.

He ends up nearly burning all three of them alive, lost in wanting to get the fight and group training over with so he can be alone and think his thoughts.

Silly, Cal. Maven is paying attention, and asks what's wrong.

Cal brushes it off and says everything's fine, but Mare and Maven know better, Mare having seen what liars look like and Maven knowing Cal for all his life.

Cal tries to a go about his day and ignore whatever he's thinking, which is difficult to do because Maven's following him. He turns and Maven stops, simply explaining that he's going the same way as Cal. They continue walking, but Cal notices that Maven's not really going anywhere, content to follow his bother. This results in a chase between the two of them, Cal jogying before speinting to shake Maven off his tail, succeeding when he loses Maven down a hall, as in he ran down the hall partially before hiding behind a wall and watching Maven sprint right past him.

Maven only realizes he got played when he can't hear Cal anymore.

He and Cal don't meet up for the night.

He talks about this with Mare, and brings up that Cal's avoiding him.

TV/Graphic novel perspective, over time we see Cal get followed by both Maven and Mare, though over this time Cal grows more agitated and looks more annoyed and tired as they continue to try to see what's wrong with him. Maybe we even get a gag of both Mare and Maven spying on Cal from behind a wall, hiding behind it when he looks over his shoulder, and then continue their spying when he looks back, confused, annoyed, and agitated.

After a week, Cal catches Mare and pulls her into a room before leaving and telling her to wait for him.

He returns with Maven, who's over his shoulder, trying to remain calm, because Cal's stronger and bigger than him, and even tries, in mild panic, to negotiating to not beat him to a pulp, because Cal looks ready to murder them both.

He sets Maven on his feet and tells them both very bluntly to stop following him; not only is it freaking him out, but his soldier instincys are going haywire and he will not heistate to attack them both, which he doesn't want to do because it won't end well.

Mare and Maven apologize, but, being concerned despite herself, Mare asks Cal what his problem is, seeing as how he's avoiding both her and Maven.

Cal gives them a tired look and takes a breath. "Fine."

CUT THE THE SGE!

Tedros, Tristan, and Chaddick are hanging out together away from the Evergirls, though Chaddick does admit that the girls are looking nice today(16 year old hormones, am I right?)

Tedros isn't listening, balancing his sword on his fingertips.

Tristan, arguably the most feel-y of the three, wonders if or when the Silvers will arrive.

Tedros doubts they will, but one can hope.

This turn if pessimism confuses both Tristan and Chaddick, and Tedros happily explains:

They're all just students. What would royals and nobles want with a bunch of schoolchildren? They don't even have magic, don't believe in it, don't know it, just don't have any magic. The closest thing they have to magic is their silver blood, and not even THAT is magic because of how limited it is.

That, and Sophie and the Nevers will probably drive them all away.

Speaking if Nevers, Chaddick admits how weird it is to see them getting showered and clean, presentable in case the Silvers arrive as a surprise visit.

It is odd, but it's in their best interest to play nice with everyone, and that unfortunately includes a very babbly, and planning-to-be-flirty Sophie.

Speak of the devil, Sophie emerges from the trees to find the trio, specifically Tedros, who she wants to talk to.

He leaves, lying that he has some homework to do.

He's really going to find Agatha, who's reading to pass time and get her mind off all the gossip.

They have a rocky conversation about the current events and even wonder what silver blood would even look like, if they ever get the morbid chance to see it.

Agatha asks why he's talking to her and Tedros sighs that he just wants to avoid Sophie, but also wants to be around someone who's smart.

She smiles and asks if he thinks she's smart, sort of silently teasing him as he stammers and tries to come up with a save for the tongue-slip.

He spots Nicholas behind her instead, eyes wide and red as he raises an axe over his head, aiming for her.

Tedros, thinking quickly, tackles him and throws the axe away, which knocks Nicholas out of his daze.

Tedros shouts at him, "What the hell was that?" but Nicholas only looks around, very confused as to how he got into the trees or even got hold of an AXE.

There's confusion all around as Nicholas stumbles away towards some friends, muttering about a headache he now has and how sore he now feels.

Agatha and Tedros only exchange glances, worried and confused.

Was it a curse? A hex? A spell? And how did he get a weapon from the Doom Room?

CUT BACK TO NORTA AS CAL HAS JUST FINISHED SPILLING THE TEA! All three are sitting in a triangle on the floor, because it's close to night time and, because I'm a sucker for parallels in a story, to establish that despite the age differences between them and the students, and the experiences Cal and Maven had on the war front, they're still kids too.

Mare fights the urge to dry heave and Maven only hums at how Tibe is actually paranoid enough to consider war against a bunch of kids.

Cal admits that, yes it is ridiculous, but he's still unnerved. It doesn't help that they're dealing with people who have magic, which is stronger than Silver powers, even Mare's lightning is possibly no match; magic is all encompassing while their powers are limited to one "element."

Mare, in an attempt to alleviate the atmosphere, wonders if everyone will even BELIEVE what Norta says about these kids, as magic doesn't exist in their world.

Cal admits he does not believe in magic. It's not that he's heartless, he's just seen too much to know better. As much as he'd like to, he knows that it's nothing but slight of hand and tricks to fool the other person.

Maven agrees, except he's known because of Elara, but he gives them an explanation closer to what Cal said, only changing that he saw a magic show and saw how the tricks were done to fool the crowd.

When they ask her, Mare admits that if she believed in magic, and if it was real, it would have made things different for her and her family, she also inwardly admits that she'd make things different for all Reds as well.

After a moment of silence between them, Maven asks Cal if he's heard anything about them leaving and visiting these endless woods, and Cal shrugs, sighing that it's all speculation and in the air. If they do go, it will be both brothers and their betrotheds, Elara, Tiberias, a few other High House children(Elane, Sonya, Olliver, and Ptolemus), and a few guards, one of them being Lucas. Volo Samos and the rest of Tibe's council will stay behind to keep Norta in shape while they voyage to the School, stay for a little bit, and then come back, assuming things go okay and don't take long.

WE ALL KNOW NOTHING EVER GOES RIGHT IN STORIES😈

Either way, they all take a breath and leave the room together, Mare hoping Lady Blonos doesn't scold her for being alone with both princes. Cal tells her not worry because they'll cover for her, saying they had a bet and Cal won. Maven mutters, "By default," and he and Mare jog away as Cal chases them, yelling that they'd better explain what that means before he gets his hands on them both.

TIME JUMP/FADE TO THE DAY THE NORTANS LEAVE FOR THE ENDLESS WOODS, THE FADE HAPPENING WITH A PAN TO A WINDOW AND THEN GLIDE DOWN TO THE DOCK!!!

Mare sighs up at the ship before boarding, noting a very anxious Cal looking over the walkway as he himself walks aboard, Evangeline striding ahead of him.

Maven chuckles that Cal's always been a scaredy cat around water, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

Mare admits that while Cal is acting like a child, it's actually a smart move to know yoursl own limits and weaknesses.

From his place higher on the ship, Tibe gives Mare a, "Well said, Lady Mareena," and admits he may have underestimated her ability as a strategist. Maybe her time around Cal and the other High House children is rubbing off on her.

Mare fakes a thank you and notices Maven looking away.

I have not forgotten how Tibe isn't as loving as Maven; no amount of tragedy is going to negate neglect.

Mare tries to back up the now crestfallen Maven, but Elara calls for her son, asking to speak with him alone, mother to son.

He agrees and walks off to meet her, looking back at Mare before he does.

Tibe watches them walk off, and we get a glare off between him and Elara before the Queen leaves to speak with her favorite son.

Once they're gone, Mare asks how he can stand a bitch like Elara. She gets they were arranged to marry, but two people cannot hate each other that much.

For context, Mare's been here for about 4 months. She's visited her family only twice and has had a lot of time with Silvers and dealing with Tibe, Elara, Evangeline, and anyone who isn't Cal, Maven, and Lucas.

Back on track, Tibe semi-scolds her that, as a lady of the court, she should know better than to be mouthy towards him.

Mare, kind of fed up with his BS, folds her arms and counters that as a princess and his future daughter-in-law, they should be comfortable with each other enough for her to ask such a question.

Tibe gestures for her to come closer and she approaches, close enough for Tibe to sneer at her that if she thinks he's letting Maven, his son, his boy, marry a Red rat like her, she's more of a fool than all of the Scarlet Guard put together.

Lost in her anger, Mare asks which he's more afraid of: Telling Mare the truth or having his court, and the rest of Norta, Red and Silver, find out their secret.

With a glare down, Tibe congratulates her on how she's picked up verbal combat, and that she's a good learner. He then admits that the two of them aren't very different.

It offends Mare DEEPLY and she asks what that means as Tibe begins walking away.

Another bit of context, there are two sets of stairs to the upper level of the ship, a left and a right. In a fun bit of camera work/detail for anyone paying attention. Mare would walk up the right hand stairs to meet Tibe and, when he walks down the stairs, he walks down the left hand stairs and Mare follows him, the two walking back to the deck, so Mare basically walked around in a big circle. Just a cool thing I'd add, maybe it'd be symbolic of her situation or of some kind of cycle, I don't know. If you have any ideas, feel free to tell me.

Back to the story, Tibe explains to Mare that they're trapped by who they must marry, or have married in Tibe's case.

Another small detail, on the upper level, Mare would be on the left hand side of the screen/panel and Tibe would be on the right, but on the deck they're sides change, Tibe being in the left and Mare being on the right.

I'm a sucker for small details, so sue me!

Back on track for reals, Mare's VERY confused because she thought princes, or kings, could choose who they could marry. Tibe agrees that, yes, that usually is the case, but the reason he couldn't really choose was because there weren't anymore Queenstrial participants for him to choose from.

"But you have two sons?" Mare ponders.

Tibe shakes his head and asks if she REALLY thinks ending an alliance with Volo Samos of The Rift is a good idea, based on what she's seen from his daughter, Evangeline, half-joking that he's glad Cal is her betrothed and a simple friend of Ptolemus, who's shown how much of a berserker he is. (Yes the Scarlet Guard attack on the Summer palace still occurs.)

Mare asks what he'd do if that was the case, and Tibe chuckles, saying he'd renounce the throne and give it to Maven instead.

The two only chuckle, not comfortable enough with each other to fully laugh, and then Tibe admits that while he isn't sorry for needing to keep Mare a secret, he is sorry that she's alone, and forced into a life she never wanted.

"If you're so sorry, then why not let me go home?"

"Lady Mareena, the high houses would end us both."

For once, Mare can't really tell if he's lying or not, but doesn't get a chance to ask as Tibe returns to the top deck, Cal walking around the desk to Mare. He notices that his father is walking away from her and she looks a little distraught and very confused.

Cal looks between them and asks what happened and Mare simply answers that she and his father were just having a talk before leaving to her room/cabin

It's going to be a long ride to the Endless Woods

This is Part 1 of Arc 2, they do say the second act is the longest.

Keep your eye out for Arc 2, Part 2, because THAT is where things pick up even more

Anyway, Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!!!!

[choosemarecal]

Won’t Say I’m In Love- Marecal Modern Paris AU

Note: I’m thinking about posting a chapter every Sunday around 12:30 PM EST, but that might change. I added more people to the tag list. If you want to be added, just ask! Hope you like this chapter.

Chapter 1: Mare

// Wattpad

Chapter 2: Mare

“Was… was that a wine pun?”

He chuckled. “Yup. Although, I’m still drenched in wine.” The flight attendant spoke before I could apologize once again, holding a small towel towards him.

“Here, take this to help you clean up. If you have extra clothes somewhere, there’s a bathroom to your left, down the aisle. You can change there.”

After he grabbed the towel, the flight attendant took the wine glass from my hand and rolled the beverage cart to the next person. He stood up to reach for his luggage in the overhead compartment.

I watched him pull out… a garment bag? What was he doing with a garment bag? He shut the compartment and strolled over to the bathroom, bag in hand.

I glanced at the seat and saw wine stains on it as well. Great. I ruined someone’s clothes and I don’t get the wine. And I thought sitting here would be a good thing.

Looking at my phone again, I waited for the guy to come back. There wasn’t much to do on it without any WiFi. I mindlessly jumped from app to app on my phone until I found myself opening the messages app and scrolling through my past conversations. I automatically stopped at one and opened it. I stared at the grey text bubble, reading what it said over and over again.

Hey. I don’t think this is working out anymore. It’s over.

I forced my eyes to close and took a deep breath—

“How do I look?”

My eyes flew open and landed on the guy, now dressed in a grey suit, complete with a dress shirt and tie.

“Uh… very fancy,” I responded as he sat down. “Might I ask why you’re wearing a suit?”

“Well, someone actually spilled wine all over my previous outfit and this just happened to be my only extra pair of clothes,” he explained.

I looked away. “Sorry about that.”

There was an awkward silence between us before both of us talked over each other.

“I’m Mare.”

“My name’s Cal.”

We laughed and Cal held out his hand. “Hello, Mare.”

I reached for his hand and shook it. “Hey, Cal... So, why did you decide to take a flight to Paris?”

Cal raised an eyebrow. “Getting right to the point are we?” I shrugged. “I have a business meeting there. That’s why I brought the suit actually.”

“Ah, I see. Must be really important, huh?”

It was his turn to shrug. “You could say that. But how about you? What are you traveling to Paris for?”

“My sister. She was a seamstress but now she started to design her own clothes and opened up her own shop and line. She was invited to a gala, which is a great place for her to show off her designs. I’m just going to support her.” Talking about Gisa brought a grin to my face. I thought of how excited she was when we were talking on the phone last night. I couldn’t believe how far she had come since I last saw her.

“That’s amazing. I hope the best for her. But you’re only going for the gala?” Cal asked.

I tilted my head. “What else would I need to go for?”

“Well, Paris is one of the most famous cities on the globe and you’re only going there to dance,” Cal said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I scoffed. “Hey, you’re only going for a random meeting. I don’t know about you, but dancing seems much more fun than attending a meeting.”

Cal held up his hands in defeat. “Fair enough.”

“Plus, Gisa’s going to be busy for the rest of the week, so what’s the point of going anywhere in the city without anyone else.”

“I mean, I’m free after my meeting if you wanted to hang out.”

I stiffened. “Maybe.” Was he asking me out? We just met. And it still felt like too soon to hang out with anyone else romantically after what happened. Maybe going to the city of love was a bad idea.

“Or not! I’m not forcing you or anything,” Cal quickly said.

I heard Gisa’s words ring in my ears from the night before. Just please don’t shut everyone out. It’s not good if you refuse everyone who wants to help you. Give them a chance. Not everyone’s like him.

I shook my head. “No, sorry, I owe you after spilling wine all over your clothes.” I gave him a little smile. “And I still want some wine.”

Cal smiled back. “It’s a da– deal, then.”

There’s a ding and the pilot’s voice comes over the intercom. “This is your pilot speaking. There is a slight disturbance in the air, so please fasten your seat belt. It is predicted that we will arrive on schedule. Enjoy the rest of your flight.”

We have only been flying for an hour but it seemed like forever. Only six more hours to go. A yawn escaped my mouth and I was reminded of how late I slept after chatting with Gisa.

“I’m going to sleep,” I told Cal. I doubted he even cared but it still felt needed. I put away my phone and positioned myself into a comfortable position, closing my eyes. I was drifting into unconsciousness when I thought I heard Cal reply ‘good night’.

another note: *characters are not mine; from RQ series by Victoria Aveyard* i want to post another chapter on wednesday or something but we’ll see... sorry this is really short, i’ll try to make the next one longer and nicer. :P

tag list: : @bookworm0123, @sophi2222, @i-hate-the-waves, @cal–zone, @maremollytitanos, @2460-so-done-with-you, @same-white-light, @famousdreamlandpainter, @scxrletguardsdawn, @ifyoudieillkillyou, @kindnzss, @kenz-dalt, @queeniriscygnet, @redqueenfandom, @nightmarebarrow, @lilyharvord, @feeoly, @morebooks-pls, @clarafarleybarrow, @delilahlbard, @wishes-of-fire

[elliemarchetti]

A Wonderful Mistake

Marecal modern!AU with a slight mention of Mareven in which Maven’s not a psycho

Other Red Queen fics:

A Rebel’s Song (part 2)

Red Queen Soulmate AU (Mare’s POV) Part 2 (Diana and Shade’S POV) Part 3 (Diana’s POV)

Words: 1192

His words remained suspended in the darkness that separated them. Ann, her roommate, was sitting cross-legged next to the suitcase open on the bed and seemed to understand that something hadn’t really gone according to the plan.

"Do you want to tell me something?" Maven asked in a tone that didn’t please her at all. She didn’t want to fight, she didn’t really have the strength, so she hung up without even saying goodbye. He would have been angry for a few days but he would have forgiven her quickly, as every time she forgave him and his sudden, compelling commitments.

"Did they call him for work?" Ann asked, trying to calculate how big the damage was.

Mare only nodded. Unlike usual, she didn’t even want to complain. Hardly, to be honest, she felt like talking at all.

"Maybe you should just be more spontaneous, see him anyway, and if they call him while you're with him, wait for him to come back and get back exactly from where you were interrupted." she suggested.

Perhaps, Mare thought, or maybe he should stop putting the work first.

What then, in all honesty, it wasn’t a matter of work but of his mother, who couldn’t bear her and as his boss devised every possible way to prevent them from seeing each other. In the beginning, Mare had decided to fight, but now she was aware that the woman was succeeding in her intent to take her out of exhaustion.

In a fit of rage, she stood up and emptied her suitcase on the quilt. Ann rummaged in the pile of clothes and pulled out a black dress. It was a gift from Gisa, her younger sister, who once thought it wouldn’t hurt her to dress like a girl. She always carried it with her, although since she had found it packed under the Christmas tree of the Barrow house, the year before, she hadn’t yet used it. Maybe it was time. Perhaps, for once, she and Ann would be the ones who would be served drinks.

Twenty minutes later they were on the other side of the city, in the parking lot of the Hall of the Sun, more simply called Hall, the most famous local in the city, as well as the place where they worked for six nights a week. The closer they got to the entrance, the more Mare could hear the music roaring in her chest, until, once they crossed the threshold, she felt her bones vibrate at every beat of the bass. She was used to it, even though behind the counter, much farther away from the speakers, it wasn’t that annoying and intense.

They made their way through the already crowded dance floor, where the smells of alcohol and sweat mixed nauseously. When they finally reached the desk, Ann took a seat towards the back, partly to stay away from the other patrons, partly because it was what they called a preferred lane for desperate women.

When she saw them, Rasha winked at Ann.

"Should I find you a table?" she asked, but Ann shook her head. She probably thought that the colleague wanted to be kind only to ask for a part of her tips of the previous night, but Mare knew that this was none other than one of her countless attempts to approach, which, as always, was innocently ignored by her friend.

A bitter smile was painted on Rasha's lips but she was quick to hide it, while she was beating a receipt at the cash register.

"So what are you drinking?" she asked, when she had also finished with the next client who was too noisy.

Ann ordered a sour whiskey, while Mare opted for a smooth one. Her brothers would never leave her peace, if they had known she was trying to alter the taste of whiskey in any way.

They sat down in the only free table, a little too close to the dance floor, for Mare’s taste, but she would’ve been satisfied anyway; on weekends the place was always packed and they had been lucky to find a place at half past ten.

She stared at her friend, her eyes narrowed, made bloodshot by the smoke that saturated the air, until she deigned to follow her gaze, which was planted on two girls, ONE taller and slender, with long platinum blonde hair, and the other more curvy, with milk-white skin and long, fiery red hair that danced in an extremely sensual way. In some strange way, the younger one reminded her of Gisa and it made her so uncomfortable that she felt the need to drink her drink in one go.

"I want you like that!" exclaimed Ann, following her example, before leaving her alone to go and order another round. Mare didn’t even have time to protest, but she knew that Ann was like that, so she remained to observe her until she disappeared into the crowd, then turned back to the chair that she expected to find empty, which didn’t happen, since she crossed a pair of bronze-colored eyes, which watched her amused.

"It seems like I know you," said the boy, reaching out to her, arms folded and elbows resting on the table.

Mare certainly knew him: he was the owner’ son, the one who instead of throwing her out when he caught her trying to steal his wallet, offered her a job.

"I'm your employee." she replied, trying to keep a detached tone.

“My father’s.” he corrected her, rubbing his square jaw, as if he were uncomfortable to say it.

Before she could add anything, Ann came back, with five little glasses in her hands, and three guys Mare knew too well and only brought trouble.

Tristan, Shade and Kilorn knew how to be the best friends a girl could ask for and a group of dangerous killjoys, and by the expression on her brother’s face, that evening they had opted for the second option.

"It’s him?" asked Kilorn, already ready to ignite. Ann must have already alerted Tristan of her skipped trip. After all, it was their week end too.

"No." Mare answered.

"Is there any problem?" Tiberias asked, looking at Kilorn. Mare knew well that tone and attitude, she had seen it hundreds of times, used by too drunk customers, by girls who wanted to fight, by her brothers and by Tiberias himself, and knew that if she hadn’t intervened, the situation would quickly degenerate into a brawl without precedents.

"It's a long story, you don’t want to hear it and I don’t want to tell you. Therefore, everyone," she said, also looking at her friends and brother’s faces "if you’re going to let me have a good night, you’re welcome, otherwise go away from my table!”

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She had shouted the last part of the sentence, attracting the attention of some of the dancers, who had stopped, intrigued, to look.

Ann handed her a shot, taking a seat on one of the two chairs left free.

"I think I’ll stay." said Tiberias, bending a corner of his mouth in a smile.

[inopinion]

“Is he/ she really just a friend?” & “is that really what you think of me?” (Marecal) please. You’re fics are amazing btw!!!

This ask (as are all of them that languish in my inbox) was sent in before I closed my asks, before War Storm, and I just didn’t get to it. So I hope, dear anon, that you’ll accept this post-War Storm piece. 

@lilyharvord, @mareshmallow, @redqueenfandom, @anyone-anything-canbetrayanyone, @tiberias-vii, @runexandra, @mom2reesie, @scarletguardsource, @adraxsteia, @redqueenfandom,  @wrenskonos, @Maria-habs

I know I’m fogetting people - but some of you have changed your names. So shoot me a little message if you want to be on the list.

SPOILERS MAY FOLLOW, by clicking “read more” you are agreeing to see details contained in War Storm. Also it’s quite long.

Reblog to share with friends.

Delegations are arriving, just like mine. There’s a lot of formality around the anniversary of Lakeland surrender. Montfort has maintained its own borders but has been stretched thin guiding two countries through democracy. The Raiders haven’t been easy on us and Prairie recently attacked settlements on the plains.

My parting words from my mother: “You don’t have to go, you’ve done enough. More than enough.”

I laughed her off. “What? They don’t need me. I’ll be back in a week.” 

But I don’t think she bought it. Truthfully, they’ve called me up twice since the ceasefire and it’s always possible that they could ask again. My mother can demonize Davidson and the Montfort War Council as much as she wants, but she knows they didn’t twist my arm. And if they ask again, I won’t think twice.

I am a thief. I am a weapon. I am not made for peace.

When the Lakelands came back for one last push, I went.

When the uprising of the Houses brought a contingent from the south, I went.

And with Piedmont restocked and as obstinate as always, or with Prairie escalating their attempts to claim Montfort farms, I’ll go again. 

I wish I was more than what I am. But after a few years of more peace than war, I see exactly the toll of it. My ability to accept calm, to trust quiet, to work at anything other than destruction has been stilted. Ironically, I was raised to go to war, and to war I go. At least I have a choice. I am proud that I have made sure that all of us have a choice.

My mother leaves on the outbound train with Clara toddling along behind her. We miss so much of her life, but Farley stays in Ascendent when she’s not deployed. The fact that Clara is going home with my mother is signal enough, an offensive is brewing. The call is coming. They just haven’t asked yet.

“So, what am I walking into?” I ask Farley after she’s collected herself.

“Same old thing. Uprising in Graytown. Stubborn silvers still think they own the place.”

“And?”

She sighs and looks after the train as it curves around the mountain and out of sight.

“Piedmont?” I ask. She nods, her sigh is enough for me to know that Graytown isn’t my destination. “So we go to Piedmont. At least it shouldn’t be that hot this time of year. Who’s coming to this thing?”

“Most of the Tri-Territory War Council.” I suck in a breath and she adds quickly, “Cal should be staying in Norta. He volunteered to head the home front, per usual. Other generals will be arriving shortly.”

“Good to know. Davidson sent me an invite, how about you?” I quickly change the subject even though I know this isn’t an intimate affair. She leads me to her  apartment to dress for a formal dinner with our old friends and a few dozen more.

Her statement about Cal brought relief, but also sadness. When we talked about what came next, Cal knew he wouldn’t be leaving Norta any time soon. I made sure he knew where to find me in Montfort. We’ve exchanged a few letters, two a piece. But he came and went from Montfort several times over nearly two years with no more than a footnote in the papers. Forgiveness, even for the unavoidable, is never guaranteed. Each time, I remind my self that he will come when he’s ready. If he’s ever ready. And then devolve into weeks of self reflection on if I’m ready. Generally, I conclude that if I can’t answer that question in seconds the answer must be no.

The papers started getting trashed before I could read them about two months ago. I found one in Gisa’s shop and figured out why. The former prince made the gossip sheets for a new relationship. I guess when you tell someone not to wait… It doesn’t matter. He’s in Norta.

Unlike Farley, I don’t hold a formal rank with either the Scarlet Guard nor the Montfort military. She’s in her dress uniform, tugging at her collar every time she thinks no one is listening. I have a gown of Gisa’s creation. It’s a plain cut with a modest neckline and covered shoulders. The sleeves are long for the winter and the waste has a bit of room with ruffled layers starting just under my bust so that I don’t have to worry about my posture all evening. Gisa is a life saver. I didn’t even have to ask her twice, she just got it. It’s a dress I can eat my self silly in, slouch, and still advertise her skills.

“Mare, you look lovely.” Carmadon welcomes me.

Davidson lets his husband do all the talking as each guest is greeted and ushered through the palace to a sitting room. Small tables hold tea and small glasses of wine or liquor.

Julian surprises me by noticing me first. His hand is firm but gentle all the warmth and affection as any uncle on my elbow.

“I didn’t expect you.” I gasp, embracing him. 

I have not seen him since I last saw Cal. He’s healthy and vibrant in a fresh tunic. He holds a cup of tea and has ink stains on his hand. His eyes flash around at the small collection of books in the room. It’s nothing compared to the library where I imagine he’s spent his afternoon.

“I couldn’t resist an invitation to continue my study of Montfort’s archives. And to see some friendly faces as well. I will say, I’m surprised to see you. We were not informed of your invitation.”

“We?” Instinct casts my eyes around the room. And fate tugs them to a straight-backed man staring from the corner. “Cal wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“He made a last-minute decision. General Laris took ill.”

“I see.” With medics at their disposal, Generals didn’t get sick.

I don’t quite know what to do next and I don’t get a chance before a different hand wraps around my elbow and seeks my attention. Tyton’s slight smirk would be nothing for most, but from him to me, it’s a dozen nights of memories. I can’t help but blush, mortified. He has no reason to expect anything different than the last three times we found each other at Davidson’s dinners. But there’s no denying that things are very different with Cal in the room.

Or, maybe they aren’t.

Cal hasn’t stepped forward, he hasn’t made himself known. I haven’t reached out, either, but I left it all squarely between him and time to sort out. And then there’s the girl from the papers. No name given, but a snapped shot of him locked up in her lips outside a bar in Delphie. Why shouldn’t I relish the attention that Tyton so freely offers?

I let him step into me. My shoulder presses just under his and his hand sits comfortably on my waist.

“Excuse my interruption, but you weren’t on the list, Miss Barrow. Are you crashing this dinner?”

He’s mischievous and taunting and handsome when he lets his lips smile. Our connection hasn’t ever been deep. It’s hard to trust my instincts with men, with people. But it’s easier when you’ve bled for each other. I know Tyton’s intentions, his loyalties, and that’s enough for me. In a way, it’s a lot like the flings I had in the stilts. We don’t share details, plans, or anything a real couple might worry about. We are not together. Just together sometimes. And, as far as he knows, together now, for this week.

“Davidson opened the door and Carmadon let me in, so I suppose it’s at least okay,” I say.

I put my arm around his back, the width of him as familiar to me as Kilorn or my brothers. Or Cal. I retract a little, adding a touch of space. Tyton doesn’t seem to notice or mind.

“Julian, I’m pleased to see a strong contingent from Norta.” Tyton’s eyes flick to Cal’s direction, confirming he is well aware of what he’s doing. 

I boil a little and send a spark into his side. If it registers above a tickle, he doesn’t show it. Our lightning can’t hurt each other. But our ability makes us hyper aware when we’re in contact with electricity.

Julian’s smile dims. Ever polite, he begins to excuse himself. “Yes, important discussions require the full participation. Please, enjoy your dinner. Mare, perhaps we can catch up later in the week?”

“Of course, I would love that.” And I would. I miss my teacher, learning, questions, almost as much as I miss action, movement, and having a purpose.

“You know where I’ll be.” He bows slightly as he slides back through the crowd towards his nephew.

I slough off Tyton’s grip. 

“Are you trying to be difficult?” I ask.

He persists with both arms around me, holding me loosely. “Come on now, you’re not gonna bite, are you?” He murmurs in my ear. The reminder flushes me scarlet with anger.

“I’m not a toy for you boys to bat around at will.”

He gives me a little space. “Look, I know what we do is just for fun, but it doesn’t have to be.”

My mouth is dry, my lips can’t move. Tyton can’t hold my gaze and he seems nervous. I didn’t know it was in his emotional range. But he’s nervous about me, about telling me he wants a chance. And why shouldn’t he have one? And yet, why can’t I give him one? Indecision is not being ready, I tell myself.

“Maybe it does,” I try a small smile to keep in friendly, like I believe it to be just banter. But there’s a blow that falls and his eyes wince before he recovers.

“Let’s line up for dinner and see where things lead. At least we know there will be sparks!” he says, animated and compensating.

I hate that I hurt him. I hate that I didn’t think I could. I’m swarmed by guilt over him, and then, for the first time in months, for all the people that I’ve hurt. In the blur that is the path between the sitting room and the dinner table, I register little and feel everything while trying not to let the wave of emotion spill over my banks. Just as we sit, my eyes catch the burnt-ember irises. I know a surely as I know my name that I am unforgivable. Maybe this is what Jon meant, because I feel so very much alone.

.

The salad and soup courses are a fog. But Tyton’s well aimed sparks through my right hand help bring me around. I feel the lingering tingle in the space behind my right ear. 

Dinner is exquisite. Fall vegetables stay light with citrus accents and pitch into deeply satisfying territory with added honey and roasted nuts. It’s the first time since my first dinner so long ago that they serve Bison. Having done battle with the beasts, I marvel at the tenderness with a different level of appreciation.

Tyton is on my right, he’s a Lieutenant Colonel with his own battalion of a thousand soldiers. He’s the lowest ranking officer at the dinner. I’ll get to spend much of the evening watching him salute and pay his respects as is required of him. It gives me a weird level of satisfaction watching him bend with formality. He’s present because he’s the highest ranking Electricon and can speak to the tactics that might make use of our skills. He’ll make the proposals regarding our distribution among the battalions.

The highest rank of each type of ability is present in the room, at least the abilities with more than just a handful. We only have one set of the triplets, no one else has shown their connection. All the other New Bloods and Ardents are at least colonels if not major generals. There are only eight generals, Cal being one of them, Farley being another. While I’m politely engaging with those directly around me–mostly strangers and administrators–Cal bends Farley’s ear as they sit side by side and among Command and the higher ranks.

They have Davidson at their side, but I am just a seat away from Carmadon. He breaks the stodgy discussion.

“Mare, I heard from my cousin that your brother has continued to expand his understanding of plants.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Basvin has been very kind towards my brother. Very generous in his knowledge.”

“He says your brother his been exceptional in moving all the heavy stuff.”

I laugh, happy to brag on Tramy. “I bet he has. Before he started digging in the dirt, that was probably his best attribute. Mr. Basvin has been very encouraging. I think they both get quite a bit out of the arrangement.”

“Your brother is a greenie?” Colonel Skonos asks from across the table.

Sarah may have been on our side, but most of the skin healers weren’t. It’s a strange thing to see a Skonos sitting at the table. But Colonel Sherin Skonos runs the healer regiment, the hospitals, even trains red medics and field surgeons to fill out the ranks. She’s not as warm or as easy to accept as Sarah, but her eyes seem kind.

“No, his ability is in old fashioned size and strength. He is surprisingly good with flowers.”

“Oh, and what did he do before the cease fire?” she asks.

The distaste on her tongue is one that I hear from most of the silvers in the room. Many of them long for the system before, the system that put them at the top and reds in the trenches. It bothered me more when the memories were still fresh, when my heart was an open wound, when the guilt came in never-ending waves and not just inappropriately at state dinners.

I don’t flinch. I don’t look away. My family was their victims. They will never be allowed to forget. “He was conscripted for almost three years.”

“A blessing that he survived,” Tyton adds using the odd religion tinged words I’ve found common in Montfort.

It’s just an expression from him. It’s one of the few things we’ve discussed with our heads on the pillow–unlocking the secrets of Montfort from a native. He said that there are churches and a few groups that are reviving an older religion. And that they just always talked like that: God bless, bless your heart, bless you, blessings given. Bless, bless, bless. I wonder if they spoke so much about gods and blessings before their revolution. It is more than foreign on my tongue and aside from my questions, I’ve never used it. It’s too much like Iris and her gods.

The meal sits heavy in my stomach while I wait for the dismissal. Unlike other dinners, this one is a celebration, an anniversary, and as such, there will be dancing in the ballroom. I part myself from Tyton and find my favorite chair in the library. I could doze, comfortable, and full on four courses of delicious food. I select a volume and find the little napkin that marked my spot from last time. I can hear the music start up and there’s a speech followed by a cheer and clapping.

There’s only a handful of people in the ballroom that were on the ground during both the cease-fire and the Lakelander’s last attempt. Davidson, Farley, Tyton, Julian, three Montfort officers, all now Colonels and Generals. The rest, they can’t possibly know what it means to leave a battle victorious and with the promise of peace. If they did, they’d give us all a night of hot baths and sleep instead of liquor and dancing. But those at the top celebrate with wine and dancing and speeches that have no meaning.

I expect and anticipate Julian wondering into the Library. I don’t have anything specific to talk about, but I would like his thoughts on the Nortan system. They have chosen two houses - one of common, elected representatives, and one of twenty of the high house leaders - also elected by the former ruling class. All things must pass with a majority vote of the combined houses. With the high houses out-numbered five-to-one, they are almost figureheads in the discussions. But they have been building a coalition with the more conservative groups in the Commons, or so the papers say. I’d like the truth of it, and certainly Julian must be watching with fascination.

“I know this is excessively dull, but if you come and make an appearance, turn a few dances on the floor, we can get out of here early,” Farley cuts the quiet with her offer, stepping through the room without more than a tap of her shoes on the parquet floor.

“You know, I’ve been trying to finish this book for over a year?” I hold it up, my finger keeping my place.

“Then you won’t mind another year. Come on, I’ve been sent to fetch you by our hosts.”

I’m not afraid of dancing, or of idle conversation. I’m not really that interested in the book. But I am afraid of the guilt Cal’s look pushed over me. 

“What did you and Cal talk about at dinner?”

Farley sighs. She’s not exasperated (as she so often is with me), but sad and careful, delaying while she thinks. I steel myself for the worst not knowing if I fear his hatred, his disgust, or his sadness the most.

She starts guarded, gauging my reaction. “We discussed the readiness of the Guard groups in Montfort. Why they haven’t officially signed up with the Montfort army. The usual General-talk.” She hesitates, but my face must be neutral enough because she continues, “And he asked about you: your health, your well being, our family. He always does.” 

Always. Though she’s never mentioned it to me. I guess I should have assumed that they must interact regularly on the War Council. But still, she never said, so I assumed he kept his distance from more than just me. I don’t know if I should be offended that she didn’t tell me or to read it as a sisterly gesture. 

She tongues her teeth, shrugs, and crinkles her nose slightly. “And then he asked about you and Tyton.”

If I weren’t already sitting, my knees would have made me. The sudden pace of my heart makes me dizzy. “And? What did you say?”

Please, please, don’t make him think… What do I want him to think? That I’ve moved on, that I’m strong without him? That I haven’t? If I haven’t is that more of a sign that I’m not ready? No wonder I hide in the mountains, my stomach twists.

“And, I told him only what I know. That you and Tyton are at least friends. What else hasn’t been my business and I’m satisfied staying out of it.”

She’s left it to his imagination, or hopeful lack of one. I guess that’s the answer. I don’t want Cal to think I’m with Tyton. 

Heart still beating rapidly, I murmur, “That’s fine. That’ll do.” Then I wonder what the next move is. It’s still his to make, right? Will he make it. Is he…”Is he okay?”

Farley quirks her features in momentary confusion. It’s a weird phrasing, and even stranger to be playing telephone through her. She morphs into an expression I’ve learned well in our years together, she’s waiting for me to stop being dumb and start seeing the bigger picture. But there’s too much pain and hurt between Cal and I for me to be sure.

“You could ask him,” is all she offers.

“If he wanted to talk to me, he would have by now. I have to respect that he doesn’t.”

“And hide so he can’t?” She grins a flick of a teeth when her words hit their mark. 

I’m a coward. I have been a coward. I’ve been hiding and waiting and hoping that he’ll do something to bridge the gap, but without providing the opportunity. I at least owe myself an answer as to where he stands. Maybe then, maybe this time, I can figure out what I should do next. 

I rustle up onto my feet and push the book back into its place. With our elbows locked I allow her to lead me to the ballroom where bodies swirl and people chat. She pulls a glass of wine off a tray as soon as we enter. I gulp it down in three steps and set the empty on another tray. 

“Let it settle, Mare,” she warns, blocking my hand from getting another glass.

She guides me directly to friendly faces, easy conversation. Davidson, and Carmadon both grin and greet me, they introduce me to others, and I eventually get my second glass of wine. I’m flushed with warmth and bravado. With my head bubbling, I relax into the routines of socializing. Dancers swirl behind me and before I realize that I’ve agreed, Carmadon sweeps me into the current with smooth precision.

Carmadon is a great dancer. A breathless song later, I discover that Davidson is not nearly as coordinated. I find I’m leading him more than he leads me, and my feet are worse for it. 

Tyton takes me around to an uptempo beat, the spark of his fingers pushing me one way and another keeping us in step despite my tiring legs and wine soaked brain. We slow to a stop. The tempo transitions. The music starts and it’s only three seconds before I recognize it. Even though Tyton pulls, I resist. I can’t, not to this song. No matter how in-sync I feel guided in Tyton’s arms, they just don’t fit this song. He pulls again, the other dancers have to move around us. And it’s just another two beats before I see a hand on Tyton’s shoulder. 

Cal asks with his eyes and Tyton bows slightly and gives me up to a warm, familiar embrace. Cal smells like dreams and moves like memories. It both hurts me deep in my chest and grounds me firmly in the moment. The steps come as easily as my lightning and I’ve known them just as long.

“I was wondering if I’d get my chance,” Cal’s voice breaks and I see the flush of embarrassment lightly tinge his cheeks. 

“What’s been stopping you?”

“Your never-ending line of admirers. It’s a shock I pulled you away unscathed.” He’s pleased with his turn of phrase, and I’m the one blushing and smiling.

“You afraid of me or Tyton?” I let him have a small snap on his upper arm. He winces and smiles.

I feel his hand slide on my back and the music pause in just the right place. I’m ready for it. He dips me back, a slight bend, he holds it the full beat then pulls me back into the next stanza.

“Well, rank might save me with Tyton, but you don’t have any oaths to Norta.”

“Is that what you think of me?” I’m actually enjoying the teasing as much as the dancing. The warmth of him in the already hot room is relaxing beyond words.

“Unpredictable.” He spins me one way. “Uncontrollable.” I spin back, wrapped in his arm. “Completely your own.” I spin back out and come back to position in his arms. “So much more than what’s on show.” The song comes slowly to it’s conclusion. It’s ending much sooner than it should, truncated by the band. I want them to play it all night long. His lips are next to my ear and so far from my lips that it hurts. “What I think of your? Oh, Mare, I have always thought you were incredible.” He bends me slightly then brings me back up. We’re frozen together, inches apart.

The gentle applause at the end of the song and the recording that takes over for the band’s break helps to clear the air between us. Cold air sweeps in as guests step out to get fresh air on the terrace. He watches my eyes follow a couple.

“I’ll let you get back to your date,” he says.

Cal’s hand leaving mine is like dipping my fingers in ice water. I’m at once refreshed and painfully shivering for lack of his heat. He steps back, folds his hands behind him and gives me a stilted bow, eyes lowered.

“Cal,” I call. He stops his retreat and looks up, face neutral. “The girl in the papers?”

“She was… she isn’t anymore. And Tyton? Is he really just a friend?”

I won’t complicate things with details. “Yes.”

Cal’s eyes drift from my eyes to my lips down to my shoulder where the “M” lies hidden. His eyes crease with remorse. It’s my turn to bow my head.

“Thank you for the dance, General.” I am a coward and I will run as far and as fast as I can from the sting of his pain.

He surprises me. Calls me back to the present and to his eyes. “Mare, do you think we could talk?” 

Where as his voice cracked at the start of our dance, now it carries a rough edge. Even if there’s sadness in his expression, there’s enough hope there to push my hand out for his. Rough, work-worn palms hold my fingers just long enough to bring my hand to his arm, just above his wrist. He escorts me away from the eyes, the ears to face the fears I’ve collected waiting for him to take the first step. One step behind us, how many to follow? Together? Apart? Maybe it’s not an easy start, but I’m no longer waiting to heal.

--

If you like it, reblog it. :)

[lilyharvord]

Song of Fire Part 2

HELLA SPOILERS GUYS, LIKE ZOINKS!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! All abroad the angst train, population the entire marecal part of the fandom! 

It takes two more months for us to solidify a meeting in the Rift. By then, there is no hiding what’s happening. Surprisingly, Ella does not say anything for the first time in her life, when I come to training on Storm Hill and announce that I’ll be withdrawing for a little while. All of them had shared a look, and Ella had glanced down at my obnoxiously bulky shirt and jacket and had then looked up at me and nodded. It had been silent after that, and I had tried to withdraw, blushing profusely. I had let them down, just when I was starting to feel like I had found my place among them, had started to feel stronger, more in control of this thing, I had let them down.

           Two hours after my announcement, Ella hunts me down, carrying a massive box of things with her. She dumps it on my family’s kitchen counter, and then starts pulling out books upon books on pregnancy, anything and everything she could get her hands on. And other things. “Comfort food” she calls it when she pulls out the bags, and bigger clothing from some of the red women who had given it to her in a heartbeat after she had asked for it. I tear up at the sight, and barely croak out a thank you. I hadn’t even had time to change into something to hide my stomach that’s been getting bigger each day. She had glanced down at it, and then up at me, and then with a wicked grin had announced, “If he tries to take you from us, I’ll fry him from the inside out.”

           We both laughed about it, and I ended up crying again, and then laughing, and then crying again. She had laughed through my whole emotional rollercoaster, and had then gathered me into a hug and whispered that everything would be alright. That’s all anyone was saying anymore it seemed. I wanted to believe it too.  

           I slink into the kitchen, trying to adapt to the new weight that settles awkwardly between my hips and shifts drastically most of the time. I can hear my mother talking with the others in the room, and the sound of breakfast calls like a siren song. I hesitate at the bottom of the stairs though. It hadn’t been a pretty picture when I had told my family. My mother had almost fainted, and my father had thrown his cane down and tried to leave the house, railing against everything. It had taken both of my brothers and Kilorn to bring him back inside. He’d stormed upstairs then, shouting at them to pack bags, to find a way to get weapons, the four of them were going after Cal to rip him limb from limb and skin him alive. After he’d been calmed down, I’d told them the plan. My father had grumbled about the whole thing, and my brothers had narrowed their eyes. Gisa was the only one who agreed. She was the only one who told me to go.

           There’s a laugh from the kitchen, and I hesitate only a heartbeat more before entering the kitchen. No one notices me at first, and I almost make it to the fridge before my mother announces, “Good morning Mare.”

           I freeze with my hand on the fridge handle, and then glance at her. Everyone is looking at me now and I self-consciously open the fridge and reach inside for one of the oranges there. I pull it out and then cradling it in my hand, I slip under my mother’s gaze and whisper, “Good morning.”

           She gives me a tiny smile and then asks hesitantly, “How do you feel this morning?”

           I turn the orange over in my hand as I pass my father who grips his cane tighter in his hand. “I’m just tired.”

           “Well, then maybe you should get some more sleep before you leave.” She offers as she glances out at the sky that is getting lighter. The trees outside are starting to turn gold and red with the autumn, and the sky has a crisp blue color coming through. I shake my head as I follow her eyes, and then glancing at all of them, I reply, “Davidson said that the time was changed… we’re leaving earlier. They don’t want the meeting at night anymore.”

           “Why not? They told us we dictate terms, and that you wouldn’t go unless we set the terms.” My father growls, his anger starting to spill over. It’s not anger at me though, its anger at the possibility that Cal was the one to change the meeting time, when it was supposed to be my decision. He found a way to blame almost everything that happened to me now on Cal. For example, the other day he’d blamed it all on Cal when I’d woken up with excruciating back pain. My mother had spent the morning with me in response, pressing a hot towel onto my back and helping me stretch it out, cooing all the while that this was completely normal. We’d kept Davidson on radio all day then, waiting to see if I would be able to walk the next day. I’d been fine by the afternoon, and the light had gone from yellow to green on the mission. Then Davidson had radioed in and told us that they wanted to change the meeting time. According to him, there had been murmurs that we were coming to assassinate Cal, or kidnap him. I had laughed at that, outright laughed. The plan was to get Cal to leave, to get him to come back, at least that was my plan, but we wouldn’t take him against his will. My plan called for him to come back on his own free choice. It might not have been Davidsons’ plan, but Farley knew what I was going to do, and she had promised me that if push came to shove, she would shove Cal right off a cliff if he didn’t make a decision right then and there.

           I couldn’t imagine taking anyone better into this with me.

           “It wasn’t his call.” I say sternly as my dad huffs and grumbles, “Sure it wasn’t. He’s king now isn’t he? What kind of king doesn’t make his own meeting times?”

           “The kind that isn’t actually king yet.” I correct, as I sit down on one of the stools and start to peel my orange. Bree snorts from the other side of the counter and growls, “So he left, without any real proof that he was gonna wear the damn crown?”

           I glare at my brother this time while I reply, “It would appear so.”

           “Don’t defend him Mare.” Tramy states as he moves his breakfast around. I throw my glare at him now and accuse, “I wasn’t.”

           “You were about to,” Gisa whispers, but changes her tune quickly when I glance at her in disgust for pointing out the slight hesitation before my statement, “But its completely understandable, he is the father of your child, and it’s completely normal that you would defend him because you are insinuating defense for your baby…” She drops off, realizing that the hole she’s digging is never ending.

           “Here is the truth,” I announce to all of them, “He either comes back with me, or he stays there. I am not staying in the Rift, and I am not visiting every other week like a kid going between parents.”

           My mother turns her back to all of us and continues making eggs. Tramy shifts uncomfortably and asks, “He’s coming back?”

           “My hope is he does.”

           “Why?” It’s my mother that asks this question. Its softer than a breath of air, and everyone in the kitchen goes silent upon hearing it. I shift uncomfortably then, and the mass in my stomach shifts with me, giving the odd sensation that my organs are sliding around inside me. I glance at the white stain on my hands from the orange juices that are drying there and then whisper, “Because when I start pushing, I want him there. Like Farley wanted Shade, and like you would have wanted Dad, and like every other woman in this damn world wants.”

           My mother simply nods, a movement so small again that I almost miss it. The silence that follows is broken only by the sizzling of the eggs on the pan. But even that ends after my mother turns and puts them on a plate. When she does this, effectively ending the only white noise keeping us from shattering, my father heaves himself to his feet and growls, “Then you tell him that if he doesn’t come back, I’m walking to the Rift, and dragging him here, by either his teeth, or his-“

           “Daniel,” my mother warns, sufficiently ending the threat that we all know is coming. It’s a common one, and one that my father finds some excuse to throw it around at least once a day. I smile at him softly though, knowing it’s all in good faith, that he’s does it because he’s furious that what’s happening is out of my control, which bothers me and in turn bothers him.

           “Yes dad we know, and when you get him back here, you’ll impale him on your cane and leave him for the entire compound to see, yes, we know.” I tease, knowing that the threat is as empty as my body right now. My father will find a way to beat Cal senseless for this, and my brothers will not be far behind for round two. I never thought I would say it, but God speed to Cal in getting the crown, because if he doesn’t come back, he will need all the intelligence, speed, and army in the world to keep my father and brothers from hunting him and down and skinning him alive.

           ********

           We meet in a park, in the middle of the Rift. It’s a nice one too, full of grass and trees spilling leaves everywhere. I sit on a bench with my shoulders huddled down to try and stay warm, my bulky jacket is wrapped tightly around me, and had become my signature after I started showing enough to warrant questions. I hated the stares, because all the New Bloods at the base had started whispering as soon as my shirts stopped being loose enough to hide it. Cal’s name had been thrown around, and mine always followed, and both were always followed by the word heir.

           Farley sits on the back of the bench, her feet resting on the seat of it, as she drums her fingers on her knee. Cameron stands next to me, creating tiny bubbles of silence that I can sense on the edge of my perception to keep herself entertained. I tell her to stop after a few minutes because it makes me feel sick. She does. Davidson stands off to the side, watching with his men for the company we await.

           They’re late. I can feel it in my bones even though I have no way of knowing the time. I just know they’re late.

           “They should be here by now.” Cameron announces after seeing me shift and eyes the entrance to the park for the fiftieth time. Davidson simply shrugs and says, “Perhaps they’re busy.”

           “Busy spying on us, or trapping us,” Farley whispers and looks over her shoulder in response. I tense at that implication. Farley’s hand settles on my shoulder and she whispers, “Easy Barrow, we won’t let them take you. You’re not staying here.”

           I nod, and then pinch the small object in my pocket between my forefinger and thumb. I didn’t wear it, how could I? But I did carry it with me. It was a small part of him, something that he had given me before this whole mess started. Something besides the baby rolling around inside of me right now, doing somersaults lazily.

           Through my pocket I press a hand to my stomach which is no longer soft, but hard, and filling fast. Growing fast and strong, Sara had whispered with a smile when I had finally let her examine me. She had understood my hesitation from the minute I came in her office, clinging to Kilorn’s arm, and trying to hold back tears of shame. She had taken me into a soft hug and whispered soothing words while she stroked my hair and then looked me over.

           As strong as its mother, Sara had whispered as well. She had been very careful not to mention anything about the father. And I had been very grateful. She and Julian had elected to not come on this, and I was also grateful for that. This was my fight to win.

           There is the sound of an engine purring and I sit up a little straighter, Farley sets her hand on her pistol, and Davidson tucks his hands in his pockets, the picture of tranquility compared to the three of us. There’s the sound of doors shutting, and the engine shutting off. I squeeze the object in my pocket so tightly that I feel the sharp end prick my thumb. A tiny pearl of blood is probably rolling down now. I can hear voices, two female voices, one older, like smooth alabaster stone, and the other sharp like a knife. Evangeline, I think, for the second voice, Anabel for the first.

           The two of them pass under the arching gate and then come to a stop ten paces from us. I stiffen at the fact that there is only two of them, and Farley speaks before I do, “This was a meeting with Calore and Barrow, not you two.”

           Anabel sniffs and glances at me, the fire in her eyes the same of her grandson’s. I shift again, and almost regret it, because the position I’m in hides my stomach perfectly, and I almost compromise it. Her eyes narrow slightly at my odd movements and with a painfully bored voice, she replies, “To speak with the King you will have to speak with his advisor first.”

           “Over my bleeding dead body,” Cameron leers, before stepping forward toward Anabel, the silence around her enveloping the older woman, as she hisses, “That lordy idiot isn’t even a king yet, so you can march your bleeding ass back to his and tell him that he comes down here to meet with Mare, or I’ll drag him down here by his damn ears.”

           Anabel goes so pale it’s almost comical, whether its form the silence, or the fact that Cameron has just threatened her grandson and a future king, I have no idea. It is amusing to see though.

           Evangeline chuckles darkly, her eyes dropping to mine before she looks at the small squadron of men Davidson brought with him. Her fingers tap at her uniform, and then she looks back at me with a tight smile and says, “I see no reason why they shouldn’t, it seems perfectly safe Lady Anabel.”

           The older woman reels around to hiss something at Evangeline, who simply shrugs and then turns on her heel to exit the park. Anabel stalks after her, and we sit in silence again, all of our ears straining to hear their voices behind the wall that separates us from them. Farley smirks at Cameron and then says, “I’d like to see you drag Calore down here.”

           “It wouldn’t be that bleeding hard, for all we know he’s mopping around like a love sick puppy that’s been kicked.”

           Another interesting image that Cameron has a habit of come up with. I smirk at it even though I try not to, and then glance at the young girl next to me and say, “I liked the way you handled that.”

           “Well someone had to.” She huffs. There’s the sound of a door slamming shut, and we all straighten in surprise. Evangeline’s voice ends, but Anabel’s does not, in fact, it rises in magnitude and fury. Another voice joins though, deep and melodious. My entire body stiffens at the sound at first, and then relaxes, as I close my eyes. I know that voice, and I would know it anywhere for the rest of my existence. I would be able to pick it out of a screaming crowd, or from across the country. I knew ever rise and fall, every cadence, every sound that he could make.

           Yes, I want to shout, I’m here, I’m here. There are footsteps and Anabel raging and Evangeline snickering, and my heart pounding over it all. It is a symphony of sound, and my head swims with all the noise.

           “Easy Barrow.” Farley whispers as she runs her hand up and down my back. Without even realizing it, I had started crying. I wipe the tears away quickly; I will not look weak in front of him. I am not a doll, I am not something to be lead anymore, he will not make me stay, no matter how hard my heart cries for me to be with him right now.

           He comes around the corner first, dressed in an impeccable military uniform. Cameron’s intake of breath is loud enough for me to hear over the roar of blood in my veins. I’m not sure if it’s from anger, shame, disgust, love, or a strange mixture of all there. He looks handsome, impossibly handsome dressed like that, and he looks like a king. Is he though, is he king now, I wonder. I have no idea anymore. All I know is that my body is calling to his, and his seems to do the same. His skin is as flushed as mine, and he takes ten quick steps and closes almost the entire space between us. Cameron steps in front of him though, forces him back a step when he gets too close. He halts, his eyes meeting mine over Cameron’s shoulder, their depths so hollow now that it makes my heart seem full. I stand slowly, making sure my jacket is wrapped carefully and accordingly. Anabel is still watching, Evangeline probably as well. If his grandmother knew there was an heir, I would be in that transport before Cameron, Farley, or Davidson could do a thing about it.

           He never tears his eyes from mine, and I reach out to touch Cameron’s shoulder softly, whispering, “It’s fine Cam, I can take it from here.”

           She looks back at me, her eyes filled with concern at the slight wobble in my voice. But she nods none the less, and backs up behind me. As she does she narrows her eyes at Cal and whispers to me, “You let me know if he tries anything, I’ll make him wish he’d never been conceived.”

           Cal seems to inflate with fury at the implication that he would do anything. But the emotion dies as quickly as it comes, because the minute I take a hesitant step into that radius of warmth, I whisper, “Let’s walk.”

           He looks back at his grandmother, who is practically fuming off to the side. I’m surprised she doesn’t obliterate where she stands. When he glances back, he nods tightly and then offers his arm, the picture perfect silver prince again. I slip my arm through his, forcing myself to keep from pressing against his side like I used to always do. My stiff posture unsettles him, I can tell, and part of me crows with victory. He is regretting it; he is regretting the decision. Or my mind is playing nasty games with me. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s done that.

           He guides me away from everyone, past Davidson’s men who look only a little nervous that I’m going out of their safety perimeter. I give them a loose nod and a careful smile as we go by. Then I throw Farley a glance over my shoulder. She nods softly and then gives me her own small smile and tiny thumbs up, hidden from Anabel behind her leg.

           We take the cracked and crumbling path through the park, the only sign that the place was in the middle of a war zone. If it weren’t for his uniform, and the sign of the scarlet guard on my jacket, we could have just been walking together in Peidmont. The thought stings harder than any truth, any betrayal, and I swallow the tears before they can come. He reaches up then, hesitantly, and sets his hand on mine. When I don’t immediately pull away, he exhales, his shoulders slumping. It’s then I see the exhaustion written on his features.

           “Playing with the Silver nobility isn’t as easy as it used to be, I assume?” I ask softly as we round the bend, and completely leave both our parties behind. We enter a grove of trees, all of them shedding gorgeous multicolor leaves around us as a soft breeze stirs their branches. Cal sighs at my words and then whispers, “You have no idea.”

           “Oh I do, I played dress up in the Burner Court twice.” I reply casually, and the words sting him, I know they do because his grip loosens on my hand slightly.

           “When we got the message that you wanted to meet… I didn’t know what to expect.” He says carefully, almost hesitantly. Oh Cal, I want to say, you can’t hesitate as a king, not that you will ever be one. I’m going to see to that, I think privately.

           “Well, I… I needed to tell you something, something that I could only tell you in person.”

           He stops then, apparently we’re far enough away that no one will hear us. I take a hesitant step back from him then, and his eyes search mine. Always searching Calore, I want to whisper, always digging yourself into a deeper hole because you can’t get out of the first. Not that I was any different, I’d dug enough holes to know when I was trapped though. He waits patiently when he doesn’t immediately get the information from me. I reach up slowly for the zipper on my jacket, about to rip it down and shrug of the ugly looking thing. Instead, I unzip a little at a time, whispering all the while. “Something’s happened,” the zipper just passes my collar bone, his eyes widen, and I want to laugh, oh you stupid boy, “something, completely unexpected… and terrifying… and,” it’s below my chest now, and I can feel the top of my bump with my knuckles, “and somehow wonderful at the same time.” I pause there, my hands shaking, my entire body trembling. He steps forward then, and whispers, “Mare, what’s wrong? You’re shaking.”

           His hands come to wrap around my arms and with a gentle nudge of his ability he encloses us both in a little pocket of warmth. I wish I could tell him it wasn’t that cold, but I can’t. My words are stuck in my throat, they won’t come out. He’ll make me stay, he won’t let me out of his sight as soon as he knows, my mind screams.

           Without thinking, without going into the tiny corner of my mind where I think things over, I rip the zipper down all the way, letting the jacket open, letting the damning truth between us come into view. He doesn’t look down though, his eyes are on my face, on the tears that are starting to run down my cheeks. I want to scream at him for that, but instead a tiny sob escapes. He looks down then, and his eyes widen to the size of moons before I can even inhale again. He takes a step back, away from me, away from all of this. His hand comes up and knots in his hair, his breathing hitches as he blinks once, and then twice, and then lifts his eyes to meet mine. Please, I want to beg, come back, come back with me, don’t leave me alone with this. Don’t be king, don’t be something that will destroy you like it is doing to your brother.

           He swallows and then starts pacing, his eyes wild, not exactly with excitement, but with terror. “How long?” He manages after he paces in front of me once, and then twice. I hug my elbow and then choke, “Six months.”

           His breath comes out in a pained exhale and he whispers, “Six? Six! And you couldn’t have been bothered to tell me until now?”

           “Well you weren’t exactly around! You were busy being Volo’s pet!” I shout in fury. How dare he make this about me! This is all his fault! He was the one that left, he was the one to abandon me!

           His eyes rage, but his voice is cold as he says, “Don’t start this.”

           “Don’t—start—what?” I breathe, and the words are a threat. He inflates at my words, incensed that I’m going to start this now.

           “You’re pregnant, and you didn’t bother to tell me, I had a right to know!”            “AND I HAD A RIGHT TO KNOW YOU WERE GOING TO LEAVE ME!” I scream. The birds fall silent around us, and the whispers from the other group, that I could just barely hear, stop all together. I’m breathing heavily, on the verge of collapsing into a full on crying fest. “You left,” I choke, and I’m disgusted with how weak I sound, “You left me, you left us. You left us.” I cry. And I don’t mean the Guard when I say that, I mean me, I mean this baby, I mean everyone who knows him well.

           He swallows, his own eyes starting to water as he comes back lamely, “I didn’t know you were pregnant, if I had… if I had, I would have… I would have…”

           “You would have what?” I cry, the flood gates in my eyes opening as months of anger, months of loneliness and pain surge forth. All that emotion spills out of my eyes and mouth as I continue, “Was I not good enough? I had to add a baby, an heir, into the mix to keep you around?”            

           He shakes his head, already trying to backpedal, because he sees the doors slamming shut behind my eyes. “No, no, no, Mare please. I told you,” he takes my arms again, and I don’t pull away, I’m crying too hard at this point, “I told you that I love you, more than anything in this world, and that the only thing I want is you. I meant that, I meant every word.”

           My throat hitches and I barely manage, “Then you should have stayed!”

           He winces, winces at the past, at his choice. He presses his forehead against mine then, and his tears mix with my own. “I know,” he whispers, his own throat thick with emotion, “I know, and I regret it, I regret this, more than anything, but I’ve set a path… I have to stay on it. I have to do this.”

           “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” I whimper, my more pathetic blubbering over. “Come back, come back with me to Piedmont, to the Scarlet Guard. Forget the crown,” I pause for a moment, breathing heavily as I whimper, “choose us, Cal please.” My last word is practically a sob again, and I’m about to fall back into my blubbering if he walks away again. He squeezes his eyes shut, tears racing down his cheeks, as his breath hitches and he chokes, “I can’t, I can’t come back. I’ve stepped to far now. I’ve gone too far.”

           “No, came back, you can, you can come back. It’s not too late.” I beg as I cup his cheeks, feeling the warmth there, knowing it like I know my own body signature. He turns his lips into my palm and presses a soft kiss there before looking at me sadly. “Maybe, maybe not, but I have to do this. I have to do it to keep the Silvers in line, to keep them from going after you and the Guard,” he glances down at my stomach, his hand hesitating to reach out and touch it, “now more than ever.”

           I grab his hand in a moment of desperation and press it against the heaviest part, where the baby’s head is resting. It shifts and kicks in response. His eyes water even further, and then we’re both crying. We melt into puddles of human beings in the middle of this park. We sink to our knees, my legs wrapping around his middle, and my arms latching around his neck as I press my lips against his. He responds in kind, one hand grabbing my back and pulling me closer so that our baby is pressed between the two of us, and my stomach is pressed against the hard planes of his stomach. His other hand pushes my jacket back and rests on my stomach, his fingers tracing patterns on the stretched skin. The baby responds happily to his warmth, and rolls inside of me to press a hand against its father’s. If Cal wasn’t crying before, he is now. He sobs into my shoulder, as he chokes out apologies. One of my hands threads through his hair and I choke on my own apologies.

           And in the middle of that park, we make a very stupid plan.

[lucy-the-cat]

Lover’s Curse Chapter Two - The Queen of Pawns

Content Warning: Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Intent

Mare

They didn’t save me.

I stare listlessly at the food on my plate.  My arvens brought it to me an hour ago, muttering curses after I shattered the accompanying glass.  If only they missed a shard.

Maven is always near me now, perched at the doorway or pacing at the window.  He almost lost me.  He already lost his mind.  And if I play my cards right, he’ll lose his war, his throne, and his life.

Empty victories.

“Eat.”

I burrow under the covers, closing my eyes.  Hunger gnaws my insides, but it doesn’t move me.  My bones ache, my heart cries, my blood burns.  What’s another layer of pain, if it will make it all end?

“Eat.”

“Choke on Farley’s boot.”

“Eat or I will make you.”  He rips the blanket away.  “You’re not dying.”

I screech, cackling, shrieking, and sobbing as he clutches his ears.  “That’s great.  Tell another.”

“You’re not dying.”

“Oh, colors.”  I wheeze.  “Too good.  You’re killing me, Maven.  You’re kill--”

He pulls me against his chest, trembling.  “I’ll hold you down if I have to.  I’ll hold you against the wall and force you to chew and swallow until I trust you will do it without me.  Is that what you want?”

“I’m so fragile.  You’d probably break me.”

He grips me tighter.  “Samson.  Don’t make me--”

“Do it.  I fucking dare you.”  I haul him down until our noses touch, until he has nowhere to look but my eyes.  “Let a whisper into my head again.  Let him scrape into my skull until I can’t tell what is him and what is me.  Let me become a walking corpse.  Sound familiar?”

I’ve never seen him cry before.

“Please.”  He traps me in his gaze.  “Don’t do this.”  Tears splatter onto my cheek.  “Don’t kill yourself to spite me.  You’re worth so much more than that.”

I want to throw the words back at him.  He’s bled all the worth out of me.  Why shouldn’t I kill myself?

I’m killing myself.

I’m killing myself.

I’m killing myself.

HOLY SHIT I’M KILLING MYSELF

Why am I framing this as his victory?  I’m sure he’ll be very sad, but I’ll be dead.  Dead!  I won’t see my family.  I won’t see Cal.  I won’t get to watch Maven suffer, so why the hell am I doing this?

My life is my own.  No one can take it from me.

Not even myself.

My body shakes, and I lunge for the fork.  I don’t taste the food before swallowing, nearly choking in my haste.  Hungry.  Colors, I’m hungry.

Maven backs away to the door, fumbling for the handle.  “Get some rest.”

I give him the finger.

He leaves, and I scream, so loud my Arvens tell me to shut up.  I polish off the rest of the plate, regretful I spurned the water.

I shatter it against the wall.

_

I eat.

I sleep

I count 823 ceiling tiles.

I don’t stare at the door and will him to enter.  I don’t imagine conversations with him, examining what pieces I’ve gathered to predict his reactions.  I don’t want to know where he is, what made him lose interest and condemn me to rot.

I can’t be that desperate.

Screw it.  I am.

“Hey, Egg.”  I tap the shoulder of the nearest Arven.  “How do I request a visit from His Majesty?”

“My name is--”

“I don’t care.”  I try to channel Mareena Titanos, but my voice is too hoarse and flimsy.  “I would like an audience with Maven Calore.  He won’t object, I’m positive.”

“You’re a prisoner.  He’s a king.”

“What’s your point?”

He sighs.  “Fine.  Don’t whine to me when he refuses.”

“I probably will.”

“Bitch.”  He skulks away, disappearing.

It doesn’t take long for footsteps to come, halting and unsteady.  Maven creaks the door open.  “What do you want?  I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”

“I’m bored.  Entertain me.”

He grits his teeth.  “Mare, if boredom is your biggest problem--”

“My biggest problem’s the searing agony of dying from silent stone, but I’ve accepted you’re not gonna do anything about that, soooo . . . “

Pause.  “How about chess?”

_

“That move’s illegal.”  Maven restores my rook to its previous position.  “As I’ve said fifteen times.  Really, Mare.  I expect better cheating from you.”

“Says you.”  I fold my arms.  “There’s no way I lost twelve games.”

“Says the rules.”

“You set the rules on fire!”

“By accident.”

“Sure.”

“They were bone-dry!  I couldn’t help it.”  He makes a face.  “Like you’ve never incinerated a rulebook before.”

“I guarantee I haven’t.”  I slide my bishop six spaces, knocking his queen over.

“That’s ill--”

“No.  No.”  I snatch his queen from the board, scowling.  “You’re messing with me.  Bishops move on a diagonal.  You not liking it doesn’t make it cheating.”

“I’m king.  It’s illegal if I say so.”  Colors, he’s insufferable.

I chortle.  “Only knaves cheat at casual games.  Also, you lose.”  I mark the first tally under my name, giddy.  “I stole your king.”

Maven glances down at the board, corner piece suddenly absent.  “Excuse me?”

“I plucked it while I grabbed your queen.  My queen now, I suppose.”

He extends a hand.  “Another round?”

“As long as you stop lying about the rules.”

“Me?  Lie?”  Maven laughs.  “Never.”

We trade captured pieces back to each other, one eye to the board and another on our opponent as we reset.  This isn’t fun.  It’s unpleasant, frustrating, anxious to a near unbearable degree.  But there’s a thrill, a richness to sparring with him, and the recognition unsettles me.

“My birthday’s coming up.”

“You’ll be one year closer to death.  An event worth celebrating.”

He moves his pawn two spaces ahead.  “Did you get me anything?”

I slide mine one space.  “I have so many opportunities to go shopping.”

“Were you worried about money?  The Crown will cover it.”  A few moves, and he claims my pawn.  “It’s the thought that counts.  Mull it over a few days, and tell the guards what you have in mind.  Make it good.”

My knight leaps over my pawn to claim his.  “What.”

“You said you were bored.”

“Bored, not masochistic.”  Another pawn falls to his rook.  “That’s your business.”

“A business we share.  C’mon.”  His expression turns mischievous, unwavering as my bishop claims his rook.  “It’s an opportunity to show your affection.”

“Would a gold plaque labeled ‘Fuck you’ be too much?”

His queen enters the ring.  “How tame.  You’re more creative than that.”

“Am I?”  My pawns chase it across the board.  “Considering how often you visit me, I assumed I’d grown dull.”

Pieces cluster around his king.  “Never.”

I don’t have a chance to respond.  The door opens as his queen claims my bishop, and Iris pokes her head in.  “There you are.  You had a meeting four hours ago, and you never showed up.  I had to conduct in your place.”

Maven jolts.  “Four hours?  That can’t be right.”

“You were also to discuss war strategy with your generals, which you never did.”  Iris steps closer.  “Furthermore, there are two large stacks of documents on your desk which require your signature.  Do you expect me to run this country by myself?”

I sweep his side of the board.  “I win.”

Iris twitches.  “Do not tell me you were playing a child’s game.”

“Hey, now.”  I put up a hand.  “It’s a very sophisticated, super mature--”

“I’m allowed the occasional break.”  Maven packs the pieces in the box, barely looking at me.  “I’ve been overworking myself for weeks.  I needed a few hours to unwind.”

“A few hours?”  Her gaze flickers to me.  “Hm.  Children do love to play with their pets.”

His hand lingers on my glass.  “She’s not a pet.”

“Would you rather I called her your whore?”

It shatters.

There was no malice in her eyes, no jeer to her tone.  “Would you?  I find it crass, but men have strange tastes.  Especially you.”

“I would rather you called her nothing at all.”

Iris takes my hand, curtseying.  “Nice to meet you, Nothing-At-All.”

Maven grits his teeth, stepping into the hallway.  “I have business to attend to.”

She doesn’t follow.  With a hand, water sweeps across the floor, gathering all the glass shards in a sphere of pain.  “So it has teeth after all.”

No anger.  No hostility.  No hatred.

I’ve never met a person more terrifying.

Iris chuckles.  Then she leaves, taking the shattered glass with her.

I did not intend to make Maven neglect his duties.  I did not consider how busy his schedule must be, how many hours it must take to run a country.  But now there is a tension between him and Iris.

I forged this alliance.  I can make it burn.

[lucy-the-cat]

Lover’s Curse Chapter Three - This is War

Mare

I call him in the evening.

He appears within minutes, silent as a cat.  Annoyed as one, too.  “I hope you’re happy.  Had to spend most of the day cleaning up after that stunt you pulled last night.”

“Didn’t realize you were that busy.”  I trace the dent his shattered glass made in the table.  “Does the country shut down every time you take a nap?”

“What do you want?”

“Freedom, lightning, Cal, my family, equality, hope, justice, a body that isn’t on the precipice of death . . .”  I count on my fingers.  “Could you fetch me a pen?”

“Fetch it yourself.”

“Someone’s grumpy.  Are you up for another game, or are your nights busy too?”

“I’ll have to check.”  Maven smirks.  “My nights might be quite busy.  I’m a married man, you know.”

“If you’re trying to make me jealous, it isn’t working.”

“Chess again?”  He settles across from me, fishing his queen from the box.  “Victory is sweet, but it does become tedious.”

I raise an eyebrow.  “Maven Calore.  Is that cowardice I smell?”

“Your nose isn’t working.  Are you ill?”

“I’m sick of your dawdling.”  I set up the board.  “Prepare to be demolished.”

We spar for an hour, trading insults and chess pieces like childhood best friends.  Kilorn’s face floats in my brain, and a lump rises in my throat.  Does he miss me?  Has the monster supplanted the girl from the Stilts?

I’ll never know.

“Haven’t seen Samson lately.  Must be too busy to appear in the courtyard.”  Fear creeps into my voice.  “Was there a lost battle I didn’t learn about?”

Maven claims my rook.  “He didn’t return after the wedding.”

“Testing out a replacement, huh?  Or was he the last Merandus?”

“How morbid.”  Maven moves his bishop from the reach of my knight, overlooking the pawn a square below.  “Delay does not mean death.  He might’ve tracked down Evangeline, and is coming so we might put her on trial.  Or her brother.”  He smirks.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I would.  Shade’s death still smarts like an acid burn, and anger is wont to dance with pain.  Let Ptolemus feel how he felt.

I never want to feel again.

“If we capture him, I’ll let you decide his fate.”  Maven leans forward, hungry.  “Consider it a token of my affection.”

“How optimistic.  You assume I’ll live that long.”

That shuts him up.

My pawn closes the trap, eliminating his bishop.  “What’s it like?”

“Hmm?”

“Fucking Iris.”

Maven chokes.  “We--we don’t use that term.”

“What do you call it, then?  Procreation?  Intercourse?”  I stare into his eyes, unfazed.  “You Silvers love sucking joy from life.”

He avoids my gaze.  “Marital duties.”

“That’s worse.”  I snort.  “I’ve never heard two words more miserable.”

“It’s not supposed to be fun.  Marriage is the unification of families.  And families require children.”  Maven darts his queen down the board.  “However unpleasant the process.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“I’m a king.  I’ve no need for romance.”

My pawn dashes his queen to bits.  “Damn.  Iris’s been having a bad time.”

He stiffens.  “We haven’t started.”

“Why not?”  I dangle his queen.  “She’s beautiful.  Strong.  Confidant.  I bet she knows how to have fun. If I were you, I’d go for it.”

“Checkmate.”  He doesn’t look at me.

I snatch his wayward rook.  “That’s illegal.”

“I have business to attend to.”

“Cheat and leave.  What a gentleman.”

“You’re no lady.”  He prepares to exit, but my hand snags his.  “Blonos couldn’t work miracles.”

“Neither can you.”

“Why are you asking?”  Maven leans closer.  “Does it bother you?  Do images of us together haunt your dreams?”  His palm sweats, but I don’t let go.  “Are you worried my affection for you will fade?  Because that will never happen.”  A ragged breath.  “No matter how much I want it to.”

“Maybe you’ll attach to her and I can die in peace.”

He draws back.  “Fair enough.”  I try to ignore the hurt creeping into his voice.  “I understand the sentiment, no matter how unlikely.”  He leaves.

Another wedge between him and Iris.

I may have poked where I shouldn’t have, but he won’t guilt me.  He won’t make me regret this.  Maven can look as forlorn as he pleases, but I’m not falling for it.  I won’t let another tear fall.

This is not love.

This is war.

[lucy-the-cat]

Lover’s Curse Chapter Thirteen - Lover’s Curse

Mare

Days pass without a visit, with only the ceiling tiles to aid my scheming.  My heart skids and shudders at an uneven pace, and everything--the walls, the guards, the pain--blurs around it.  Sometimes it is light.  Sometimes it is dark.  Sometimes Cal begs for me in my dreams.

It must be a week.

Is he bored of me?

I lay my head against the pillow for a noonday nap.  Footsteps draw closer, and I pull upright.  A familiar head emerges from the doorway, black hair tousled and slick with sweat.  The circles beneath his eyes may well be charcoal, bruises tithe for the nightmares he cannot have.

He has me, I suppose.

“Could you knock?”  I make a show of smoothing my hair, twisting the gray ends so they catch the light.  “I thought princes were taught better manners.”

“I’m a king.”

“Depends who you ask.”  He tenses, but I press on.  “Prince, king, monster--it doesn’t matter.  You’ll always be Maven to me.”

I can’t read his expression as he settles on the edge of my bed.  He tosses a packet onto my lap, the stiff print of government documents.  “It matters to me.”

My hands brush shakily over the surface.  “Did you like my present?”

“Read it.”

The wording is archaic and stilted, certain phrases snagging my eye while others blur to nonsense.  Protection of the Crown.  Cases of Legitimacy.  Line of Succession.  “What the hell is this?”

He chuckles, fingertips grazing my leg.  “Do you know what a royal consort is?”

“If it won’t let me punch you in the face, I’m not interested.”

“You should be.”  Maven’s eyes gleam.  “My grandfather had one.  Had Father any sense, he would have made one of Corrieanne, though I doubt Mother would have stood for it.”

“I don’t care about your parents’ love lives.”  I yawn.  “I barely care about yours.”

“It’s a title granted to royal lovers.”  His hand retreats from my thigh.  “You’ll have an official place in my court, and the protection of the Crown.  You’ll never be interrogated by a Merandus again.  Just sign the dotted line.”

“What’s the rest?”  I flip through the papers.  “I’m not agreeing to 37 pages of paperwork so you can brag about fucking me.”

Maven chokes, but swiftly recovers.  “Mostly terms regarding any children  we might have, but that’s--that’s--I’m too young to talk about heirs.”  His cheeks flush grey.  “There are more pertinent matters.”

“What’s in it for me?”

He traces the nearest manacle, face softening.  “These come off.”

I still.

“You had a chance to leave, and you didn’t.  I can trust you without them.  Provided you sign, of course.”

It’ll be like before.  A red princess, paraded on Maven’s arm, a symbol of hope to dull us into complacency.  At least I get to keep my name.

My hand shakes as I grasp the pen.  “No more silent stone?”

“Never.”  He grips my shoulders, mouth at my ear.  “Unless you give me reason.”

Fire sings in my blood as I yank him closer.  “Then I’ll never leave.”  My lips graze his, close enough to bite.  “Unless you give me reason.”

“So you agree.”

“Silence.”  My fingers curl into his hair and pull, claiming his breath before he can respond.  The less he can speak, the less he can lie.  

We sink into the pillows, Maven shuddering beneath my touch.  Heat climbs up my spine and I want nothing more but to burn him and his stupid palace to the ground.  Make an M from the ashes.  M for monster.  M for murderer.  M for mistake.

M for Mare.

He caresses my body with the barest of touches, as though I were a delicate vase rather than a thorn burrowing in his heart.  One hand finds my face, guiding me away from his mouth to his glistening neck.  A little further, and I could give him hickeys to match my brand.

The thought should thrill me less.

“My queen.”

“Consort.”  I nip his trachea.  “If I sign.”

“You chose me.”

“Less talking, more gasping.”  

He slithers to my ear.  “Be specific, Mare.  Are we talking low, husky moans,  or--” His breathing grows rapid.  “Would you prefer quick, panicked gulps of air?”

“Just say my name.”

He says it like a prayer.  He says it like a curse.  He says it like a taunt, a sweet nothing, a vengeance, a promise.  He sees through me like no one else can, like no one else wants to.  “Mare.  My queen.”

I’ve given up correcting him.

_

I glare at my signature, freshly scrawled and painfully red, as though it will change anything.  I need the leverage this position will give me, the trust it represents.  And I need these manacles off before they smother me.

Everyone will know.

If they didn’t already.

A dark, bitter laugh escapes my throat.  Lover.  As if Maven and I have ever approached love.  Loneliness.  Desperation.  Sorrow.  A void filled with the closest body, not healing, but deepening.  Love only to fools and beggars.

To anyone else, we are a curse.

[lucy-the-cat]

Lover’s Curse Chapter Nine - Play with Fire

Content Warning: Slutshaming, Discussions of rape

Iris

“I don’t suppose you plan to burn him alive.”  I watch my husband play with his bracelet, blue-white flames flickering across his palm.  “Amusing as it would be.”

The air grows cold.  “Do you know what silent stone does to a Burner?”

“No.”  I gather water near his flame, letting it hiss and crackle.  “Are you volunteering yourself as a test subject?”

He cackles.  “Wife, you have such marvelous fantasies.”

“Not the first time you’ve disappointed.  I’m sure Mare Barrow can attest to that.”

His fire extinguishes with a hiss, temperature plunging.  Frost crusts at the windows, and my silk gown is little protection from the chill.  His hands shake with years of suppressed rage.

He’d like to incinerate me.

“Calm down.”  Sweat pools at my temple.  “It’s a joke.”

“It’s not funny.”  Frost retreats from the glass, and my dress feels appropriate again.  Still, his breathing is rapid and uneven.  “I have limits.  Push them at your peril.”

As if he could best me.

“You’re the one who plays with fire.”  I roll my eyes.  “Very well.”

Maven chuckles.  “I did consider it.  It was quite tempting to see my brother bested by my flame.  But it struck me as unfair.”  He taps the table.  “Did you know Cal is afraid of water?”

I do not like where this is going.

“My perfect brother could be bested by a ten year old in a swimming match.  I was planning to employ an Osanos, but I recognize my rudeness now.”  His eyes gleam.  “Would you like the privilege?”

Tiberias Calore was an honest man.  But honest men do not rule the world.

“If you insist.”

_

“Drowning.”  Mare paces back and forth, one tense second away from tearing the floorboards to splinters.  “Sadistic bastard.”

“Knowing him, he’ll butcher it somehow.”  Small comforts are all I can give her.  “The cameras will malfunction.  Tiberias will make a grand speech that transforms him into a martyr.  He’ll choke an Osanos or two before he dies.”  I sigh.  “For a sociopath, that man is remarkably incompetent.”

“How many?”

I look up, startled.  Mare clutches the window as if her sorrow could shatter diamondglass.  “How many Osanos?”

“I don’t know.”  I can’t tell her.  I can’t sit here as she demands the impossible, wastes her waning strength on a mistake I can’t afford to make.  “My husband did not trust me with the details.”

After seven months of silence and isolation, there shouldn’t be anything left to break.  But break she does, spilling onto the floor and laying there.  My abilities locate her tears despite me, and I resist the urge to dry them.

“I can’t say goodbye.”  She sniffles.  “The last thing he hears of me will be that I fucked his brother.  He must hate me.”

I should resent her.  This woman has ensnared my husband, wreaked havoc on my court, and allied herself with an organization clamoring for my death.  I should not hesitate to strike the final blow.

But I can’t.

“He doesn’t.”  I sink next to her, smoothing her hair.  However dull it grows, it’s still there, more striking than any glossy mane.  “Any man worth your energy will care more for your safety than his ego.  Your coping mechanisms are your business.  Anyone shames you, tell me.  I shall slaughter them myself.”

Her Arven guards tense in my periphery.  They owe allegiance to Maven, not me.  I am a prisoner as much as she is.

We both need teeth to bite.

Mare lifts her head.  “Please don’t.  I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”

“Blood is a fact of life.  But very well.”  I take her hand.  “I met him, and he wasn’t angry.  His first question was whether or not you’d been forced.”  I squeeze it.  “You weren’t, right?  If he did, I’ll make him stop.”  My eyes blaze.  “I’ll find a way.”

“I initiated every time.”  Her breath hitches.  “We’re lonely.”

So am I.

“I asked Tiora to send you a painting.”  I hand her a tissue, letting my arm rest at the curve of her waist.  “She agreed the past three letters, but the previous two were buried under apologies for forgetting, so it might take a year or two.”

Mare laughs.

I can’t stay long, not when there are broadcasts to screen, nobles to placate, and wars to win.  Still, her face lingers in my mind, all sharp features and determination, a sculpture of an old goddess who knows her time will come.  And for the first time, I wish Maven were not so selfish in hoarding his toys.

It’s been ages since I’ve had a playmate so intriguing.

[lucy-the-cat]

No idea how Tumblr works, but I’m gonna start posting Lover’s Curse here and see how it goes

[lucy-the-cat]

Lover’s Curse Chapter Eight - Little Prince

Iris

I shouldn’t be down here.

Mother warned me not to indulge my curiosity, that it would grow fat and demanding, savoring my mistakes like a ripe persimmon.  Still, the dim, foreboding dungeon entrance beckons me, drawing one foot after another down the steps until I’m face to face with a caged figure.

I know one Calore brother.  Why not meet the other?

“Who are you?”  Tiberias Calore keeps his distance, hand where his flamemaker bracelets used to be.  “Is Maven too scared to taunt me himself?”

“How rude.”  I run a finger along the bars.  “Is that how you greet royalty?”

“Iris Cygnet.”  He says my name like it tastes of bile.  A war general before a king, he must know me as an enemy first and a fellow Silver second.  “Welcome to the Calore family.”  He bows his head.  “My condolences.”

I laugh.  “Mother always said I had a good head on my shoulders.  She didn’t mention if they were attached.”

He pales.

“Your cage isn’t as nice as hers.”  I breathe in the bare furnishings, the unforgiving stone, the pitiful dimensions.  “His obsession must not extend to you in the same way.”

“I hope not.”  His face clouds.  “Is she alright?”

“It’s quite a lovely cage, gilded and cushioned for a beloved pet.  A stable fit for a prized Mare.”  I chuckle.  “Was that good?  I heard you like puns.”

“Is.  She.  Alright.”

“It was good.  Admit it.”  I extend a hand through the bars, but he doesn’t take it.  “Sulking is for children, Little Prince.  I shan’t answer your question if you don’t give me reason.”

“Six months.”  He slumps.  “Six months of searching, praying, crying, screaming, pacing, worrying, endless worrying, worrying that consumes my thoughts and dreams until my nightmares are same as my days.  Spare me the mind games.”

I draw back.  “My husband didn’t speak much of you.  I see why.”

“He said he and Mare--”  He falters.  “She--That--”

“That they fucked?”

He flinches.  “Yes.”

“He disappears into her room at night.  I presume they aren’t cuddling.”

“Did--?”  He closes his eyes.  “Did he force her?”

My head tilts.  “I hadn’t considered that.  I don’t listen outside their door, you know.  It’s possible.”  I sigh.  “But unlikely.  He holds her at arm’s length, and the only moves he’s made are ones she’s dared him to.  I suppose I should thank her.”

His gaze burns.  “You should do more.”

“Perhaps.  She’s got too firm a grasp on him, but nothing I’ve tried has pulled them apart.  Whatever his mother did, it cannot be undone.”  I glide to the bars.  “You lived with her.  Tell me, what was it like?  She was so cruel to her son; she must have been a monster to her stepchild.”

“None of your business.”

“You’re no fun.”  I purse my lips.  “Still, I’m glad Barrow disposed of her.  I would not have liked wrestling with her.  Nor Evangeline.  If only I’d grabbed hold of his leash before she did.”

“My brother is not a dog.”

I chuckle.  “I suppose you’re the one in a cage.”

“Why are you here?”  Tiberias towers over me.

“Curiosity.  Stupidity.  Who knows?”  My hands shake.  “He threatened me.  He threatened me, his queen, a Lakeland princess, the key to this alliance, over a prisoner.  I’ve had to take over so many of his duties, and he still moons over her like a lost puppy!”

He shrugs.  “If you came for sympathy, I have none.”

It stings far more than it should.

“You married him.  You should’ve known what you were getting into.”

I sigh.  “Are you always this presumptuous?  I had no choice.  Father arranged the terms without my input, declaring it an honor.  He had made me more than his daughter.”  Vapor shimmers with my rage.  “I became an alliance.”

A beat passes.  “Are you happy, Iris?”

“Since when have Silvers cared for happiness?”

“I’m not most Silvers.”

“Correct.  You associate with rats.”

He scoffs.  “You believe that nonsense?”

“Nonsense?  It is the foundation of our society.  It is bound in our institutions, our laws, our diplomatic relations.”  I clutch my gown.  “If you don’t believe that, what can you believe?”

“I don’t.  Ask anyone.”  Tiberias retreats into the darkness, his eyes gleaming like molten bronze.  “I waver on the line, unsure where to fall.  I want peace.  I want justice.  The balance is delicate and fragile, and it does no good to trample it in pursuit of one’s principles.”

“You and I are very different.”  I climb onto the steps.  “And you are quite boring.”

“Iris Cygnet.”

I halt.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Little Prince, I am a queen.  I don’t owe you anything.”

“Me, no.  But what about yourself?”  The air prickles.  “Are you happy, Iris?  Will marriage to my brother be fulfilling?  Will you spend the rest of your days knowing you made the right decision?”

I don’t bother responding as I disappear into the night.

[elliemarchetti]

A Wonderful Mistake (part 3)

Marecal Modern!AU with a slight mention of Mareven in which Maven’s not a psycho 

@lilyharvord not as lighthearted as the previous parts, I know, but I hope you like it anyway!

@nightmarebarrow I know you probably didn’t read the second part yet but I wanted to tag you anyway, since one of your question’s answered here

Part 1

Part 2

Other Red Queen fics:

A Rebel’s Son (part 2)

Red Queen Soulmate AU (Mare’s POV) Part 2 (Diana and Shade’s POV) Part 3 (Diana’s POV)

Words: 1549

She had been so indecisive about what to do for the whole afternoon that Mare was still drying her hair at seven. She urgently needed a session at the hairdresser but she barely managed to cover the cost of living alone, let alone a luxury of that kind. Also, there was Ann who could cut her split ends, but that wouldn’t be the day. In fact, the one with Tiberias was absolutely not an appointment and there was no reason to be beautiful: demonstrating this, she decided to wear her favorite sweatshirt and a pair of old and crumpled jeans. If he really had to prove that he was not a spoiled rich man he would have to take her to a place where that was the right clothes choice.

When she was ready, she stepped out of the bathroom and glanced sideways at the clock. He was late.

"He’ll arrive." said simply Ann, who was already wearing her pajamas watching the Griffins perched on their uncomfortable couch.

"It would be better if he didn’t." Mare replied, throwing herself next to her.

"Don’t lie to me, you already look disappointed." the other answered, before dropping a handful of popcorn into her mouth without taking her eyes off the screen.

Five minutes later, when she had already surrendered to the evidence and began to relax, someone rang at the door. Mare jumped up like a spring, disappointing herself and snatching a cunning smile from Ann; she would’ve never admitted that her friend was right, but that was it. She didn’t know why, but she desperately wanted to believe that Cal was a good person, that he was different from the boy they all thought he was, that there was something else behind the façade, and at the same time a tiny part of her, the one who thought of Maven, the one who was supposed to visit him, wanted him to disappoint her, to remind her why she had chosen his half-brother and all the problems that it involved instead of simply falling into his arms. Not that he had ever tried to hook up with her before, but she doubted that if she went looking for him he would refuse her.

When she opened the door, however, there was no Cal to wait for her but a child of about eight years, not so tall, with white skin accentuated by long black hair.

"Are you Miss Barrow?" he asked, in a serious voice that didn’t seem to belong to a child. Mare nodded, perplexed, until she realized that a white van awaited them on the road. She immediately recognized the writing on its side, because she had seen it countless times since the accident that had taken away the use of her father’s legs: Jacos Foundation. The founder, Coriane Jacos, was Cal’s mother, a woman, according to her parents, born in the wrong family; unlike her brother, in fact, she didn’t like the academic life but preferred manual work, as she had amply demonstrated when she started working for a misery in the Cole’s workshop against her father’s will, and wasn’t even vain as her great-aunt, or attached to material goods like her uncle. She had drawn young Mr. Calore’s attention to the graduation of her friend, the current heart surgeon who supported the Foundation and had also operated Mare’s father, Sara Skonos, and from that moment they had become inseparable. Together, they had faced everything: the divorce of his parents, the death of her father, the coming out of his father, her first abortion and finally the fulminating end that Tiberias Senior met because of AIDS. Every scandal and sorrow was faced with strength and integrity by what was defined as the most beautiful couple in the city, until Coriane became ill. At the death of her father-in-law's partner, whom she was very attached to, she found herself alone, with her brother busy with his studies in another city, her dearest friend distant because of her exhausting work, her aunt on her deathbed and her husband too busy with family affairs to pay attention to her. Perhaps it was depression that caused her two successive abortions, perhaps, as some liked to whisper, her husband's lover who was trying to poison her, however, when Cal was finally born, for a short time, she seemed to have come back to herself . In order to keep herself busy, as she left work in the workshop on the second abortion, she had created a foundation in her name, using all the money received by her family, which used as a base the old estate she grew up in just outside town. It didn’t have a specific purpose, other than to help those who needed it most: the loner, the marginalized, those who were in non-positive economic conditions, the mentally ill and those who had lost their will to live. For two years Coriane Jacos had been the perfect woman for public opinion, the apotheosis of the American dream. Still, something in her mind didn’t work as it should, for one day they found her lifeless body in the bathtub. Mare's mother had told her that the newspapers had talked about it for weeks, until the news was slowly forgotten, replaced by the imminent marriage of the new widower with what had long been his perfidious lover. For the poor, however, Coriane’ story had remained important even years after her death, as was her family’s name, since it was her brother who took the reins, while still continuing his work as a teacher at the university, helped by his wife and her innumerable acquaintance in the medical field of her foundation. And now Cal was leaning out of that damn bus to greet her with his hand, as if the thing didn’t touched her at all, as if a day of volunteering were enough to make him good as his mother. Undecided about what to do, she replied to the greeting without too much enthusiasm, and went back into the house, telling the child to get back on the bus, where she would reach him once she got her jacket and bag.

"Don’t you think I would’ve known if Tiberias Calore had volunteered?" Mare asked to Ann, a bit of annoyance peeping in her tone.

"I think if you were interested in the city's gossip a little more, you would’ve known it." Ann replied, throwing her a sideways glance.

"You knew it?!" Mare asked, amazed. Did she really lived so detached from the rest of the world?

"Even Diana knows that, and she doesn’t even live here!" the other answered, finally deciding to turn around to look at her. Diana Farley was Tristan's best friend, a subject quite prickly, at the beginning of their relationship, but that over time had become a safe haven for both of them when they needed to detach. She lived in another city, about an hour away, and she and Tristan had met at school, before he decided to retire and return to live with his parents. Sometimes she came in town to visit them, but Mare had never had the chance to hang out with her, unlike Shade and Kilorn. Working in the evening certainly had its advantages, but unfortunately it also led you to accept a life of compromise, including abandoning your social life.

"So you're telling me I should go and act like I've always known?" Mare asked, grabbing her jacket with irritation. She didn’t know what had bothered her, but something had, turning her into the grumpy self that her siblings hated.

"I'm saying you should go and behave normally, enjoy the evening and remember ..."

"... it's not a date." they concluded in chorus.

The bell rang again, urging her to move.

"Keep me updated!" exclaimed Ann, who had already returned to look at the brightly colored screen.

"I will do my best!" the other exclaimed, just before closing the door behind her. Waiting for her now, there was Cal himself, wearing a sweatshirt and a heavy jacket too.

"So where are we going?" Mare asked, trying to start with the best good intentions for the evening.

"At McDonald's," Cal replied, leaving her deeply perplexed. He probably noticed it, because before opening the side door, he explained that once a week they took the residents of the clinic to eat out, a way to reintegrate them in society and not make them feel different from the rest of the world.

"And why there?" she asked, before getting in.

"Because this time it was up to Luther to decide." Cal replied, throwing a knowing look at the child who had gone to ring at her the door. The child replied with a wide smile of satisfaction, while who she supposed was his father seemed even sadder; that young life would be broken before reaching adolescence, yet Cal had the expression of who would do anything to make him happy. While she was fastening her belt, Mare felt a grip on her chest, right at the heart.

"Are y’all ready?" Cal asked, having reached the driver's seat, with a fake southern accent. The occupants of the bus answered positively in a choked choir of voices of every age and gender, and Mare couldn’t help but join them.

[elliemarchetti]

A Wonderful Mistake (part 2)

Marecal Modern!AU with a slight mention of Mareven in which Maven’s not a psycho

@lilyharvord @nightmarebarrow hope it's up to the expectations

Part 1

Other Red Queen fics:

A Rebel’s Song (part 2)

Red Queen Soulmate AU (Mare’s POV) Part 2 (Diana and Shade’s POV) Part 3 (Diana’s POV)

Words: 1443

When the phone rang, waking up Mare, she reached out to get it and check who thought was a good idea to write to a hangover girl at half past ten. To her extreme surprise, she discovered it was Tiberias. They had exchanged numbers the night before, but Mare didn’t think he would actually write something in the morning; she believed he had seen her as a girl who was hard to get but who sooner or later would have surrendered to his charm and would’ve fallen in temptation, seeing his aspired number on her phone. However, she didn’t have time to read the text as a small, icy hand slipped the device away from her grasp. She didn’t heard Ann coming, but when she wanted, that girl could be silent like a cat.

“Cal?!” she exclaimed, faking shock. “Have you already started using nicknames?”

Mare rolled her eyes but didn’t reply.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me! I noticed your look when he offered you that drink?”

“Which one?” asked Mare, with a smug grin. She had managed to get four, before the closing time.

“You greedy profiteer!” she exclaimed, before jumping on her. Cal had also been generous with Ann and Tristan but when they had gone on the dance floor, Cal had continued to offer. Not that he paid for anything he ordered: everyone knew he was the owner’s son and they were willing to turn a blind eye on many things, including the bill.

“Breakfast’s ready!” exclaimed Tristan from the kitchen, stopping his girlfriend’s attack. Though they were both lean as rushes, they ate like fattened pigs. Mare had a vague idea of how they burned all those calories, but preferred not to think about it too much; even if she liked Tristan, she liked Rasha more.

She had barely set foot in the kitchen, that Tristan was already looking at her with the look of who knew too much, chewing with deliberate slowness, waiting for her to give up the information of her own free will.

"I don’t have anything to say." gave up Mare, after a few minutes of total silence, in which she felt observed not only by one but by two pairs of eyes still kneaded by sleep but curious.

"Maybe not to us, but surely you talked to him a lot." observed Tristan, with a mocking smile, one of the things that most sent her mad of that damn redhead. That the boy was intelligent was undeniable, but his attitude was… she just didn’t knew what Shade, Kilorn and Ann found so interesting in him.

"You act as if I had hit on him."

"You let him take you to the car." Tristan pointed out, as if it were the craziest thing in the world. It had been a nice evening, they had all drank and she was a beautiful tipsy girl whose boyfriend had just cancelled their romantic weekend making her end up in the bar where she worked with her roommate and her boyfriend, what should she do? Send him away and spend the night with her brother and best friend to which she had screamed at the start of the night? Cal had been useful, but it would’ve ended there, which she intended to tell him. She turned to Ann, who had been strangely silent, to ask where she had left her cell phone, when she recognized her cover in her hands.

"Ann Walsh, what are you doing with my phone?" she asked, ready to run to get it back before she would do irreparable damage. When she met her guilty gaze she didn’t need more explanations.

When she wanted, Ann knew how to amaze with unthinkable athletic skills, but Mare had grown up with three older brothers, so it didn’t take long to plate her friend on the couch of the small open space that sometimes they called living room, sometimes kitchen.

Before she could snatch the phone from her hand, the trill of a message notification saturated the air, freezing Mare on the spot.

"It's Cal!" exclaimed Ann, trying to read before Mare took possession of her belonging again.

The message said Touché. What are you doing? so it was obvious that Ann had the time to reply at the first one, whatever it said.

Mare turned to her friend, her eyes narrowed to two slits. Ann had hid behind Tristan, as if that pile of bones could defend her if Mare really wanted to beat her, and she giggled like a little girl.

"The next time your father invites me for lunch, I'll drop some spicy details about your relationship."

If possible, Tristan paled more than usual, while Ann yelled at her not to dare. Mare replied with an example of what she could say, interrupted by uncontrollable laughter, and in spite of everything, she was truly happy.

It was about lunchtime when someone knocked on the door. Ann and Tristan had been out for nearly half an hour for their usual Saturday lunch at her parents' house, while Mare was still in her pajamas, her hair gathered in a messed up tail. Although this was a fairly poor neighborhood, the crime rate, excluding the small thefts, wasn’t very high, so Mare opened the door without even looking at who it was: probably it was Gisa who, once she became aware of her failed departure, had decided to visit her to raise her morale a little.

"The lunch!" exclaimed a male voice instead, cheerfully.

Mare couldn’t believe her eyes: Tiberias Calore was on the doorstep of her house, holding a bag of her favorite rotisserie, which was on the other side of the city, and two huge Cherry Coke. It was an unprecedented thing, no girl would have ever received such treatment from the most coveted young bachelor of the city without boasting around, apart, perhaps, those already engaged. Like her.

Despite being flattered, she tried to maintain a certain behavior and asked him how he had come to know her address, without taking off the door.

"It's not difficult to access employee data if your father is the owner of the venue." he replied naturally.

What he had done wasn’t quite right, just like what was just happening, but the smell of roast chicken made her stomach roar with such force that she let him in. After all, she had nothing in the fridge. Less than five minutes later they were sitting facing each other, eating in silence. Mare couldn’t have asked for anything better and was enjoying every spoon of mashed potatoes almost like every bite of meat trying to suppress the burning sense of guilt at the thought of Maven, who was in California, forced to work just because his mother had to have sensed something about their plans.

"Do you work tonight?" Tiberias asked suddenly, interrupting the flow of her thoughts, which had roughly taken the shape of a whirlpool of water in a flooded river.

"I have a free weekend."

"Beautiful, me too." he replied, tearing a perplexed expression from Mare. He was the son of the man who owned half of the city, he wouldn’t need to work for the rest of his life, let alone at twenty-three, but Mare tried to hide the vague disgust she felt at the idea.

"You could be amazed, you know?" he said. He must have grasped every nuance of her thoughts reflected in her gestures and Mare wondered why he hadn’t yet got up to leave, closing that farce there. Did he see in what hole she lived? Did he realize that probably the car by which he arrived would have been scratched by the kids simply because it was too beautiful, shiny and new?

"I'm not the rich and spoiled boy you think I am."

“Then prove it.” she replied, without thinking.

"Tonight, at seven."

Mare cursed in a thousand different ways; she cursed her curiosity and her stubbornness, and cursed herself for letting him offer her four drinks and cheer her up and for being flattered by the fact that he had brought her lunch, remembering exactly what she liked when she had told him in a crowded place with deafening music. She cursed Ann for answering him and Maven for telling her not to go, for not having called and for making her feel guilty whether he said something or not. But most of all, she cursed that almost golden light in Tiberias’ bronze eyes that attracted her like a moth is attracted by the fire.

"I'll be there. Are you going to pick me up?"