#Thomas waiting for Maven on the other side do not speak to me

[snakerdoodlle]

@aspiring2banonymous I just wanted to expand on what you asked in the tags because I love talking about Nell and I also love when people ask about my characters and I can’t help myself so here we go!! Hope you don’t mind :)

So for starters, I never actually considered her meeting Thomas but now I’m thinking about it!! If she were to meet him, he’d look like a boy who died far too young in a pointless war just like so many others she’s encountered. He’d be more than willing to talk to her, and he would speak about all the things he missed out on and what he wishes he could’ve gotten the chance to experience. He also mentions another young boy with blue eyes that he’d been best friends (and maybe more) with, and Nell has a hard time believing the Maven that Thomas knew and the Maven that she saw are the same person. It was clear to her that they had cared for each other more than either of them knew. She’d feel sad for Thomas despite herself, he just has so much life to him. She’d ask him if he wants her help passing on, and he would smile and say, “no thanks, I’m still waiting for someone.”

Most spirits look how they did right before they died, so they don’t still hold the ailments or wounds that brought them to the crossway in the first place. The one exception to this are the wrathful spirits, which can be seen sometimes with gashes in their chests or parts of their heads blown through. The only explanation Nell has for this is that maybe whatever god watches over the spirit plane did not wish to be kind to them for one reason or another.

And with her family, I have actually thought about that one a little :D! She wouldn’t see her mother or brother again, both because she never sought them out and because they never crossed her view. Which she is more than fine with. She grew up to lessen the grudge she holds against them, but it’s still there, nestled behind her heart. But her father is a different story. One day she would get this strong pull within her, one she couldn’t ignore. That pull brought her back to her home village, which hadn’t changed much. There she would find the pale blue spirit of her father, on his knees in the thin woods behind their home. She would stand there, looking down at him, almost unsure of herself. He’d be rambling, not even knowing she’s there; saying how sorry he was, how he never meant for things to be how they were, how he hated what happened. He died of alcohol poisoning, she she could smell it lingering. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but she knew what she felt. She felt pity, sadness, and a little bit of anger. Anger towards this man who caused her so much pain, who never paid any attention to his daughter. But after so many years, the anger was short lived. She took a deep breath and helped him to his feet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, my child,” he kept saying. She led them into the crossway, helping her father along. “I know, dad, I know. It’ll be okay.” Her voice would be gentle, she’d be trying to hold back her tears. When he finally crossed over into the spirit realm and she returned to the living, she fell to her knees in those woods behind her childhood home and let herself cry silent tears.

And you’re very correct about that last part! Considering Nell is able to see people from anywhere across the continent, and from upwards to 200 years ago (that’s the oldest spirit she’s ever met, there could be even older for all she knows), she’s heard a lot of outrageous things. She’d tell people some of her favorite stories if they ever cared to listen, one of them being of the noble lady who managed to get away with the murder of her seven husbands ;)

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

4th Anniversary Stuff

I had quite the long day yesterday and now I am a day late^^’

But, well, anyway... Watchdog of the Queen turned four yesterday! Yey!

I have been terrible again with updates in the last few months, so if you’re still here and waiting - thank you! Life and university kept me busy and exhausted lately (and I was, to my surprise, picked for a zine!), but I’m still working on the next chapter and have no intention of dropping this story anytime soon! Not when it is still keeping my brain busy.

I think I’m always getting so melodramatic and repetitive in these posts^^’ Sorry...

Well, last year, I put together some trivia and notes and I thought I would do the same this year! But that’s not everything...

When I started writing this fic, I created a file to collect little bits and pieces as I thought of them. So far, I have 258 snippets in that file^^’ Some are just a sentence long, others some pages. And I thought that, if someone’s interested, you can send me a number between 11 and 258 and I’ll post either the entire thing or part of it. However, if it’s just a sentence or a joke I have saved for later, I will reserve not to post it. (And it’s from 11 to 258 and from 1 to 258 because the first ten are just too old and irrelevant.)

Thank you so much for sticking with me for four years now! And let’s hope for many more^^

Story

The little “add-on” about Oscar and Cloudia on the intermission chapter was actually supposed to be much longer. It would have not just been about Cloudia returning to the townhouse and talking to Oscar there after she met Cedric for the first time, but it would have been an extended version of the entire first three chapters. It was supposed to start with the morning before Cloudia went to that party and end with her conversation with Oscar. It even had a proper name: “The Countess, Once Again.” But I thought it would be too long and too boring, so I just kept the last part of it. I did like the beginning part when Cloudia woke up; I was quite sad to cut it. (I wrote it in late 2017/early 2018… while it was snowing! *sigh*)

While finishing the general outline and concept of Arc 4, I thought about roughly basing it on a fairy-tale, and because it’s set in France, I thought about picking a French fairy-tale. (Also the term “fairy-tale” was actually introduced by Madame d’Aulnoy, a Frenchwoman, so it would have been perfect!) Unfortunately, it did not work out because the arc became too stuffed with other things.

Originally, they were supposed to go to Réchicourt-le-Château, not Nanteuil-la-Forêt, but I changed it to cut their travelling time shorter. They were also supposed to stay at the proper Château Dupont, rather than at an acquaintance’s place. I changed it because I thought it would be too silly to say that, of all places, Nicodemus Townsend was spotted/the Clockmaker is living so close to where Cloudia’s relatives live. I just couldn’t do that – not after reading Villette…

Very early on, Townsend was to appear from the start of Arc 4. He was still the one who stole Queen Victoria’s super-secret box, but it would not have been so blatant. Instead, Townsend would aide Cloudia and Cedric and try to divert the investigation from himself. Cloudia was actually supposed to start liking Townsend (for some reasons), much to Cedric’s chagrin, but this particular aspect was so silly, I scrapped it all and rearranged it.

Originally, the last chapter (Mystery), the next chapter (Malady), and the one coming after it were one chapter. Please remind me to provide a word count for them when I have finished all three. What was I thinking…

Cloudia was lamenting about having apparently lost her family ring in the intermission chapter… Actually, I planned for Cedric to give her the ring in Faint and Low, wrote it into my outline, but I somehow forgot including it. Thankfully, I did not forget to make him return it to her in the intermission.

While working on the intermission, I thought about writing that Cedric and Milton met every now and then in the past year and became more acquainted with each other. Like, Cedric would come to Cloudia when she was extra busy, she would send him to town with Thomas, and they would run into Milton and Wentworth. But then, I finalised Milton’s story and decided that it would be better to say that he did not set foot into England since his villa was destroyed.

Milton and Cloudia met at a reception in 1846 because, years ago in English class, my teacher talked about how “receptions are little parties,” I jotted it down and thought “that might be a good place for their first meeting!” But, according to Wikipedia, “Formal receptions are parties that are designed to receive a large number of guests, often at prestigious venues [..]. The hosts and any guests of honor form a receiving line in order of precedence near the entrance. Each guest is announced to the host who greets each one in turn as he or she arrives. Each guest properly speaks little more than his name (if necessary) and a conventional greeting or congratulation to each person in the receiving line. In this way, the line of guests progresses steadily without unnecessary delay. After formally receiving each guest in this fashion, the hosts may mingle with the guests.” – which is not really what I had in mind back then. But I had already said that they met at a reception, so there was no going back.

 There will be a total of three side stories for this arc. The Poker Game was the first. The second will come sometime in the middle after certain pieces of information were revealed. The last will come right after the arc wrapped up.

“The Earl, Reckless” and “The Siblings, Partners” are actually the first two pieces in a little series of five stories about Vincent and Francis. I hope to get out the third next year!

There will be a few more stories about them, but they won’t belong to that collection because they won’t be very readable as “standalone” fics. One of them is the pirate story which was mentioned in the second zucchini bonus chapter.

 Names

Anaïs was always supposed to be a girl, but her name used to be Amable because it means “lovable” and I thought it’s such a cute name! Turned out it’s a boy’s name, so I changed it last-minute to Anaïs after the character from The Amazing World of Gumball.

Her aunt Sylviane was originally named Renée. I changed it because I remembered that “Renée” is the name of one of the musketeers in Barbie and The Three Musketeers, and I really dislike that movie.

Aurèle used to be named Gervais. But then, I named another character Gervais and forgot that I already had a character with the same name. Because I had worked more with the second Gervais in my head, I decided to rename the first one to Aurèle. At some point, I cut out the “final” Gervais (who was the original Clockmaker) though and replaced him with the current Clockmaker. So, there’s currently nobody with the name “Gervais” in the story…

I am actually quite lazy when it comes to picking names for any secondary characters. The names of the Dupont servants and most names of the inhabitants of Nanteuil-la-Forêt were generated with a random French name generator.

As I already said, I like naming characters after other fictional characters. I often base their personalities and stories on them as well. When I read a book or comic, or watched a movie or show which I did not like, I name and base characters who get killed, villain characters, annoying characters etc. after the characters from that book/comic/movie/show I did not like. For example, Maven, Manon, Axel, and Brenton were named and based on characters from Red Queen. Maven is, obviously, Maven. Manon is Mare, but her name is from Miraculous Ladybug because she was supposed to be the “puppeteer.” Axel Shade is named after Shade. (But his middle names are from The Infernal Devices which I do like.) Brenton is based on Cal. I chose the name “Von Brandt” because “Brand” means fire or blaze and Maven has fire powers in Red Queen. (-1/10 would not recommend that book.)

Nicer characters are, in turn, named after characters from media I liked. For example, Dahlia, Duke, Cas, the man Cas talked to in Duke’s tavern, and Lucas Renn are named/based after/on characters from A Darker Shade of Magic. Dahlia is Lila. Duke is Barron. Cas is Kell. The man he talked to is Ned. Lucas Renn is Alucard Emery (whose nickname is “Luc”).

 Characters

Milton is my least favourite character to write because he has no humorous bone in his body. (Almost) everyone else is joking around, but I simply cannot picture him doing the same. At least, he can talk in waterfalls like most others – even if it’s in a different way. (This does not mean that I dislike Milton as a character! It just makes his dialogue a bit more challenging because he’s always very kind and never sarcastic. He’s the kind of person who, if you were to stab them, would calmly and softly tell you that it’s fine and that they have no ill-feelings for you even though they are literally dying and you are just a random thug.)

His rain-induced-heartache-memory-return is based on a similar thing a friend of my father’s has. When I was little – like six or seven – he and his family were visiting us. It was raining, and he explained that he had a heart operation many years ago on a rainy day and now, every time it rains, his heart phantom-pains. For some reason, it stuck with me, and I eventually decided to give Milton the same condition.

Townsend was a Frenchman (“Nicodème Etienne Bellamy”) for a very short time period because I thought “The arc is set in France, shouldn’t it have a French villain?” But then, I realised that it made no sense why a Frenchman should steal the Queen’s super-secret box and changed it back.

I wrote two stories for a Kuro Advent Calendar in 2017: Waiting and Warming. They were only replacement ideas though: Waiting was the replacement for a little game I wanted to put together but did not have the time for in the end. Warming was the replacement for a clockwork/clockmaker/machinery fic which I could not make work at that time. The Clockmaker Cloudia is searching for is something of a “remnant” from that fic idea.

Actually, Kamden was supposed to be the fidgety one before I gave that trait to Milton.

Misc.

While Milton is someone who does not really hate anything or anyone, I think he would very much dislike the song “Love is an Open Door” if the fic was set in modern times.

Because my sister once asked why “I draw Cloudia with short hair when she has long hair”: I do not draw her with short hair. I draw her with barley curls and a chignon, but the chignon is never visible.

  Outtake – beginning of “The Countess, Once Again.”

The day Cloudia Phantomhive was to kill Ronan Parrish, she was tired – tired, bored, and wishing to be somewhere else.

She hadn’t slept well – she never slept well here – and her body both carved and dreaded more hours of sleep and rest. Cloudia had woken up far too early this morning and the dispute in her head had made her decide to stay awake and wait for the sun to rise – and in January, the sun was just as sleepy as she, but unlike her, it took its time to wake.

Not knowing what to do, Cloudia had taken the book she was reading from her bedside cabinet – The Chimes by Charles Dickens – but even though it was written by her favourite author, even though it was “just” a novella, she hadn’t been able to read more than a few pages. And so, until the sun rose and Lisa came, Cloudia spent her time staring into the darkness, the novella still in her hand. And when the sun had finally risen and Lisa had arrived, Cloudia nearly did not notice it; and when she was washing up and getting dressed, her head was still heavy and her body numb and she did not say a single word. Lisa did seem concerned, but Cloudia was thankful that she didn’t address it, that her concern was only shown in her gaze which Cloudia avoided.

Afterwards, Cloudia walked down the stairs to breakfast, the sun shining dimly through the ice-touched windows, and when she entered the parlour, Lisa in her wake and Newman opening the door for her, Oscar was already there.

Almost thirteen years ago, Cloudia’s father had died at the Phantomhive townhouse, and Cloudia herself had lost her memories. Since that day, Cloudia had never felt comfortable or safe or free inside the townhouse again – considering that she had ever felt like that here –, and because she was always sent back to that day whenever something triggered her – and this was even more likely at the townhouse – Eleanor and Barrington had decided that, even if she had Newman and Lisa with her, Cloudia was not to stay at the townhouse without another person. As both Barrington and Cecelia were busy and Oscar had helped her finding out about Parrish, although this “case” had been fairly clear from the very beginning, Oscar was staying with her.

“Good morning, Oscar,” Cloudia greeted him while sitting down, her own voice sounding odd to her.

“Good morning, Mylady,” he said, waiting for her to break her scone in half before he sunk his fork into his cake.

“Cake for breakfast again?” Cloudia remarked, but, instead of directly responding to her words, all Oscar said was, “Mylady, you should make sure to sleep more. Or, at all. It is not good for your health if you keep refraining from sleeping, even if it is the townhouse.”

Cloudia nodded absentmindedly and put cream on her scone. “I will when Parrish is dead and I can return to the manor,” she said, but Oscar did not reply and only ate in silence.

[mareshmallow]

Beauty and the Beast? (not really) Pt I

Note: this is kind of a funny thing and not serious at all. It's just here for the lols :) and few things will be different from the original story.

The breeze floating in through the window was warm, offering no respite from the heat of a summer's day. Sunlight painted the wall in a soft shade of yellow and dappled over the curtains that swayed softly and brushed against the wooden floor. Despite it's simple beauty, Mare wished she was anywhere else but here. This town, simple and sweet, was a little too quaint for her liking. Everyone was ridiculously happy here and it annoyed her to no end.

She wished for adventure, like the heroine's in her books. The fearless ones who met any challenge head on. Being a thief was surely worth a good rush of adrenaline, but the people in this town didn't mind much if she swiped at roll sitting on the baker's window, or snatched up a few bolts of thread for Gisa. Once, the baker gave her an extra roll when he caught her dangling from the windowsill with her spoils still in her grip. It was ridiculous. When she had lived in the Stilts, thieving was dangerous. You risked death whenever you slipped your finger in a pocket.

But still, as strange as it sounded, Mare had enjoyed the chase. It gave her day purpose. Now living in the French countryside, life had become dull and quiet. Sure there was the stupid chirping of those birds every morning and the happily whistled tunes from the market, but Mare had learned to tune those out lest she scream in some poor farmer's face.

But today lay an adventure and Mare couldn't keep still in her seat. Only every two days in a year did her father leave the village to trade with nearby towns and this year she had finally convinced her father to bring her along. In contrast to Mare's excitement, her older brother by year, Shade, was anything but. He fussed over her like their mother used to before she...

Mare swallowed down the tears that threatened to spill over at the memory. Shade bustled around the kitchen, checking her bags for the third time. "Are you sure you have everything?" he asked her, clearly fretting as he pawed through her stuff. Mare huffed at him, crossing her arms. "Yes Shade. Besides, shouldn't you know? This is the hundredth time you've been in my bag. I'm starting to think you're just stealing things," Mare replied, tucking her knees to her chest while eyeing his hands still in her things.

Shade shook his head, ruffling her hair fondly. "No, Mare. I leave the thieving to you," he winked. Mare made a sound of protest and smacked his hand away. "Stop, you'll ruin my hair!" she exclaimed. Mare smoothed back the deep brown strands from her face while Shade laughed at her. "Since when did you care about your hair?" he teases. "Looking for somebody special?" Shade yelped as Mare smacked him again, though this time harder.

"Can't a girl just look nice for herself?" she said crossly. Shade's smile faded slightly. "Of course Mare, I was just teasing," he said gently and Mare softened. "I know Shade," she apologized. "I'm just nervous," Mare admitted, fingering the soft material of her cloak that Gisa had sewn for her. Shade tapped her chin making her look up at him. He gave her an encouraging smile. "You'll be fine, Mare Bear. And don't worry about the rest of us, we'll be fine," he reassured her.

"Are you ready, Mare?" her father asked, still buttoning his own coat as he came to stand in the doorway. Mare stood up and adjusted the folds of her cloak. "I'm ready," she called out, reaching for her bag. "We have to stop off at the stables where I left Philippe and Arianne for some food and rest last night," her father informed her and Mare groaned. She knew that Maven would be there along with his sidekick, Tommy or something like that. Shade crossed his arms, immediately going to into protective brother mode. "Is that Maven boy going to be there?" he asks our father.

Father sighs and scratches at his head. "Unfortunately he was the only one available to tend to Philippe and Arianne, so yes. He said he would like to see you again, Mare." Mare groaned again, this time louder, resembling a half scream. She hated Maven and his proposals. He asked her to marry him at least five time a week and Mare had debated whether it would be worth it to strangle him on his fifteenth try.

She had no idea why the boy was so fixated on her. Maybe it was because of when she had first arrived, Mare had been his semi-friend until she had picked up on his strange side. They had met in class when he offered to be her partner in science. Mare had found him nice enough, but now he had become something on your shoe that wouldn't come off no matter how much you tried to remove it.

Her father continued on. "I told him that you would come to visit," he said apologetically, and looked down in shame at the glare she shot him. "At least we got free service," her father said lamely and Mare sighed. "Fine, let's get this over with." Mare grabbed her bag and swung herself around and marched out the door, not bothering to wait for her father. He struggled to keep up with Mare's long strides but she didn't slow. Anger and frustration quickened her steps.

It took all but four minutes for Mare to reach the stables with her father on her heels. The walk here had helped at calming her temper, but not by much. It flared again as Maven appeared with Tommy at his side. He flashed her a grin that had been known to make other girls swoon and sigh, but Mare only resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Mare," he grinned at her, his teeth startlingly white against his dirt smudged cheeks and piercing blue eyes. Mare willed her mouth to curve a little in what she hoped passed as a smile.

"Hey Maven," she nodded, "Tommy." The boy with dark blond hair smiled at her. "Actually it's Thomas, but close enough." Mare's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, Thomas." But the boy didn't seem upset. "It's fine Mare, Tommy is his nickname anyway," Maven assured her while Thomas's brow furrowed as if to say, no it's not.  Mare felt pity for Thomas. Why he was Maven's friend confused her when what she had seen so far of him was quite nice.

"Well I should be going now," Mare said quickly. "Could you fetch Philippe and Arianne for me please?" Thomas moved to go get the horse but Mare stopped him. "Maven, if you would please?" she said as sweetly as she could. Maven's brows narrowed in irritation at missing an opportunity to speak with her. "There is no one else I trust with my father's horse," Mare added in hope's that it would flatter his ego. Sure enough it worked. Maven smiled at her. "Of course, for my lady."

Mare didn't particularly like the way he said 'my lady' but she ignored it. This trip would be an opportunity to visit some other parts of the countryside, or even the city to see where she might move someday. She would never have to see Maven or this town again. The other townspeople thought her strange for wanting leave for something bigger. It's those books she reads, fills her head with fantasies, they would mutter as she walked by. At first it used to bother her. Now she couldn't care less.

As Maven approached them with Philippe and Arianne in tow, Mare didn't miss the way Thomas's eyes lit up at the sight of him. Poor thing, Mare thought. He's in love with Maven. Mare wished that Maven would develop a secret crush on him as well, if only to spare her and for Thomas's sake. Maven handed her the reins, and she passed Philippe to her father who stood by off the side watching the whole exchange.

"Hey Mare, I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date with_" Maven began but she cut him off. "Sorry Maven, but I should really be on my way," Mare said hurriedly. "Come father, let's be on our way." Mare drew up her hood and quickly began to walk away. She gently tugged at Arianne's reins as she walked away. "Mare," Maven called, but she didn't dare look over her shoulder as she made her way to the gates, clutching her bag tightly in hand. "Mare!" he said again, this time louder and underlying with irritation.

She heard her father with Philippe behind her, but she could also hear Maven doing his best to catch up with her. Mare broke into a light jog as the gate came into view. He was getting closer though. Mare hopped up on Arianne in an attempt to outpace him. She urged Arianne into a light gallop and Maven's voice faded behind her as she passed the gates.

Mare let out a delighted laugh as she and her father came to the outskirts of the forest. She pushed Arianne to go faster. Mare tilted her head back and sighed dreamily as they left the village behind and edged towards the woods. It reminded her of the Stilts, of the woods back at home. She could hear her father scolding her to slow down, but Mare didn't hear him. Not with the musical whistle of the wind filling her ears and tangling in her loose hair as it whipped out behind her. This was what freedom felt like, Mare thought happily.

She slowed as they came to the mouth of the forest. The trees loomed against the sky, each one climbing higher and higher like twisting spires. They looked like claws scratching at the clear blue sky. It was a strange forest indeed. No creatures made a sound, though they certainly dwelled in the woods. It was eerie, but at this moment, Mare couldn't care less. It wasn't that suffocating town and that was all that mattered.

Her father led the way through a winding path deeper into the forest and Mare followed. Her stomach began to rumble as she realized she forgot to eat breakfast that morning. She searched through her bag for a snack. Thankfully, Shade had packed some bread and cheese along with an apple for Arianne. Mare unfurled the note on the apple and read:

For my forgetful favourite little sister (don't tell Gisa)

- Shade

Mare snorted at the note and tucked it back carefully into the bag. She gave Arianne the apple and patted her head. The horse huffed in what Mare assumed was appreciation.

As they ventured farther, the air became colder and the light seemed to fade into night though Mare knew it couldn't be more than past one in the afternoon. She could've sworn that a snowflake had drifted past her. Her breath clouded in the air and Mare shivered, wrapping her cloak a bit tighter. But her father didn't seem concerned with the weather, so Mare tried to ignore it as well. Up ahead she heard him curse. He swung off his horse and Mare peered at him and what lay at his feet.

A fallen tree obscured one of the crossways and her father kicked the tree in anger. "There's no moving that," he grumbled and hopped back onto Philippe. Mare opened her mouth to speak, but her father held up a hand and cocked his head to the side listening to something. Mare listened as well, tilting her ear to the sound. It sounded like...growling.

Her eyes widened as did her fathers. They both heard it. Wolves, Mare thought, her stomach pooling with dread and fear. Her father whipped out a small knife from his bag. "Hide," he whispered to her, eyeing the hills above them. She obliged and climbed towards the nearest bush in case her father would need help. Mare found a branch that was thick enough to cause some damage and waited with her breath caught in her throat.

They appeared one by one, snarling with fangs dripping saliva. They had glossy white coats that shone under the moonlight and their yellow eyes were clouded with hunger. Her father didn't seem fazed by any of this and held his knife higher.

Mare gripped her branch tighter as if that would do anything.

When the first one leaped at him, her father slashed at it with his blade. Philippe neighed, clearly startled. Father gripped his reins. "Mare, get Arianne and follow me. Philippe, go!" he bellowed. They charged down the other path, and the wolves followed. He was leading them away. Mare wanted to cry and hug her father, but that wouldn't help. She jumped on Arianne. "Come on girl, lets go," she muttered.

Her father wasn't too far off and Mare was so focused on him that she didn't notice the wolf that trailed behind her at first. It leaped at her and she lashed out with the branch. Arianne let out a startled sound and galloped faster. The branch connected with it's face and Mare winced at the crack. She was breathing heavily as she glanced behind her to see the wolf baring it's teeth at her. At that moment, Mare decided that she no longer wanted to be like the heroine's in her story who bravely fought off animals like wolves.

She urged her horse to go faster. Mare's heart was beating wildly and her breaths came out in short pants as she swung at the next wolf that came too close. Her father yelled something ahead of her that she strained to hear. The only words she could make out were, "castle" and "gate." Confusion gripped her. What castle?

Before she could form the question, a tall figure rose out from the shadows with pointed towers that crowned the starry night sky. Mare steered Arianne to the wrought black gate that got closer with every passing second. The two wolves nipped at the horse's heels and Arianne yelped. "Come on," Mare whispered over and over again, hoping that somehow it would save them.

As soon as she passed the gates, the wolves came to a halt and sneered at her. Not one dared to cross the line, and Mare wondered if it was mistake crossing the gate as well. Her father ran to her and helped her off Arianne. He gathered her into a hug and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Mare tried to stop shaking but her limbs refused to obey.

Her father led the horses over to the stable which was surprisingly well stocked and warm. "There you go," he murmured to them. Arianne and Philippe settled down into the hay, exhausted.

Mare followed him up the staircase that led to the doors of the castle. She eyed the building warily. Mare couldn't shake the feeling of entering the mouth of a beast. The doors were grand, or would be if it weren't for the air of abandon that hung around everything. It creaked as she pushed it open to reveal an elegant staircase leading to upper rooms. Mare peered around to what she assumed was the living room, or one of them.

Her father kept his hand around her arm as they continued on. The crackle of a fire drew their attention away and they edged cautiously towards the sound. "Hello?" he called, cupping a hand around his mouth to magnify the sound. No one replied. A slight stir out of the corner of her caused Mare to spin around only to find everything in place. What was this place?

The fire was located in a dining room that was elegantly furnished. To their surprise, two plates with a multitude of different dishes lay out on the table. Her father thanked their strange host and sat down to eat, but Mare eyed the food with suspicion.

"Father, I don't think we should be staying long," Mare warned him, moving closer to the fire in an attempt to warm herself.

Her father eyed the room, slowly twirling a slice of bread. His gaze focused on the balcony type thing above their heads. Mare noticed that while he had sat in front of the food, he never put it in his mouth. She knew he would have enough sense to not trust so openly, especially not on a night as strange as this one.

Mare shivered again, still shaken by the wolves and being chased through the forest. Her father caught her and his tense expression melted into concern. "We should be leaving soon. Perhaps we could find a blanket for you." Mare nodded, turning back to the fire. The flames never ebbed or paused for a second. They jumped hot and high, never ceasing which she found odd. This castle gave her an uneasy feeling.

Father thanked the host to no reply. As they passed through the carved doors, Mare could've sworn that something had moved out of the corner of her eye. This place is making me mad after only a few minutes, she thought. But as for as strange as it was, it was just as beautiful. none other than the gardens. Mare let her fingers trail along the flowers, remarking how the petals, though damp, had not a speck of frost on them.

The gardens were wild and tangled, yet there was a beauty in them. Something about it felt magical, it was like a sharp tang in the air. Her gaze caught on the wall where Mare thought she saw a shadow move past, but she shook her head. It was most likely just her father. As she moved deeper into the gardens, a beautiful red rose nestled in thorns caught Mare's attention. It wasn't like the other surrounding it. This one begged for attention, blooming bright and big. Mare gripped the stem and slowly broke it off. She sniffed at it and smiled at the sweet scent.

A flash from the edge of her vision caused her to whirl around. It was that shadow again, though this time she knew it wasn't her father, but she called out for him anyway. "Father," she asked the air, eyes searching the dark.

"Mare!" she heard him call out. But the sound was far away. This shadow was right before her. Panic seized her and Mare scanned for any sort of a weapon. Was it the wolves? Had they decided to cross the gates after all? she thought hazily. It couldn't have been, the shadow was not shaped like a wolf. But all she had was the rose in hand, unless she wanted to fight of this beast with leaves, there was no way out of this except to flee like a coward.

Not like a coward, her mind chided her. Like an intelligent person. She moved, ready to bolt, but it was a voice that stopped her cold.

"Thief," they accused, stepping out of the shadows so Mare could better see it's face.

Rather it wasn't an it, but a boy, a man who couldn't be much older than her eighteen years. He was handsome, with amber eyes that reminded her of candlelight. He also had glossy black hair that shone in the pale moonlight. Oddly enough, it reminded her of Maven's hair. The man was tall, but then again, so was everyone in Mare's opinion. She gaped at him openly, too stunned for anything else.

He stared at the rose in her had with a hard expression.  It was because she was so numb, so frozen and not thinking straight that she replied, "obviously," with a duh-like tone. He took a few steps closer, and Mare took three steps back, her jaw clamping until her teeth gritted against one another.  Who was this man and why the hell had he been stalking her?

"Why are you following me?" Mare hissed, gripping the rose so hard that the thorns bit into her palms painfully. The man snorted, shaking his head like she was some stupid creature. "I was curious about my guests. It's not often I receive visitors," he explained, gesturing to the castle.

Mare's jaw dropped. "This is your castle," she said incredulously. He nodded once, slowly, as if unhappy about it. "My name's Cal by the way," he added. Cal looked at her expectantly as if waiting for her to say something. "Oh, uh, my name's Mare," she stuttered out.

He gave her a grim smile. "I do apologize, but there are rules for stealing around here," then softly he added, "I wish things could be different." Mare laughed nervously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Rules you say? Like what?" Cal's tone sounded somber as he said,  "a life sentence here."

Mare swallowed down her terror and a bubble of hysterical laughter. She needed to leave now and get her father. "Well that's a bit much, don't you think?" she said, doing her best to keep him distracted while she scanned for an exit. Mare could make out the distant figure of the gates and she took another small step back. There was no way she could make the run back to her house alone. She needed Arianne. "Ok, well I guess if I must-"

She didn't finish the rest of the sentence as she bolted for the stables. "Hey!" Cal shouted, moving to run after her. "Father!" Mare shouted as she quickly boarded Arianne. "Mare?" he answered, panic evident in his voice at her tone. Mare tugged on Philippe's reins as she and Arianne ran. Behind her, Cal growled with frustration. Mare resisted the urge to turn around and stick her tongue out.

Her father didn't ask questions as he jumped up on Philippe and together they charged for the gates with father in the lead. As soon as Mare came up to the gates, they slammed shut, leaving her trapped behind. Her father and Philippe came to a screeching halt as they turned around the face her. Panic and fear clawed it's way up Mare's throat, wanting to erupt into a scream.

"No, no, no," she cried, kicking at the gates while her father slashed at them with his knife. But Mare knew it was hopeless, just like Cal had said, there was price to paid for her crime. Mare smiled sadly at her father who had begun to kick and yell, still fruitlessly trying to break open the lock. A rustle along with heaving breathing told her that Cal had finally caught up with her.

"I'm sorry, father," Mare whispered to him. For now she would have to play nice to this beast of a man who would trap girls in his castle for plucking flowers. She would need a proper plan of escape, one when he was unsuspecting of her. The plan took shape in her mind in fragments. His hand met her's from the other side and Mare could feel tears sliding down her cheeks. To her surprise, father's eyes began to water as well. "I should've never let you come," he whispered back brokenly. "Don't blame yourself, we both know the fault is mine," she said, her voice quivering.

Her father didn't respond, instead he glared behind her where Cal was standing off to her side. At least the beast didn't look happy about the situation. Instead his posture was diminished, his tone morose as he said, "I'm sorry sir, but your daughter broke a rule, an important one at that. She must carry out her life sentence here."

"She will do no such thing, not if I can help it," father snarled at him. Cal only stared at him. "Sir, I did not make these rules, but they must be obeyed."

Her father was on the verge of sobbing as he said, "take me instead, please." Mare's eyes widened in horror. "No!" she shouted looking between her father and Cal. Mare steadied her breaths, resting her gaze on Cal. She lifted her chin in what she hoped looked like bravery despite the hollow ache inside her chest. "I'll go with you, but leave my father out of this."

Something like the ghost of a smile flitted across his lips. He nodded. "We must go now, come," he beckoned her. Mare felt the sneer tug at her face at being treated like a misbehaving pet. But she hitched up her cursed skirts and began to follow him. As she did so, her father's quiet whisper stopped her. It was an indecipherable sound to many, but Mare knew it was a way to catch her attention without suspicion. He reached to slip something cold and sharp edged into her palm which Mare realized was the knife.

She slipped it into a hidden pocket in her sleeve and continued on, not sparing a glance at her father who she felt watching her go, lest she arouse suspicion. Mare knew he would come back for her, she only had to wait.

And so, she followed the beast into the mouth of the castle, a rose in one hand with a knife in the other.

So that turned out to be 4210 words which was more than I expected it to be. Please note that this is only part one and there will be more. I'm not sure how much more, but it should be enough to cover the major events in the original story with a few twists. Thank you so much for reading!

@electricons, @red-queen-em-for-a-dream, @lilyharvord, @redqueenfandom, @agodscursed

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Calorn AU Part 3 - Rebels

Note: This is a Red Queen Retelling in an AU. Things are a little more different from canon.

Note II: There's some angsty plot before we get to Calorn again.

Find this on wattpad

Part 1

Part 2

Kilorn POV

Work kept me occupied for weeks before I finally managed to bargain a day off. Or evening, to be exact, as the sun was already setting as I started the trek from Summerton to the Stilts. Walsh had told me she'd spoken to some people, so the news of my current job would find the way to Mare and her family, but I wanted to make sure she knew I was alright. Even more so, I wanted to see her again. We hadn't spoken since I'd left her standing as I walked to Summerton the evening after the mayhem. I felt bad far too long about this, and about Gisa. Mare was my friend, and she deserved better.

Simply said, I missed her. The other servants were nice to chat with and helpful, even Thomas Mayfair who was Prince Maven's personal servant, a young man much more close to his Silver master than to his fellow Reds.

I wondered if Prince Tiberias had hired me to become someone similar to himself, but his approaches, though friendly and more respectful than what most Reds received in the Hall, stayed reserved. Maybe the glares I flashed at him from afar, or my unwillingness to meet his eyes when we were close, were the reason for that. I was glad to avoid him, even when I still wanted to cherish the one night we'd spent as two young men, almost like equals.

The sky was dark, with black clouds promising rain creating an early twilight. Despite the long walk, my pace quickened as I came closer to the Barrow house, only waving to the villagers recognizing me in my stride. I grinned when I saw Mare sitting in front of her home.

"Mare!" I shouted, "it's me, I'm back!" She lifted her head but didn't return my smile. No, as I stopped three paces in front of her, all I saw was a girl who had cried for hours.

I fell to my knees, grabbing her shoulders. "Mare, what is it? I'm safe, I'm here. Took me some time, but..."

" ... You're okay ... " she said huskily.

I nodded. "I've got a job in the palace now, and I couldn't come to visit any sooner-"

"I've heard as much, but I couldn't believe it," she replied, turning her face away as she stifled a sob.

"Mare?"

Suddenly, she hugged me, buried her head in my shirt and breathed raggedly. "I'm glad for you," she whispered. "But Shade..."

My heart sank, and fear settled in my stomach. No.

"They said Shade died, executed for desertion."

I couldn't speak.

I noticed Mare stroking my back, comforting me for her own good as well. We sticked together in our grieve and troubles, as we had done for years. But the loss of Shade was nothing to get over with through some jokes and mock rebellion. The hard fist of the Silvers had dealt a fatal blow, taking away the person Mare and I loved the most.

How could I return to Summerton? How could I continue to work for the haughty and brutal Silvers?

We sat there for a long time before Mare pulled herself away, her eyes red but full of resolve - and vengeance. I swallowed, expecting her to scold me for being a servant though I didn't know what to do about that. I dissembled. "I should go greet your family too." Mare nodded as I rose.

I'm leaving her behind again, I thought, yet I went in. I offered my condolences and mentioned my new job, but neither Gisa, nor her parents nor me felt like talking. I asked abut Gisa's hand yet she only shook her head. She was doing well enough, regarding the death of her brother, she implied wordlessly. But I noticed it in her eyes, the tiny flickers of frustration of seeing her future undone, as well as the relief of meeting at least me alive and well.

It had started to rain  when I left the house, yet Mare stood straight and determined while the drops wetted her hair. I heard thunder in the distance and Mare let out a coarse laugh. I frowned, but whatever she'd thought in that moment remained a mystery.

"I've always liked lightning storms," she said, turning to me. "Come with me."

I wanted to ask where she was going but I didn't dare, didn't want to pry to hard. She should be okay, as long as I stay with her, shouldn't she? A new, dangerous sense of purpose had taken hold of Mare and in a way, I  was proud of her anger. A part of me longed for revenge too, revenge for the friend and brother we'd lost, for everytime we'd suffered because of Silvers. How only serving Silvers saved me from becoming one of their human shields.

We walked right into the forest, despite the lightning brightening the dark sky and the thunder growling above us. I wanted to warn her, but suddenly, Mare stopped and spun to me. "Look", she said and I saw something that I could not believe.

As the storm thundered above us, tiny violet and silver flashes of lightning sprang from Mare's hands.

"Mare, what the bleeding hells is that?"

She grinned bitterly, throwing the sizzling bolts into the trees around us.

"Mare! Please be careful!" Fortunately, she didn't set the woods ablaze, yet she ...  created even more electricity between her fists.

This is not an illusion.

"Seems like the SIlvers aren't the only ones who can control the elements," she sneered. "I've found my mean of justice."

As much as the menace radiating from Mare scared me, I felt oddly impressed. Mare had always been better than people thought she was. Even as she herself did.

"What's the plan?" I asked playfully, trying to soften the dire mood, as I was used to do.

"You think I'll run headfirst into  the Hall of the Sun, screaming bloody murder?" she retorted.

"No, but - "

"Good thing I already know some rebels." My eyes widerned. "I guess Farley's Scarlet Guard will be thrilled about a girl like me. You know, Shade has been a member too, and so will I. Now, Kilorn. Are you with me?"

I shared her ideas, and I thought about my position at court. I remembered I just got away from fighting in the endless war. But I already knew what I wanted, needed to do. "I'm with you, Mare."

That Farley wasn't waiting for us, as Mare had assumed, but Tristan, another member of this Scarlet Guard was. It didn't make a difference - Mare joined them and I followed. I felt proud of myself to finally stand up against the Silvers. That feeling lasted only for a moment, until Tristan reminded us of our coming tasks, duty, commitment and, most of all, secrecy. He was glad about recruiting me, a servant at court, but not as much as I'd expected. I almost suspected they already had people there yet he didn't tell. Neither was I allowed to know about Mare's role in all this. Tristan's surprise about her ... ability seemed forced, an act, as if he'd known about such people, and I played along. I didn't question him and his group. Despite them popping up in the back of my head, I couldn't bring myself to talk the longer our introduction lasted. Sorrow and pain pierced my heart, because whatever I did, Shade was still dead.

I guess Mare felt the same way though it was revenge that held her up, as relentless as her lightning.

It took hours to walk back to the palace. Mare had offered me to stay at her place - if I wanted to - but I had to be at the palace for my next shift starting at 6:30 am in the morning. I wouldn't get much sleep until then, yet I didn't hurry, despite the rain falling down on me. I was wet to my bones, but I was a fisherman used to clamminess and I didn't give a damn. The cold froze the pain as well, so I didn't need to think about Shade while the sky and the storm were drowning me.

Lights flickered behind me, and I heard the roar of an engine, a sound that become more familiar the more time I spent in the Hall of the Sun. I jumped to the side as the machine, a two-wheeled, strange transport, reached me, but it stopped beside me instead of passing me.

"Warren?" The driver asked me and I had to realize that he was no other than the fire prince Tiberias, just as drenched as me but steaming. I cackled coarsely. Great, just what I need right now.

"Hey, Warren," he asked again. "What are you doing here?"

For a moment, I felt caught. Here I stood, just having pledged myself to the rebellion as the crown prince himself found me. But no, he couldn't have made such a connection just by meeting me, and he gave me the same lost puppy look as ever. As if I could do no wrong, as if he truly worried about me, and he was fucking right.

Only that I would have none of his pity. I wanted to scream at him, blame him, shove him of his bleeding engine. Shade had died because of people like him, Silvers who treated us like dispensable chattel. And the prince was a general too, it was his "job" to send soldiers into death.

But I couldn't say any of that or he would strip me of the job he gave me, or have me conscripted after all. Honesty wasn't an option. Rage wasn't an option.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted instead, fighting my anger against the roar of the storm, still knowing I should add "good night Your Highness," but I couldn't bring myself to do that.

"I won't!" was his answer and he didn't even blink. I did.

"You're freezing in this rain, and it's miles to the Hall, and, ... and ... " eventually, he started to stutter but his eyes didn't leave me. "Let me take you home," he offered and gestured to his machine.

"That's not my home."

"Yes. Yes, of course not." He looked down. "I can't assume what you feel, and probably, I never will. But I want to help you. I won't let you down."

Did he wanted to say that to me the whole time?

"Do you say that to your soldiers too?" I asked back.

Despite the raindrops fogging my view, the shock on his face became crystal clear. There it was, I had hurt him. Did I feel better now?

"You're right," he whispered after several long seconds. "I do tell my soldiers the same thing. Maybe I should not."

"Shade is dead." The words finally left my mouth because they were all that mattered. The fact of his death, not the manner.

Cal didn't hesitate to embrace me and in the end, I let him drive me back.

Neither Cal nor me let ourselves be bothered by those seeing us walking to the prince's chambers, dripping onto the plushy carpets. Thus I came to sit on his couch as he went to fetch some towels. I wondered why he didn't ask for another servant - or let me do it. Apparently, the crown prince of Norta was able to do some things by himself. As I was alone, the doubts returned. I shouldn't have come here with him. I was thankful, but I could not trust him and it was time for me to leave the royal apartment, to get back to my own dwelling. But I was unable to move. I was freezing and shivering and I realized it weren't only raindrops but tears as well that fell from my head.

No. No. No. No.

Just breath in and out, and -

A towel fell on my hair and warm hands touched my cheeks. I didn't need to look up. And I didn't stop crying while Cal rubbed my hair dry.

"Do you feel warmer now?" he whispered. "Do you want some of my clothes?"

His care almost made me smile. I was close to say no, or give another snarky reply, but my power to rage was long gone. What was the point of rejecting his help?

"I'd like a shower as well," I murmered.

The prince's hot hand stroked my shoulder encouragingly. "The bathroom is over there."

For another time, I spent a night talking with Cal, only this time, I was the one with the secrets. That didn't stop me from feeling drawn to him, as I had been this whole time. I wanted to trust him, to tell him about me and to be close to him and he, apparently, desired the same thing. With his identity revealed, he used the chance to be honest with me.

"I'd always known what I had to do, everyone reminded me, most of all the queen. I'll have to marry the victress of Queenstrial, they say. It's the tradition, to honour the dignified alliance of the Nortan crown with the High Houses.

" 'Remember what happened to your mother, Prince Tiberias. She was too frail, but the bride chosen by Queentrial will be the strongest, like she was made for the throne.' Pah." He cackled. "It's so easy to believe in traditions, even for me at times. Don't object, don't rebel, and you will be happy. Even Father says so, as if he ever forgot Mother. It's all pretend, and I know it. I'm not sure if I'll ever fall for a girl, so how does it matter if I marry the one the court has deemed the best choice?"

"But - " I interrupted him.

"Excuse me?" Cal asked, completely unaware about what I thought about his prattling. That no one had to be forced to marry, that he didn't need to make another person live in a loveless marriage. Cal had a brother, there was no need for him to do it - to marry and produce heirs, no matter what.

But those ideas were way to liberal, and logical. "And what does the Lady Evangeline think?" I asked instead.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "She thinks," Cal dragged on the words, "exactly the same as me."

I blinked.

"She doesn't like men either. She has a girlfriend."

I fought the urge to grin.

"Indeed, my dearest betrothed is only in for the power and the fame and family duty," Cal continued. " And perhaps, in ten years from now, after we'd done our task of breeding little royal torches, both of us will present our beloved same-sex consorts."

"Cal -"

"No, Kilorn, just imagine. Eve and me have been made for each other. We understand each other and maybe we'll be the most harmonic couple that has ever ruled Norta. To fire and steel!"

His cynical self-pity was too much for me to bear on top of everything this night.

"You Silvers are stupid," I said, walked close to him sitting on the floor and batted his chest.

"Is that so?" he grinned joylessly.

"Yeah. You have everything, every comfort, supply and luxury but you choose to chain yourselves by silly traditions, rules and bloodlines"

He frowned. "They aren't silly, they exist to maintain -"

"The dominnace over the Reds?" I finished for him and he gaped. It wasn't what he wanted to say. Good. Someone needed ot remind him.

"I assume that is part of it," he admitted. "But -"

"Are you telling me it's a good thing to treat Reds like animals?"

"You have quite a lip, Kilorn Warren," he retorted.

"You can think about that, Your Highness, or throw me out. But don't shut me up. Your choice."

Cal hesitated. I saw his mind working, fighting his wishes. Finally, he took my hand. "I'd be glad to have your insight, Kilorn."

Insight. What a big word for the opinions of an illiterate Red boy like me. I sighed. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Please continue to call me Cal," he said and kissed my knuckles. I tore away after a few seconds and stood up.

"Good night, Cal. Until next time." I bowed mockingly.

"Good night to you too, and take care. Do you need the day off?"

"Not necessary, Cal. I'm used to hard work"

I lef this rooms behind, as I had left the memory of Shade in the last hour. Being with Cal was like playing with fire, but it was the only thing I could offer to the Scarlet Guard.

Commentary:

It's weird to angst about Shade when you know he's still alive and probably rolling in the sheets with Farley In The Meantime, yet you also realize how real the pain becomes later on Q_Q

I guess my "fuck traditions!" attitude is showing here. I didn't want Kilorn to go history nerd here, but if you think about the Calore queens (if they existed though), you realize they had to assume they wouldn't have Calore heirs of their bodies and thus they had to rely on they male relatives to continue the line, so Cal relying on Maven isn't too far-fetched an idea. Convenience marriages aren't the only option.

@dewydrael @redqueenfandom @lilyharvord @maudthebookeater @didmavenkillyou--metoo @lunardemigod @marelicious @liz-cavallaro @iwishmydearlaurens @agarotado27dejunho @stiinaofficial @incantationalice @universegamer @ibeswaraa @sybillsilver @marecaltrash @mikey-waysjawline @marecal-trash @cmarthad1

[leeholtwrites]

Red Queen: Chapter 16

After a week of staring at my clock, waiting for midnight, I begin to despair.

Wait... what? They send her the message saying “Midnight,” and then make her wait a week before they act on it. These resistance fighters are pretty bad. If there are cameras in Horse’s room, wouldn’t it have tipped off her guards at some point if she is suddenly staying up till midnight for a week straight if it wasn’t something she did before. Usually one word covert messages like “Midnight” imply that night, not a night one week from now.

The power goes out and Walsh - the serving lady who gave her the massage - pulls her through the darkness saying they have 15 minutes if they’re lucky. They reach the conservatory where Farley, with a fresh facial scar, is waiting. 

The Maven joins them, because of course its Maven, not the brother whose been sympathetic to Reds from the beginning, Cal, who would have made more sense period.  

Farley puts her gun to Maven’s head and forces him to tell her his reasoning. He says that his brother will be a just ruler but believes the balance is Silver over Red, and that change wouldn’t be worth the cost. Maven says his reasoning changed because when he went to the front he became friends with a Red named Thomas who saw Maven as a person because he didn’t know he was the prince on sight. Maven could have saved him, but his guards didn’t let him because his death couldn’t happen. Oh, and war is bad because people die and waste and shit. (I know this is flippant, but this message is made every single goddamned chapter.)

Horse wants to give him a hug because of how shaken he seems, but stays put. Holland - Maven’s servant - vouches for him by saying his attitude has been noticeably different since he returned from the front months ago. Farley lowers her gun and makes Maven swear on his colors. He does, and he takes Horse’s hand. 

Okay, so we’ve seen Cal be a Silver apologist, but it never felt like a character thing he couldn’t get over. Cal’s view of the war is skewed, that’s for certain, and him joining the Scarlet Guard would be a tad far fetched, yet I don’t feel like I would have had a problem with it. Maven, on the other hand, has given no indication outside of telling Horse she’s not alone he’d do such a thing. I’m 16 chapters and 185 pages into this book and I’m less shocked than weary. Maybe if Maven had told Horse the story about Thomas and she got him into the Scarlet Guard along with Holland, then I would buy it. I just feel like I took a 2x4 to the head at this point.

Farley asks what Maven can bring to the table and he starts with some bureaucratic stuff, but Farley wants targets. 

Maven shifts, uncomfortable. “I would prefer a less hostile path,” he mutters. “Your violent methods aren’t winning you any friends.”

Farley scoffs, letting the sound echo over the conservatory. “Your people are a thousand times more violent and cruel than mine. We’ve spent the last few centuries under a Silver boot, and we’re not going to get out by by being nice.”

I would like to remind you at this point all the Scarlet Guard has done is bomb Silver targets. I haven’t heard anything about them interrupting supply lines for Silver palaces and giving the loot to communities in need or any number of less violent means than blowing shit up because Silvers are evil. I’m not saying both of them are right because Maven is from the privileged class speaking to a marginalized class, but Farley is uncomfortably blood thirsty for any kind of sustainable change. I would ask Maven to see if he can flip Cal since his brother is the future king while working on other revolutionary tasks.

Farely mocks the two of them, because she’s a woman, so she’s the worst, and the rest of the Scarlet Guard in attendance make their number know. Aveyard also forgets that Farley was wearing a scarf over face. I’m beginning to think remembering appearance details are not this writer’s strong suit.

“We can bomb and burn down every inch of this country down... but that will never do the damage you two can do. A Silver prince turning against his crown, a Red girl with abilities. What will people say, (comma splice) when they see you standing with us?”

Nothing, because they’re currently undercover in the palace. Long story short, she wants them to be the face of their revolution. Maven is on board.

Farley wants to do something so big the Silvers can’t cover it up. This was written pre-Orange Man Administration, so I’ll give it a pass. Horse is hesitant because she saw all the innocent people killed during the riot and that her brother, Shade, died for the “cause.” She’s worried that doing something big enough to target Reds is just going to get people hurt. She’s not wrong, but remembers that Julian taught her that revolutions have to start somewhere. (This remembrance brought to you by Love Interest #3). Horse is still hesitant, but Maven reminds her that Cal doesn’t believe that change is worth the cost and so he reminds inactive. Horse caves, but is still wary.

This is so weird because it’s trying to be an argument on when it’s appropriate to start a revolution against an oppressive regime (the answer: there isn’t) yet the actual revolution organization doesn’t feel like it works because the Scarlet Guard feel almost like a parody of a revolutionary organization, but not in a good way. A lot of this book’s villains/antagonists can be hilariously over the top, but it doesn’t always work when trying to discuss serious stuff. Farley makes me tired.

They decide to go after the up and coming ball because too many people means Queenie won’t be able to pick out dissenting minds. Horse wants requests that Kilorn be kept safe as payment like their original deal, and then he steps forward. He has joined the SG against his friend’s request.

Horse is understandably upset since saving his ass is how she got into this mess. Kilorn isn’t even very sensitive to this either. He says he’s doing it because he wants to save her too, but instead of feeling like friendly solidarity it just feels like his ego can’t stand to have him just being a dude-in-distress. I’m all for character agency, but sometimes its okay to have a male character just stand on the side rooting the female protag on, especially since she has 2 other love interests.

As they disband he says “Mare.... At least say good-bye.” She doesn’t, because Kilorn is a Dickbag.

A week passes and nothing happens. Everything goes as normal, until one day in training people seem to take things more seriously. Maven and this water girl are called up, and BAM! an arena is telekenetically created. Cal explains to Horse that the water girl will win because older and superior element. She does indeed kick Maven’s ass. They both lecture him on using his head over his fists. Maven is butt hurt over his more successful, perfect brother giving him advice and Horse sympathizes with him because of her relationship with Gisa. Honestly, don’t mind this. I kind of wish Maven were more friend than love interest. He’s actually pretty good potential BFF material.

Polarity Princess’s minions fight. Horse pretends to like the brutality as much as the rest of the Silvers because more silver = evil.

Then Cal fights the wind guy and a girl who turns her skin to stone. He utterly destroys them reminding Horse that maybe Maven’s assessment of his brother as a warrior at heart is probably correct.

Cal’s blood might be silver, but his heart is black as burned skin.

Wh-what? I never got the sense that Cal was sociopathic like Polarity Princess or Queenie. He always came across as privileged and misguided. Rich white boy, but the kind who thinks he’s helping people not the kind that throws rocks at immigrants doing his lawn.

When his eyes trial to mine, I force myself to look away. Instead of letting his warmth, his strange kindness confuse me, I commit the inferno to memory.

This feels more appropriate for whats going on, but as we’ve seen before, there is always a line that should have been cut because it changes the meaning from “Yes. Yes. Very good,” to “Huh?”

Polarity Princess challenges Horse to the ring.

Next time, Horse will either win because she’s so speshul, or get her ass kicked.