#I am asking for more Maven and Cal interaction

[planetmaven]

Super Late Valentines Day Gift Exchange!!!

I was honored with @drewtanakagf !! I haven’t written anything in a long time, but I too am growing on Calorn, so I decided to write a little something on them. :) Hope you like it.

CAL Calore had known Kilorn Warren since the beginning of middle school. Kilorn was loud, annoying, and always throwing paper balls across the room to his only friend, Mare Barrow. He remembered that in 8th grade for Valentine’s Day, Kilorn had prepared chocolates and flowers for Mare. Maven was helping Cal in English when he glanced out the window and noted the awkward interaction outside in the courtyard. Mare had a grimace on her face and denied his gift, saying something Cal couldn’t hear. Kilorn’s lips twisted to a frown before he grinned and pat Mare’s shoulder, ripping a rose from the small bouquet he held. He pushed the rose into her palm and walked off before Mare could say anything.

Cal remembered a few hours later, Kilorn sat outside the school building, flowers and chocolates still in hand. His legs were crossed and his head was leaning against the brick wall of the tall building. A leaf crunched beneath Cal’s foot, and Kilorn finally looked up.

They’d had interactions before. Once a group project they almost failed. Once yelling at each other in gym when Kilorn scored for the other team on accident. Cal was stupidly upset about that. Once when Kilorn accidentally smacked the back of Cal’s head with a paper ball in class. He was trying to hit Mare.

“Hey.” Cal found himself murmuring, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Hey.” Kilorn replied back. Cal pulled out his phone to see if Maven had finished putting his materials away. Their chauffeur should be on the way to pick them up soon. There were no messages yet.

“Rejected?” Cal blurted. Kilorn glared at him and Cal pressed his lips together. The two of them sat in that silence for what felt like hours, until Kilorn ripped open the chocolate box and popped the chocolates in his mouth. Cal glanced at his watch, wondering what was taking him so long.

“Why are you here?” Kilorn grumbled out. Cal blinked in surprise and looked down at Kilorn, still sitting on the floor with chocolates stuffed in his mouth. “Uh, Maven.” Cal replied. Kilorn only hummed in response, but his brows shifted slightly, bottom lip jutting out.

“Why are you here?” Cal echoed. Kilorn swallowed and looked up at Cal, smiling as if his heart didn’t just get turned away. “Rejected.” He replied. Cal fought a scoff. Or a smile. Or maybe both. “I…am sorry.” He said instead, trying not to make eye contact. Kilorn only shrugged, looking away from Cal. “I knew she didn’t feel the same. Mare has other ambitions.” He tugged at the grass beneath him and Cal pursed his lips. “And your ambitions are…?” Cal found himself asking. Kilorn sighed, “Dunno. Maybe I’ll try again next year.” Then, he glanced at Cal again, green eyes glistening under the late sun. “Did you have a valentine?” Kilorn asked him. Cal noted the dozens of letters and gifts in and out of his locker. He had ignored all of them. He wanted nothing but to practice his sport. To be the best and impress his golden child father who became Captain in high school. “I did not.” Cal replied, “I have other ambitions.”

Cal noticed Kilorn roll his eyes. “No one cares about love these days.”

Cal remembered that he thought Kilorn was strange for wanting love at their age. They were hardly fourteen, and Kilorn was already setting his eyes on marrying Mare and having a white picket fenced life. He remembered that right after Kilorn had said no one cared about love, Maven texted him. And Cal left Kilorn sitting there without another word.

When high school had started, Cal didn’t speak with Kilorn. It’s not like they got along anyway. Kilorn was more irritating now than he was back then. Never paying attention in class, interrupting the teacher, and bothering Mare until she couldn’t take it anymore. Cal always caught those two down by a lake where he passed on his evening runs. Kilorn’s laugh was as loud as it always was.

The two of them competed in sports too.

Kilorn was an excellent swimmer. It was the only thing Cal knew he was good at. The two often head-butted in the class. Always fighting for the top spot. Cal knew Kilorn hated Cal for being good at everything. For being good at the one thing Kilorn excelled at. They often got into small brawls in the locker room. Verbally fighting and snapping back and forth with comebacks. But after the first semester of sophomore year was over, they didn’t speak a singular time during the second semester.

Until junior year, when Maven joined the debate team and Kilorn tried out for football. Cal was on his way to being Captain, and he had to train Kilorn Warren of all people.

He wasn’t a terrible shot. Kilorn was a decent runner. He could throw alright. But he was never truly good like Cal was. Most games, Kilorn was benched. But when he was on the field, Cal did noticeably better. He remembered butting his helmet against Kilorn’s after scoring a final touchdown seconds before the timer ran out. The loud cheers of the people in the crowd. The sight of his brothers soft frown in between the other faces in the bleachers. Kilorn’s loud laugh, pat on the shoulder, and praise ran through Cal’s head the rest of the night. Even as they sat on the bus beside each other, Cal staring out the window and Kilorn cheering with the rest of the team, his skin buzzed.

They were on their way to a place to eat. Ptolemus turned around in his seat to face Cal and Kilorn. “You think the judges noticed you?” He asked, the same shit eating grin he always had on his face. Cal shrugged, “I think so.”

“Of course they did.” Kilorn scoffed from beside him, “Cal’s the best we have. If they didn’t notice him then…” He took a pause, glancing at Cal, and shyly turning his eyes away, “What was the point of them coming to watch?”

Cal’s eyes widened and his heart thumped against his ribs. He hadn’t realized Kilorn’s…admiration? If that’s what you could call it.

Cal knew from that night forward, he would never see the loud, paper ball throwing, not good at football, academic failing fish boy the same again.

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse: Final Chapter

Find this on wattpad and on ao3

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

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

Trigger warning: self harm

Maven POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Maven … “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dear Iris,” I greet her.

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

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

She raises her eyebrows.

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

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

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

“Are you?”

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

“I suppose so.”

“You don’t know more?” I inquire.

She shakes her head. “That depends – “

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

“What is it?”

“The truth, as I said.”

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

I incline my head, waiting.

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

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

“His name is Arthur,” she concedes.

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

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

“How complicated.”

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

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

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

And freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And we have won.”

Fin

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

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Red Queen, Thomaven, Maven Calore

@julia071499 asked for RQ as well^^ Thank you!

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my: Red Queen

Favorite character: Farley

Least Favorite character: Tiberias 6, Samson Merandus

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Fade, Thomaven, Evane, Juliara, Ptolewren

Character I find most attractive: Maven or Shade, maybe Cal. It’s not like we really know how the characters exactly look like, and they aren’t perfectly beautiful (I thank Graveyard so much for that^^)

Character I would marry: …eh

Character I would be best friends with: Cameron or Gisa. Maybe Maven

A random thought: Don’t let the colonel die to “make up” for the estranged relationship to Farley

An unpopular opinion: the fandom should make more Coriane the mechanic edits instead Coriane golden queen edits, and I can’t see Charlize Theron as Elara anymore

My canon OTP: Fade

Non-canon OTP: My OCs

Most badass character: Farley

Pairing I am not a fan of: Kilorn x Cameron, Evanshade

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Shade because he’s a) dead and b) doesn’t get enough interaction with Mare

Favourite friendship: Mare and Farley and I hope it’ll evolve

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you: Thomaven

when or if I started shipping it. When it became canon

my thoughts: Unintended by MUSE is their song

What makes me happy about them: Maven fell in love when he was away from Elara and it must have felt so beautiful for once in his life and I like he fell for a Red without shame, as far as we know

What makes me sad about them: the obvious

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: I read only one or two and I wish there were more parts

Things I look for in fanfic: I don’t really read any but if @thomaven wrote another, I’d be in

My kinks: Maven cooking for him and wearing his hoodies

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Maven with mental health

My happily ever after for them: just being alive and happy, we hardly know about them. Maybe travelling the world together? Maven seems like a person who likes to see other countries

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you: Maven Calore

How I feel about this character: my beautiful, evil son with cheekbones that can cut me

All the people I ship romantically with this character:Thomas (and Mare before GS)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Iris

My unpopular opinion about this character: He might have a child with Iris

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: his mental problems are treated without magical healing that make him good Maven; epic death or doing time in a mental instituition; big talk with Cal

My OTP: Thomaven

My OT3: If Thomas was alive during Red Queen, Thomareven

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Red Queen Fan Fiction Blood Curse part 3

Find this on wattpad

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

Mare POV 

I smile at myself in the mirror. A part of me resents to go back to pretending but moping and sulking aren’t an option. Not when I’m having to face Tiberias this morning. My smile doesn’t do much to hide the exhaustion, even though a skinhealer has taken care of my injuries and tiredness after the battle. I’m not a radiant beauty and I never will be, but I have other ways to be striking. 

I spin Cal’s earing between my fingers as I move to the door. Its presence is stinging. 

I don’t want to have it with me, and I don’t want to throw it away - because Tiberias wouldn’t even notice. I thought about giving it away as a present, but to whom? And what would they think about it?

I put it back into a pocket and enter the corridor. I haven’t reached the stairs when reflected sunlight makes me squint my eyes and a familiar clink rings in my ears. It’s Evangeline Samos, stopping me in my tracks. Her metal dress gleams in the morning light as voltage prickles in my fists. I meet her eyes, unwilling to back off. Her clothing is noticeably intricate today, with many layers and chains falling over her midriffs and shoulders. Must have taken a long time to create.

“Are you back at threatening me, your highness?” I ask, dripping sarcasm at her new title.

It takes her long to answer, so I almost cease expecting a vocal one. Our interaction consists of glares and a sudden wave of power emanating from Evangeline. Her dress ripples and changes shapes, until the power reaches me. I walk back half a step when I feel how the metals on my clothing – zippers, rivets, studs as well as my earrings – start to vibrate. For once I’m glad I don’t carry weapons with me, as Farley does. They would work against me among the magnetrons.

Yet I don’t cower before the newly exalted princess in front of me. I close in again and before I throw so much as a single spark, it’s over. Evangeline breaks eye contact and mumbles, “no need for this anymore, we’ve already lost.”

Then she passes me, not without taking a look over her shoulder, her face lacking her usual self-confidence completely. A strange expression for a woman who’s finally gotten what she wanted. Unless she prefers love over a crown after all.

I wonder if she noticed the earring in my pocket.

Her metal clothing drags on the floor and I ask myself how heavy it must be to carry the element of her power on her all the time, unable to draw it from within herself, as I can. What is a magnetron without their metal? It’s a tempting thought to imagine one of the mightiest Silver Houses at loss, powerless and driven into a corner.

Too bad they won’t ever let that happen.

It’s not an auspicious start in the day. But I’m long past these anyway. I join Farley in the hallway in front of the conference room. “Are we in again for a dramatic late entry?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Give the Silvers a chance to discuss among themselves.” She raises her eyebrows and I suspect Davidson has his own agents eavesdropping on the Silvers. He arrives a few minutes later with his generals, knocks on the door and enters without preamble. Farley hesitates for a moment before following him with the Scarlet Guard commanders beside her, the man and the woman who governed Corvium in the meantime. She looks at me, mouthing something, then turns around.

You’re coming with us?

I follow her yet I realize what she asks. Do I really want to do this, to meet Tiberias, the king to be? And do I want to take part in ruling and leadership? I said no to Tiberias about exactly that, because I can’t be his queen, yet here I am again, with Silver kings and Red Generals, without a pause. Once, Cal told me I ran away from leadership, and I did – I still do. It’s not what I aspire, what I wish for, but I can’t let go or stop fighting. Not when my hopes are at stakes and my presence might be a tip in the balance of keeping Cal – Tiberias – in favour of the Reds.

The room falls silence upon our entry. I see Anabel Lerolan, Volo Samos and his children; representatives of the Houses Laris, Iral and Haven; and Tiberias. He sits next to his smirking grandmother, with Evangeline on his other side. The seat between them is empty, like an invitation for me. Even more so when his eyes find me and he brightens at my sight. He smiles like he expected to never see me again. I don’t return the relief. If the corners of my mouth twitch, it must be a grim expression, and he stops beaming. His face freezes into the same stern demeanour his fellow Silvers exhibit at the table.

Davidson takes the seat next to Tiberias. The other Reds sit down opposite the rest of them.

The politicians greet each other although their dislike for one another sizzles in the air. I guess this is always the same. Mockingly polite, Ptolemus volunteers to fill in the Red faction about their previous decisions, demonstrating what a dutiful son he is. His report seems honest enough though I see how Farley has to fight to keep herself from glaring at him. I have to withstand the same urge while my face remains stony without much effort; I had six months of Maven’s company to train this.

It also holds despite Tiberias’s several yearning glances at me. After fifteen minutes of prattling, even I notice that we’ve reached a stalemate. The Silvers are their own kind of rebels and they’re loath to bow to anyone else, despite their alliances. Davidson brings himself into the conversation, dissembles, and the other Guard members fall in line, if only to claim their interest in maintaining their rule of Corvium.

Eventually, Anabel Lerolan cuts in. "Maybe we should give up Corvium.” The proposition is met by stares. I wonder if she only wants to get Reds out of their positions, away from power.

To my surprise, Farley shows a levelled reaction. “It’s not like the Lakelander-Nortan-war will be limited to the choke now. After the main reason for the fighting here is gone.” Her tone is almost sarcastic. She knows about the aspect of population control in the 100-years-war, and how the union of Iris and Maven has shifted their ways of control, with fighting the Scarlet Guard instead of each other.

“I assume with their king killed by the Nortan – separatists,” Farley drags on the words, “the Lakelands will no longer hesitate to attack Norta on other borders, like on the south-eastern frontier.”

Which would be the Rift, the newly founded kingdom of the Samos family. King Volo shows no reaction to her baiting. “Shall they,” he answers, “they won’t have much success with attacking us.” Despite his neutral demeanour, his tone is arrogant. “Though I expect you, dear Anabel, to enable our new trade routes. Your domain is rich in crops and livestock, and we don’t want the usurper to further benefit from both our products.”

The old queen sips her water, inclining her head to a slight nod. “Certainly” she agrees. Tiberias says nothing.

Ptolemus goes on explaining in his father’s place, listing gains he wishes to receive from the alliance. It sounds like he’s studied this part. Evangeline interrupts him.

“How long are we pretending to gloss over the fact that we partied instead of sending more assassins after Maven, to settle this once and for all?”

Tiberias clenches his fists, but I seem to be the only one to notice his unease. He still doesn’t want Maven to die. Though Evangeline’s outburst puts the rest of the council in disarray too. Her father boils at her insolence, but she remains determined, apart from a hand shivering for a short moment. In a way, I agree with her. Maybe I should have done exactly that, hunt Maven instead of enduring this company.

The representatives of the Silver Houses each voice their opinions about the next operations, ranging between proposing their own propaganda tour with Tiberias and Evangeline in undecided Nortan regions, conquering the land piece by piece and outright assassinating Iris and Maven, once they provided fitting candidates. Even Davidson falls in, demanding that King Tiberias openly declares his support of the Scarlet Guard and Red-Silver equality, earning him some pointed glances.

Only Evangeline leans back, her expression almost smug as she drinks her water.

“Tiberias,” Anabel calls out, “what do you decide?”

He blinks at his grandmother.

“It is the king’s duty and privilege to command,” she adds and I’m uncertain if she intends to encourage or to chastise him with that statement. His eyes fly across the room, when everyone is focused on him.

“I think,” he begins, “this task is too important to act rashly now.” He makes the words up as he goes, seeking reassurance from his audience. “Our priority is the restructuring of our joined forces.”

It’s a tactical move, not a strategical one, as usual for him. He isn’t Maven, despite their similar thirst for a throne and I’m not going to mistake them again.

“Maven will have to do the same, so we’ll have the time. In the meantime,” he stops himself and lowers his gaze as the assembly hold their breaths. All except me.

“What is it, Tiberias?” I say. “Do you need another moment outside to make a decision?”

The Silvers glare at me, but my eyes fix on Tiberias. He stares back, almost helplessly. Farley touches my hand, as if she wants to hold me back. Yet, with a small movement of my eyes, I see Davidson smile. I turn to Tiberias again, constraining him with a stare until I’ll have forced an answer out of him.

“The rehabilitation of the Scarlet Guard,” he concedes finally. “It’s Maven’s pet project to give them an ill repute and we have to counteract him there.”

It should be a success but I hardly feel it, and my face must reflect this numbness. Tiberias’s sombre expression tells me as much.

Yet, how easily I’ve influenced him, maybe I’ve been wrong to be disappointed by him. Unless he’s going to fall for anyone else’s goads as quickly. Even though Larentia Viper isn’t present in the room, I feel surrounded by something worse than her snakes.

But the queen of beasts enters ten minutes later. The falcon on her shoulder screams as if to announce her and she has her usual snake on her other side. She says nothing and walks to her husband, to whisper in his ear. Volo Samos isn’t perturbed by the animals but by her message. There’s the smallest crack in the unreadable armour of his face. It vanishes as he speaks, turned into vindication.

“Apparently,” he starts, “my daughter has been right.” Shocks spreads on Evangeline’s face at this concession. “The usurper Maven sends his regards, mocking us, who have vanquished him, who have the true king of Norta on our side. Tiberias lowers his head and I wonder if he’s biting his lip. His knuckles are white from clenching, his bracelets sparkling. I feel frozen yet I long to hear the rest of Larentia’s report.

Only the central message stays in my mind. Maven has sent some of his remaining Newbloods into the Corvium tunnels, burning, shattering and wrecking whatever they could find, until these ten persons died because of the own mess they created, leaving behind their charred bodies and those of 30 guards stationed there. Maven’s message is clear enough.

I can get anywhere and I’m willing to sacrifice as much as it takes to win.

Commentary: I’m so, so sorry for the long wait -.-° I hope you’ve enjoyed this anyway. I had to make some guesses on the political and geographical issues, so I’m not sure if the Lerolan Delphie region has a lush agriculture but I thought it would make sense. 

If the Silvers, especially the women, don’t appear in a good light, it’s because Mare is biased against them. Just as she mocks Ptolemus because has to work hard to keep up to his father’s expectations. He isn’t a born and scheming king either, IMO.  

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