#rasha blini

[elliemarchetti]

Can you please update the MareCal fanfic A Wonderful Mistake?

Just for you, please don’t let this sink again. 

A Wonderful Mistake (part 9) 

Previous parts

Words: 1305 

Mare suddenly opened her eyes when the plane’s trolley touched the ground: she looked around, and her heart filled with sadness when she saw everyone taking their cellphones to send messages to friends and family, while she had no one to write since Ann was with her parents and her family didn’t even know she was gone. She and Maven had gone to bed early, aware that they would’ve to get up before dawn to get to the airport in time, but Mare hadn’t slept all night and cried silently while he held her tight as if he didn’t want to let her go away, this time for good. They broke up, but the disappointment she felt in finding Ann instead of Cal waiting for her at the front door showed her that it was right. Although it was evident that she had prepared a list of questions to ask her, her expression had to answer all of them and she merely informed her that Cal had gone to the Hall the night before. 

“Did he left with someone?” Mare asked, and the silence that followed was more eloquent than a thousand words. He had already forgotten her, just as she had foreseen when all that mess started, further confirmed by the fact that he ghosted her for three weeks. Ann went out more and more with Rasha, so she was happy when Shade stopped by on a Monday night with two bowls of chicken soup with noodles. 

“You look good,” she observed, peering over the spoon. The last time they had been able to speak he was completely drunk and babbling about wanting to change for Diana, the girl who had been living with him and their family for nearly a month now. 

“Things are starting to get better with Diana,” he admitted, with a shrug. Classic Shade attitude: first he was a drama queen and then he acted as if nothing had happened. “We are thinking of moving together.” 

The broth almost chocked her. "Isn’t it a little too early?" 

"I don’t accept advice from my younger sister, not when she let the most coveted bachelor of the city run away,” he replied, and although it was just a joke, his words hurt. 

“We were just friends,” she muttered. 

“You were the only one thinking so." 

"He’s the one who doesn’t want me anymore,” she replied, uncomfortably. 

“But he wanted you, what happened?" 

Mare wanted to answer vaguely, but when the first words came out, it was like freeing a flooding river. 

"You should face him,” he decreed when his sister was done. Although she felt exhausted and emptied, throwing everything out had done her well and given her new strength, which prompted her to decide to talk to him two weeks later, the first evening he set foot in the Hall of the Sun. He was patiently waiting at the counter to be served by Ann when Mare handed him a bottle of his favourite beer. He thoughtlessly thanked her with a nod but when he grabbed it Mare did not let go. 

“It’s been five weeks,” she said. 

“Five weeks of what, exactly?” he asked, pretending not to understand. Mare had no intention of playing this game. 

“You hate me?” 

“I could never, even if I wanted to, and I tried, believe me." 

“So why you don’t talk to me?” 

He made a face of disgust and opened his mouth to speak, but then changed his mind. 

“I’m sorry, ok?” she snapped. "We broke up, can we at least talk about this?”

“So that I could be your fucking second choice?” he hissed, but it was evident that her revelation had struck him. 

“Are you kidding me? How many women have you fucked in the last month?" 

A client, probably not a local, or he would’ve known better, looked at her crookedly, but one of Cal’s incinerating looks was enough to silence him.

"You’re right, I fucked some girls, and many more than you can imagine, but I had to stop thinking about you,” he admitted. “Not that it worked, since even when I was with them I only had you in mind." 

"It’s not exactly a compliment,” she observed, and jumped when he slammed his hand hard on the counter. 

“I’m not trying to compliment you!” he exclaimed, frustrated. “I thought I was going to go crazy thinking about you in California, so I swore not to call and to respect your decision, whatever it was, but now you want to talk to me and I don’t know how to interpret it." 

“I miss you, and I don’t want to miss you anymore,” she said, knowing it was selfish and that she probably shouldn’t have talked to him, letting time soothe her wounds, but she needed to be honest, to know she had done everything she could to get rid of that pain, even if the process made her vulnerable.

“What does this mean?” 

“I don’t know!” she cried. “Have you ever desired something knowing you shouldn’t have? Something so wrong from every point of view but that you need like air?” 

Cal was about to answer her, but he looked up at a figure that surmounted her, and it could only be two people, Carmadon or Rasha. Fortunately it was the second, who told her that she could go and that she would take her customers.

"Don’t think I’m going to do it often, but do you realize how much this place is dead tonight? You can go, you need it more than we do.” she reassured her, exchanging a knowing look with Ann.

Indeed it was true, the clients were few and even a little older than he usual, so Mare went out with Cal, who had come with his motorbike. They sat on her house’s steps, just like teenagers, and Mare burst out laughing, even though as she felt at the moment, it could easily turn into crying. 

“At the airport I went away and I spent the next two days regretting it,” she admitted, and saw a glimmer of hope light up his bronze eyes, before he closed them to kiss her on the lips. At first he took her face in his hands, but soon he slid them along her shoulders and then caressed her ribcage and her hips, exploring her body as if he never had enough. Mare let him do it, indulging in his movements, and a groan escaped her lips when his hot hands found the sensitive skin around her nipple. His jeans showed all his excitement and she wanted nothing more than to press against him, to move and rub her pelvis against his to appease the painful sensation that she felt between her thighs as he kissed her and nibbled her neck. When they parted, both were breathing heavily. 

“Later I will hate myself, but I don’t want this evening to end like this, I would be the same as all the other imbeciles who don’t treat you as you deserve, but I don’t want to have to leave already,” he said, touching her lower lips with his thumb. Mare would have liked to slam her head against the door behind her, but she restrained herself and sucked his finger hard, hoping that he liked it as much as his stepbrother. Maven’s thought made a long sigh escape her lips, but at least convinced her that Cal was right: whatever might born between them, they shouldn’t let the weird course of events force their hand. Of course, if he had known… But didn’t she too deserved a moment of happiness? She would’ve enjoyed the experience, and if the topic had come out she would’ve told him, but that wasn’t the right time because it was their and only theirs.

[elliemarchetti]

A Wonderful Mistake (part 11)

Previous chapters

Words: 1058

It was nearly three A.M. when Cal sent her a message saying he was in front of her door. Surprised, Mare stood up from the sofa where she was watching some trash TV before going to bed and let him in.

“I have a doorbell, you know?” she teased, but before he could answer she gave him a long kiss. He hadn’t gone to the Hall that evening, and she had missed him more than she was willingly to admit.

"Ann isn't there?" he asked, looking around. Mare shook her head: she had gone to Rasha’s after their shift ended, so they would’ve had the whole house for them for the first time since they officially started dating, whose implications he too seemed to understand since he held her in a different way than usual, more eloquent, which hinted at all his desire. Although both had decreed it was better to wait, she wanted to get rid of all those layers of clothes so bad that she took off his shirt with just one, fluid movement before jumping up and wrapping he legs around his waist. Cal’s hands explored her back under the threadbare shirt Mare was wearing as a pajama and without getting his lips off of hers he took her to the sofa, where she finally remained in her red lace bra, one of her favorites.

"If I had known you were wearing stuff like this I wouldn’t have been able to wait this long," he said, an adoring gaze in his eyes and a stupid smile on his face. It was nice to see him so happy and carefree, both feelings that suited a boy his age much more than those he sported for the photos that appeared in local newspapers. The fact that she, Mare Barrow, was with a boy so rich and famous amused her a little: she had been a nobody for all her life, a thief who stole cell phones in clubs to resell them for half the price, and now she was in the arms of the most wanted bachelor in town, a very big upgrade.

"You don’t understand!" Ann yelled, snapping the door open. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara and the reason appeared less than a second later, screaming in turn, and slamming the poor door behind her. When they finally noticed them, and the fact that they had probably interrupted something, Ann burst into tears again and headed for her room, followed by Rasha, who gave them a sad half-smile. With a sigh, Mare and Cal got dressed, determined not to have that drama as the background of their first time.

"I'm sorry," she said, wrinkling her lower lip, although in all honesty it wasn't really true, since every second of what had just happened had been splendid and she had actually nothing to apologize for, being the events of the moment out of her control. They were about to go to the bedroom, in hope of being able to get a few hours of sleep, when Ann's room door swung open and Rasha came out, her eyes burning with anger.

"If you could only stop for a moment and listen…” started the other girl, trying to reach her before she could exit.

"You don't want me to listen, you want me to obey!" snapped the other.

"It's not like that, I ..." Ann began, but the words died in her throat when her fiancée started screaming again.

"Now calm down, you two drank and..." Mare tried to help, but Rasha was evidently more drunk than expected, and she had no intention of saving her from her outburst either.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do, not when you’re here in his arms while you were kissing your ex on Thanksgiving night!” she yelled, but when she realized the gravity of her words, all anger vanished from her features, replaced by regret.

“I’m sorry…” she murmured, leaving without looking back. Cal followed her with his bronze eyes and then placed them on her, making her feel small and frightened. She didn't want to lose him and didn't want him to react badly to something that never happened, because she hadn't kissed Maven, but the words didn't come out of her mouth and all she could do was step back. Cal seemed surprised by her reaction and hurt by her reaction. She knew he would’ve never hit her but she was unable to say that either.

“Mare never kissed her ex,” said Ann, determined to remedy the disaster she had caused. “He begged her to come back with him, she said no and he gave her a goodbye kiss on the cheek.”

But Mare,  who couldn’t understand why he had told Rasha, was too furious and told her to leave, it didn’t mattered that her face was red and her eyes and cheeks all smeared with makeup.

"If he touches you again," Cal hissed, grabbing the car keys from the entrance shelf where he had left them them, "I'll kill him."

With those words, he slammed the door and Mare stood for a moment, incredulous, staring at the point where her boyfriend had been until a second ago, when, feeling observed, she met Ann’s pleading gaze.

"Not now," she growled, passing her, then throwing herself face down on the bed. The door, however, reopened creaking, she had to put oil on its hinges but she continued to forget it, always too busy with more serious problems, and after there was only silence, which made Mare curious to the point of peeking through the pillows. Ann was lingering in the rectangle dimly lit by the corridor light, her lower lips shaking, wringing her hands like a nervous child. She wasn't made for that sort of thing, neither was her, to be honest, but Ann always made it more obvious, which always made Mare feel very bad, especially if she knew she was part of the problem, so there was no need for her to beg Mare to lift the blanked and invite her to lie down beside her since in the time it would’ve been said, her friend was covering her figure, curled up in a fetal position, up to her shoulders. Moved to pity, Mare hugged her and let her cry until she fell asleep.

[elliemarchetti]

Now We’re Even

@redqueenetwork mission 04 | friendships

Diana Farley and Tristan Boreeve

Words: 1288

Farley made a quick check of the situation: Walsh eyes were swollen for crying but otherwise she was fine, not like Tristan, leaning against the wall so as not to put his weight on the blood-soaked leg. Around the wound they had tightened a makeshift bandage from Warren's shirt, who, although he was unharmed and could’ve escaped with the others, had remained behind in an attempt to drag his companion with him. It was a stupid gesture, which wouldn’t have helped the Guard, but Farley was unexpectedly grateful to him: Tristan, in addition to being his subordinate, was also one of her few friends and she didn’t want him to die alone in the sewers. When the Silvers, and their undercover allies, arrived, Farley clung to Warren with her good arm, on the other side she had a dislocated collarbone and the arm hung down dangling forming a strange angle with her shoulder, and she grinned satisfied and then spit through the bars a mixture of saliva and blood which ended up at the feet of the future queen, who began to scream threats. She was a magnetron and she could’ve unhinged the cell with only her mind, tearing it to pieces with all of them inside, but evidently she had to hold back unwillingly, so Farley held her gaze; if that was her end she would’ve gone to meet her destiny with her head held high, but before her consort could lose control Tiberias VII removed her from the bars and then pointed to Warren with a slow gesture of the hand. The boy contracted his jaw but continued to keep his green eyes on the ground, so he asked for explanations to Mare. In the beginning the girl only stuttered incoherent words but as she spoke they became more and more credible, with her tone and her attitude that became more and more those of a Silver. Then it was Maven's turn, who pointed out that indeed they all looked like simple servants, but the stepbrother retorted that they had tracked them down as they tried to escape, as if a Red servant, once having seen the possibility of getting rid of his yoke, shouldn’t have try to escape from their master to join a cause that believed in equal rights. It was really true that those who have spent too long wearing silk forget what it means and what it feels like to live in the mud. She hoped that the same thing wouldn’t happen to Mare, even though she began to think that the girl had several aces up her sleeve. In the meantime, Tristan was getting paler and the bandage was streaked with a bright red. If only they were all gone, they could’ve tried to bandage him again, perhaps better and tighter, so as to stop the bleeding. But for what? To make sure the Silvers could properly torture him? Perhaps it would’ve been better if he had fallen asleep surrounded by his friends and never woken up again. It was always better than dying screaming. Yet the same determination that Warren had in the sewers she was having now, even as they dragged her out of the cell and the bars closed behind her, trapping the others inside again. Walsh and Warren rushed to the bars, the portrait of fear, while the sentinel forced her to kneel, then wait for the next order. It would’ve been the crown prince to lead the interrogation and although a shooting pain crossed her arm to reach her shoulder, she whined with clenched teeth, determined to die rather than speak.

"And would we be the barbarians?" Warren burst out, his forehead pressed against the bars, perhaps in the hope of distracting her tormentor.

But everyone ignored him and the prince knelt to look her in the eye. Not that it mattered, or that it made any difference, but she gathered all the forces she still had and hit him on the nose, breaking it. He let the sentinel be his avenger as she pierced her flesh, cutting her nerves, with blades made of her own blood. Farley continued to breathe through clenched teeth, repeating to herself that she could bear the pain if she would’ve spared it to her companions, until the prince ordered to stop and a skin healer crouched beside her. Farley nearly collapsed as he gazed absently at the arm pierced by a myriad of blades of frozen blood that healed quickly and regained color. Obviously that wasn’t an act of kindness: they were treating her just to start over, except that they had no way because a terrifying voice rumbled down the flight of stairs and reached them. When Ptolemus Samos went down the last step and hugged his sister Farley he let out a curse. He had been injured in the shoulder but had also been treated and now he was more dangerous than ever as he looked furiously at the prisoners and made a threatening move towards them. The metal bars shivered and screeched against the cement to which they were anchored with a terrifying sound. The prince tried to stop him and so did his sister and the sentries. Warren and Walsh back off, leaning against the wall, but he was a hunter and as such he would attack the weaker. Driven by adrenaline, ignoring the fact that he was much taller than her and could’ve killed her only by manipulating his clothes, Farley threw herself at him. Taken aback, the Samos' eldest son stepped back and Mare was quick enough to squeeze her fingers full of sparks around his muscular neck and release an electric shock that made him stagger and finally collapse on the ground, convulsing. His sister rushed to his side and reached out to her brother's face but got a shock and was forced to back away with a grimace of anger which fortunately turned to Mare more than her. Once the farce was finished, or was probably simply moved to another location thanks to Maven's words, Farley approached Tristan, who could barely sit up. Walsh had fixed a new bandage, tighter and more precise, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

"Now we're even." she said, resting her head on his bony shoulder. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to delude herself for a couple of hours of being outdoors again, hidden in some ruin, as before that mission, before entering Norta and discovering how tremendously dangerous it could be. Even in the Lakeland the Silvers were terrible, but sometimes they didn’t demonstrate that cruel wit. Don't forget your mother and sister, her father's familiar voice said. And how could she? Even her distorted reflection in those too bright bars reminded her of them, so she closed her eyes.

"We’ll never be even, I’ve saved your grumpy ass too many times." Tristan joked weakly, and as if he had sensed where her thoughts were leading her, he began stroking her hair until she fell asleep, dreaming of a day when they could all live in peace and prosperity, where he, Ann and Rasha could build the weird family they wished for and she could wake up every morning with the sun on her face and Shade’s warm body next to her and she could be her best friend's neighbor in a nice residential neighborhood with modest cottages where she would help him grow the embarrassing amount of children he wanted without having to worry about how to feed them or when they would leave for conscription. It was a distant future, perhaps impossible, but together they were working on it and together they would’ve seen it rise, red as the dawn.

[elliemarchetti]

The Selection AU (Part 2)

Previous chapter 

Words: 1309

It was ten minutes before the Report was aired and they were all in their seats in front of the television, determined not to miss even a second of the announcement. What would happen in the next half hour was of fundamental importance to understand how they should move to take Norta and bring down its corrupt government and monarchy, but it was also one of the rare moments of relaxation that they would have had until a date that still had to be assigned, therefore she let her subordinates and her companions chat as ordinary citizens, which actually could’ve helped them to blend further in with the crowd. Usually, Diana would’ve behaved differently too, but at the moment she was tense like a violin string and she nearly jumped when the Nortan national anthem started and the Calore coat of arms appeared. Although she tried and succeeded to keep a certain demeanor until that moment, her hands began to tremble slightly, which Tristan seemed to notice as he squeezed her arms, hoping to calm her down. If he hadn’t been around for the duration of the whole operation, she probably would’ve gone mad. It had been a long time since she last prayed, but she finally did it again, asking for that torture to end quickly, but of course the gods weren’t going to respond, as always, and King Tiberias gave a quick, and very false, update on the war. At Whitefire Palace everyone seemed in a good mood, but the Scarlet Guard knew it was just a facade that served to entertain the Reds.

“It’s always a pleasure to be able to make these announcements,” said Queen Coriane, standing up and approaching her husband. “Yesterday I was present when some of the girls were extracted, and I have to say they’re all very pretty, but I didn’t wanted to completely spoil the surprise and I didn’t shared my observations with my son, so he can make his first impression with all of you.”

Diana wiped her sweaty hands in her old pants as the queen continued with her story and advice for the participants. So many beautiful words, excellent rhetoric, but nothing really useful on how to survive as Red in a building full of Silvers. Obviously, how could she know? However calm and temperate she seemed, she was still one of them.

“But now, let’s find out the names of the thirty-five participants!” she exclaimed, full of enthusiasm. She doubted she lacked company, but she seemed really delighted at the idea of being surrounded by thirty-five strangers, something Diana didn’t shared, but she still couldn’t have been more grateful of the whole situation: the current ruler was pretty naïve and the Calores opened their palace’s door not only for the Queenstrial participants, but to the extra staff their presence required too, which had allowed Ann to be hired as a maid and they were waiting to know if Kilorn and Tristan’s request to work as Palace Guards had been accepted. The new recruit was one of the most willing people she had known in a long time and she had been happy to add him to her team though she still doubted the real reasons why he had joined them.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in celebrating the following daughters of Norta!” exclaimed the King, and a chuckle almost escaped Diana’s lips since if everything had gone as it should’ve, they wouldn’t all have been Norta’s daughters.

"Bariel Blonos, Silver, blood healer,” announced the Silver in his mighty tone, and a photo of a girl with porcelain skin with the appeal of a real lady was shown on the screen. The prince smiled, and Diana wondered if he knew her of had a preference for someone else. Surely the boy, even if he didn’t seemed too smart, had to have a preference at least in terms of women, al that why Rasha sent the form too. Tristan hadn’t been too happy, but he hadn’t objected too much since he was ready to do anything for the cause and he realized that she and Diana were at opposite poles of whatever aesthetic spectrum they could use.

“Tallulah Carros, Silver, strongarm,” continued the king, and a young woman full of freckles, more mature in appearance, was shown. The prince leaned over to his younger brother to whisper something in his ear and he had to refrain from laughing. Yes, it was evident that they already knew them.

“Clarissa Eagrie, Silver, eye.”

This time it was the turn of a brunette with glowing eyes, slightly younger than her but with a decidedly sexy neckline.

“It doesn’t seem too much to you …” began Tristan, but her name was announced, which made him turn to the screen abruptly. They had been able to use her real name, but they had to change at least the surname although she was pretty sure that they had no access to the Lakelands blood register in Norta, not to mention that now, in their database, a Diana Smith with her blood really existed. It had been easy to insert her and Rasha after they recruited a Red working in the archive.

“Camille Gliacon, Silver, shiver.”

The names followed each other for what seemed an interminable time, and they had almost despaired of the fact that Rasha was chosen, when, just before the end, her new name, Rasha Kumar, was announced. The two girls exchanged a proud look, as if they were really happy with that possibility. Now that they were both participating in the Queenstrial, they had twice the chances of their plan to succeed.

                                                     ————–

When Mare entered her room, exhausted as never before, she almost had a heart attack: in front of her, wearing maid uniforms, there were two very young girl, one with a very dark complexion that seemed barely of age to work, with two thick braids falling behind her gaunt shoulders, the other just a little older, white as milk, with a ruddy face full of freckles. Among them stood, proud as if she had just become queen, a figure she would’ve recognized everywhere.

“Gisa!” she screamed, and hugged her sister with enough momentum to lift her off the ground. She had been so certain that she wasn’t going to see a familiar face for a very long time that she forgot her sister’s job would certainly have earned her a place in the Queenstrial’s new hires, and someone, a very kind soul, must’ve thought it was a nice thing to entrust her to her sister.

“Have you seen all the girls?” she asked when she finally put her feet on the ground again. As always, she was an incurable gossip, but in a good way. Mare nodded, even if they hadn’t made this great impression: except for the other two Reds, the other all looked like real harpies, but given her enthusiasm, she was unable to tell her the truth and simply stated that they weren’t very talkative.

“It’s a competition, it’s normal. Just give them time and they will realize that they cannot all become queens, though I certainly wouldn’t want to be in your place. Among maids, instead, we help each other as much as possible. They are Cameron,” she explained, pointing to the thinner and slimmer girl, with dark skin, “and she is Mary,” he concluded, pointing to the other one.

“I was hired at the palace a year ago, therefore in addition to taking care of your jewels, which are my specialty, I’ll also instruct you on the court’s rules. I know we may seem like an inefficient team, and I’m firmly convinced that they wanted to penalize you, entrusting you with the younger maids, but know that we will do everything to make you a Red all Norta won’t be able to forget.”

[elliemarchetti]

A Wonderful Mistake (part 6)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Other Red Queen fics:

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

A Rebel’s Song (part 2)

Words: 1236

Cal came in with a smile so broad on his face that Mare couldn't help but reciprocate. It was the first Friday of October and this meant that at the moment, somewhere near the university, the Feats, clandestine fighting meetings in full Fight Club style to which all those who were aged between seventeen and twenty-three years participated, including him, or so it was until that day, were taking place.

"I didn't expect to see you before midnight," she said in greeting as the boy sat in front of her station.

"Unlike some guys in California I have clear my priorities," he replied, and though Mare replied with a grimace she felt a pang in her stomach. She hadn’t heard of Maven in twelve days and it could be considered a record in their relationship based only on sporadic messages and rapid calls; she had even thought that maybe she should’ve been the first to call but Ann had advised her not to chase him too much since it was him who had canceled their weekend and not even found a couple hours to spend with her when his mother sent him in town. Obviously she was right but this didn’t erase the burning sense of guilt he felt in being there to flirt with his half-brother.

"Where is Ann?" Dave asked, interrupting her distressing flow of thoughts.

"I saw her outside with the other bartender," Cal replied, unleashing a man's mutter, which disappeared in the back again. Since she and Tristan had break up five days earlier because of Diana, although Mare hadn't wanted to go into the subject particularly, since her brother also seemed interested in the girl, the two colleagues had become inexplicably inseparable and where one was you can find also the other one, something that the owner of the business didn’t like particularly and not even her, although she had rooted for Rasha from the beginning; if they had both decided to take a break in the middle of a busy evening being behind the counter would’ve been unbearable even for a skilled bartender like her.

"Mare!" a voice called from the other side of the desk, making her swear under her breath. Out of habit she tried not to be noticed or make herself seem busy, so that her brothers went to order from Ann or Rasha, but that evening, with the empty room and the two girls out, she had no chance.

"Two Sam Adams?" she asked to Shade and Kilorn, though she already knew what the answer would be. She offered the first round, but they also took a second and in the meantime Shade also ordered a whiskey.

"Is it all right?" asked Cal once she was back at her station, probably suspicious of her reaction, but Mare didn't want to open that subject so she nodded and was grateful to Ann for interrupting them to warn her that she had received a message from Lena , a nursing graduate student who replaced them from time to time when she couldn't pay for food, rent, bills and tuition fees with the scholarship alone, who said the match was over and a lot of people said they were headed to the Hall. At the news, Cal tapped his hand on the counter a couple of times, finished his drink in one gulp and announced that he would leave or otherwise he risked killing some of those assholes, as he called them.

"Mister responsibility in person." Mare teased him, but in reality she felt a pang of displeasure at the idea of ​​not seeing him for the whole evening.

"Send me a message when you're done," he told her when he was already up. "Tomorrow I would like to go out."

"Again?!" Rasha exclaimed, with justified amazement, seeing as Cal Calore was renowned for never going out twice with the same girl, but Mare silenced her, red with embarrassment, committing herself to concentrate on the first spectators of the Feats, who entered as soon as Cal went out. Within an hour there was place only standing and although the men were all drunk and thought themselves invincible as anyone who had won that night, Shade and Kilorn still hadn't moved from their stools and even though they were a little out of hand they had succeeded to drink almost half a bottle of Jim Beam. When the situation seemed to calm down, another large group, probably the last spectators of the meeting, entered with a particularly happy air. Among them stood Tristan, who in spite of his split lip laughed and joked casually with his new friends, and Diana, who immediately attracted Shade’s attention, making him seem even more disheartened than before.

"So, spit it out." Mare said, making them jump as she had stealthily approached.

"Tell you what?" Shade asked, trying to compose himself.

"About Tristan and Diana. First he and Ann break up, now you come here to get drunk with a whipped dog’s expression. Things cannot fail to be connected."

"It doesn't matter." he tried to minimize, but Mare knew him too well and besides Kilorn couldn't wait to spit it out.

“She hates him.”

“And why do you think so?” she asked.

“She thinks he’s an asshole, I heard her say it before the match.”

"And you, as the good friend you are, immediately went to report it to him, didn't you?" she asked, with a tone of reproach that Kilorn didn't seem to understand. She really loved her best friend but sometimes he was a little too outspoken and a little too rude, which could hurt others, and although Shade tried not to show it to him, his was a tender heart.

"Did she really say that?" asked Ann, who must have eavesdropped on the whole conversation and was probably waiting for an excuse to get her hands on the beautiful blonde.

"Essentially," replied Shade with a sigh so mortified that immediately appeased his friend's wrath.

"Well, you are." Mare replied as she watched him throw down yet another shot. Given his past behavior, wasn't it true? But maybe he could’ve been a better man for her.

"You're right, but I can change! Although probably not enough to deserve her... " he said, and she didn't need to look into his eyes to understand that he had gone too far.

"You should take him home," Mare suggested to Kilorn; there would’ve been no liquor in the world that could make him forget what she had said, something Mare had understood in the first months of distance from Maven, when the first misunderstandings had arisen and she had begun to understand that his mother doesn’t considered her worthy of her son, regardless of how much she was in love with him. For a moment not being able to think logically helped, but it was a brief and ephemeral relief, with serious consequences to face the next morning.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Kilorn replied, frowning. He wasn't good at keeping secrets, especially with her, but it was clear that this time he was trying more hard than usual.

"Why?" Mare asked, puzzled. It was nothing new that one of her brothers came home drunk and their parents were used to it, especially since the only one who had already left was her.

"Because your parents have offered to host her for a month."

[elliemarchetti]

How do you think the Red Queen characters would be in a zombie apocalypse? With their powers and skills I think it would be interesting.

Another story time! (Sorry, I’m just in writing mood, hope you don’t mind and still enjoy)

Zombie Apocalypse AU

Words: 1001

They were refueling ammunition in an armory when they heard a noise. All three turned in unison and saw one of them behind a wire mesh that had probably once served to prevent the Reds from entering the Silver's possession. Although two years had passed since everything had started, get used to it was impossible, not when what had once been a person was now reduced to a simple envelope of flesh driven by an insatiable sense of hunger. Tristan immediately aimed the rifle but Diana stopped him, placing a hand on the long and shiny barrel.

“Leave it be,” she said. “It can’t get to us here and you may need that bullet later.”

Without further delay, and without too much desire to have to dwell further on the horrible image of the man who was slowly decomposing, they got back on the vehicle and returned to Naercey, the base of the Scarlet Guard, the Red resistance of Norta, the Lakelands and Piedmont against that catastrophe that in the beginning had only affected the Reds but now was starting to take even the less wealthy Silvers, as demonstrated by the small abandoned shop. Throughout the journey, which wasn’t too long, Diana tried not to think too much about her past, about what she had lost against her will and had to sacrifice to get here alive,  in a place she still couldn't call home but that certainly felt like security.

"What did you find this time?" asked the Colonel as they were unloading. Her father, although he sometimes seemed to forget he was, was the head of that Scarlet Guard displacement and nothing came in or went out without his approval, so she showed him the ammunition and the new gun.

“Rasha was more fortunate,” she explained. “In the house there were some candy bars that wasn’t already expired, toilet paper, laundry soap and a lot of detergent.”

Although the Colonel was never really happy, a flicker seemed to illuminate his good eye but it was already gone by the time he told her they had run out of meat supplies. As much as they did it at the beginning, living on canned food and leftovers found in uninhabited houses wasn’t the best of ideas now that they were so many.

"I will ask Tristan to come hunting with me." she replied, and left without adding anything else; her father would’ve hated the pity he would inevitably see in her eyes. Once the Colonel had been a great hunter but an accident had made him nearly blind in one eye, not exactly the best conditions if you had to be smarter than animals and be careful not to be killed yourself. Fortunately he had trained her properly before it happened and even if it wasn’t one of their favourite activities when they were available she and Tristan always went since with his rifle he had an infallible aim and Diana had already seen too many companions dire for stupid reasons to not wanting to be on the front line herself: when they settled in Naercey they were few and had to fight to the extreme to completely free the few ruins from the zombies but they had succeeded, and the town was as reborn, a corner of paradise in that infinite hell. Over time, partly because of hearsay, partly because Diana and her father were engaged in practically non-stop rescue missions, new buildings were added to the ruins, and the town had grown, with all the benefits and flaws that the thing could have, including an incredible shortage of wild animals to hunt. They walked for a couple of miles before running into even a hare, which, however fast, couldn’t surpass the click of Tristan's finger on the trigger. They were approaching their prey when they heard a curse, a sound that broke the almost religious silence of the place and made them jump: so deep inside there should’ve been no one, least of all someone still able to speak. From the thick, as if he had appeared out of nowhere, a tall and slender boy came out. A hint of muscle was visible in his amber-skinned arms and in the shoulders, covered by a simple gray-green t-shirt too clean to be owned by someone who lives in the woods.

"I guess you will now consider it your prey." he said in a low voice and a hint of a smile opened on his full lips. "We can divide, although for three… But you have more than just your mouths to feed, don't you?”

"Who are you?" Diana asked defensively. Obviously he wasn’t infected but this didn’t explain why he was so close to the base, since the wood stretched for at least a dozen more miles.

"I'm Shade Barrow…" he answered, and immediately afterwards disappeared, like a good magician under his cloak, to reappear at a couple of feet from them. Diana winced but Tristan didn't move an inch, the rifle pointed at the boy's head, who seemed satisfied to have surprised her and put him further on the defensive.

“…and I think I could be a good member of the Scarlet Guard.”

 At first the Colonel didn’t seem very happy with his arrival but he partially reevaluated it when he saved his life from a zombie who had tried to take them by surprise while cutting some firewood. Autumn was approaching and it was nearly a month since Shade had seen his family, which Diana must have noticed as she asked about them during a night watch shift.

"They’re still home," he replied, with a lightness in his voice that he certainly didn’t have in his heart. Although the Stilts were a relatively safe place, given that they were so close to the royal family's summer palace, it wasn’t certain that once they were gone it would still be so.

"You should bring them here," she suggested. "Families should never be divided."

"First let's see tomorrow's mission’s outcome."

[elliemarchetti]

A Wonderful Mistake (part 5)

After an absurdly long period of time and thanks to the inspiration the @redqueenetwork gave me I resumed writing this long-abandoned story

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Other Red Queen fics:

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

A Rebel’s Song (part 2)

Words: 1178

Despite Mare had felt disgusting, lying to Maven after he had told her that he would stop just for a couple of minutes to say goodbye and that he was in town only for his mother's sake it had been simple; it was more difficult to manage the Hall's customers at Friday's rush hour when Ann wasn’t on duty and Diana had just arrived in town. Evidently there was a reason if Tristan had considered a bad idea to take her to the Hall until that moment: the girl was really neautiful, with something, even if Mare suspected it was the considerable security in her eyes, that seemed say I know something you don't, the same scowl that was her best friend's trademark, able to attract anyone’s attention within thirty feet. Three guys had already hit on her and the situation didn’t seem to improve, although she had refused all of them, now that she was on the dancefloor with her friend. Shade seemed strangely irritated, and Mare wondered what the reason was, especially since he had never told her about any possible interest in the girl.

"It’s going to be like this all night," she heard Tristan warn him as she passed by them to go out and smoke a cigarette. She should’ve quit, and over and over she had promised herself to do it, but at times like this she just couldn't: it was relaxing and gave her the necessary calm to start over.

"A girl who smokes isn’t pretty," a familiar voice that made her wince told her. Although he was partly in the shade it was evident that the figure leaning against the wall belonged to Cal.

"I'm not interested in being pretty" she replied, taking a deliberately long hit from her cigarette.

"From the result I wouldn’t say so"

She peered at him sideways, doing everything she could to avoid feeling flattered, but still felt a warmth in her chest that gradually spread to her fingers and toes. That boy had an incredible effect on her, as if everything she was, and above all wasn’t, was desirable. She didn't have to make an effort to do anything: he stubbornly appreciated what he knew of her, making her want to reveal him more and more.

"I'm going back to work." she announced once her cigarette was over and he followed her, but she didn't have time to think about that interaction or what was or wasn't happening between them any longer because she saw her brother trudging towards a stool with a pathetic look on his face. She poured him a double whiskey and he threw it down in one gulp, pounding the glass on the counter.

"There are only two things so serious and I know they are all well at home. Is it Diana?”

He nodded. "What the fuck Mare, it had never happened to me before!"

Mare and Rasha exchanged a glance. "It's not the end of the world, you like her, so what?"

"I don't like girls like that, and you know it, while I always have this one in my head. Tell me what to do, you know the women, you're one of them, or almost.”

"All right, first of all," she stated, leaning towards him to be heard "suck my dick."

"You see! The girls don't say that kind of thing!” he exclaimed.

“The cool ones does.” Rasha intervened.

"Second" continued Mare "you’re Shade Barrow, you can have all the girls you want."

"Almost" Rasha corrected her from the sink.

Shade wrinkled his nose. "Tristan had his eyes on you, I would’ve never done it."

The two girls exchanged an astonished look: Tristan had spotted Rasha before he started dating Ann and now she was trying in every way to steal his girlfriend, how the table turned…

"Here’s the plan." Mare continued when she had recovered from the news. "Step one, stop making a fuss. Step two, remember who you are and use your charm, she can't be so different from the others” she lied, because it was obvious that there was something in her that all the other girls in town hadn't been able to stir up in him. "Step three, patience. You can't expect to treat her like any other if she's different for you, so take things slow and you'll see that the change of attitude will bear fruits. If you end up getting married, you owe me a hundred dollars."

To hear of the marriage, he let out a curse. Shade had never been the kind of person who endures bonds and the strongest he could’ve was with his family and especially with her as she was the one closest to his age.

"Shame on you for wishing me such a thing!" he exclaimed, before getting up and disappearing into the crowd, replaced by a large group of people who seemed to never end. She was glad she didn't have time to worry about either the absence of calls or messages from Maven or the four blonde, tanned girls with a double D cup on display thanks to the tight-fitting T-shirts in various shades of pink, which made them look like a fetishist version of Barbie, buzzing around Cal until he materialized at the bar.

“Whiskey?” she asked.

He nodded, took a long sip and started looking around.

“I saw your brother yell at a girl, in the parking.”

Mare was stunned. Had he screamed at her and demanded that she somehow should be interested?

"But then she started screaming at him," he continued, without even needing to urge him. "I don't know who she is, but for some reason I like her."

“Me too.” agreed her, looking at the ice floating in his glass. “Even if it’s strange to see Shade trying to settle down.”

"Do you think this is really his intention? Did he told you something about her? ”he asked, and she nodded. She didn't think they knew each other so well, but thinking about it, having the same age, they must have been classmates at school since they were children and you didn't have to be a close friends of Shade to know that he had broken half the hearts of the girls in town, but it was evident that this wasn’t what he actually wanted to talk about, although he didn't seem to want to tell her the real reason. She shouldn't have been hurt just because he didn't want to talk or maybe he wasn't at ease enough to share his thoughts with her, yet when he got up and crossed the room to go to the pool table she was overcome with a strange feeling.

"What's wrong?" Rasha inquired.

"I don't know" Mare admitted "but I'm glad I wasn't the only one to have noticed."

"And what do you have? You make a face when he left... Did he said something mean to you?"

Mare shook her head. "It's hard to explain but I just had a strange, sad feeling, as if we were no longer friends."

[elliemarchetti]

Red Queen Soulmate AU (Diana)

Mare’s POV (part 1)

Diana and Shade’s POV (part 2)

Other Red Queen fics:

A Rebel’s Song (part 2)

A Wonderful Mistake (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

Words: 1075

Trying to ignore the sticky sensation that came with the rising humidity, Diana piled her braid on top of her head, wrapping it like a crown; she wasn’t used to that kind of temperature, just like the other Lakelanders in her group, and if the weather continued like this she would’ve to cut them. Once or twice she had thought of doing it, shaving as many women in the army used to do, although it was mainly a way to avoid lice and unnecessary impediments, but every time she put herself in front of the mirror with the scissors in her hand she lacked the strength, remembering the moments when, when she was still a young girl, her mother and sister brushed her long blonde locks and braided them with skilled hands. At times like this, where a storm raged inside her, she felt the lack of those tender gestures but she wouldn’t have asked for help to one of her subordinates for a task that she could easily perform alone. Constantly putting a wall between herself and those who, if everything had gone for the best, would’ve been her companions for life was painful, especially when there was no one at the base ready to wait for her and welcome her with open arms on her return , but it was necessary if she didn't want them to start to be insubordinate: just like her father before her, Diana would’ve trained the best elements of the Scarlet Guard and would’ve made them her faithful team, but to do so she had to stay above, cold and unreachable.

“He’s late.” Tristan said from his lookout at a glassless window, his eyes never still, always darting, searching. Diana’s heart leaped, though she tried to maintain a certain composure, like every time someone talked about Shade: none on her subordinates, not even Tristan, knew the name on her right wrist but Diana knew that at least Cara had begun to suspect something, though she kept her theories for herself. If it had started to be a weight too heavy to carry alone, Diana might’ve confided in her but for now she could still restrain herself, although every time she saw him return the relief in her eyes would’ve been obvious to anyone who had wanted to observe. If her father had been there he would have noticed immediately even if he hadn't known the name tattooed on her right wrist, but his bloodshot eye wasn't there to look at her like a crow and she still had some margin of time before the revelation became inevitable.

“I told him as such.” Rasha said from the opposite corner, snatching her from her thoughts. She was busying herself braiding her hair out of her dark face, taking care to divide the curling black locks into even pieces. Her own rifle, not as long as Tristan’s but just as well used, popped against the wall next to her. Diana knew the names on her wrists, Ptolemus on the left and Tristan on the right, and it would’ve been one of the rare cases in which two soulmates spontaneously meet if only Tristan hadn’t been given another name. This obviously hadn’t stopped them from loving each other, since, after all, they were already outlaws and for far more serious reasons.

“Scouts still out?” asked Diana, in hope that talking about work would appease her heartbeat, which echoed in her ears with the force of a thousand drums.

“Tarry and Shore are taking the ridge, they won’t be back until dusk, same as Big Coop and Marterson. Cristobel and Little Coop are about a mile out, in the trees, waiting on your Barrow boy and looking to wait awhile.” Tristan answered, and Diana tried to ignore the dart, although she felt the tip of her ears warm. Though Diana could understand why a paranoid like Tristan might not like Shade’s carelessness, Diana would’ve preferred if he had held his resentment for himself, at least until the mere mention of him had stopped making her blush like a little girl with a crush.

“Command happy so far?” her aide asked, luckily without turning around, or he would’ve seem the blush spread from Diana’s cheeks to her neck as she lied as smoothly as she can, earning a meaningful look from Cara.

“They looking to oath Eastree or Barrow?” he went on. That's what he wanted to know from the start.

“What makes you say that?” she asked, in order to avoid a clear answer.

He shrugged. “Seems like a long time to put into a pair we don’t mean to recruit. Or are you suggesting them for Stage Two?”

“Still working that out.” she mumbled before going out for a tour around the property, trying to keep her steps even until she arrived into the green trees, away from Tristan's hawk eyes.

It’s for the best, she said to herself, lying to them and disobeying the orders, it’s all for the best. It’s not your fault the Colonel doesn’t understand. It’s not your fault, she kept on repeating in her head until the old refrain leveled her out, as comforting as a stiff drink. All she had done and everything she would do in the future would be for the cause, no one could’ve said the opposite as no one could’ve doubted her loyalty once she would’ve served them Norta on a silver platter. And if in the meantime she had managed to find love, to meet someone who, regardless of the name written on her wrist, would’ve been able to make her feel less alone in the world, it would only have been better. A smile slowly replaced her usual scowl. Her team, not even Tristan, knew what was going to happen, what Command had in store for that kingdom in the next few weeks or what they had done to get things moving, what she had said in front of that camera, and it didn't matter how much she didn’t like the woods there, so different from those she was used to in the Lakelands, where she had learned to hunt with her father and to recognize which plants were good to eat with her mother, or that the air always smelled of smoke and ash, Norta would’ve been her conquest, what would’ve made her a member of Command, the place that would’ve given a voice to those who weren’t heard.

[elliemarchetti]

Red Queen Soulmate AU (Shade)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Other Red Queen fics:

A Wonderful Mistake (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

A Rebel’s Song (part 2)

Words: 1477

It seemed that a hurricane was moving through the farmhouse: the weapons, the provisions, their gears, everything disappeared in a practiced heartbeat, shoved into bags and packs. Two of them were already gone, into the trees, probably to carry the message to the others in the woods, but there wasn’t time, the Silvers were coming, with their animos-controlled hounds, much faster than they could run.

“You have to go!” Shade hissed, taking Farley’s elbow with enough strength to get her attention. Two snaps of her fingers and the team dropped whatever wasn’t packed away, another one and they flew like bullets from a gun through the door and the collapsed wall. The woods swallowed them whole, leaving behind only Farley, her lieutenant and him.

“Farley” he hissed, dragging her with him into the tree line. The guy from Piedmont followed, keeping their pace through tangled roots and brush without showing any sign of breathlessness despite the rather heavy-looking backpack and the rifle. Shade’s heart, instead, pounded in his ears, beating a harried drum, but not as strong as the barking of dogs. They would’ve smelled them, followed them and the swifts would’ve ran them down. If they were lucky they would’ve thought they were deserters and would’ve killed them in the forest, but if they wanted to investigate further… there were horrors within the black city of Corvium that Shade didn’t want to know. Moreover Farley wasn’t the only one hiding secrets: there was Mare at home and she was a thief, something that they could kill her for, and even at the front other soldiers had taken the Scarlet Guard’s path and he knew names and faces, sometimes even where they came from and some pretty useful things about their families that any whisperer could’ve extrapolated from his mind without much effort. Of course, there was a way to keep all those secrets safe and save both Farley and her friend but he wasn’t sure he could do it since he never tried. What if he failed? They would’ve died, all of them. If only they could still run for half a mile they would reach the water and those infernal creatures would’ve lose the scent but it was obvious that Farley wouldn’t have endured much longer and they couldn’t rely on the possibility that they took time to search the farmhouse.

“There’s a creek” hissed Tristan, pointing south. “Shoots off the river, closer. You head for it.”

“What are you talking about?” asked her, but Shade understood. He would’ve stayed behind for her. He would’ve allowed them to escape and he would probably even have sacrificed his life just to know that she was safe. He wasn’t sure if this was just devotion to the cause, or to his superior, but Shade suddenly felt relieved: if he had remained behind he could’ve taken Farley to the creek without too much trouble. As soon as the guy’s figure disappeared over the trees, Shade forced her to look him in the eye.

“You have to promise not to scream.” he said, and despite her obvious confusion, he forced her to promise. When he saw the first dog he held her tight and the world squeezed, spinning and tipping forward through empty air. Everything mixed and contracted until they landed in a streambed, quiet trees around them. Farley, just like the first time, seemed to be sick, but better to see her cough and spit a mixture of water and bile than to witness her capture. He crouched over her, one hand raised.

“Don’t. Scream.”

The gurgling steam cleaned up what she couldn’t and the cold water snapped her to attention since she started looking around at the willows bowing over them.

“How?” she whispered, her voice ragged. He took a few steps back and sat on a stone above the steam, perching like a gargoyle. He had no real explanation and he felt bad at the idea of ​​how she could react, but the only thing he could do now was to really show her what he was capable of in the hope that she wouldn’t scream or shoot him, even if he was sure enough he could dodge the bullet. And so he jumped on the opposite bank to then return again to the rock where he was less than a second before, where he forced a tentative smile, without any joy behind it, because he knew what Farley was thinking, he could read it in her eyes cold like ice: he was a Silver, a traitor, probably the reason why her team had to run away. It was what he had imagined his family would’ve thought of him if he had revealed it to them, although it wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t done so, first of all not being able to write such a thing in a letter.

“I might not be able to scream but I can shoot you.” she said, pointing the gun at his head, although she was still obviously ill. He knew it would end like this, but he also knew that the gun wouldn’t fire a shot with the barrel full of water so he told her before he jumped near her ear, clamping a hand over her mouth. He hauled her dazed body up, forcing her to stand. She tried to shove him off but it was evident that she didn’t have the strength.

“And three” he resumed “the dogs might not be able to smell us anymore but they can certainly hear a gunshot. So, are you going to rethink your little strategy, Captain?” he asked, and though he had used her official rank he continued to hold her by the shoulders, gripping each tightly.

“You’re Silver? All this time?” she breathed, turning in his grasp. Despite the completely wrong time, he couldn’t help thinking that she was beautiful and incredibly brave.

“No, I’m Red as that dawn thing you keep going on about and no one followed me, obviously no one can, so they must have discovered about you by themselves. Something about spies in Rocasta, didn’t quite catch it all.”

“So you’re still safe in Corvium, still working for them as one of them?”

His patience snapped like a twig. Convincing her would’ve been more difficult than expected. And yet she had seemed so brilliant… she really looked like Mare. So he shoved his arm out, drawing back the right sleeve with shaking fingers. He didn’t like the idea of ​​being etched by a probably dirty knife that would surely have caused him at least a small infection, but apart from that, there was no other way to convince her. Her fingers shook as badly as his when she drew the knife from her boot, where she always hid it. When she pressed it on his skin the first thing he felt was cold, than a hitching pain that made him flinch but it doesn’t lasted long for Farley withdrew the blade, surprised, when a drop of red blood came out of the wound. He didn’t even know how it was possible so he didn’t have an explanation to give her about what those powers were and where they came from, the only thing he was sure of was he wasn’t a Silver and he made it clear again. She slowly closed her long fingers around his wrist, where he was still bleeding. She had cut him just below the name of his soulmate, as if to point it out with the scar it would surely have left.

“Will you oath yourself to the Scarlet Guard?” she asked, but Shade’s mind was somewhere else, his eyes fixed on the girl’s right wrist. The soggy sleeve was raised, showing his name written in that unmistakable character that everyone knew.

“On one condition” he replied. Her eyebrows raised so high they might’ve disappeared into her hairline: she didn’t have to be used to the fact that someone knew the name of her soulmate, or the person she would hate most in the world, as far as he could tell, and surely the fact that he was a homonym, or maybe even the one, didn’t help at all, but he quickly recomposed herself, returning to speak for the Guard.

“This isn’t a request to the Guard” he specified, making a slow step forward “but to you.”

“And that is?” she asked, but from the expression in her eyes it was evident that she could imagine it.

“What’s your name?”

Shade saw the struggle that the girl was fighting inside reflected on her face and put his hand on hers. She stood for a long time looking at the contrast between their skins, then looked up and with the hint of a smile said what Shade had long suspected.

“My name is Diana and I think we are soulmates.”

[elliemarchetti]

Will you do a part 2 to the zombie AU?

Here it is! Hope you like it!

Words: 1817

“That’s it! You’re getting a lot better, Ruth.” Diana said, as she wandered through the new recruits who were learning to shoot, including Shade’s mother and  younger sister, Gisa. His brothers were already expert snipers and his father was too debilitated to be of any help in active missions, but she was sure that he would defend himself and his family to the last breath if they were attacked, not to mention the fact that he was an excellent recruit for night shifts since he never seemed to sleep. A couple of weeks had passed since their arrival and although the results came very slowly, that test on Diana's patience was beginning to bear fruit, especially with Kilorn, a friend of Shade who had taken care of his parents as long as he could. He was a good fisherman, a very useful thing since with the arrival of the cold the game would’ve started to run low, an excellent explorer and now he was also ready for missions, which couldn’t be said of Ann, who although was a pleasant surprise, thanks to her iron will, still has some aiming problems.

“Ok everybody, that’ll do for today!” exclaimed Tristan, drawing her attention. He wasn’t a great talker and he was a little paranoid but he was a great teacher and as always he was right to urge everyone to move: the sky was already starting to darken over their heads and although the training field wasn’t far from the camp, but still at an adequate safety distance not to allow the zombies to bring the sound of the shots back to the safe area,  it was always better to be foresighted. During their observations, the part that Diana preferred least of her own work, they had noticed that these creatures, especially in the more advanced cases, were photosensitive. The sun, or sudden light sources, annoyed them so much that they sometimes retreated to darker corners, but it was not a long-lasting thing: once they got used to the artificial light, they were as dangerous as before. She and her companions had somehow begun to suspect that those things retained part of their human intelligence, and based on which parts of the brain were first devoured by the virus they lost this or that ability, so they assumed that a person who had been infected recently could still speak and behave normally, for a short period of time, before hunger began to devour them from within. Looking at what had once been people being devoured by a feeling that they too, although controllable, felt, gave nightmares to many and at the moment Diana's team only had three other permanent members, Shade, Tristan and Rasha, but occasionally two brothers, Big Coop and Little Coop, joined them. If they had kept up that pace, by the end of autumn everyone, even the children, would’ve been able to defend themselves at close range and her team would’ve been bigger, but it probably would’ve taken all winter and part of spring to fully train reliable snipers such as Tristan and Rasha; not even Diana was on their level and when that time would inevitably come she would’ve step aside, switching to new recruits, if they could find them, or returning to her mission with Shade, in which, thanks to his jumps, that always made her feel nauseous but were the most valuable asset she had managed to find for the Guard, no matter what her father said, they had managed to find an unimaginable number of weapons and ammunition, not to mention food and other basic necessities that otherwise they could never have transported for such long distances. His sister Gisa was an excellent seamstress and she made garments, tents and blankets with the fabrics that her brother retrieved her who knows where and when she wasn’t training she patched and reinforced the clothes they already had, adapting them to the seasons change and making them more practical and resistant. If their world hadn’t fallen into chaos, she would’ve had a decent job, perhaps even in court, where her sister served as a maid, and together they would’ve guaranteed their family a relatively comfortable life, to be Reds. Although she was safer than them, Mare’s topic was a sore point, which made Shade, but also the rest of the family, suffer immensely. Ruth claimed that they should face the situation together but she was proud of her, while her father, who didn’t speak much but rarely left his much more outgoing wife’s side, just glared at her when she mentioned the older of their daughters, as if he knew something she didn’t, which was obviously impossible since they couldn’t receive letters where they were and even if they did, he couldn’t read.

“Welcome back! You guys are perfect marksmen like me, now?” Rasha greeted them when she saw the little group from afar. Just like the Barrows, she and Tristan were a strangely assorted couple, but if she didn't know what Ruth had to go through to survive until her age and get there, she knew the Rasha’s story well: on the way to join the Guard she had lost two sisters, the only family she had left, and where anyone else would shut themself up to protect their heart, she had opened it to what she called her big family. If the thing between her and Tristan had continued, and judging by his protective attitude towards her it seemed to be so, sooner or later she would’ve had a new family that was going to be only hers. Although her help was crucial, it was necessary that Naercey wasn’t only a place of military resistance but also of new beginnings, where the Reds could fight against that enemy who didn’t seem to want to withdraw and at the same time demonstrate to the Silvers that they can thrive in any situation they were placed in.

“Just a couple of them,” replied Tristan, when they were close enough not to be heard by the cadets, who were dispersing. Weighting down the hearts was of no use and whoever had seen the Guard born knew it very well.

"Aren't they the sweetest?" asked a voice behind her, making her jump. It was Shade, who had appeared out of nowhere, scaring her to death. She could face hordes of zombies without blinking, but the Silvers and newbloods’s, as people started to call Shade at the camp, abilities always caught her off guard. She glanced at her best friend, who had climbed the lookout tower to give a quick kiss on Rasha's dark cheek and ask her if it had all been quiet.

"You don't know the meaning of the word privacy, do you?" she asked, walking away to leave the two lovebirds some space: that day Tristan had the night shift and she knew how important it was for him to get rid of the training stress thanks to his girlfriend’s soothing presence.

"Don't tell me they don't give you a little hope," he teased, following her. Although Diana had long legs, it was difficult to outrun someone with his ability.

“They do,” she admitted, but she didn't want to start to talk about feeling right now, especially with him, so she asked him if he would like to help her chop some wood. Although her arms weren’t as muscular or strong as those of Shade's brothers, nothing could’ve taken away from her that relief valve, which left her exhausted and finally allowed her to sleep dreamlessly. Although a long time had passed, she still dreamed of her mother and Madeline drowning in the small village where she was born and raised. Orrec Cygnet's method of getting rid of zombies was simple: just a tip-off, a few villagers who began to behave strangely or cattle that suddenly disappeared from nearby fields and he flooded whole cities with his ability. This brutal method had certainly helped to contain the epidemic but had killed many innocent people and broken many families, just as had happened with hers. Back then she swore to herself that when that madness would be over she would’ve took revenge, but in light of the facts, she was increasingly convinced that she wouldn’t survive enough to see Norta and the Lakelands zombie-free again, and surely she would never be able to approach the Cygnet king, who has been self-imprisoned with his family in the unreachable royal palace for years now, delegating many public tasks to his less important cousins.

"Still lost in your thoughts?" Shade asked, as they carried the proceeds of their work to the field. It had always been difficult for Diana to open up with strangers and it took Tristan and Rasha almost a year to forcefully extrapolate one of her thoughts but Shade was really different and Diana, even if she didn’t told him about her nightmares, shared with him some of her concerns about the camp and the winter.

"What did the people who live here did before… this?" he asked, unexpectedly. She couldn’t grasp the connection between her words and the boy's question until she began to list the professions she knew of.: everyone had different skills, and with a little extra effort they would’ve come out from the cold season stronger than before. They had almost reached their destination when they heard an inhuman verse, the kind they were sadly used to very far from that safe place, coming from one of the houses closest to the woods. Diana had already dropped the wood and pulled out the gun when the zombie came out, the skin starting to marrow on the skull almost completely hairless. An eye was missing and he must’ve practically devoured his lips by himself when he began to experience the insane hunger that assailed those who had been infected with the virus, and his teeth, stained with fresh blood, were completely uncovered. Whoever lived there hadn't had a good death. One precise shot and the thing fell to the ground, but it wasn’t the only one: at least three others came out of the bush with their dragging and disturbing step. One was in a more advanced state of decay and it seemed the representation of death she saw in one of her old textbooks while the other two were a man and a woman whose traits were still recognizable, but for some reason she was certain that the number of invaders wasn’t just four. Shade also pulled out his gun and shot two of them with deadly precision.

"Go warn the others!" she screamed, hitting the fourth in the shoulder. The woman moved incredibly faster than every other thing Diana ever met, as if she were… a silk. They had Silver zombies in front of them, and apparently, although she still didn’t know how far, they continued to maintain their abilities.

[elliemarchetti]

A Wonderful Mistake

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

Other Red Queen fics:

A Rebel’s Song (part 2)

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

Words: 1192

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When she saw them, Rasha winked at Ann.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No." Mare answered.

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

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

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

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

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

[elliemarchetti]

A Wonderful Mistake (part 2)

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

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

Part 1

Other Red Queen fics:

A Rebel’s Song (part 2)

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

Words: 1443

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

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

Mare rolled her eyes but didn’t reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have a free weekend."

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

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

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

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

"Tonight, at seven."

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

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

[elliemarchetti]

A Red Lover part 8

In the beginning the chapter was born to be longer, but when I realized that it would become practically a novel, I decided to break it in two, so let's say that this could be considered as chapter 8 part one. @chaoslaborantin a thousand times thank you for the wonderful comment to the previous chapter and for your support. I hope you like the first, short court meeting between Thomas and Mare. 

Previous chapters here 

Words count: 2092

Thomas hadn’t seen Maven for thirty-four days. Every day, with a fork, he engraved a notch on the skirting next to the bed, to keep track of the passing time. It was nice to leave a mark, to cause a little damage to the golden prison, comfortable and well furnished,   where Maven had thrown him, apparently forgetting about his existence. His Reds jailer didn’t mind; they probably hated that place too. Yet they continued to serve here, to remain silent, to keep their position, seated for six hours on either side of the door like living-eyed statues. None of them had ever returned, and Thomas wondered what Maven did of those he sent to check on him. Did he kill them? It wouldn’t make sense. He probably replaced them for fear that they would pity him. But in their eyes, he didn’t read any kind of feeling. What lie was told to them? Thomas didn’t really want to know. In any case, no lie could have been worse than reality. He was a killer, and he hadn’t killed in war, to defend himself, when the choice was to kill or be killed. He had deliberately enjoyed seeing the body of that witch burn in the flames; his spirit had risen to new life at the sound of those screams. He had become a monster, just like Maven, just like the one he despised so much. Or maybe the choice not to use someone else for his own purposes made him better? These were questions that he had no answer to and that he didn’t intend to pose to his jailers.

Sometimes he still dreamed of Maven. Nothing too articulate, just flashes of his face, his dark hair, his broken promises of love. There were no mirrors, not even in the bathroom, but Thomas knew that imprisonment and silence were ruining him: he could feel his face dug day after day, making him a ghost of who he had been; he could see the bones under his skin, more angular than ever. Despite the poor food, when he was at the front he was healthier. Even at the time he was in a cage, but it was a larger prison.

He hadn’t much to do, except to sleep or read a few tomes that he could hardly understand, yet for a few days he had been seized by unbearable fatigue. Perhaps he was ill, even if he couldn’t understand how. Perhaps they were slowly poisoning him. Perhaps he was becoming paranoid. And yet, at the dawn of the thirty-fifth day, he turned away the breakfast plate without even touching it, despite the sugary cereals, the fruit and toast tempted him.

"Finished," he announced, speaking for the first time in thirty-two days. His voice’s sound was strange, not the same with which he articulated his thoughts and not even what he remembered from his dreams; it looked like a child's, ridiculous and flickering. He felt pathetic, but it had to be just what Maven wanted, so he threw away the thought.

One of his jailers, two women had come over that turn, took the tray, looking at the untouched meal in disarray. It was the first emotion he saw on someone's face and it almost moved him, as well as investing him with a wave of pride: he wasn’t going crazy; Maven was really trying to poison him.

When the door opened, Thomas looked up immediately, hoping to see at least a glimpse of the antechamber outside the room. It was empty, as always, and his heart tightened: no one had gone to save him that day either. Perhaps he had finished his chances of salvation, perhaps that imprisonment was what he deserved, or perhaps he had to try to save himself. But how? He glanced out the window. The only way to escape the guards was to jump, but from such a height, it meant certain death. The familiar, yet wrong, shot of the lock distracted him from his mental wanderings. It was unscheduled and it interrupted a routine that was now law for him. On hearing that noise, he suddenly turned his head, just like his jailer, who lost their concentration in surprise. The adrenaline rushed through his veins and he jumped out of bed, uncaring to be wearing one of the pajamas Maven made available to him. If Farley, Kilorn or Rasha had seen him wearing silk, they would’ve make fun of him for until the end of his days but it would’ve been a torture that he would’ve been more than happy to endure: it would’ve meant that he still had days to live in his friends’ company. But it wasn’t them who entered his field of vision but an anonymous guard, wearing the Samos’ colors, who was escorting a young man who was anything but anonymous and whom Thomas had learned to recognize.

Ptolemus Samos’ black eyes peered at him from head to toe and returned with the tenderness of a whip. He threw the same look at Tristan before killing him in that Summerton’s cell. Who knows what they had done with his body. Probably the same thing that they had done to Ann’s. Surely nothing that was worth saying to Rasha. Without a doubt something very different from what would happen to his. Because if Ptolemus Samos was in his room, it could only mean that he had come to kill him.

"You don’t have permission to stay here." said the cat-faced woman, now standing between Ptolemus and Thomas. The newblood was stunned by her audacity: no one stood between Ptolemus Samos and his prey, the demonstration was the way he had shaken off his own sister and the prince that damn day at Summerton.

Ptolemus didn’t even look at her, and the guard took her away coldly. He crossed House Samos first-born’s gaze and Thomas prayed that he would read the hatred he felt for him.

"Wear something acceptable, the king demands your presence." he said, loading every word with contempt. Suddenly, thirty-five days of imprisonment seemed too few. A part of him would’ve wanted to oppose, but even the isolation hadn’t affected his survival instinct: any move was an extra possibility to escape. Therefore, he opened the wardrobe and looked at the clothes that Maven had left him: they were all well-made, probably old garments that had belonged to him in the past. Only when he recognized a military suit he realized how wrong he was: they weren’t his clothes, they were Cal’s.

Maven sat on a throne of Silent Stone. It was slowly wasting him, but at least he was certain that his mother's hand wasn’t in his thoughts; it had been more than a month since her death, yet he was still terrified that something had remained in his mind. He was sure he wasn’t crazy, that he had heard her whispers well after Elara had taken her last breath. Therefore, he had built that hurried in a hurry, no gems or precious metals to embellish it: it had to do his duty and until that day, it had done it very well, but something seemed to break when he caught Thomas’ gaze. An abyss of distractions, full of noise and elegant confusion, separated them, but the room could’ve been very empty. He shouldn’t have been there. He should’ve been in his room, dying slowly, away from his eyes. But not from your heart, whispered his mother’s familiar voice. For once, he agreed with her of his own free will: Thomas could never be away from his heart.

Slowly, he also recognized Mare. She still wore the collar and the white shirt and a sentinel Arven kept her on a leash. Thomas too noticed her and turned, showing him his pronounced cheekbones. Captivity had physically tried him but it hadn’t bent his spirit; when he met his gaze again, in his eyes he read a silent reproach. He twisted his hands, uncomfortable. What was he doing there?

"I demand an explanation!" he snapped, leaping to his feet, but being careful to keep his grip firmly on the throne’s high arms. The anger’s explosion made the music stop, just what he would’ve preferred to avoid, although it was just what he had agreed with Evangeline, and with it the dance, shifting his guests’ attention to the scene.

"You gave orders that the terrorists were imprisoned, locked up as useless wine bottles, and after a month of council deliberations, there is still no agreement on what will happen to them." Evangeline answered. He didn’t read in her eyes the same fear he had felt in Templyn, but the same couldn’t be said of her brother. Ptolemus Samos was stiff and immobile, his hand clenched in a fist, as he shuttled between him and his sister with his eyes. But what could he do? She had deliberately disobeyed his orders but she was still Volo Samos’ daughter, his betrothed and future queen. He certainly couldn’t punish her, not when his position on the throne was still shaky. Of course, not doing it would’ve meant other cons... With Thomas so close, he couldn’t concentrate and he decided to postpone the decision later. For the moment, he would stick to the plan.

"The crimes they committed are many," Evangeline continued, "so much that they would deserve a dozen death sentences and a thousand life sentences each, according to our laws, as they have killed and mutilated hundreds of your subjects, including your parents."

At the deceased rulers’ mention, both prisoners shivered, but for different reasons: Mare had witnessed what had happened to his father, while Thomas had been the cause, along with him, of what happened to his mother. Only the thought of having burned her alive made him sick and at the same time filled him with a strange sense of lightness. Did the Reds feel like that when they managed to kill a Silver? Was that the feeling of getting rid of your oppressor?

"And you, who are not even part of my council, would like to talk about their punishments here, during a party?" Maven asked dryly, thanking the Silent Stone for preventing him from incinerating Evangeline instantly.

The girl ignored his modification of the script and went on anyway, shortening the distances between them.

"If the council still treats you like a child, I'm willing to do that!" she snapped, shortening the distances between them. It was obvious that it was all a fiction, a show performed on that stage because the court was there to assist and he had to end it before anyone noticed it.

"The Queenstrial has certainly highlighted the most skilled girl." he commented, taking her hand, repressing the disgust he felt toward her. Then he turned suddenly, just like an actor in the theater, addressing his uncle, accepting his interrogation. He felt sorry for Mare, he knew well what it felt like to have a whisper in his head, but she was a person who was willing to sacrifice for his own kingdom. Contrary to Thomas.

When Mare began to beg him, the newblood also began to do so. They must have become friends, after all.

"Maven, please, don’t let him!" he shouted, but his voice seemed to get lost in the hall echoes. He hadn’t used it for too long and now the silence so prolonged showed off its fruits.

He hadn’t enough strength to escape the Samos guard’s grip, nor to resist when Ptolemus grabbed him by the shoulders. Both held him there without too much difficulty, forcing him to be a passive observer of the terrible scene that ran before his eyes. He couldn’t decide who to watch, if Samson crushing Mare's throat, his big hand squeezing tightly above the metal collar, Mare herself, the personification of terror, which she called Maven in a last, desperate attempt to persuade him to change his mind, or the latter, who held one hand on the throne and with the other clutched Evangeline's. They were a couple of monsters, perfect for each other even in the lack of love they could mutually give each other. He met his gaze, his eyes blue like ice, so familiar and ruthless. Her eyes. Maven didn’t have the strength to bear his delusion and broke eye-contact. Then he turned, leaving him alone again with two silent jailers, wondering what would happen to Mare and how and why she was there, aware that no one would give him the answers he was looking for.

[elliemarchetti]

What if (part 4)

Finally I managed to find the time to finish this chapter, which is definitely longer than the others but also much more loaded with contents than I could actually expect; there were too many things to say, too many POVs not yet explored and that needed to be heard and I wanted to do everything well. @lilyharvord @chaoslaborantin hope you like this too and to everyone who’s new to this story, here you can find the previous chapters. Enjoy!

Plot: 320 NE, Coriane is Queen of Norta and mother of Cal and Maven

Word count: 5545

Monday 6, September 320 NE

Coriane waited with patience, wisely hidden, as only those who are used to crawl in the shadows to not be seen can do. At four in the morning, Mare left her room, heading for Maven's. When her second son opened the door, his pale face stood out in stark contrast to the darkness, the dark clothes, and big, deep dark circles that weighed down the pale blue eyes he had inherited from her. Despite almost no military training, Maven was a good strategist, but Coriane had kept secrets to her parents a long way before him, and knew every technique, every trick her son was trying to use.

A few minutes and they were out. They walked in the dark, yet another beginner's mistake: as they counted on the favor of the shadows not to be seen, even anyone who wanted to follow or attack them could do it.

The night began to dissolve, leaving space for a dark blue sky where the stars were rapidly fading. When he was young, when Tibe was not a king, they had spent a few nights lying in the garden, under the perennial and silent control of the sentries, watching the stars. It was something he had seen done to Julian and Sara when the court and Archeon were still only a distant and indefinite image in his mind, a possibility not to be taken into consideration either. They were lying, and he pointed to the constellations, the new names and the old ones, all notions absorbed by enormous tomes to which he alone could be interested in that house. She wondered if Julian and Sara still did it, even now that they had been married for so long. She and Tibe had certainly never had the chance. Or time. And maybe not even the desire. When they finally arrived in the large bedroom they shared, they fell asleep in each other's arms without even the strength to say goodnight, without the energies to whisper doubts and fears as they used to do once. This didn’t take anything away from the love she felt for him, only things had changed. Being sovereign would have changed anyone.

At that hour, the city sank into an unnatural stillness; even patrol officers were moving sleepily from one location to another. It was the perfect moment to do illicit acts under the nose of those who should’ve prevented it. Therefore, she wasn’t surprised when the Scarlet Guard’s captain appeared from the shadows.

"Where are the others?" asked Maven composed, professional. He didn’t even sound like her son.

"Well hidden in the drains, where they will remain." Coriane answered instead of the blond girl, coming out of her hiding place. She advanced silently like a cat but with the stride of a tiger. The years at court had taught her so much, but above all that a composed façade, even when you’re shaking inside, was everything. And she had several reasons to shake, with the girl's gun pointed at her head.

"Lower the gun, I have no intention of hurting you." she hissed, remembering a voice that even years later still populated her nightmares. It was a sibylline voice, which even when she was telling one of her rare compliments, actually hid a threat. The Red hesitated for a moment, then lowered the gun, but didn’t put it back in her holster, and never took her finger off the trigger. She was ready to shoot at any eventuality. It was good: they were all risking a lot to be out there with her.

"I think you should give me some explanations, but for those we will have time later, in the safety of my private rooms." she said, addressing her son and his betrothed. Both tried to avoid her inquiring look, but Coriane understood their reasons, or at least could try to guess them.

"You, instead," she finally said, looking straight at the Red, "call your men."

Something seemed to snap into the young woman's mind, and Coriane still feared she wanted to shoot her, that she would leave her body bleeding there on concrete, while neither Maven nor Mare would have the readiness, or the strength or courage, to help her. How much was he willing to sacrifice for a utopia? The power of his family, surely, but also its members? Even those who loved him more? From the hardness in his eyes, she couldn’t say.

“There will be no red dawn” she ended, recovering the façade of the queen who doesn’t bend, who fears nothing, not even death. To look powerful is to be powerful, or at least was what her worst enemy used to say. And she had crushed her, just as she would’ve done with the Scarlet Guard if they had come between her and her plans.

“At least for now.” she added, with a devious smile, before turning her back to the blonde girl. Mare and Maven followed her like ducklings with their mother, their gaze fixed on their feet. The only eyes she felt on her back were blue as ice, and she didn’t need to turn to know that they weren’t as full of resentment as they should’ve been.

 Wednesday 15, September 320 NE

Thomas was uncomfortable. He had been on the underground train that had led him from Naercey to Archeon, and was at that moment, deep in the royal palace’s library. Maven had already reassured him several times that no one, at that hour of the night, would dare set foot in that wing of the library, which moreover, with the help of his uncle, had been temporarily closed for restoration. Yet Thomas jerked at every crunch; if they had found him there, no one could have prevented the king from having him executed. Of course, Maven could have invented an excuse, weaving one of his canvases of lies, but in any case would have compromised himself, and Thomas wasn’t stupid enough to believe that the prince would jeopardize even a shred of his reputation for him.  So they both sat stiff, stretching out to peek at the pages of what seemed like a harmless little notebook, but containing the names of all those who could change the fate of Norta, making the Scarlet Guard a real threat to the crown and not just a pebble in the shoe.

"I think the first stage of the Coronation Tour should be Harbor Bay." Maven finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen on the library like a cloak. He spoke in a low voice, but didn’t try to whisper, confident in his uncle power.

"While most of the Silvers will be busy enjoying our show, you could sneak almost undisturbed to Coraunt, where you'll find the newblood Nix Marsten. He's a middle-aged man, so expect him to struggle to believe the possibility of being different, even if he should’ve known it all along."

Thomas listened, receptive, trying to memorize every word. He couldn’t take notes, if they caught him they would blow their only, real chance to change things in a reasonable time, and he would’ve condemned all those innocent people to death, but at the same time he couldn’t look away from Maven’s almost feminine lips. Many boys, most of those he knew, at least, didn’t have that kind of traits, and no one would ever call Maven nice, not with his brother's bright beauty to obscure him, yet Thomas preferred his traits to the throne’s heir’s, his eyes of an almost colorless blue to his brother's bronze’s. Maven's was a silent beauty, which often went unnoticed, but it could hit your heart when he smiled, or when he allowed himself to bite his lower lip to concentrate better. If you could get used to Cal's beauty, be bored of it, even, Maven’s was to be discovered, like those wooden dolls slipping into each other.

“In our stay in Harbor Bay, we will stay at Ocean Hill; it's my mother's favorite place and no one will be too suspicious if she wants to spend here more than necessary. Mare and I should be able to take care of the three newbloods living in Harbor Bay, even if reaching the one in the suburbs could prove to be more difficult than expected, given the attention that will be on us. "

Thomas had to admit that, up to that point, Maven's plan, or perhaps his mother's, wasn’t that bad, even if he barely tolerated the idea of Mare’s participation, partly because she was Shade's sister and he didn’t want to endanger her more than she already was in that den of vipers, partly because the idea that the prince could spent more time in the company of his betrothed caused him a bit of annoyance in the stomach. Tristan, of course, had wanted to talk about his reaction when Mare and Maven had taken their hands in the greenhouse at Summerton, but Thomas had tried to minimize it. As much as he tried, however, Thomas had never been a great liar or a good spy, so he was sure Tristan hadn’t believed a single word and talked about it with Farley. Perhaps that was the reason why the captain had entrusted this mission to him.

"The next stop will be Cancorda. There’s only one newblood there, so we won’t need the Guard's intervention, at least to recruit him. You’ll attack on our second day of stay, on the night that flows into the third, when the newblood is already safe and in journey to Naercey. Don’t waste your best men, this’ll be just a diversion, a way to force my parents to increase the number of sentinels in the various stages of the Tour and then leave Archeon free, but not even the unwary: none of us can hold back, if we’ll come to a fight, and to leave Archeon weakened the excellence of the Silvers will have to follow us in the Tour.”

Thomas nodded, the only sign of his understanding that he was able to deliver. They had attacked places of strategic importance, were even ready to take the capital with Mare and Maven’s help, but taking Archeon alone, counting only on the distance of the most important and powerful Houses, was almost too much.

"I know it can be scary," Maven said, reaching for his hand on the table, grabbing it firmly. Thomas stiffened slightly, but Maven didn’t let him go, allowing him to get used to his unusual warmth. “But if our plan succeed, a red dawn will rise on Norta sooner than expected.”

Thomas just smiled, nervous. He didn’t understand the boy's motivations, yet he wanted to believe him more than anything else in the world.

 Thursday 25, September 320 NE

When the sun broke free of the earth’s slavery and leaned on Norta, the dawn greeted a tangle of bodies that bled red and silver.

Many battles had taken place on that land, but that wasn’t like the others, and everyone, Silvers and Scarlet Guard’s members, felt it. Each Red and newblood soldier was aware that the clash would decide Norta’s fate, whether they were aware of the plans of the captain who led them.

Tristan knew the plan by heart, and for now it seemed to work: the queen had really managed to leave the city unguarded enough to allow the Scarlet Guard to fight on equal terms and the remaining Silvers seemed frightened, as if they perceived the sense of inevitability that had gripped the stomach to all those who had left for that mission. It was time to pay for their actions, and the Silvers knew it, but the Scarlet Guard’s members felt an even greater weight on their shoulders: if they won, that day would forever change Norta’s story, finally forcing the Silvers to listen to the Reds, to pay attention, to accept them as equals, as a threat to the great power they thought they deserved by birthright.

From his facilitated position, Tristan glanced at Rasha, who was fighting in the front line, opening the way for other soldiers, inciting her companions, convincing them that victory was possible. He was proud of her. His beloved warrior was able to inspire people without needing any rank badge on her jacket, without any kind of power or ability: she was a pure Red, someone who lost and was still able to make people smile, to put the weight of their fears on her shoulders.  The shadow of a smile lit up his pale, gaunt face: until she was alive, hope wouldn’t abandon the Scarlet Guard.

Evangeline waited for the king and the queen to ascend on the small stage, followed by Cal, her betrothed. The Coronation Tour was usually a joyous occasion, of those where lavish parties are given in honor of future rulers, but since the Scarlet Guard attacked their residence in Cancorda, security agents had increased dramatically and they were indeed forced to respect a curfew that prevented them from even wandering through this or that lord’s residence’s rooms. This, of course, had certainly not prevented Elane from visiting her, or Wren from attending Ptolemus's rooms more than they should, considering that the cousins Skonos were, in her opinion and probably also that of the guards, little more than a part of the servitude , but she had noticed a certain dissatisfaction on Cal and Mare’s face. Only a blind man wouldn’t have noticed that something was happening between those two, but Evangeline didn’t give that any importance: that he occupied his time as best he could, provided he was at safe distance from her and her encounters with Elane. Prince Maven had also changed, but Evangeline couldn’t have defined how: she had never paid too much attention to Tiberias’ second son, partly because she already knew she would never have to marry him, partly because he was younger than she, yet she could say with certainty that something had changed in him since they had left, as if he had left a part of himself at home. That he too had a lover? It would have been ironic, even though before the Tour it had seemed to her that there really was something between him and Mare. Not that the loving interweaving of the royal family were her main interest, but in fort Lencasser, before getting on a stage next to a betrothed for which she would never even have felt the slightest attraction, she didn’t have much else to keep her mind busy with.

Because of the small-sized stage, the members of House Samos, Haven and Skonos who had accompanied her on the Tour had to stay with the rest of the Silvers in the audience. Her brother wore a simple cut suit, all black, with silver trim, the colors of their House, which highlighted his white complexion and platinum blonde hair, matching perfectly with his eyes black like wells, just as hers. Beside him, Elane stretched her neck, hoping to see, at least in part, her figure. She'd helped her get dressed, like worthy sister-in-law should do, somebody would say, and Evangeline, to hear such a comment, would probably have to commit to holding back laughter. On Ptolemus’ left, Wren was waiting at an adequate and painful distance, which Evangeline knew too well. How hurtful she was to see Ptolemus and Elane be affectionate with each other in public, something she could never do, how much she suffered while knowing that it was all fiction, accepted by her brother only for her sake.

She wore an icy smile and climbed onto the stage. Some whispered to each other, and Evangeline couldn’t be more satisfied: she had spent more than two hours preparing, applying makeup with maniacal precision and anyone who had looked at her had to think that she resembled more a vengeful goddess than a young woman.

Immediately after Maven went up, the suit with a different cut from his brother’s, but with the same colors, those of House Calore, his expression a flurry of emotions. Something definitely wasn’t right in the prince and judging by his pallor, Evangeline hoped he wouldn’t throw up on her silver shoes.

The line was closed by Mareena, wearing a simple dark purple dress, supported by a very thin silver chain, which clung to her thin neck. She seemed uncomfortable too; that she and Maven had a fight? King Tiberias’ words prevented her from lingering further on that thought.

"The Coronation Tour is always a joyous event, even when only one marriage is celebrated." the crowd chuckled, but it was a false sound, which came wrong to her ears, issued only because it was the king who uttered that terrible joke. After all, perhaps, Cal had inherited something else, besides the appearance, from his father.

“As you have seen for yourself, the Queenstrial has given us more than a future queen, bringing us back the daughter of our beloved general Ethan Titanos, and restoring a family that we thought was definitely extinct. "

Despite her efforts, Evangeline stopped listening. She had heard Mareena’s story too many times to consider it still of some interest. She recovered only when Cal began his speech, which as always had to do with his being heir to the throne and with the immense privilege, but also duty, that this gave him. When he would close his mouth, it would finally be her turn. The speech she had prepared, however, never saw the light and wasn’t heard by anyone but those who had helped to write it. Cal was still babbling about the power and strength their union would bring to Norta when the screen on the other side of the square suddenly changed its image. If previously they had been reflected in it as if they were in front of a giant mirror, now there was a girl with blond hair, blue eyes piercing like ice blades, her face partly covered by a red bandana. She was the head of the Scarlet Guard, and she was airing live from Archeon.

His father's voice echoed strangely in Colonel Gliacon's home’ wide entrance. The storm that raged on Great Woods had reached them and they didn’t even have a storms in tow that could make the situation less embarrassing; Maven was sure that whoever was on the opposite side of the long table, compared to where his father had stood, wouldn’t hear a word, thanks to the incessant roar of rain on the roof and window panes. He wasn’t surprised to see that his uncle Julian and his wife had chosen that position.

Along with the storm's howl, the cold had also arrived, creating a strange contrast between the cold drafts that slipped under doors and windows and the temperature of the room, comparable to an oven thanks to his father’s fury.

"That Red viper gave us four days, not even enough to recall a third of the High Houses!" Tiberias exclaimed, his neck beginning to redden. Maven glanced at Larentia Viper, Volo Samos’ wife, who lovingly caressed the smooth, almost flat head of the snake that she had softly wrapped around her shoulders, like a shawl. If she had been somehow offended by his father's words, she didn’t show it. It was known that Evangeline and Ptolemus’ mother considered her animals much more important than Reds. Another folly that only the Silvers could conceive, another reason to side with the victory of the Scarlet Guard and its ideals.

“Admitted and not granted that those clowns have taken Archeon, nothing assures us that their threats aren’t just a bluff." Volo said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, something that would have horrified Lady Blonos and her lessons on good manners Not that Maven believed the farce of the relaxed lord in the middle of a gathering of people ready to kill each other; Volo Samos just wanted to give the impression of being among friends, in a place where he could talk freely and trust all, only to then use his own disappointment, the inevitable betrayal, to his advantage. Everybody knew the basics of the court schemes, in there.

"Those Reds could also have the support of the Lakelands, for all we know. They could be a diversion to invade us when we are weaker." he went on, gaining several consents. Even Stralian Haven nodded.

In spite of the icy silence, heat waves crashed on him from both his father and Cal. He had never seen him so taut, rigidly leaning on the high back of the chair, his mouth reduced to a thin line. Did he regard what the Scarlet Guard did as an improper gesture, which he despised, or was he just angry because the Reds had outsmarted him? Despite their mother's dislike of anything to do with the military career, it was no secret that Cal had been studying strategy since she was a child and advising their father about the war with the Lakelands for the past two years. The years had changed him and King Tiberias had weakened just enough to count on his heir for some issues that worried him too much. An information that the Scarlet Guard would never have had without his help but that alone was enough to make Coriane's plan accept. At least for now.

“I believe them.” his father said, and those words sounded very strange, in Maven's ears. He had conceived that speech, the whole part of the plan that played on his father and Cal’s weaknesses, and although Tiberias didn’t know, for his son it was as if he had finally congratulated him.

"Whether it's a trap or not, I see no other alternative than to accept their requests: three days is a period too short to call up an army and we don’t know how many Reds have joined the terrorists' cause, nor how many soldiers are actually present at Archeon. I won’t risk the lives of those who are dearest to me to resume the capital and if they really are in league with the Lakelands, we cannot afford to lose in a fight, not a single battle, nor a single life. Every drop of silver blood that this rebellion pours is a victory for our enemies. In addition, we don’t even know how many prisoners were made during the capture of the capital and we cannot risk their lives being in danger because of our recklessness. Strength is all in a world like ours, and only if exercised through power is different from that of beasts. However, wouldn’t we be beasts anyway if we didn’t know how to let go of power? I trust my son and he has shown repeatedly that he can be a great king, able to make difficult decisions but that must be taken anyway. And isn’t that what we most need in these hard times, where rats think they can fight lions? "

Maven frowned, puzzled. Those were beautiful words, a speech worthy of all those who had preceded it and that his father repeated for a long time in his private rooms. But those words should’ve come straight from his heart, be designed on the spot. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what was going to happen, and surely no one would have been able to advise him on such a speech without alerting him. Except ... Maven turned to look at his mother. She nodded, her eyes shining, as if moved, perhaps she had even quietly murmured her assent. How long had Coriane been waiting for that moment? What tremendous mechanism had they started, and when the Scarlet Guard and its ideals had become nothing but a cog?

Volo Samos’ voice was loud and angry, as unpleasant as the screeching of metal against other metal, a sound that Evangeline had forced them to hear for a long time, during their training sessions. He regretted that period: the court constraints, the meetings presided over by Arven, were a walk in the open air, compared to the reality of life that awaited them.

“You won’t take away from my daughter what is rightfully her!” exclaimed House Samos’ patriarch. Cal almost vomited at the idea that they were talking about him; he felt reduced to a useful but not precious object, something that everyone wanted to use for their own personal interest, but for which no one cared about the true value. Even now that he was really about to become king, he felt like a puppet, unable to take any kind of decision, obliged to follow his puppeteers’ instructions. Since he was a child, he had always wanted to make people happy. Growing up, however, the thing had become increasingly difficult: often, make her mother happy meant to be useless in his father’s but indulge the king meant to disappoint his mother and in both cases, Maven received no benefit from his actions. Anyone could’ve used his weakness against him, wanting it. He didn’t delude himself, at the court there were few who feared him, even though they should’ve done it only because of his status; no one had ever seen the shadow that hid in his mind, decided to focus only on the flame’s light and not on what made it so brilliant.

"I was present at your wedding: you swore that all your offspring would have to take wife through a Queenstrial. You had already been allowed to let Maven marry Ethan's daughter, it seemed right to everyone, but to rip from my daughter's hands what she worked so hard for is an insult I cannot bear."

The implications of what Lord Volo had just said were heavy, but Cal couldn’t think of it: to hear Mare’s cover mentioned, he had stiffened and had begun to think about what implications would have meant for her with what was about to happen. She would still marry Maven, that was sure; perhaps she could even get used to court life and all that pomp. But could she live in lies forever? Would she hold up, or would the weight of all those secrets break her? And what would have changed for them? Was there still something that could be called that way? He had to stop thinking about her, to force himself to remove the image of the girl he loved from his mind, so as not to risk it bursting. He couldn’t think of Mare, or himself, in a delicate moment like that. Once that situation was resolved, there would be time to be selfish, but that wasn’t the right place.

"So what do you suggest, Lord Volo?" he asked, finally taking the floor. Everyone in the room froze. Nobody expected a golden boy's intervention, let alone with an uncomfortable question like that.

"Contract peace: give Lakelanders the lands you have long fought for, secure a marriage between your progeny." he suggested.

"And if my offspring were to be only female? If Lady Evangeline couldn’t give me anything but daughters? Would I repudiate your daughter, or let a Lakelander be King of Norta at my death?" asked Cal, checking Evangeline’s reaction with the corner of his eyes. As expected, at the offspring’s issue’s mention, the girl shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

If she could tolerate the idea of pretending to love a man for her whole life, she couldn’t bear the possibility that a male being could profane her.

“No Lakelander will ever be King of Norta!” his father thundered, tearing Cal into a satisfied expression.

"King Orrec has two daughters, but I don’t think he will marry anybody with the future queen, so only the minor remains, Iris." his mother commented, with a composure that didn’t suit her. She seemed to be talking about the weather, while in her hands she not only had the lives of her sons but also the outcome of a war, a new beginning for two kingdoms that had always been intent on fighting each other.

"So it should be Maven who's marrying her! A second son for a second daughter." Volo said, but the credibility of his words was lowered by the fact that not even he had aimed at the second son of the king, but the heir, the firstborn.

"And Mareena? What would happen to her in this plan of yours?" Maven asked, speaking for the first time, a light pallor that extended from ears to cheeks. He was embarrassed, especially talking about the bond with his betrothed in front of so many people. Nobody expected that in such a short time they would start to get along so well, that they almost really liked each other. A twinge of pain hit Cal's chest at the thought. Mare wasn’t his, nor Maven’s; she belonged to herself. Yet he, selfishly, had wanted his share, betraying Maven so cruelly, when he had always been good and sincere with him.

When the brothers’ gaze crossed, in Maven's eyes were words that he couldn’t say aloud, a pardon that made a lump in Cal's throat and didn’t allow him to speak, to say that it didn’t matter because no king would ever marry his daughter to a second-born to end a war. If a position was what they would’ve exchanged to end the conflict, then it was the queen's one.

"What's going to happen to my daughter, if you’ll marry another woman?" asked Volo, looking directly at Cal. He had no idea. Would she return to the Rift with her tail between her legs, together with her whole family? But would Ptolemus ever leave his place as head of the city guard? Provided there was still a city to defend at the end of that meeting.

"She will marry my son Maven, as you yourself have said, a second son for a second daughter." the king suggested, going to his son's aid. Not that Cal really needed it, not if that was the outcome.

"But the people..." Maven began, without having the chance to finish. His mother had glared at him, as if they had an outstanding account.

"Our people are more inclined to accept an exchange between Silvers brothers than to lose the capital at the hands of the Reds." the king answered, looking first at Cal and then at Maven, then returning to his eldest. Did he know too? Was it so obvious what was happening with Mare?

"Besides, nobody will care too much about who will be queen, when the war will stop and they’ll have to pay more their servants for the work they do."

The shadow of a victorious smile painted on his mother's lips. It was what she had always wanted, what had built a wall between her and his father, despite mutual love. But how much did she have to do with this story? Or was it all just a fortuitous case?

"As for Mareena, the girl has already been very lucky to be recognized for the noble she is."

A lie.

"So she won’t have anything to object when we tell her she can come back to the Nolles, her mother's House, who had already kindly offered to host her and let her know the story of her ancestors."

Cal wanted to scream. Her ancestors were the same people they had oppressed, the same people who they still called rats and snakes, who didn’t even have a name in their eyes, who didn’t even deserve to be paid for the hard work they did every day. Some argued that the Reds should thank them not to be slaves, but Cal didn’t seen in their current condition something so different from that: they were slaves of jobs that didn’t pay enough to keep the whole family alive, slaves of a war that it no longer made sense, slaves of a mentality that didn’t see them as individuals but only as numbers, without a face and existence of their own. This should have taught the Nolles to Mare, or perhaps it was more what she would somehow manage to convey to them. But at what price? She had agreed to remain at court when there were no other choices, she had agreed to remain in a place where the four most important members of the royal family had sworn to take care of her, and now they were pushing her away, feeding her to relatives ready to tear her to pieces. For the Nolles, Mare was of some sort of interest as long as she was promised to Maven, but now? What did it mean for them if not an extra mouth to feed? They couldn’t even hope to make her marry a nobleman of high rank, since the most coveted claimants were already engaged. Mare would’ve been just a burden. And then, someone would also have to take care of her special needs, like makeup, which hid her skin’s rosy undertone, or ... He couldn’t think about it. Mare would have to do it alone: they had done everything possible, but the possibility of ending the war, of being the spark for the change that Norta needed was more important than her safeguard. If only Cal really believed it.

[elliemarchetti]

A Red Lover part 6

It's kind of weird writing about Maven as represented in the books in this story and a completely different character in What If, but until now I've found the thing edifying. I don’t know if I should put any warning, considering that this chapter deals with the famous Glass Sword scene where the baby girl is killed, but I assume that anyone who reads this fanfiction is used to Maven's violence.

@maveicen @chaoslaborantin I hope you like this chapter and find it as good as the previous one(s)

Previous chapters here 

Words count:2209

Two dark jets towered over Thomas, the wide wings spread out. One was a little smaller, made for only one pilot, with the silver fuselage and the orange-tipped wings, the same type of planes that had dumped a deadly rain of fire at Naercey. The larger aircraft, on the other hand, was pitch black, menacing, with a more imposing body and without any colored detail. Thomas still remembered when they had stolen it, from Delphie. In that situation, however, they had a qualified pilot, while for that escape they would have had to rely on the prince's ability.

He looked around uneasily. They were taking too long, both Rasha and the captain. Thomas wasn’t a spy, and his mechanic disguise would last very little, if someone had entered the hangar; he knew nothing about mechanics and if he had to pretend to work on the jet, even a blind man would have realized that he didn’t know where to put his hands. Rasha and Farley had advised him to get his hands and suit dirty, just as if he had been working on the jet all day, and to run his fingers through his hair, which was starting to lengthen, as if he tried to remove them from in front of his eyes. He felt like a fool, all dirty and hidden behind the right wing of the smaller jet, waiting for something that could never happen.

When someone put a hand on his shoulder, Thomas jumped and almost broke Rasha's wrist, who giggled, wriggling easily from his grip. She was silent like a cat, and her black eyes shone just like those of a feline, in the dim light of their position. It was easy to underestimate her, yet she was one of the deadliest Reds he had known.

“Aren’t they there yet?” she asked in a low voice. Thomas shook his head, but the hurried response didn’t seem to change the girl's mood. She had to be satisfied with his work.

"How much do you think he will be out of play?" Thomas asked, alluding to the real mechanic.

"An hour at most" Rasha answered, professional. "Sedatives here are a precious commodity but they don’t get enough for everyone and they are forced to dilute them."

Thomas didn’t had the nerve to ask with what.

When they finally arrived, Kilorn had lank cheeks and Shade leaned on the crutch, trying to keep up with the rest of the group. Without orders, Cal headed toward the back of the jet and opened the tailgate. Nobody said anything when Thomas and Rasha appeared from the dark, some because they were aware of their involvement, others because they were too busy worry about their own business.

Shade was the first to enter, his face wet with sweat and pale with exertion. All those jumps must have put him to the test. Kilorn followed him, dragging Mare with him, with Cal immediately behind, totally unable to decide whether to lay his eyes on the former princess or on the curved walls of the jet. The prince was a soldier and the immobility and the captivity must’ve made him uneasy. He had to crave the action, just like all of them. However, he also wanted something else, something he couldn’t have except for fleeting moments, if not in stolen glances. Thomas had also experienced what it felt like to be desired by a burner prince. Everything was fire and danger, everything was electrifying and new, every gesture seemed to ignite him, foment his love. And it had all been a lie.

He looked away from the pair of lovers, concentrating on his ability, the heat that accumulated within him, the electricity that held up the hair on his arms. He would store those forces, but he wasn’t sure when he would use them, or how they would show up. Or on whom he could’ve triggered them.

The whole scene had been orchestrated to perfection. Maven had chosen a Red square, but still a nice, tidy place, where they could hide in full view, where no one would ever suspect that Silver would set foot. He had the newblood's body hang in plain sight and he waited for him to die, but he hadn’t been able to look at the precise moment when life had left his eyes. Though he didn’t resemble him at all, he had seen Thomas in that kicking body. All those newbloods could be him.

At the thought of his first and only love, if he could call it like that, he was invaded by a sense of nausea. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fight against his mother's whispers, to prevaricate her skill with the sole force of his own mind, not when he had been shaped by those whispers since he was born, yet he still felt the taste of failure bitter in his mouth. He wanted to cry for the boy he had lost, but not even a tear moistened his eyes.

Thomas desperately tried to forget the faces of the dead. Continuing to escape to save his life was an excellent source of distractions, but not even the constant threat of death could erase everything. It was impossible to forget certain losses. Walsh, Tristan and now Wolliver occupied the innermost corners of his mind, but most of his thoughts were directed at Maven, what he had done, how he had betrayed him. He had never experienced so much anger all at the same time, not in possession of such a great power.

Cal was the first to turn his back on the body. His personal host of ghosts must already be quite assorted and he didn’t have to want to add someone else to his nightmares.

Farley seemed about to throw up, but at the same time she was angry, a bundle of nerves that couldn’t hit whoever she wanted. Shade tried to calm her, but completely in vain. Thomas wondered how the war couldn’t get the worst out of that boy.

“We have to take him down.” said Farley, with Shade ready to help her, but Cal stopped them.

“Wolliver Galt had a family, right?” he asked, but Thomas already knew what he was trying to explain to the whole group. It was a trap and they fell in it like fools. Cal and Mare exchanged terrified gazes while a boy wearing a black crown appeared from a dark alley. Shade could’ve saved them all, and that’s why he was the first one who get caught. Farley started to scream while the swifts dragged him away. Their bodies were only a confused spot, but Mare still tried to hit them with a thunder, forcing them to turn around.

Thomas felt the usual buzzing of the electric power that slid over his skin, ready to be shaped as he pleased, but it wasn’t that ability he wanted to use: he ran to Shade, even though he knew it wasn’t the best strategy. He had little autonomy at his disposal with the swifts' ability, and beside that he only had a thunder and a little of Cal's familiar warmth. Or maybe it was Maven's. A shiver went down his back. He had already experienced his flames; they had given him power, a force he could never have imagined, but they were also lethal to anyone who didn’t have his skills. And that Thomas knew he was the only one able to absorb others’ abilities and use them to his liking.

He summoned the lightening, two, after Mare had tried to fry some of her assailants, and threw them on the swifts, praying not to hit Shade. The years in the army played to his advantage, and he hit his targets, which fell to the ground rattling, forcing the whole group to stop, allowing Thomas to see Shade's open eyes. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw him disappear from the grip of his assailants, giving him the opportunity to jump. Thomas turned, observing whom Shade had decided to bring to safety first. Farley disappeared, as if she had never existed. Shade had left her sister behind, though he had seen her with Maven huddled in front of her. With a heavy gaze, he jumped to reach Mare. He had less than a fraction of a second, to impress Maven's face without the mask he had worn for all the time they had spent together in his mind, then he grabbed the girl’s hand, and everything compressed, dragging both away from there, away from that monster with his mother’s eyes who no longer was the lost prince they both loved, and maybe never was.

The massacres of Delphie and Lencasser were obviously not enough for the Scarlet Guard to deliver what he wanted in exchange for the truce for the newblood, so Maven had decided to change strategy. Templyn was a quiet residential town on the road to Delphie, a slew of vast Silver estates and a cluster of shabby houses that the Reds had pulled up on the riverbank. It would mean nothing to him if it hadn’t been on Julian's list.

The Marcher's house was small, with a second floor that threatened to collapse at any moment, and a garden abandoned to negligence on the back. The family consisted of five people, as numerous as only the Reds’ could be, and lived in complete poverty, without electricity or the necessary forces to make that ruin worthy of being called home. They didn’t oppose a real resistance, only the one typical of parents who don’t want to be separated from their children, when the agents dragged them out the back door. A baby girl cried when her parents began to scream, trying to reach out to grab the hands of the older children. An evil smile spread over Maven's face. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Evangeline, who was waiting, composed by his side, like the good wife she would’ve been forced to be. What a cruel fate, pretend to love someone who you cannot even look in the face, for whom you feel nothing but contempt.

“Kill her.” he ordered, turning to look for a piece of paper.

“I hope you’re kidding.” she replied. In her black eyes, there was fear, but also determination, a mix of emotions that he had seen too many times in Thomas, Mare and Farley’s eyes to not make some kind of effect on him.

The temperature in the room suddenly arose, but Maven didn’t care. He enjoyed Evangeline's remorse, a shiver of terror that must’ve come down her back and made her arms’ thin blond hair stand up. Then something bright flashed near her, and the baby's cry ceased suddenly, interrupting the scene’s balance. Both turned to the basket where the baby had remained all the time. Her eyes were closed, as if she were sleeping, but the red stain that was slowly impregnating the rag that her parents had used as blanket told a different story.

Maven was the first to look up, totally indifferent to the cruelty of that broken life. He knew he should’ve felt something different, perhaps being ashamed for having given that order, but in his mind, and especially in his heart, there was no trace of those feelings. He thanked his mother for this; the inability to feel ashamed was a gift that no one else had.

He met Ptolemus’ eyes; he tried to maintain a composite façade, as if the gesture hadn’t touched him at all, but he wasn’t a great actor like his sister.  He was holding in his right hand the weapon with which he had cut the newborn’s throat, squeezing it so hard he cut himself too, silver and red blood mixed on the wooden floor. He had acted out of fear, terrified by the idea that his king could hurt his sister. Maven remained composed, but he wanted to burst out laughing. Volo had exchanged Evangeline as if she were one of his loads of arms, their own father. Ptolemus shouldn’t have been afraid of him, but of his own family.

“Uncle, the alarm." he said, without even looking at his mother’s brother. Samson Merandus advanced without batting an eyelid and put the little silver device in the little girl's hand.

“Now go, I need a moment to think.” said the prince, and without even waiting to check that his orders were really executed, he turned his back to the ones who should have called his family, looking for a piece of paper. When he found it, he leaned back to write at the rickety and ruined table, carved from rough wooden planks.

October 22

The envelope is a bit 'macabre, I know. However, necessary. Therefore, you understand what you're doing, what you're forcing me to do.

The words flowed from his mind to his hand and Maven seemed unable to stop them, a puppet who couldn’t understand who the puppeteer was at the time. They were crude words, yet they expressed how much he missed Thomas, how much he was willing to sacrifice, how far he was willing to go to get him back.