#fanfic by maven | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vamxxpire · 4 months

Text

Was trying to think of the reason of the Love Triangle between the boys and Mare and I think I got something down lol.

— Kilorn is the representation of Mare’s life as a Red and of her past, being the reason why she’s so overprotective and constantly wanting to keep him safe. But also not wanting to pursue him romantically because her life as a Red was horrible, and because of how much hatred he harbors for Silvers and that of the unknown (back when he found out she’s a Newblood and didn’t react positively). Her rejecting Kilorn is a milestone for her, refusing to let her hatred and anger of Silvers and of her identity as a Newblood consume her.

— Maven represents War and the present, a person she is afraid of becoming because of the similar circumstances they were both brought into. They were used and turned into people neither of them wanted to be, making Mare afraid that she’s capable of becoming just as bad of a person. Because of war shes made to change, forced to do things she doesn’t like. She pursues him at the start because it’s easy to find comfort in war and anger, especially when it’s painted with rose tinted glasses. But through the series she shows distress in Maven, each time distancing herself from him. In a way, killing Maven signified letting go of the war. That it doesn’t define her.

— Lastly Cal, being Peace and the future. From the very start we see Cal as someone soothing, the person who hears Mare out and offers her the job position in Summerton. Mare is hesitant to seek him out romantically and at times loathes him, but he is also the only other person who understands her. Cal had constantly shown support and compassion to both Silvers, Reds, and Newbloods through the series (showing distaste when Mare kills Silvers, sneaking out at night into red villages to be a better king, etc.) He is a constant warming presence for her, even if she doesn’t seek it. Though Mare sometimes clashes with peace, as getting it is not easy by no means. In order to achieve peace sacrifices have to be made, and you have to let go of war. Seeking Peace in the midst of War can be hard, especially when you’ve faced so much tragedy. Coming to terms to it after war’s over is even harder. But in the end, Peace is what she needs the most to overcome the trauma and grief. It’s the one she stays with by choosing Cal.

#:3 …#my godd I feel sick #was trying to think of ways to apply their dynamics in the fanfic series since I’m switching between cal-maven-mare #but oh my god!!!!!!!!!!!#anyways #im so normal about them.#red queen #red queen victoria aveyard #cal calore #mare barrow #book series #maven calore #kilorn warren

64 notes · View notes

imperatrice21 · 4 months

Text

You know, I think it would be pretty interesting if in War Storm they actually did find a Newblood to cure Maven but when he gets cured and back to normal he doesn't remember a single thing he did while under Elara's control because it wasn't him at all and he's like super confused or something when they tell him how long its been and something something idk

#red queen #maven calore #mareven #victoria aveyard #mare x maven #mare barrow #red queen fanfiction #red queen fanfic #redqueen #idk bruh just some random idea that popped in my head #red queen 4 #war storm

58 notes · View notes

blaithnne · 7 months

Text

AU where season 2 Kaisa meets the fandom's interpretation of her pre-season 2

#love reading those old fics #where the sketchbook dynamic was #the most powerful witch in trolberg meets Some Lady and is enamoured #meanwhile Johanna is just :DD #and now the dynamic is #girlfailure meets girlfailure #and both are amazing #and Maven was such a pretty name but dear god it was so confusing for me #cause i joined a bit before s2 aired #and went to read fanfics thinking oh i wonder what all the different hcs for the librarian's name are!#and it was all Maven #to the point where i went back and rewatched all her episodes because i thought there must have been a name drop i missed #anyways #i think its funny imagiing the all powerful mysterious kaisa from s1 meeting s2 kaisa who is just a little guy #their respective johannas are just swooning #lmao s2 johanna meeting her s1 self just like ''everything is going to get worse''#hilda #hilda the series #hilda netflix #netflix hilda #hilda kaisa #kaisa hilda #hilda johanna #johanna hilda #sketchbook ship #sketchbook #the librarian hilda #hilda the librarian

47 notes · View notes

lucy-the-cat · 21 days

Text

Mareven Boyfriend Excerpt

Tagging @ball-of-butter bc she said she was excited for it

“Maven.” Elara’s face brightened. “You sound lovely.”

A girl popped out from behind the door, soft and serene. I can’t help but wonder if she’s seen my pictures. If her heart raced as mine in the dim moonlight.

She cocked her head. “Really.” Her smile was shy, a lullaby. “I could be better, you know.”

“Nonsense.” Elara waved a hand. “You’re perfect, darling.”

Cal took his sister’s hands with a sad smile. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

I can’t disagree. I’ve never been good at smiling, but I’m sure a stanger’s word is worth as much as any other’s. “You’re quite talented.”

Her eyes met mine for the first time, hand brushing a curl behind her ear. “Thanks.”

Cal gripped my shoulder, jolting me to attention. “Maven, this is Mare.” The words were soft, measured. “My girlfriend.”

Her eyes darkened, so brief I might’ve imagined it. She extended a hand. “Charmed.”

#maven calore #red queen #maven #mare barrow #mare #mareven #red queen series #mare x maven #maven x mare #red queen fanfiction #red queen fanfic

14 notes · View notes

nyrasbloodyclover · 4 months

Text

when the lights go down (maven calore x reader)

cw: nightmares, hurt/comfort

a/n: this is my first ever fanfiction i think, originally posted on ao3

I got up, gasping for air, not being able to see clearly. The room spun in front of my eyes making me sick to the stomach. I desperatly needed to puke.

I was almost used to it by now. Waking up in sweat with fear that just behing my closed bedroom doors death is waiting. That's what years of terror did to a person. War was cruel and had no mercy towards anyone.

I brought shaky hands to my wet face- from sweat but now burning tears slid down my cheeks as i let out quiet sobs. It was so stupid but understandable at the same time. In front of my eyes—it was so real i couldn't breathe sometimes— i was losing everyone i loved all over again. Everyone i cared about on the verge of death. I saw him, barely breathing, silver blood sliding down his neck—dying—and i just stood there, not being able to do anything.

I had never even admitted that to him- my feelings or the nightmares because i knew his mother took all of it from him. He wouldn't understand so it was all pointless.

The memory, not real, and it will never be real, i swore to myself, made my chest hurt, i started sobbing even harder this time.

And it was desperation or need for comfort that made me get out of that haunted place i called my bedroom and walk out the door.

The marble floors were cold underneath my bare feet as i walked slowly still with tears in my eyes.

The palace was huge and anyone could get lost in it, even me, but there was one path i always knew- towards him. Maven's chambers stood out to the rest of the palace, at least to me. Anytime i was with him i felt as if no one could hurt me. Like i was safe from the rest of the world. In his head we probably weren't that close, but i could comfort myself by pretending.

I was still convinced this was one big mistake, but now that i found myself in front of big doors that led to his private rooms, i couldn't go back. Maybe he will toss me out, laugh at how weak i am, after all we lived through the same experience.

I didn't care. All i wanted is to at least see his face or hear his voice, no matter what he was saying to me. So i knocked once and secretly prayed that he wouldn't hear me. If he doesn't open i will have to suffer alone for the rest of the night, afraid to close my eyes. It was familiar to me that my sleep was cursed by nightmares. It would be easier than to appear weak in his eyes.

But no one heard my prayers as he opened the large woden doors. I tried to wipe my tears as much as i could.

His eyes were still half closed, soft white shirt crinkled from sleep and hair rustled. He didn't seem very happy that someone woke him up. He looked so unfamiliar to me in that moment because i was so used to his organized-put together self. If i hadn't been so miserable i would even laugh.

At the sight of me it was like someone had sobered him up.

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep." My voice was weak. It was the longest explanation i could give him.

After studying m for a moment Maven crooked his head, "Are you okay?" He spoke gently, like i was some wounded animal that needed his saving. And in some way, i really was.The look on his face made me know that he was aware of my cursed dreams

That was it, i thought, my breaking point. Something really cracked in my chest as i practically threw myself at him.

He was caught off guard he froze for a moment. I didn't care if he's going to mock me for the rest of my excistance for this, i needed it, needed him.

Few seconds passed and he relaxed a bit wrapping his slender but strong arms around me. Then i started sobbing into his chest.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He whispered into my hair, "What happened?"

He closed the door behind me and guided me to the edge of his bed. I sat down and he kneeled beside me, looking up with his blue eyes, searching for the answer.

"I watched you die," my voice cracked mid-sentance making it sound even more painful. And when he realized what i said his eyes grew wide. I wasn't sure what was going through his head now, but i still continued, "I watched you die, and i wasn't able to do anything—"

Now was my time to feel caught off guard as he took me into his arms. I never saw Maven hug another human being, but he should do it more often because now, he held me so i don't break.

"I am alive," his hand brushed the back of my head, "I am alive because of you, don't ever doubt that." His words made me sob harder into his chest.

His scent consumed me as i closed my eyes against him.

Maven never broke the hug and we sat there, in the dark of his room, until i parted us and looked at his beautiful, beautiful face.

"I hate nightmares," i said after minutes of silence. "Sometimes, i wish your mother took them from me too."

He frowned at that, still holding my hands, "She took my nightmares, yes, but with them she robbed me of my ability to love, to care."

His fingers traced invisible patterns on the back of my hand. He wasn't looking at me. "Sometimes, you make me forget that." And i felt as if my heart was beating again.

I didn't know what to do after that. Did i get the comfort i wanted? I wasn't sure, but his words did make me feel better, so i got up and started walking towards the door. I hope our relationship wouldn't change much after tonight. I knew i would feel stupid and even more miserable in the morning but i guess it was worth it.

Then suddenly i felt the burning hand around my wrist, "Why are you leaving?"

Did he want me to stay? "Well, i tho—"

"You thought wrong. Come here," he said as he pulled me closer to him, and under the red covers.

I layed my head on the burner prince's chest that rose and fell with each of his breaths. The proof that he was alive. Alive and well and beside me.

After a while, when the lights completely went down, i wasn't sure if i was asleep yet but i heard him whisper, "I will take your nightmares if it means you'll sleep peacefully."

#maven calore #maven calore x reader #red queen #red queen fanfiction #maven calore fanfic #kings cage #war storm #glass sword

34 notes · View notes

imjulia-andilikecats · 6 months

Text

Albanus was an impoverise place, full of miserable, greedy people, living in creeking houses resting on stilts.

Any traveler with a sound mind would steer far away from such a place.

However, the rumors did not faze Maven Calore, who stood before it's stone bridge.

As he is no common traveler, who sought for fame, gold or glory.

Only a place to miserably at peace. To be alone and forgotten by the world and his past.

Yet, as he looks across the bridge, a figure emerges; small unassuming and filthy.

A troublemaker or a friend, that he will find soon, once he crosses this bridge.

Note: A big thank you to @nymphenberger for helping me with grammar and just making writing enjoyable.

#red queen #mare barrow #glass sword #war storm #king's cage #cal calore #maven calore #old meme #random #tiberias vii calore #mareven fanfic #mareven #maven is a dollmaker with attachment issues #mare has a stick and is not afraid to use it

12 notes · View notes

ironwoman359 · 7 months

Text

A Thief's Gamble Masterpost

Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Read on AO3 Here!

Chapters:

No Risk, No Reward

All Eyes on Us

Honeyed Words, Bitter Deeds

Bedlam and Burglary

The Renegade from Cyrodiil.

Unhindered Insights

A Dampened Pursuit

Caught Red Handed

(coming soon)

16 notes · View notes

degenderates · 1 year

Text

a rant about fanfic writing & popularity.

as much as i talk about the fact that kudos/hits/etc don’t matter, it’s about the community of fandom, the three people who obsess over your work, the creation for yourself and anyone else, the sharing of creativity and storytelling, it’s really hard not to compare yourself to other authors as a fic writer, especially when so much of what fandom does is talk about stats nowadays 😔 like nowadays whenever i get less than 100 kudos on fics, especially less than 50 (which is often) written for the relatively large fandoms i’m in, i wonder what i’ve done wrong. even though objectively i know that it’s about content and preference, a lot of the stuff i write about is very niche and includes stories and headcanons people don’t want to engage with, whether that’s a trans au or a dark(er) au, i still can’t help but blame it on myself, like i’m not that good of a writer. wondering what other authors who started writing in the fandoms i’m in around the same time i did right and what i messed up. i see people around me get recc’ed left and right while i’ve never seen myself on a rec list anywhere, even after writing in fandom for four years (granted - i think everything pre-2020 that i wrote is...not great. but i’m proud of the things i’ve written recently!). it’s not that i think i’m a bad writer. I think i’m pretty good! irl, i’ve been able to do a lot of cool things and get into cool programs/classes because of my writing, but in fandom, i feel invisible.

does anyone else feel this way? i’m sure many do, but most of the time people end up saying “well, my writing sucks” when that’s not truly what they think. they just don’t feel recognized, or given the chance to prove themselves. and i think part of that is the toxic obsession fandom has with stats: kudos, hits, ratios, likes, reblogs. a lot of this is perhaps propagated by readers of fic who maybe don’t write, and don’t realize that the way they talk about “sort by kudos” or whatever’s the most popular can negatively affect the psyche of writers, especially those who are younger and just starting out, but don’t have anyone to read their work, comment on it, build the excitement. i think about those kind of kids a lot. because when i read a story that i think is clearly from someone who has less experience writing, or maybe is new to english, or whatever the case may be, i still give the fic a kudos, even though it may not be the next fandom classic. i still give the little heart. i still leave a comment with something nice to say about it! i wish more people did that. i wonder, too, if social media and the way it’s developed over time, has a role to play in this phenomenon.

anyways, rant over. feel free to reblog with your own thoughts, i’d love to hear ‘em.

#maven rambles #fanfic meta #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic writers #fanfic writer problems

46 notes · View notes

flamekingmaven · 1 year

Text

"Every memory we share is a piece of glass, but every single one of them is broken and they draw blood. I press my lips together in fear of silver streaming down my chin. The question pounds in my head: Why did you do this?" — just a depressed quote from a story that I wrote about Maven Calore

#maven #maven calore #red queen #fanfic

18 notes · View notes

lilyharvord · 1 year

Text

It ain’t my business to come up with another AU cause I’ve got four in the oven cooking and one that almost done rising and is waiting to go in the oven, but I’m a feral gremlin and I love Red Queen so its not my fault. Anyway the Star Wars AU is once again on my mind, so I will pull a chunk of my brain out and somehow project what I see to you all.

- Mare is a smuggler/pirate who works for a medium sized smuggling organization that specializes in playing both side of the divide (Rebel and Imperial). They’re clients kind of know but because they are so good at getting their hands on everything (information, tech, weapons, codes) they’re allowed a free pass from both sides to do what they want so long as they don’t try anything serious. She gets to wear sick ass pants with lots of pockets that she likes to put things in (steal more like), a hip gun holster (the kind that sort of wraps around both legs and the waist) and a white loose shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Sometimes she wears a cool hat with a low bun that lets her hair fall out in chunks on the sides. Aka she’s a sewer rat that somehow got into a fancy organization and made her way up to the top levels by just being fucking ruthless and also very good and getting people to give her what she wants (aka she has the Force but has no fucking clue).

- Cal is an Imperial Colonel for the Navy who comes from a very, very wealthy and important family that is very close to the Emperor. He is young, and everyone says he has a super bright future ahead of him. He’s good at war, and that makes him dangerous. Secretly, he’d rather be in his garage tuning up older speeders and racing them. And he may or may not be soft to the Rebellion’s cause, on an ideological basis of course. He’s a stauch believer in the Empire and “what they do for the galaxy by providing protection, support, and management to what would otherwise be a system riddled with anarchy and collapsing infrastructure”. Someone did start a rumor (which may or may not have actually been true, but the grunt was very drunk in said cantina and their word was very suspect) that they saw him in disguise listening to what was Rebel propaganda in a backwater cantina while they were planet side. He mostly plays by the rules but he’s not afraid to get his hands a little dirty or bend the rules to win. He finds out about a smuggling organization that straddles the line and hires them to get him information that he needs for an up coming campaign. Which is how he meets a scrappy, no nonsense smuggler who he believes is more like a pirate, that makes his start to question exactly what the Empire does.

- Maven is from the same wealthy, prosperous family as Cal. He holds a military position (much lower level, he does not see much action), but is more involved in the government (or the sham of it provided to the people to keep the placated). He is very close to the Emperor, and for good reason. He has unique talents of his own that he keeps to himself but uses them when and only if they are needed. He is a spy, and his mother has brilliant ambitions for him and their family. He may have his own ambitions though, and his teeth while sharp are hidden well...

- Diana Farley is a leader in the Alliance, who has been fighting most of her life against the oppression of the Empire. She fights with her teeth and her claws, but when a seriously dangerous bit of information is stolen along with a datapad that holds Alliance base locations and other important information from a member of her squadron, she enlists the help of a member of a smuggler organization that’s not afraid to go behind Imperial lines to retrieve things. She refused to be left in the dark though, and ends up joining the hunt, even against her superiors wishes...

- Shade Barrow is given orders to retrieve a data pad with invaluable information on it. Deeply sympathetic to the Alliance’s cause, he is more than willing to go behind Imperial lines in his beat up ship to save them all. He’ll need to enlist the help of his little sister who has a deep foothold in a certain Colonel’s camp to retrieve the information which could put them both in the line of deadly fire, that is... if he doesn’t get killed by the beautiful and dangerous Rebel stowaway he somehow managed to pick up.

#my writing #my fanfics #listen its just four losers sharing a single brain cell that mostly belongs to Farley against maven who has like two brain cells #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #listen I'm combing my two hyperfixations into one #and it feels like I'm building a bomb in my schools chemistry lab #will I actually get around to writing this? Meh maybe.#it certainly takes precedence as two hyperfixations in one #mare barrow #maven calore #cal calore #diana farley #shade barrow #I have an idea where Mare ends up accidentally calling Maven's lightsaber to her and thats when he realizes she has the force #and its a moment™️#it's gonna be such a sexy fic #I wanna write it so bad #too much hyperfixation not enough time 🥲#in honor of us getting some fucking scraps for news about the TV show #I feel like an orphan begging for food at the table victoria #I AM STARVING

25 notes · View notes

twochildreninamoteldemo · 6 months

Note

hey joey, happy dadfucker friday :)

i'm asking everyone whose opinions i love, so in your world, how and when does deanjohn start?

HAPPY DFF (saturday version) LANA!!! okay i'm a month and a day late to this ask basically, but i finally have the time (company time, heh) to answer this. here's a drabble.

Whatever this turns into begins with a drink. Dean knows his father's taste in whiskey from only sight, not taste, but that changes one winter night when he's twelve. John's always touchier when he's had a few too many, Dean's used to that. And he's used to the tears. He's used to the roughness of his father's beard when John asks to hold him, the redness it'll leave behind on his own chin. He's used to the Marys and the Deans, the way they blur into mumbles. He's used to the way John starts out angry before he dissolves into a slump in whatever armchair--or bed, if there isn't one--the next motel offers. He's used to the ensuing apologies, though Dean's never sure if they're meant for him.

Tonight Sam's at a friend's house for a sleepover, something rarely permitted, but there's something far away about their father this week, something distracted. Dean's seen this before, though it doesn't come around too often. Maybe once every couple of years. It always starts kicks up into a frenzy by the end. Last time John got like this, Sam was five and Dean was nine and John nearly broke his youngest's arm when Sam got too grabby. He was five, and John was drunk, and Dean was crying because he didn't know how to stop it.

And tonight, while Sam probably watches Rugrats while getting a run down on all the episodes he's never watched from a snot-nosed classmate on a grimy suburban basement couch, Dean's feeling the painful grip of his father's hand around his wrist, not angry but forceful, pleading, a slight shake or vibration of his father's fingers. "Mary," he sobs, and Dean knows he's really gone this time.

"Come on, Dad, just lie down--"

But John won't, jerking hard when Dean tries to pry the bottle from his free hand, golden liquid sloshing inside. Dean decides that's a broken cause. One step before another. "Let's sit down," he says.

John's nodding, and his lips speaking incomprehensible words, silent and quick. His lips press together over and over. Mary, Dean reads. It's always the same.

He lets John believe he's making his own decisions, as if his son isn't urging him along to sit on the mattress, the two of them tucked together where the springs force them into a lopsided dip. Dean's nearly in John's lap, and under his weight, his father sighs, wrapping an arm around his waist. John's head is on his shoulder, and Dean finds himself running a hand across his head, through his hair. It's matted and greasy, but Dean finds he doesn't mind that so much. It's his dad's.

Once John is calm, nearly crooning into his son's collarbone, Dean slips the whiskey out of his father's loosened grip, setting it softly on the bedside table next to the yellow lamp and the telephone and the complementary notepad bearing the motel's name at the top of each slip. He lets his arms wrap around John's back, feeling his father's hot breath on his chest, that slowing breathing, almost wet in its heaviness.

Gently, he pushes John until his dad is lying down, but before he can climb off to haul his legs onto the bed, John's pulling him down on top of him, and that's when Dean feels it--something strangely poking at his thigh. He both understands and doesn't--it's something that happens to his own body, but mainly when sneaking a peek at John's skin mags, looking at glossy spreads of beautiful blondes with perfect tits. He's not sure what to make of it now, so he swallows, and lies there awkwardly, afraid to move a muscle. "D-dad?" he asks, shakily.

"Shh-shh--Mary, shh," is the slur of sound that tumbles from John's mouth, big hands wrapping around Dean's jaw, holding his face up. Dean's frozen when his father's lips meet his, scratchy at first, then slimy when he feels a tongue prod at him. It tastes sour, a bit firey. His mouth. The whiskey.

"Dad, stop," Dean murmurs, and the word makes John pause, eyes opening a bit more. Dean's not sure if he really meant it. His father's hands are so big and warm, his face cold, and the roughness of them right, somehow.

"Son?" he whispers, pulling back, licking his lips. "Oh, god, Dean--"

"S'okay," Dean mumbles in reply, shaking. He's heard the girls giggle about their first kisses in the hallways at school between the slam of lockers and the scuff of sneakers on the tile. That's what it was, he realizes. My first kiss. He feels like he should be feeling sick right now, but for some reason, he doesn't. There's something warm in his belly. His heart is pounding, and he wants to curl up beside Sam and forget this ever happened, but his belly is warm.

When he crawls off the bed again, John's head has fallen back onto the mattress and his eyes are closed. The threat of a snore leaves his nose. Dean finds the cap for the whiskey and tucks it away in their duffle bags, then goes over to the radiator to adjust the heat. It's cold in here, he thinks. The snow begins to fall outside.

#this got...way longer than i intended...hope you like it #deanjohn #still tied to me #natural blood stained blonde #john #missmisdemeanor #letters #fanfic by maven

8 notes · View notes

cehara-leanne · 1 year

Text

Blood Borne- Part 1

A FANMADE NOVEL

By: CeHara Evens

CONTINUATION OF THE RED QUEEN SERIES

By: Victoria Aveyard

Author’s note: This chapter contains spoilers for the book series Red Queen! If you don’t know what is going on, read the books! Not everything in this fanfic is, I repeat DOES NOT belong to me! I got mad at a character's death, and decided to fix it! That does not make the contents of this fanfic canon! Nor do I take ownership of all its characters! The characters and locations that I did not create belong to, one of my personal favorite authors, Victoria Aveyard! If you don’t know what things belong to her and what things belong to me…THEN READ HER BOOK!! This fanfic can also be considered a self-insert x reader situation, just don’t use the name of the character I created to fix this situation! That’s all!

************************************************************************

“NOW! WE WILL BEGIN THE EXECUTION!”

The executioner’s voice rang out into the arena but was soon drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. Hundreds of people…thousands of people. Screamed in agreeance. Those that were not present inside the arena sat outside its walls screaming for the same thing. In pubs. In millions of Nortan homes. They all yelled for the same thing. Retribution. But it was all on deaf ears. The deaf ears of the convicted. The deaf ears…

“OF MAVEN MERANDUS CALORE!” the executioner yelled.

Screams of bloody murder were heard at the mention of the former king’s name. His body was dragged out of a prison adjacent to the palace’s arena. Two burly sentinels carried his weight over to the public cutting board. To his death. Maven’s short black hair was disheveled, and his crystalline blue eyes were faded with indifference. His military uniform, one that he wore hundreds of times before in front of these same subjects, was covered in dust and sweat. The dungeons were hot. More humid if anything. And dirty. The weight of its Silencing Stone caused Maven’s muscles to spasm and crap, so much so that they felt like lead. The two sentinels forced Maven to his knees before the chopping block. Before the thousands of screaming people wanting his head. No resistance was shown against it other than the automatic stiffness of one’s knees when suddenly falling.

“It’s so bright outside…so bright, and so pretty.”

Maven thought to himself while his head hang heavy, looking at nothing in particular. Everything was a tired blur.

“I could think of a more sophisticated word than that…pretty…but it is pretty out here…”

“I should have come outside more often…”

“MAVEN MERANDUS CALORE! AGE EIGHTEEN! HAS BEEN TRIED FOR HIGH TREASON AGAINST THE ROYAL CROWN!” The executioner continued his address to the crowd.

“These shackles sting…but it’s a reminder that I can feel I guess…”

Maven released a dry chuckle.

“Ironic that I can feel now, out of all times.”

His chuckle did not go unnoticed by the sentinel to his left and earned him a strong kick to the stomach. Maven fell to his side at the blow to his abdomen, coughing out dryly and groaning. The crowd roared in approval of the treatment.

“Lucky me…”

“HIS TREASON BEGINS! WITH THE MURDER OF HIS FATHER! THE LATE KING! TIBERIAS CALORE VI!” The executioner yelled out to the crowd, eliciting more reactions.

“I did murder him didn’t I…without lifting a finger, I was the cause of my father’s death…”

Maven sat himself up again, looking down at the block before him. The executioner waved his hand slightly towards the sentinels on either side of Maven. Both soldiers moved forward and pressed the former king’s cheek into the chopping block.

“All because mother wanted me to have his power…Mother…”

His eyes stung thinking about it, but Maven refused to cry at this moment. How could he be a heartless, ruthless leader by crying while faced with death? That meant he had a heart. He couldn’t…

“AS WELL AS! THE ATTEMPTED MURDER! OF NORTA’S CURRENT RULER! KING TIBERIAS VII!”

At the mention of his brother, Maven moved his head to look upwards and scanned the crowd. People screamed and spat in his direction. None of them mattered. Maven moved his eyes upwards, above all the malice. Above the hatred towards him. And there he found his brother.

“Cal…My…Big brother…I never called you that very often, did I. At least…not to your face...Pity…”

In a booth above the middle section of the arena stood Cal, his black military uniform well ironed and the medals adorning his chest glimmering in the sunlight. His dark black hair was freshly cut for this “occasion”, and upon his head sat the royal crown. Its jewels shone in the afternoon sun like blazing fire. Cal’s bronze eyes looked fierce. Grim. But Maven could see how bloodshot they were. Rubbed raw from tears the court would never see. To either of Cal’s sides stood the family of his late mother, Coraine Jacos. To his right stood his uncle Julian Jacos, and to his left stood his aunt Sara Skonos. Support systems for this trying time. They knew, that even with the horrid things he did, Maven was still Cal’s younger brother…and that it hurt to watch his brother like this. Maven felt the very same.

“You always deserved a better brother than me…you were…wonderful…”

He long noticed Cal’s stance was stiff while he stood on the balcony of the middle booth. Very stiff. Holding back everything that wanted to spill out while watching the display before him. His younger brother pressed into a chopping block. Maven’s demise was imminent the moment Cal nodded toward the executioner. And Maven could tell that his brother never wanted to give that command. That he ever wanted to be the cause of his disappearance from this world. Which is why Maven couldn’t…he just couldn’t…

“You have to be strong. Stronger than you are now or else…Or else you’ll never survive…”

Maven wished he could cry, that he could express what he really felt towards his older brother. That he could let Cal know that he loved him. That he loved their father. No matter how many times that love was wiped from his mind by his mother. By Elara. In exchange for power. And in exchange for hatred. That he would always have something in his heart for both of them…but he couldn’t. Because if he did…then Cal would try to save him. Like he always did. And the Silver High Houses of Norta would eat Cal alive for his weakness. And Maven couldn’t let that happen. To have those vultures. Those tyrants. Exploit his older brother’s love for him. Exploit his weakness…that would make them and Maven too similar. Maven couldn’t bear that comparison, as much as he knew it was true. So Maven couldn’t have a heart. Not right now. Not ever again. The executioner continued his speel of Maven’s crimes, of his lack of honor. The young former king was unfazed by every remark.

“I don’t need to hear all of this, where is…ah. There you are.”

Maven scanned the crowd frantically, feeling that his headman’s speech would be coming to a close soon. It was hard to look but he had found her.

“Mare Barrow.”

People shouted into the arena and threw things in anger toward Maven, but he could make her out easily. In a random booth filled with random people, Mare could be seen at its edge. Staring intensely. Her brown hair flowed gently in the wind, the silver and purple tips of it catching the light of the sun. She wore simple clothes. A loose, white button-up top and brown cargo pants. Her light brown skin was littered with scars, only visible when the wind swayed her shirt a certain way. Maven caught sight of the “M” branded into her collarbone. After some moments Mare tried to avert her gaze, only to have Maven try to follow it to the best of his ability.

“You are beautiful you know…my Red Queen…But you can’t meet my eyes…not the way you used to.”

He felt the intensity of her gaze holding so many different feelings. So many different questions and emotions. The one he saw the most was her anger. Her anger for thinking she had killed him, even though she didn’t. Her anger for having to be here. To watch him die at a public event. Rather than having the privacy of vengeance offered to her. By killing him with her bare hands. Sickly enough, Maven felt that he only wanted her eyes on his. No matter what feelings were warranted by them, he felt the need to feel her gaze on him. He had caused her so much suffering. Killed her brother. Tortured her. Scarred her physically and mentally.

“You can’t meet my eyes with admiration. Or security. Or…hope. Those looks are reserved for my brother now…aren’t they.”

Maven wished he could be upset, but he wasn’t. His obsession with Mare made his body surge forward if only to be pressed down harder by the sentinels restraining him. All he wanted was her. He started a war for her. Killed her closest friends and relatives for her. Caused pain and suffering for her. It was twisted, dark and twisted, but all Maven wanted was her. But she didn’t want him. She never asked for what he gave her. The broken boy before her, that she had met before. The shadow of his brother, whom she comforted and loved. That was what Mare wanted. What she wished to save. But she never wanted this. Mare left the random booth she stood in and Maven’s squirming stopped. What was he doing? Making a scene for her…he would never understand.

“FOR THESE CRIMES! MAVEN MERANDUS CALORE! HAS BEEN SENTENCED TO DEATH BY BEHEADING!”

At Mare’s exit, Maven settled down. The tenseness of his muscles against the strength of the sentinels dissipated into nothing. His head was calm.

Maven could hear everything all at once….

The shouting of the crowd.

The executioner’s sword being unsheathed for use.

His heartbeat in his ears. His breathing heavy. Steady….

Maven could see everything all at once…

The dust particles floating in the air in front of him, reflecting in the sun’s light.

The random, meaningless objects thrown into the arena by angry onlookers.

His brother’s slight nod towards the executioner. Stiff…

Maven could feel everything all at once….

The steel of the unsheathed blade lining up with the nape of his neck.

The light yet searing pain of a mark being cut into his neck, used to make the strike precise.

The rays of the afternoon sun shining onto the arena. Warm…

“It’s bright outside…and it’s pretty…”

The executioner’s sword stood high in the air, catching the light of the sun.

“The Sun feels warm…but why…why do I feel…”

The sword came downward, cutting through the air.

“...So cold…”

A girl sat inside the royal palace, high in the air on the palace ceiling beams. She picked at a golden vase with a fork. Stolen from the kitchen. She picked at the small diamonds on the vase, never the large ones. The larger diamonds were too noticeable. She looked at the T.V. screen broadcasting the current execution. The girl let out an exasperated sigh before looking down at the vase again.

“Jesus,” the girl grumbled, “ these royals are so dramatic…”

End Part 1

21 notes · View notes