Visit Blog
Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.
#king’s cage
Main Characters at the Beginning of the Red Queen Series:
Tumblr media
Main Characters at the End of the Red Queen Series:
Tumblr media
35 notes · View notes
Is there a Red Queen discord? If there is who do I need to pester for an invite?
20 notes · View notes
imjulia-andilikecats · 5 days ago
Marecal in Red Queen
Mare *typing in google*: How do I assert my dominance?
Tumblr media
24 notes · View notes
imjulia-andilikecats · 7 days ago
Red Queen Characters in their wedding
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Bonus scene: Barrow Family in Shade and Farley's reception
Tumblr media
33 notes · View notes
looz-calore · 7 days ago
❝Amo a tu hermano, Maven. Tenías razón. Eres sólo una sombra, ¿y quién mira las sombras cuando tiene al fuego? ¿Quién elegiría un monstruo sobre un dios?❞
Barrow, Mare. 
2 notes · View notes
imjulia-andilikecats · 9 days ago
People commenting on Mare's appearance:
Evangeline Samos: Mare Barrow is no lady
Mare Barrow: I'm unremarkable-looking
Gisa Barrow: Don't you need this? *points at makeup*
Victoria Aveyard: She is very plain-looking
Cal Calore, on the other side of the earth:
Tumblr media
53 notes · View notes
theworldwedreamof · 10 days ago
Tumblr media
More Red Queen fanart! Again, constructive criticism and creative suggestions always welcome.
2 notes · View notes
icycoolslushie · 10 days ago
Kaz Brekker "mention"
King's Cage by Victoria Aveyard (@vaveyard)
“How did they get in? We’re under full security protocols for the wedding. Over a thousand Silver troops, plus Maven’s newblood pets—” Kitten blusters. She cuts herself off as two figures in white pop out of a doorway. The weight of their silence slams into me, making my knees buckle. “Caz, Brecker, with us!”
The pronunciation is like the pronunciation for Kaz Brekker, and the spelling is similar.
Just something I noticed.
1 note · View note
lucy-the-cat · 11 days ago
Lover's Curse Chapter Fourteen - To Tear a Rift
When will people learn to leave me alone?
Ever since I’ve arrived, they’ve swarmed me with questions and favors. Does your mother know you’ve defected? Will you and Tiberias wed before or after he’s crowned? Did Maven scorn you for his red whore?
It’s a miracle I haven’t slaughtered them.
Evangeline lurks in my periphery, reveling in my misery. What a waste of Silver blood, a hollow vessel from which unpleasantness comes. If only she’d stop pointing it my direction.
“Displeased with your fan club?” She slinks from the shadows, clad in metal plates that slither on her hips like a snake. “Pity. It takes an iron will to bear the duties of a queen.”
“Thankfully I’m not a queen anymore. And neither are you.” I breeze past her, but she follows. “No, wait. You were never crowned.”
“Strange. Your words are confident, but your actions aren’t.” She strokes a silver bangle, an overdesigned eyesore of edges and points. “As far as Norta knows, you’ve been spooked into hiding by an overambitious rat.”
A Cygnet should not have nerves to strike. But if she does, it should never be apparent. “I don’t make hasty decisions. Is your ego fragile enough to be ruined by gossip?”
“Enough arrogance. Let’s settle this like Silvers.” Evangeline flashes her teeth. “The arena will suffice. Don’t you agree?”
I don’t have time for this. “Tomorrow.”
“Yes.” Her eyes gleam. “Tomorrow.”
I have a visitor.
She knows better than to hide herself. Her knocks are faint and unsteady, and I wait a minute before answering. “No escort. Curious. Evangeline did not strike me as a coward.”
Elane fidgets. “She didn’t send me.”
I begin closing the door. “I forgave you. Leave.”
“You misunderstand.” Her foot slides in front of the frame. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Make it quick.”
She doesn’t flinch. Her glide is seamless, silk rustling as she nestles in the chair opposite mine. “It would be gauche to demand leniency from one so titled and gracious.” A smile tugs her lips. “Though I’ve always been prone to push my limits.”
“I consider it my hobby.” I tap my fingers. “Enough games. What do you want?”
“She’s too proud to explain herself.” Elane looks me in the eye. “So I shall do so in her stead.”
Strength does not always manifest as muscled limbs or iron crowns. Sometimes the most impressive feats are visible to none but yourself.
“Rumors have been circulating. I presume you’ve already heard?” She tilts her head. “The Rift and Norta are to be wed.”
“I won’t take her place.” My voice is steely. “My misery is not to be bartered for.”
She clutches the table, knuckles whitening. “I’m asking for empathy. Evie’s prickly, and she makes enemies faster than she can fight them. Please.” Her head hangs. “When you fight her tomorrow, is it possible you could--” She bites her lip. “Go easy on her?”
Mother did not raise me to be taken by surprise. A Cygnet does not hesitate. A Cygnet does not allow her opponent a moment to strike at weakness. She is poised, controlled, omniscient and untouchable as a god.
Still, I hadn’t considered that Evangeline might have bonds as deep as Mother’s and mine. I had written her off as an annoying nuisance, stuffed her into a category so I wouldn’t have to think about her.
Do I do that often?
“I shall consider it.” I rise, leading her to the door. “But I’m not her friend. I’m not her lover. I know my own worth, and I will not degrade myself to please someone who wouldn't return the favor.”
A tear glides down her cheek. “What a lovely way to live.”
I shrug. “It’s the only way I know how.”
My dreams do not let me believe this is true.
I never have the chance to answer Elane’s request. With Maven’s forces approaching nearer and nearer, there’s no time for trivial quarrels and duels. Every meeting brings new pressures to come forward, to declare my allegiance openly and call upon Mother to join me. “I need time to recover,” I claim, and others insist I have taken time enough.
But I haven’t.
It should be easy to write to Mother and explain my predicament. She will not judge me. She will not abandon me. But the words never come, too tangled and fraught to make sense of.
If only things could go back to normal. If only I could return home and be happy, shrug the Calores and their devouring insecurities off like an unfashionable coat. No fear of retribution. No hostile hosts. No prisoners beckoning from their towers, tempting you with puzzles that should not be solved.
I don’t know what I want. I don’t know why I care so much about a conflict which doesn’t involve me, that I’m unequipped to exploit to my advantage.
Queens shouldn’t be this fragile.
Relief comes as marching soldiers and explosives, a rain of death so consuming I cannot dwell on any future but the next moment. The gods are merciful.
“Awfully slow to strike. Then again, combat was never my husband’s strength.” I tie my hair back with a flourish, relishing the cold air against my neck. When have I last been allowed to battle?
Tiberias scowls. His words rise within me, the obnoxious little tirade he spilled when we watched the broadcast together. “War’s not a race.”
You never take anything seriously, do you? You talk about pain and suffering like it’s an abstract concept, that you can entertain it for a few hours and pack it away when you’re done. But this is war. This is sacrifice. This is insanity.
“At your pace, you should hope it isn’t.” At my other side, Evangeline snorts. “You’re growing rusty.”
I know you were raised in battle as I was, but your lessons were a lie. Real war isn’t figures pushed around a board, where soldiers are abstracted to numbers which rise and fall without fanfare. It’s not a game.
You’ll understand that someday.
“Who arranged this unit?” His fists clench. “And why do they hate me?”
“I did.”
“That explains things.” Cal glares at his betrothed.
“Don’t whine, Little Prince. It doesn’t suit you.”
He clicks his flamemakers into glowing embers, a coiled cobra ready to strike. “The battle’s about to begin. You know your position?”
“Yes,” I snap. “You’ve trained beside me for weeks. I’m a warrior decorated as you are, with the discipline and instincts to match. Don’t condescend to me.”
Tiberias sighs. “Serves me right for trying to be nice.”
“I saved you.” I turn away. “You never thanked me.”
“Really? I could’ve sworn--” His eyes flicker to the ground, searching for memories that don’t exist. “Oh.” He softens. “Thanks.”
I sniff. “You were too annoying to waste a perfectly good drowning on.”
“Sorry.” Tiberias positions himself at my back, flames unwinding from his fingers. “I was so worried about Mare, I must’ve forgotten.”
“It wasn’t a lot of effort on my part.” My lips tug despite myself. “Really, you saved me the inconvenience.”
Evangeline snorts. “Don’t get cocky. I still intend on dueling you.”
“Of course. It’s been too long.” I flex my fingers. “In the meantime, I wouldn’t mind if you joined my warmups. You’ve come all this way.”
“My pleasure.”
Clouds crackle above, gathering too quickly to be natural. It’s storm against storm, competing to see who can shatter the other’s shields first.
The battle has begun.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins, flowing into the air and leaving as liquid spears. One flick, and an enemy falls. One flick, and our troops advance. It’s intoxicating. After months of dancing around my husband, unsure how to strike, it is a relief to attack without restraint.
Across the battlefield, Father orders his troops from the ground. Water swirls from puddles on the ground rather than the air. His abilities were never as strong as Mother’s or mine, reliant on liquid rather than vapor.
He doesn’t see the shadow glide through the tall grass. He doesn’t see the blade poised at his chest, severing through flesh and bone. He doesn’t see the silver spray he leaves behind, thick and dark, a rain that cannot nourish.
He cannot see at all.
My waves pull me to his side like a current, crossing several miles in a heartbeat. I pay no heed to the soldiers I plow through. No heed to the lines I shatter, the bodies ruined. His empty eyes are all I see.
This can’t be.
I haul Salin Iral by the throat, his weak pleas nothing against the image of Father’s body collapsing into the ground. My thumb bruises his trachea. My tendrils squeeze his ribs.
Far away, they announce victory.
But I am nowhere to be found.
2 notes · View notes