Okay, this is my first fanfiction, so forgive me if I did anything wrong. I'm also a nervous wreck over it, so I'm posting this and running away like the anxious person I am.

Enjoy! … or dont if its really that bad ...

Cal and Maven aren't brothers. Not by blood. They never would have met, not as friends, if not for the unfortunate death of the late queen—Cal's mother—Coriane.

Still, growing up together, they did their best to ignore that. Of course, at first they were as kids should be, innocent and naive, unaware of the rivalry that they should have. But as they grew older, they became more aware of that kind of thing, but tried their best to ignore it anyway.

And, despite Elara's—and Maven's—best efforts, the pair began to grow quite close. Like brothers.

"Check," Maven said, moving his bishop, tilting the front two legs of his chair off the floor, leaning back with a satisfied smirk.

Cal grinned at his—his what? Acquaintance? Friend? Brother? They never really covered that subject, never talked about it, avoided it along with other touchy subjects.

Well, some of those touchy subjects they avoided. There were a few—a select few—that they would discuss—or, rather, that Cal would press.

Like Elara, for example.

Cal wasn't dumb. He knew what Maven wouldn't tell him, what he actually went to great lengths to try (and fail) to hide.

Considering the chess board, Cal frowned. No, he wasn't dumb. Far from it. He knew how the days that Maven would skirt around him, how he would press his knuckles against his temple as if to try and alleviate some headache. He knew what went on behind closed doors—or rather, closed minds—with Maven and Elara.

He was well aware of how Elara would wriggle her twisted mind into Maven's head, trying to warp him to her will.

Cal vaguely heard the start of a sentence ("What's taking so lo—?") before a loud crash was cutting it off, followed shortly by splintering noises.

Looking up sharply, Cal frowned, seeing Maven and his chair toppled over, the latter fractured to no repair.

Maven looked up for a split second, and blue eyes met bronze, and Cal saw hardness. It shocked him a little, but then the cloud of steel cleared, and he saw pain, fear, and a horrible, horrible look of resignation.

Then Maven was clutching his head, backing away to the wall, rigid against it.

Mind immediately starting to spin with possibilities of what might be wrong, Cal was out of his chair with a flash, crouching in front of Maven, eyes scanning the younger frantically for some kind of injury.

"What's wrong?"

And even as the words left his lips, Cal knew the answer. His whirring mind spun, and took a three eighty, dancing back to previous knowledge.

And so before Maven spoke, uttering a simple two syllable word, Cal knew.

"Mother."

Elara.

Of course. Who else?

Maven's breath hitched, then started picking up. His lip turned white from the pressure his teeth were putting on them. His eyes were screwed shut—in pain, concentration, or something else entirely, Cal didn't know.

Cal opened his mouth to say something, anything, that would help, would make it stop, but his brain stuttered, and came up with nothing. For all his military tact and intelligence, Cal was, in this moment, when it mattered most, useless.

After Cal had ascertained that there was nothing he could do, his first thought was to apologize to Maven, that he could do nothing more then sit by and watch.

Then Cal heard vague mutterings, sounding very much like, "Get out. Get out," and Cal's resolve immediately hardened. He couldn't give up now, not when—as said above—it mattered most. Especially when it mattered most.

A couple seconds passed, Cal trying his hardest to think, but it was so difficult to when Maven was right there, losing himself in Elara, parts of him being torn away without a second thought. Yes, it was hard to think when his—his friend was right there, in pain, and Cal could do nothing—

But wait. If—if Elara was trying to destroy the parts of Maven that she disliked—love, hope, joy—then Maven would just need to be reminded of who he was.

"Hey, Mavey," Cal started, swallowing hard when Maven looked at him with blue eyes, alternating between a blank, icy look and one of sheer panic. "Do you remember when we played Hide and Seek in the gardens as kids?"

No reply. Of course, Cal didn't expect one. But there was a spark, a spark of something different in Maven's eyes. Intelligence, maybe. Understanding of what Cal was doing.

"And that one time you accidentally hid in some Poison Ivy?" A short laugh bubbles out of Cal as he remembered how irritable Maven had been before the skin healers had come. "That was—what?—four years ago? We were probably about eight.

"We'll have to do that again sometime."

Somewhere along the way, Cal had gotten lost in memories, but now that images were fading from his eyes, not as pervading, he could tell that Maven didn't seem in as much pain.

"Or the time that we got bored and decided to scare the Red servants?" Cal offered Maven his hands, who obliged, reaching out his shaking hands to grasp Cal's with a death grip, no longer clutching his head in what was sure to be a painful intensity. Even though Cal supposed he had originally been planning to pull Maven up, he made no move to follow through with that plan.

"As I recall, we were scolded for associating ourselves with them. Even though we were only about nine, I remember that my excuse was that I needed to be with my future subjects more. Elara wasn't too happy about that."

As soon as the sentence left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say, punctuated by a hardening of eyes, and the fading warmth in Cal's hands as shaking ones were snatched away, and Maven stood up.

Maven's mouth twisted into a snarl, opening to say something.

But Cal never gave him the chance. He stood up, putting his arms on Maven's shoulders, peering into his eyes with an eager determination, not letting go, no matter how much Maven struggled.

"Maven. Listen. Listen to me. This isn't you. This is Elara. You are so much better than her.

"I remember when you picked berries even when you knew you weren't supposed to, and denied it even as there were stains on your mouth. I remember how you would stick by me, no matter what Elara said to you.

"Maven, listen. You're not Elara, not whatever she wants you to be. You're—you're my brother, and I love you. I love you for when you play chess with me. I love you for when you play chess with me, even though you always lose. I love you, Maven. And even all the whispers in the world couldn't remove that."

There was a choking sound, and Maven's eyes rolled up in his head, before they locked with Cal's. Maven's mouth pulled up into a small smile, and the steel finally completely left his eyes.

Then he collapsed.

Cal immediately lowered himself down with Maven, practically pulling him into his lap.

Worried if Maven had fallen unconscious, Cal was about to say something, perhaps check Magen's pulse, but then the younger spoke.

"I don't always lose at chess."

A snort somehow found its way out of Cal's nose before he could stop it.

Torn between agreeing or teasingly arguing his point, Cal sighed, and just offered a quiet, "Perhaps."

Cal could feel Maven swallow, and then begin to move away. Their eyes connected again, but Maven looked away, bashful, the first time Cal has seen him like that.

"I meant it, you know."

Maven blinked, then tilted his head to look at Cal.

"What?"

"What I said before. When—you know."

Maven took a deep breath, then finally looked into Cal's eyes. Maven's showed something intangible, almost like . . . the fear of rejection.

"Which part? You—you said a lot of things then."

"All of it. I meant all of it."

Then Cal pulled him into an embrace, Maven stiff as a board against him, before slowly relaxing and returning the hug.

"I'm sorry she does that to you," Cal said. "That she tries to destroy parts of you. If I thought I could do something to stop it, I would."

Maven began to shake, and Cal, worried that Elara might be trying to get into his head again, pulled back, only to find Maven's cheeks wet with tears.

Cal watched Maven struggle to rein in his emotions, biting his fist as if physical pain would stop the emotional.

"I'm—I'm sorry," Maven started. "But she—and you—and I wanted to—and all this would be fixed—she controls me—and it hurts—"

"It's okay. It's okay. She's gone; for now." Cal wanted to badly to say that it would be okay even after that, that Elara would never get into his head again, but he couldn't. Those would be nothing more than words spoken to a child in hopes of comforting them, and Cal had a feeling that Maven wouldn't appreaciate the condescending undertone the message was sure to bring.

Cal pulled Maven back into a hug, cradling him against his chest, rocking in a soothing pattern, almost as if trying to make a baby sleep.

And even as Maven's whole body shook with sobs, and Elara, who was sure to come find her son after her failed attempt to penetrate his mind, Cal held his brother—for that was who he was, and there was no changing that, and Cal wouldn't want to, even if he could.

Please let me know if there are any grammatical errors I made. I'm not sure I did justice on the characterization, but this wasn't really focused on the personalities. If you have any advice on how to better my writing in the future, it would be much appreciated.

(Also, I guess this is kind of an AU? It was based off of another fanfiction I read, so …)

I hope this wasn't too bad or a complete waste of your time. Thank you for reading my first fanfiction! -

(I might be continuing this—the next chapters would be about Elara's reaction and how Maven deals with it and stuff—so please tell me if you would like that! [Or follow the story])