A is for Affection

AU. No Scarlet Guard, no rebellion, no betrayal. Mare and Maven are happily engaged to be married in four months.

As is it turns out, Archaeon during the wintertime is freezing. Now, Mare knows cold, knows the way that chill can creep into your bones and freeze your limbs. Yet, somehow, she'd imagined that the royals, who can literally create heat at their fingertips, would take some sort of preventative measures. Like proper goddamn heating.

Wrapped in her heavy coat, which is, naturally, an atrocious shade of purple, she slowly waddles down the hallways of Whitefire Palace. Her first destination is the kitchens, where, if she's lucky, she'll be able to wheedle some hot chocolate out of the aging cook. Bertha bears a soft spot for Maven, and a consequence, had also warmed her heart towards his fiancée.

Sentinels pass her in the corridor, most of them shooting her odd looks, most likely because she's wearing snow boots and a puffy coat indoors. She scowls back at them, forgetting that she's supposed to be a lady. It's not her fault that she's not packing a hundred pounds of muscle as insulation against the bitter cold.

The kitchens are warm and messy, a complete taboo for any royal to visit. Bertha lets out a little groan as she catches sight of Mare, setting down her heavy rolling pins to turn on her with an affectionate frown, "Not you too. I just had your fiancée in here asking for a cuppa hot chocolate. I've a lunch to prepare, Your Highness."

As she grumbles on, she reaches forward to the already waiting steaming mug, topping it off with two perfect white marshmallows. "Thank you, Bertha," Mare says in a lilting voice, "What would I do without you?"

The nearly sixty-year-old cook snorts, ushering her out of the kitchen, "Starve, no doubt."

Hot chocolate in hand, Mare makes her way to the grand library on the first floor. She'd struggled embarrassingly with her letters when she'd first arrived at the palace, but with Maven's coaching, she had developed a love for reading, especially on snowy, lazy days like the one that now stretches out before her.

Standing before the library, Mare pushes open the tall French doors, a smile lighting her face instantly at figure stretched out on one of the plush armchairs near the windows. Maven looks content, and far too good for someone wearing a lumpy sweater. In his concentration, he doesn't even notice as she carefully approaches his chair, wrapping her arms around his neck.

To her surprise, he freezes instantly, his entire body stiffening as he grabs her arms in an almost bruising grip, far tighter than he's ever held her before. She gasps, and he turns around abruptly, his hands loosening and falling away.

"Mare?" Maven's blue eyes are filled with concern, "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He stands up from the chair, his hand on her cheek as he searches for any indication of pain.

"No," sensing his guilt she reaches out to touch his arm gently, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

He exhales loudly, running a hand through his already messy hair in a characteristic gesture. "No. It's my fault. I'm sorry…I'm not just used to be touched like that. Or really at all."

Her heart aches unbearably for him in that moment. Maven hardly ever spoke of his childhood, but his passing comments were enough for her to piece together what his younger life had been like. Mare herself had never had things like a warm bed or enough food on the table, but at least she'd grown up knowing she was loved, in a house where kisses and hugs were exchanged frequently and without qualms. Maven had grown up ignored and cast aside by his father, and although Elara had loved her son to the best of her ability, the ice queen had never cared much for physical affection. How much love had Maven been denied his entire life, to be startled by as something as simple as a squeeze on the shoulder?

"When was the last time you were hugged, Maven?" Mare asks, her face pulling into a frown, "Before you met me, I mean."

His mouth twitches upwards slightly, no doubt recalling the time she'd suddenly thrown herself at him after he'd helped her sneak out of the palace to see her family. The mirth dies quickly as bitterness clouds his icy blue eyes.

"When I was three or four, I think. I had an ear infection and the only way that Mother could calm me down as to take me into her arms and rock me."

How did that feel? To go fourteen years without the feeling of someone's arms around you? What did that do to a person, especially if you had to watch your brother bask in the pride and love you'd always been denied?

"That's not right, Maven," Mare swallows the lump in her throat, and rushes forward, wrapping her arms around his middle. Maven makes a shocked sort of sound before his arms go around her, bringing her close. She's feels tiny in his embrace, her five foot three inches a laughable measurement to his six one.

Moments later, she pulls back, reaching up on her tiptoes to rest her palm against his smooth cheek. He's so handsome, even more so than when they first met nearly a year ago. His face had been all hard, cold lines then, bitterness and resentment his most frequent expressions. In eleven months, he'd changed so drastically, all the sharp edges slowly being filed away by her love and friendship. The darkness is still there in him, as it is in her. Neither of them belong where they come from, something essential is broken in them both. The only way they fit is together.

"You will never go another day without love as long as I'm alive, Maven Calore," she says fiercely, bringing his gaze down to meet hers, "When we are together, affection will never be rare."