me: *starts off the fic with a cal and mare chapter*
also me: *never fucking writes another cal and mare chapter until chapter SIX jfc me?* :))
special thanks to Temperance V who suggested kuebiko! i'll probably write cal's pov when mare gives herself up someday, but i had another idea so... sorry about that. to those who wanted me to continue The Meantime: thanks! i probably won't extend it into a full fic (considering i have THREE rq fics already) but i might throw another one-shot or two in there.
anyway! this is based off the alt ending to red queen/the alt beginning to glass sword. things occur a bit earlier because ten years later and nobody in the present notices shit? that's bullshit ok. anyway- r&r please!
kuebiko
n. a state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence, which force you to revise your image of what can happen in this world—mending the fences of your expectations, weeding out all unwelcome and invasive truths, cultivating the perennial good that's buried under the surface, and propping yourself up like an old scarecrow, who's bursting at the seams but powerless to do anything but stand there and watch.
-the dictionary of obscure sorrows.
The first time she expects nothing.
It's impossible, really. After all, her concern about the timeline is virtually nonexistent at this point, and the only thing stinging in her mind is Maven's aching, painful betrayal. She goes in with gritted teeth and trust issues. (The gritted teeth eventually stops. The trust issues don't.) Her limbs ache, and blood of both colors splatters her shirt. She's too numb to bother wondering who it's from, though the red could clearly only be hers. Cal, in front of her, stares at the ground. He looks at peace. Mare doesn't bother to wonder what's going on inside of his head.
Shade keeps his arm around her, his gaze flicking around the Undertrain, jumping left and right. It always lands on Cal eventually, who naturally everyone is suspicious of. Mare doesn't really care about him. He has nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. They both are trapped, and she's happy to feel sorry for herself instead of feeling sorry for him.
The world seems to pass in scenes, like acts of a play. The intermissions between occur, but they matter little to her, so her mind blocks them out. She only really awakens when they scurry onto the Blackrun, and she can feel her stomach lurch and jump and fall and twist. It makes her sick, but joy rises in her heart at the fact that she's feeling anything at all. The plane acts like a reset button, and for a while everything is... fine. Cal looks happier than he has in ages, she notes, but there's a certain hollowness inside his pupils that swallow up the warmth his eyes should give.
He glances at her. Their words - when exchanged - are short and clipped. When she speaks to him, she feels like she should leave to mourn something instead: the something they had, the something they lost. Maybe Cal mourns it too, the thing between them. Neither of them really desire to reignite it, that little flame, and after she starts up the plane she sits back with Shade. To make up for lost time.
Newbloods come and they go. She sees Wolliver hanging in Harbor Bay, and then Maven comes. In his wake is laughter and more red blood. Wolliver's, Farley's, Kilorn's, Shade's, hers. Blood on his hand when he grips her chin and clucks his tongue, blood on his lips when he smiles gently like he used to. Her blood, her blood when he electrocutes her to near death. For a long time, all she sees is white, and if she strains enough against the surreal void she can hear the choking of a boy she never knew as he's hanged for a fate he couldn't control. Her nonexistent stomach seems to jump into her throat, and she wants to scream.
When she wakes, Kilorn is there. Cal peers over at her from where he sits, then moves inside the Blackrun. She wishes he'd come back. Inwardly, she hits herself.
The camp fills up with newbloods, but she's never felt so alone.
When they travel to Templyn, the sight makes her sick to her stomach. The little baby girl, so innocent and so fragile, is used as nothing more than a tool. She settles the blanket back over her, trying in vain to give her some comfort after death. She can't feel, pipes up a little voice in her head, which she inwardly stomps to a pulp. She may dislike kids (she'd make an awful mother), but the sight of such a young, soft thing shattered to pieces stabs her heart.
Cal plays with the children, gentle smiles and touches for little things so fragile. When they scurry off - and they always do - he stares after them almost wistfully, and then looks at his bracelet. Cal is... Cal, whether that means the soft smiles he gives the kids or the hollow stare he points her way. He never looks at her, not really. Nobody ever looks at him besides the kids. At least he has someone, Mare thinks bitterly. The only people who aren't so scared are Shade and Kilorn, but Kilorn is always out hunting and Shade... does whatever Shade does. She doesn't know. She wants to.
Cameron strides around the place like she owns it, thinks Mare. She ignores the fact that she only thinks this because she's dug herself into a hole so low even her high horse can't get her out. At least she's feeling something besides disappointment and anger. All they've been getting done is a whole lot of nothing, because the only people who can control their powers at all - Cal, herself, and Shade - refuse to work together. Or she and Cal refuse to even look at each other while Shade is off being Shade (she and Shade could work together, or at least, she wants to believe so). Whichever.
A year passes. More newbloods die, blood staining everyone's hands. Maven turns eighteen. He and Elara make a big deal of it, though his kingship should remain 'impersonal', as Cal puts it. "Happy birthday," she whispers to the boy who never existed.
Eventually - after some long, long time - Mare slips into Cal's room. She can't say why she does it, and all reasoning she could've possibly had slips away the moment they make eye contact. She gets that feeling in her stomach, the one of something lost, but she inhales deeply and meets his eyes again, more steady. He slips shut the book he was reading, shoving it away before she can see what it is, and peers up at her. There's something both angry and curious in him, but she's glad she sees him feeling anything at all. They wait, wishing for the other to make the first move.
"Come to visit me?" Cal finally snaps. For a brief moment, she's joyful. Joyful at his voice, joyful at the fact that he's speaking to her like she actually exists and matters for once.
But his bitter tone wins again, and she lets out a low, tired sigh. "Took me a while, didn't it?"
He raises an eyebrow at her tone: almost defeated, but she has a feeling that he knows she's not the type of person to sit back and give up. "That's not like you," he says, and confirms her thoughts. It's half a blow to her all the same, though, so she purses her lips and crosses her arms.
"I've changed. We all have," Mare replies, sounding exhausted. He has too, in not just the obvious ways but something deeper and more subtle - the animalistic tinge in the way he moves and speaks, how he sometimes stares off into space. It's a bit worrying, really, though Mare knows considering her situation it's awfully ironic to think that.
He sighs in disappointment, like he expected her to put up more of a fight. "Come in, then," he says gruffly. She accepts his offer, flitting away from the doorway and into his room. For some reason she can't bring her eyes to his, leaning against a crate put against the wall. She lets her shoulders slump, crossing one leg over the other, anything to make herself seem small. He notices, eyes clinging to her, and though she has a feeling that it's because he's assessing her position it stirs a strange warmth inside of her anyway. (Maybe that... thing between them isn't completely lost.) "Why have you finally ended up here?" continues Cal (with an emphasis on finally that's unlike him), looking - really looking - into her eyes for the first time in a long, long time.
"...Where else is there to go?" she asks, her tone sullen. This isn't really how she wanted it to go, but then, she had no plan anyway - either that or she forgot it the minute she stepped onto the threshold. Still, they both know her words are true: they're alone in a crowded room, the two of them, and maybe she should be doing something useful for once or he should be playing with the kids, but right now... right now neither of them want to.
"Yeah," he agrees flatly, his voice so tired. Mare knows Cal isn't really talking about her when he's talking about being trapped. At least he's told me why he hasn't left, then, she thinks.
She takes another step towards him. It's like she's approaching a predator, but Cal eyes her warily as if he's the prey. "Sorry," she mutters, grinding it out between gritted teeth. It's an apology for everything, no matter its reluctance.
He blinks at her. He doesn't give any sign that he knows what the apology is for; he doesn't even give a sign that he accepts it. "Don't be a stranger," he says, giving her a sharp smile that shocks her in its lack of familiarity. She mutters something under her breath about him being Silver to the core, but forces her legs to move until she ends up beside his bed. The proximity reignites that little flame in her - nothing but an ember, merely a flicker, but there enough. Cal straightens, setting down the book for a change, and maybe it's affecting him, too, a hopeful part of her whispers.
"How are you, Cal?" Mare wonders.
He laughs, short and cruel. "Awful."
Aren't they all.
She doesn't know how it happens, but as the end of the war's second year ticks ever closer, the Blackrun comes down. She wants to protest that it isn't her fault as Cal sends a scathing look her way, but the creaking and groaning of the jet tearing itself apart silences everyone. Her heart pounds in her throat, and with a final long creak and a snap! the jet rips itself into huge metal chunks. Cameron yelps, losing her footing on the metal, and then Mare's suspicions are further assured by the metal around them twisting and elongating, forming a cage around their falling bodies. She wants to scream, but she can't get it out of her throat, and so she swallows, grabs the nearest thing to her, and twists to stare at the sky as it recedes and nausea builds. She's always been a coward.
She realizes belatedly that the thing she's holding is Cal's arm. He pulls it back and rests his hand in hers, but when she casts a glance at him, he's staring at the ground. Is it bravery, or is it just acceptance? she wonders as the cage snaps into place overhead, crossing out her perfect view of the receding sky with bangs and clattering. She and Cal won't look at each other, and she twists, looking for something in the sky to give her hope. She doesn't want to die - not here, not now, not with her brother injured because he didn't want Ptolemus Samos to kill her. How will he feel, she thinks, when he figures out that he only slightly pushed back his sister's death?
There is no peace. This is not Queenstrial.
When they end up uninjured on the ground, Mare is surprised, but then she sees Maven. The shock drains out of her.
The metal bars snake up their legs; Kilorn, Cameron. Cal. They leave her to scramble forwards to where Maven stands at the opposite end of the cage. He smiles at her, a charming smile, a sweet smile, and his teeth gleam. When he speaks, his voice is so soft, so gentle. She wants to cry when she hears it. "I heard from a little birdie," he says, his voice a lover's whisper, "that your birthday is coming up soon. I thought I should get you a present."
This is far too tame for Maven. He is the same boy who killed a baby in cold blood: this is not his present. It couldn't be, surely. "Bastard," she hisses. He laughs, full and loud compared to his voice, and she cringes.
"You shouldn't be saying those things," he tells her, practically pressing himself against the outside of the cage just so he can peer down at her more easily. There's a silencer there - must be an Arven, Maven wouldn't accept anything less - and the cold emptiness presses down, down, down, and she falls to her knees in front of him. "I hold the key, Mare," he whispers, and he smiles at her pained glance behind her. To the group, which is still struggling against their metal bonds.
Mare licks her lips and when she faces Maven again, her voice is raspy but doesn't tremble. "Let them go," she demands. She makes to stand, but quick as her own lightning, the metal snakes snatch up around her arms, winding and twisting and yanking her back to her knees. She bares her teeth, and the emptiness threatens to swallow her whole.
"Haven't you learned anything?" he wonders instead. He sounds genuinely interested. She wants to scream as he waves his hand, and the bars part, just enough for him to reach out and grasp her the side of her face. She yelps, and he lets his fingers trail along her cheek, gentle strokes until he reaches - and grabs - her chin. A low hiss of disgust from her only makes him laugh.
There's only one option here. She knows it, he knows it, she doesn't doubt those behind her might know too. And he knows that she has no real reason to do it, too. Kilorn has been drifting away, Ada is fearful, Cameron could care less, and Cal is... Cal. She just has so much blood on her hands that she'd do anything to stop herself from getting any more stained there. She'd feel too guilty if she let them die, because Maven would let her live, and the others would scorn her for it. Just as they'd scorned her for Shade's death. "Guilty," she snarls, and though the bonds are still holding the back of her arms, her forearm is free. She grabs his elbow.
She still feels so weak. He smiles wider.
A full year in that hellhole.
Slowly, the word 'year' begins to mean less and less. The time with Maven goes far too fast when she has peace and excruciatingly slow when she's stuck with him. The collar, she realizes quickly, is bedecked with silent stone as much as jewels. Maven caresses her with gentle touches and gentle lips on her cheek and on her neck and on her lips. Still, he never goes further, content with his own pleasure and her disgust. No matter how much she despises his mouth on her, she clings to him whenever he's there, because he isolates her from everyone else, keeps her as his and his alone. He drives her insane.
He knows what he's doing; she can tell with the way he smiles at her. Smug bastard. Her mouth twists at the thought of him.
Her only interactions with the court are in sparse - very sparse - luncheons. Once every two months, if she's lucky. Otherwise, meals are slipped to her through her door and she's left to stare out the window, melancholy. In those times, Maven's hungry touches and hungry lips are her only company. Every time, she waits a minute or two so her weakness isn't seen or heard, and then hurls everything in her stomach up.
For her nineteenth birthday while trapped inside that misery, Maven gloats and finally takes her out of the room for a long time. She's on a leash, pulled along to Maven's whim, and the Silvers gawk at her in disgust when they pass. The Reds refuse to look. Still, the wind is fresh on her skin, and she'll let Maven drag her along if only to let her feel the outside again.
She is tired and the lack of fresh air makes her skin crawl. There is an unholy silence, and she knows something's coming.
When the door busts open, she instinctively bows her head.
The Guard rescuing her is the only exciting thing that happens when Mare's nineteen. Cal isn't among those who did it. She tries to play it off, to not let it bother her, and focuses on what they have to say. Cameron did it, they inform her, suffocating most of the guards on the way to her room and leaving in relative silence. All the while, Harrick's illusions cloaked them, and Nanny took the form of Maven. Just in case. Mare smiles the widest she has this since the whole revolution began, and when everyone else has left, she embraces Shade and cries quietly. He strokes her hair softly, murmuring gently into her ear, and after a while her tears fade and they promise silently to never speak of it again.
Shade seems to be the only one who can touch her. Quickly people learn not to hug her; she stiffens and jerks away most of the time. They don't ask her about what happened there, and maybe what they assume is worse than what actually happened, but her mind has slammed a wall down on half the memories and she can't bring herself to peek into the cracks.
She slips into Cal's room again. She asks him why he didn't come to help her.
He pales, but answers evasively still. "I couldn't." He pulls at his collar, but manages to meet her gaze anyway.
"Why not?" Her voice comes out flat, like a statement, not a question.
"I'm sorry, Mare, I just..." Cal's eyes finally dart away. He doesn't want to answer, and it nags at her. What could be so bad that he doesn't want to tell her? "I couldn't," he finishes weakly, staring at his bracelets. In a rare occasion where it doesn't fail on her, her mind clicks and makes the connection - Maven, certainly. Cal had been skillfully avoiding him for a long time, and no matter what, Cal wouldn't really want to face his brother. Even if she was in danger, Cal would probably stay away from Maven if he could. Her mouth twists bitterly. (He doesn't care that much about her, anyway.)
She can't muster up sympathy for him, and so she intones, "It's fine, Cal," and leaves to spend time with her family.
Cal bites his lip, but he doesn't stare after her. Not even when she looks back.
It happens on her twentieth birthday. Her family makes it a big deal even though her previous birthdays passed without respite, and many of the Newbloods they've rescued end up attending. Ada, all smiles and pleasantries; Nanny, who's happy to dote on pretty much anyone who will let her; little Luther, who is now eleven and controls his powers a lot better, so cheerful; Lory, who usually didn't like loud things due to her amplified senses, and so many more that it shocks her. Nobody really brings presents, but they wish her a happy birthday and that's fine enough. It's unusual having such a happy atmosphere when it's mostly so sad with the Guard, but she's content. Content. It's a nice feeling, she thinks.
Kilorn smiles at her toothily; the widest she'd seen him smile in a while. It stirs a warm feeling in her chest, and she smiles back at him, for real this time. He laughs with joy, and for a second their hands tangle together, their smiles and joined limbs the echoes of a future that could never exist, the green-eyed children with her quick feet making one last holler before the Silver tide swipes them away. And then their hands slip away, along with that future, Kilorn alerted by a shout from the other side of the room. He smiles at her again, and she feels briefly like something's different before he pulls away from her. (The feeling goes with him.)
She exhales gently, and despite the warmth something feels like it's crushing in on her, so she pulls out of the room and leans against the wall outside. The smile refuses to leave her face, the happiness warming her despite the hallway's chill.
"Oh," Cal says, and the smile and the warmth slip from her face. "I thought that I - heard something. I didn't realize that you had time for... celebrations." His voice takes a bitter tinge. Her mouth twists.
"We really don't, but I guess it's the fact that everyone's morale has been... low." Mare brushes a strand of hair from her face. Her dark skin flushes the faintest of pinks; they both know that it's a stupid excuse.
Cementing this, Cal puts his hand to his mouth and laughs slightly, not even trying to hide it; the hand is only instinctive court training. "You aren't even trying," he says wearily.
The continued use of the word you instead of we doesn't go unnoticed, and she lets herself sneer at him. "You aren't either, Cal," she snaps. He does nothing but mope; everybody knows it. "It's a shame, too, but you wouldn't notice." He raises an eyebrow, and she swallows back the disappointment at the little jab not hitting its mark. Cal stares at her for a long moment, eyebrow still quirked, before he looses a breath and steps back, looking behind her at something she can't see.
"Maven turns 20 in December, you know," he says. His tone is wistful, like they're just normal brothers and Cal doesn't know what to get him for his birthday, and that is what sparks the fear in her - she doesn't want to talk about Maven, not right now, not with Cal. And not while Cal is bitter and jaded, not while he looks at her like every little thing that's gone wrong in his life is her fault. But it is, it is your fault, a soft voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like Maven whispers.
"I don't - don't want to talk about him," she stutters.
Cal laughs, and his voice is strained. "Of course you wouldn't." He smiles wryly and looks somewhere above her head. "I just... I wish we hadn't met, Mare. You know?" He inclines his head, but his bronze gaze does not meet hers. Mare's thankful, because the words cut deep without him looking at her; it's not unreasonable, and his life would surely be much better had they never met, but... but a tiny part of her still longs to hold him in her arms, to press her lips to his, and that part of her is sliced in half and demolished and crushed by his words.
She doesn't cry, and her voice doesn't even tremble when she says, "That's a rather rude thing to tell me on my birthday," but she wants to let herself go. She wants to so badly. Isn't he the only one who's not scared of her? Isn't he the only one who's supposed to care for her at all? Why this, why now?
"You ruined him, Mare," he whispers, and her heart stops. "If you just hadn't come into the picture, I could've... I could've done something!" He rakes a hand through his hair, and when his eyes flicker to hers, she yanks her gaze away from him. "You ruined him," he seethes, and he takes a step closer to her. Fear ignites in her bones, but she refuses to step away, refuses to let herself shake or tremble at his gaze.
"I didn't," she snaps. "It wasn't my fault! He was... he was broken long before I came to the palace." But he strikes at one of her deepest, most buried fear, the one that came to her when she was trembling in Whitefire's beautiful walls, Maven's collar around her neck and his lips against her skin, the touches making her want to curl up and die, his scolding making her wonder did I do this, did I make him like this? And now, with Cal in front of her, throwing the same accusations, she wants to scream again and again. Somehow she doesn't.
"He had problems, but you... if you hadn't come along, I could have fixed him!" His voice rises with anger. Mare blinks in shock. Fixed - Cal should know better than saying a word like that. Maven was broken, but he hadn't needed to be fixed! Saved, maybe. But not fixed. She opens her mouth to respond, but he cuts her off with a wave of his hand. "I just... I just..."
He shakes his head, and he shrinks back into himself, making his way down the hall and leaning at its end, as if he can't be bothered to move any farther. For a moment there's silence, and then she steps after him, for some reason desperate to repair the damage. Mare knows she'll never take away the bitterness in him, like she could never possibly remove the hatred in Maven's heart, but his words had cut her deep. She feels some strange obligation, and lifts her hand to his shoulder.
She doesn't expect the punch to the stomach.
He knocks the wind out of her, and she staggers back, unable to yell. Her fingers spark on instinct, lighting up in a horrible display, and the betrayal hits her like a slap. Not the cold, cool fear of Maven's turning - no, she knew this was coming, knew it would be for a while. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. His eyes are haunted, and his fists alight in flame. She swallows, and she knows that there's no way out of this; that's why she lets both of her hands light up, lets the lightning snake around her arms. But she won't make the first move.
Cal shakes his head, eyes clouded with rage, and charges.
She pauses, and then quickly, she dodges his swing, ducking and rolling away just as it comes. He's hindered, she realizes - hindered by his own emotions. She swings, not to punch but to send an electric whip. Cal mistakes it, staggering away from the punch and then hit by the rebound. She yells behind her, calling for Shade, hoping to hell he'll hear her - it's not too loud in there, after all. Cal lunges at her again, and obediently she dodges, letting herself fall into a deadly game of cat and mouse. But she's not the predator: not when he's around.
Shade flings open the door just as Cal kicks her in the stomach, sending her flying.
"Mare, listen," Shade tells her. He is gentle and calm and soft. "If you can't do it, I will."
Mare stiffens, brown eyes widening as she stares down. "I can do it," she snaps, but her voice trembles, shaking at the prospect. "I just... I just don't think we need to." She tries to keep her tone light. Judging by the look Shade gives her, she isn't doing a very good job. She gets it, though. She hears the straining in her voice.
"Mare," Shade whispers, setting a hand on her shoulder to calm her. She tenses under his fingers, but he ignores it. "We need to. He's - he's willing to betray us, and he doesn't care about you anymore either. He's got no reason to stay, and he'll break out of inprisonment again soon. If what he said was true..."
Tears well in her eyes. She swallows her cries back and blinks them away.
"It's okay to cry," he mutters, squeezing her arm, brotherly 'till the end. "You don't have to do this."
But the little lightning girl shakes her head, and she's glad Cal's eyes are closed as she stabs him through the heart.
