B is for Birthday.
AU. No Scarlet Guard, no rebellion, no betrayal. Takes place five months after Mare first arrives at the palace.
It's only been an hour and a half since the start of the ball and Maven is already on his fourth glass of champagne.
Ordinarily, he doesn't drink more than the innocent sip or two of wine during a toast. Having a father for whom alcohol is a sixth food group will do that to you. Today, however, he finds that the slightly fuzzy warmth is the only way he'll make it through another conversation.
Maven has always hated his birthday balls. In fact, he's always despised his birthday in general. Although he'd like to pretend otherwise, he knows it probably has to do with the fact that out of all eighteen of them, his father has only managed to wish him happy birthday on two occasions.
As a child, he'd spent many of his birthdays crying in his mother's arms, asking why his father didn't love him. As he grew older, he'd just learned to disguise the hurt. By now, he hardly even notices it.
Numb. What a perfect word to describe how he feels about his father these days.
Maven takes a long sip of his champagne, draining the tall flute easily. His cheeks are flushed slightly, his hair rumpled, his eyes much too bright. Still, his state is nothing compared to the king's. Tiberias, who'd spent the entire afternoon locked in his study with a bottle of whiskey, is laughing loudly with a group of disgusted-looking nobles, most of whom probably think he's a drunken idiot.
It's an opinion Maven holds himself.
Suddenly, there's a presence at his side. He grits his teeth, expecting to turn and find yet another over-eager noble with a birthday message that they truly don't mean. Instead, he's pleasantly surprised to find Mare standing next to him.
She looks beautiful, although she probably wouldn't believe him if he told her. Her dress is one he hasn't seen before, a strapless, dark purple number with a huge, billowy skirt. It's adorned with thousands of jewels, as is her hair, which is lifted into a complicated-looking knot. In fact, looking closely, even her skin seems to glitter.
Mare says nothing for a few moments, though he can feel her gaze drifting from the surely agonized expression on his face to the empty flute in his hand. Despite knowing each other for a mere few months, she can read him better than anyone else. When she opens her mouth, he braces himself for a line of questioning. To his shock, she only slips her arm into his and asks, "Do you want to step outside?"
Leaving his own birthday ball seems terribly rude, but Cal is smoothing his suit, looking ready to begin his speech, and Maven would rather swallow poison than listen to his older brother spew fake compliments in front of all the High Houses. Five months ago, the brothers had been close. These days, they barely even speak. Maven knows that anything about himself coming out of his brother's mouth can't be truthful.
"Sure."
It might be his birthday, but no one sure as hell is looking at him and Mare as they shove through the crowd, making a beeline for the doors. Once they make it to the hallway, he can finally breathe again.
"You looked like you were dying in there," she says, her lips twitching with amusement, "I thought you could use an escape."
"My hero," he says dryly, and because she really does look stunning in that dress, leans over to press a quick kiss on her lips. She blushes slightly, causing his heart to stutter in his chest. God, what is she doing to him? It's Cal and his father who have troubling controlling their emotions, who lose their temper at the drop of the hat, and mourn every year the anniversary of Coriane's death rolls around. He and his mother are almost robot-like, to the point where he had come to believe that he was incapable of feeling anything.
Mare has completely transformed his life.
Last year, on December 15th, his birthday wish had been for death. Instead, he'd been handed the opposite. Mare Barrow makes him feel more alive than anything before.
She looks like she's about to ask him what he's thinking, so he quickly takes her hand, "Do you want to come up to my quarters?"
"Being alone with a man before our wedding night?" Mare pretends to be appalled, "What would Lady Blonos say?"
"I won't tell her if you don't," he tugs her hand, pulling her along with him as he moves towards the elevators. The Sentinels have all been posted at the main entrances, and the halls are blissfully empty as they move towards his rooms.
She crashes onto his bed the moment she passes through the doors, already removing her shoes. It's a position she's assumed a dozen times before, but the champagne must really be getting to his head, because he stands in the doorway, thinking about nothing besides how much he likes the way she looks in his bed.
She looks up, blushing again at what must be a leering look on his face. "Come here," she says quietly, holding out her hand. He takes it, it's small and warm in his own, and allows her to pull him close.
"Why do you hate your birthday so much?"
If it were anyone else, he'd scoff and deny it. But this is Mare, and her expression is hopeful and loving, her gaze a silent prompt.
"In all my eighteen years, my father has managed to wish me a happy birthday exactly two times. The first time was when I was four, and even then Mother is the one who reminded him. The second was last year, and that was only because he was visiting at the front and he couldn't exactly ignore me in front of all the generals." He takes a shuddering breath, "Did you know that he takes Cal on a trip for each of his birthdays? Every single one. And he has never even asked me to come along." He hangs his head, "I hate my birthday because each one is a reminder of how little I actually matter. How insignificant I am, even to my own father."
He shakes his head, embarrassed suddenly, "Look at me. I'm complaining that Daddy doesn't remember my birthday when you've spent your entire life dealing with things like starving to death and conscription. I guess I really am the spoiled, shallow prince everyone thinks I am, huh?"
"Shut up, Maven," Mare says sharply, her fingers on his chin as she lifts his head to meet her gaze, "Your father is an idiot for not realizing what a brilliant son he has. Don't apologize for his shortcomings, and don't you dare say that your issues don't matter when compared to mine. Your problems matter, Maven. You matter."
"Not to my father," he shakes his head, feeling horrified as tears well in his eyes, "Not to most people."
"You matter to me, Maven. More than anything else. Don't you know that?" She speaks earnestly, her own eyes glittering with tears, "One day you'll realize just how amazing you really are, Maven Calore. You have a light inside of you. No one, not your father, not those stupid, ignorant Silver elites, can diminish it."
She threads her fingers through his hair, drawing him down into her warm embrace. His mouth against her neck, he whispers, "I love you."
He's never said that before. Not to anyone. He can hardly believe he let it slip out now, even if it is the truth.
He can feel her smile against his cheek, "I love you too, Maven. Happy Birthday."
Pulling back a little bit, he slants his head down to kiss her. She tastes like champagne and chocolate cake, and he can't get enough. Their tongues tangle, breathing coming faster, and her hesitant hands slide down his chest, coming to rest of the last button of his shirt.
"Do you want-"
He kisses her even more fiercely, hoping the answer will suffice. He wants her more than anything.
She undoes the buttons slowly, her hands trembling as she pulls the shirt from his shoulders and casts it aside. He'd expected her to be one to take charge in bed, like she does in so many other aspects of life, but she's shy and blushing under his watchful gaze and wandering hands. Oddly enough, it only makes him want her more.
Her dress is cast aside after much fumbling and laughter, leaving him in trousers and her only in undergarments. He's a teenage boy. He's thought about sex, of course, and he's thought about sex with her. But she is unlike anything out of his fantasies. Under the dim light from his lamp, she is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"You're lovely," he says, kissing her hard on the mouth, "I love you."
"So are you," she says, "I hope one day you'll see that."
After that, they don't speak much anymore. All their remaining clothes disappear, and for the next few minutes, he thinks only in the gasps leaving her mouth and her warm body beneath his. His demons and self-pity fall away and he loses himself in her. When they crash over that edge together, he feels like the luckiest man in the world.
Moments later, wrapped up in the sheets with Mare tucked into his chest, he makes his newest birthday wish.
A lifetime with her.