Mare

All monsters have a little bit of human underneath

Chapter Music: Don't let it consume you I Mare x Maven's Theme

"Cal." My body jolts and with hungry eyes and I look towards the other side of the bed. Empty.

"He's not here, Mare." My head whips towards the voice that comes from my right. Maven.

He sits in an armchair at the side of my bed, his eyes set firmly on the golden crown that he fumbles with in his hands. I feel my stomach drop at the sight of him, it wasn't a dream. He's unusually close, only a few feet away from the bed. A part of me wonders how long he has been sitting there in the moonlight, waiting for me to open my eyes.

"Do you mean here in the palace or here in this room?"

Maven's eyes flick up at me, and then back down to the crown, "Why are you asking that?"

My eyes narrow as I respond, "Because I'm still not sure you kept your word."

For the first time since yesterday Maven looks at me fully. He pauses for a moment before answering, "I kept it, Mare. They're alive." Even after all of his lies and betrayals, I let myself believe him one more time—and I hope with all my power I am not wrong for doing so.

I rasp out a sigh, careful not to push my lungs into a coughing fit. I'm aware of Maven's unwavering gaze that seems to want to burn a hole right through me. I ignore the feeling. By the ache in my head and the bruises that bloom across my skin, Maven hasn't let a healer near me. I can't say that I am surprised, less of a chance of me trying to escape if I can barely breathe right I suppose.

"How are you, Mare?" Maven says. My head flops toward his direction, eyebrow raised, and lips parted to allow a barking laugh that threatens to break me in two.

"What kind of a question is that, Your Highness?" I ask, eyes analyzing his hardening face. The title doesn't hurt him the way I wanted it too, it only reinforces his ego.

"A good one." 

My eyes roll and a huff hisses out of my teeth. I hear Maven chuckle, out of habit, a small smile pulls at my strained face. Maven looks like he did before Cal was exiled, before he ever became king. A time when he was my betrothed and I was the girl dancing on his arm. I loved him and I'm still not entirely sure if he loved me, but that love trapped me here, in a king's cage.

"Why didn't you kill me?" The question surprises us both.

"You'll have to be more specific. There were plenty of times I had the chance to kill you." Well, he isn't wrong.

"Yesterday," I grind out, "When you showed the world the captured Mare Barrow."

Something breaks in his gaze, like ice splintering apart. "Even death must be earned, Mare. You have not earned it yet."

"Mav-" I am cut off as a guard pushes his way into the room. His steps are hurried, and it reminds me of Cal's own footsteps on the jet. The memory makes my head throb a little harder.

"What is this? You were instructed to wait outside." The guard doesn't respond to him, he only bends towards his ear. His whispers are hushed, not even in the stillness of the room can I hear what he is saying. Maven's face has paled over and his eyes flick up at me. Every time our eyes lock, I feel more blood drain from my face. When the guard stands back up, he walks out of the room and the door shuts with a deafening clunk. I look back towards Maven. His face has molded back into the emotionless facade that court life drilled into him, but there are cracks in every mask.

His eyebrows are tugged together and a slight frown has set on his lips. He wastes no time in placing his crown over his dark curls and getting up from the chair with a screech. "What's happened?"

He doesn't attempt to answer me as he leaves the room. A healer comes in after him, I remember her from my own time at court: Wren Skonos. I swing my legs off the bed, wincing with the cracks and pops that follow. With a shaky arm, I slide the rest of my body off the bed.

"You need to lay back down, you're going to-" Wren warns, but I barely hear her. I make it one whole step before my body shudders and I collapse into her arms.

She helps me back onto the bed with steady hands. Everywhere her hands touch is met with immense relief. The harsh bruises fade away, and beneath them sore muscle is relaxed. She puts one hand on my abdomen, letting her warm touch go right through. The other goes to my forehead, and in a few heartbeats I am asleep. I do not dream.