(Based off of the song Devils Train but not a songfic because I want this to flow I love it so much god this concept ojnfwlkand

Reader refers to them as 'Miss' and wears dresses in this fic and it may seem unimportant but I'm throwing in a whole bunch of early 1900s jokes and I couldn't help but add that one.)

Maven straightens his tie in his mirror, swiping the loose strands of his hair behind his ear. It's at that awkward length. He'll remember not to cut it short ever again. Nanabel watches as the servants scatter around her grandson. She hums in disapproval, gazing up at the boy. He looks more like this mother. He has her dazzling blue eyes, the ones that poke at her temper every time he looked at her. Nothing like Cal. Nothing like the throne threatened him to be.

"You're going to be of age soon."

"I know Nana," Maven says rather quickly. He blinks quickly. Has it been on his mind, too?

"Have you thought about who you want your wife to be?"

Anabel watches as her grandson pursed his lips together, shaking his head calmly. Disappointment sank into her skin. Of course, he hasn't. He's far too young for that now.

That night, Maven could hardly sleep. He's always had sleeping problems. And he finds himself with his fingernails between his teeth, gnawing anxiously. Mother will get mad. But he can't find himself stopping. The night is always quiet. No shuffling of feet. No birds, night-time owls. Would this be easier if he had a wife by his side?

Who would he even choose?

All he wanted was someone who could love him. He started to name the girls around his age that he knew. He wouldn't even consider kissing any of them. Especially Evangeline. A part of him doesn't want to admit that she scares him.

Maven puts his hands over his eyes, rubbing them, and then pulling them back to see the dark clouds covering his vision. He sees this his curtains are blowing. When did he leave the window open?

Knock knock.

The sound was light, a sheer noise. It didn't come from the wooden door.

Maven froze, looking all around his room. Nobody was inside. And somebody was outside. But he couldn't see the shadow from the light on the floor. No hand came with the knock. He felt his breath quicken. Would his mother feel his fear? Would she come to his rescue? Maybe it wasn't real. Perhaps he just heard it in his sleep-deprived state.

Knock knock

It almost read his mind.

Maven straightened himself, swinging his legs over the bed. He leans forward, peeking. He can't see anyone on the balcony. He stands up. It must be safe. Perhaps it was a clumsy servant in the other room. Or the sound of... he blushes.

His steps are slow and thoughtful as he creeps towards the window. His fingers grip onto the curtain, feeling the soft blue material. And removes the curtain out of the way quickly. The window is slightly open. A nice and confident sits on the rail. The panic creeps onto his skin, sending goosebumps across his body. He doesn't want to move. He's scared that you'll see him.

You look past him into the room, leaning your head to the side. "Can you open up, baby?"

Maven grips onto the curtain, pulling away quickly. You blink, watching his disappear from your sight. You place your thick heels onto the balcony, stepping down smoothly. You felt like you were flying. This is almost the biggest building you have ever seen. It has designs you wouldn't even believe. You walk up to the window, knocking again. He peeks. You get a look at his pale skin.

"Let a moll in, would ya'? I won't tell the boss man."

He opens the door, just a peek. His face is more illuminated, you can see the white of his cheeks.

"Where are you from?"

You purse your lips together, looking behind you at the wide arrangement of trees. "Somewhere that don't exist no more."

"Why do you sound like that?"

"You afraid of some transatlantic kiss off-er?"

"What are you saying?"

"Let me in."

He goes to close the door again but you put your hand in. He struggles against your grip, trying to leave you outside in the cold. You overpower him easily, letting yourself into his room. He closes the door behind you. The cold brush of air feels enlightening against the back of your neck. Against the light, you look into his orchid room. Maven noticed you didn't have a shadow.

You lace your thumbs under the belt that is tight on your waist, resting as you turn around to look at him. You hold a bright smile on your tinted pink lips. Maven's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He felt less fear. You couldn't have meant any harm.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ah, well, baby, I am certainly looking for a hanging new entertainment business! Hanging, hahaha, how old-time-y am I?" You laughed at yourself, putting a hand to your chest. Maven could swear he heard the ghost of a laugh track surrounding you. Your figure got fuzzy, giving him a headache. What were you?

"Why?"

"Questions! How many questions are there? I'll give ya' three more before you are outta here!"

Maven backed away from you, glancing over at his dresser. He wonders how quickly he could reach his bracelet. Would fire even work on you? Is it the risk? He tries to take deep breathes. He could get you to leave somehow. Whether it was forcefully or not. He may just be a teenager but he wasn't taught to be scared of ghosts.

"What is your name?"

You let out a laugh, your voice crackling like a signal disruption.

"(Y/N), you can call me Miss (Y/N) if I'm lucky!"

Maven bites the inside of his lip, trying to decipher your words. The way you were speaking was so foreign to him. He had never heard anything like it. But he remembers what you said. You ain't from around here.

"How did you get up there?"

You hum at his question, turning away from him towards his bed. You run your hands down the frame, your eyelids drooping and your smile widening.

"I took the night train."

He steps forward, afraid to break eye contact. "The night train?"

You nod your head, rolling your eyes ever so lightly. "You haven't heard my call? I ride the night train. I control the damn thing. Or it controls me. It drives me anywhere I want, hell, I could go back home if I wanted. I've never been too scared to ride the ways of time." You outstretched your hand and imitated a sea wave. You stare at yourself as you made the move. You could go home if you wanted. Talk to your husband again. Dance with the flappers as a teenager or go see a musical. Things you can't do anymore.

"Are you even alive?"

Your smile fades into a calm smirk as you close your eyes. You take a deep breath. When you look into the mirror at your ankle-length dress and short, open sleeves, you wonder if you could have died in much more fashionable clothing.

When you open your eyes they become a very pale shade of red, almost blending into the whites of your eyes. "I'm afraid you've run out of questions, baby."

"Stop calling me baby!"

"Would you prefer my intended?"

Maven thumps his foot on the ground, his face burning red. "I'd prefer it if you left!"

You don't respond. You keep your mouth shut but decorate it in a passionate smile. And then a sound rings out ever so faint. The loud call of a train driving by. Maven's blood runs cold as you start to skip past him.

"I gotta get a wiggle on but I'll see you later, my intended!"

"What are you getting on?"

You slide open the window, passing through slickly. "Sorry I cannot respond to you, I have to go see a man about a dog!"

Maven calls out to you, rushing over to the window. He runs out to the balcony and places his hands on the railing. The metal is warm. But you are nowhere in sight.

The next night he was restless, pacing around his room and looking out onto the balcony. The cold night wouldn't stop him from waiting outside. He didn't dare tell anybody about the moll, whatever that was, that snuck into his room. He thought about the romantic round ruffles that clung onto your sleeves. He had never seen a dress like that. Over the next few days, he spent his time in the library looking up picture books. Anything he could find on the time before. But he couldn't find anything. Nothing except silvers and reds and silvers and reds. What were you?

Maven waited less and less over the years. And eventually, he picked the idea of you up and shoved it into the trash. It was nothing than a bad dream of a preteen. And he woke up one morning, yawning quietly to himself. He wondered if Mare was waking up at this time too. No, it would be too early for her. He thinks about her a lot. He wonders where she is. With Cal, probably. Maven squints his eyes. Definitely.

The servants come to assist his hair and face. He paid them no mind. It was just another morning. But something felt wrong. Something tingled in the back of his mind like deja vu. He excused the servants early, waving his hand. They hesitated before leaving without a word.

Maven stood up calmly, keeping his eyes on the mirror. Something was catching his eye. The curtain, blowing calmly. But he didn't pay attention to it. He hadn't the time. He just closed the window and left his room.

When he came in contact with his mother he winced, jumping slightly. She frowned. He didn't realize how distracted he was. The window was something he couldn't place. Maybe he did open it and didn't remember? Why is it bothering him so much?

Elara places her hands on his cheeks, holding his face up. "Are you awake?"

Maven widens his eyes, opening them before letting them droop again. He has bags, doesn't he?

"What am I going to do with you?" She speaks to herself, gently removing her hands. Maven can feel her cold touch linger on his skin. Most of him wish it would stay.

His mother turns, ready to head into his study. He goes to follow her before a sound stops him in his tracks. The call of a train rings throughout his head. He looks up. His mother didn't react. And he didn't care to see if she noticed his gasp.

It was a short sound, bouncing off of the walls of his head. His skull pulsated, tinging all around. Where had he heard it before? A train? The only recognizable train was the underground ones. But surely it didn't come from there.

Maven's palms began to sweat. Once his time was free he practically sprung from his seat, rushing out the door the most polite way he could. His feet picked up speed once he hit the hallway. He danced in anticipation. Down the stairs and the stairs again. It ate him up inside. The sound, it put a bitter taste in his mouth. It filled his veins with curiosity. And if he remembers correctly, curiosity does kill the cat.

The tunnels were dark and wet, making his mouth dry. Fear tickled the back of his neck. It was unsafe down here. But something lured him in, something he never would have considered to be a threat. And for the first time in a while, he wasn't concerned about the likeness of Mare Barrow.

His footsteps were the only noise, echoing down the brick structure. He wanted to touch the wall for guidance but was fearful of the gooey substance that seemed to drip from every crevice. With only a few hundred steps he came across a T-intersection. He considered turning back. What if he was being led to his death? What if he got lost?

He paused, putting his hands in his pockets before stopping right before the intersection. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. He should be confident. He knows these tunnels like the back of his hand. He wouldn't get lost. He peeks over the corner and jumps at the sudden figure that appears.

Maven jumps back, stumbling a few feet. A hand catches him, and only then he realized he would have fallen onto the track itself. He squeezes the hand, looking at the figure. The first thing he noticed was the frizzles on their wide, open sleeves.

"What's a zozzled boy like you doing out by the tracks?"

He was speechless, staring up at you like you were an angel. The tiredness was wiped away immediately. He was wide awake now.

You cock your head, lifting him. He falls against your chest. But you don't budge. "Baby, you auditioning for the role of a drugstore cowboy or you just happy to see me?"

Maven watches as you quirkily stick out your tongue, amused by your joke. You roll your eyes when you see how uninterested he is.

You take a step back, pushing up your chest and settling yourself in your dress. "Wait until the bossman hears about this. Drugstore cowboy comes and tries to take his moll by the train tracks. How would he settle with--"

"Moll!" Maven exclaimed in a sudden voice. It was almost like an accusation. You smile cockily, tilting your head away from him.

"Don't call me that. Only I'm allowed to call me that."

Maven had wide eyes, walking into your line of vision. He was confused, excited at the same time.

"You're the one! The ghost in my room from when I was a child."

"Eh, I ain't sneaking in no child's room. You were old enough."

"I always thought you were fake." He runs a hand through his hair. He never thought he would be able to crack the code. The evil being in his room wasn't a part of his imagination.

You point an accusing finger at him, pocking at his chest. "You haven't asked me a single question so far, maybe you're the fake one."

Maven let out a laugh and then covered his mouth in surprise. Did he just laugh? He let out a giggle, eyes wide. You were making him laugh. He was calm. His shoulders were down and his cheeks weren't tense. You happened to ease him.

Maven put a hand on his cheek, "you were the one who started the conversation with questions."

You smile at him, shaking your shoulders. "You really have grown up. Horsefeathers, how long have I been gone?"

Maven turns, expecting you to follow him. "You still haven't given up that accent?"

You stand your place, smile fading a bit. "I'd rather die."

He turns to look at you, heart fluttering for a second before he manually shuts it down. He strengthens himself, reminding himself who he is. He is Prince Maven and no one in the world is as strong as he is. He lifts his chin, looking down at you. "Come up to the castle with me. I will make you feel welcome."

"Bank closed, but thanks for the offer. Plus, I prefer solitary in the sewers."

He takes a step closer to you, "You'd rather dwell in my basement?"

You shake your head, "What's a basement?"

Maven smiles, not realizing you weren't joking. He lifts an eyebrow. "When were you born?"

With the wave of your hand, he retreats. "So many questions I can't take it."

"You started it."

With a smile you rush up to him, grabbing his shoulders. You give him a light shake, looking into his eyes.

"Maven, I'd rather get zozzled at a juice joint than go up there with you. I'll be down here whenever you need me, my intended."

He gives a soft smile. "I have no idea what any of those words meant."

You pat his cheek and turn him around. "As I hoped. Now be on your way, my intended."

Maven digs his heels into the ground roughly and spins around. He grabs your arms, holding you there. You're almost surprised. He speaks calmly, "Do you promise you'll be down here if I need?"

You bop your head at the question, giving him a kissy face. "Abyssinia."

"Thank you?"

"Get outta here."

And you watch him ascend the stairs, making eye contact with him whenever he bothered to turn around. Once he went out of your sight you wave your hand in the air, removing the mood lifter magic you announced before he came down. He seemed stress. He seemed bothered by everything. A simple energy lifter wouldn't help.

And if it keeps him coming down.

You smile to yourself. Yes, you'd like that.