(I worked on this for two months what the fuck)

Look at history, open the books,

Buzz buzz.

You find your strawberry-stained thumb between your lips as your eyes are glued to your television, watching how the lightning girl gives herself to the king. The screech of a tipping coffee mug quiets the room around you. The servants bite their lips and tend to the mess. You watch as the stream gets cut off, the clip of Maven smiling being the last thing you see. And then it's dark, quiet, and crowded in your chambers. 

The black, red and silver of your room surround you like a cage. 

What's going on? 

Is he happy with her like that?

It wasn't supposed to be like that.

You sound of your shoes hitting the carpet at a rapid rate matches your heartbeat as a servant runs by your side, handing you an overcoat and a warm hat for your journey.

There are statues with great looks,

You step outside of your train, hoping to see a familiar face. But you are alone. All you see around you are sentinels and the empty land around Archeon. It's not welcoming. Yet, comforting to you. Yet the small jab and scab in the back of your mind prevent you from basking in the area you once were excited to visit. 

You walk ahead, your coat trailing on the ground behind you. It's furry, not accountable for this weather. Wet. You almost regret wearing any clothes at all. For a multitude of reasons.

Staircases are hard on your shoes. You are meant to be presentable, not comfortable. You wonder if Maven has a taste for your black shoes. You need to calm those thoughts. He'll enjoy anything you do.

There are gods, there are kings,

When you walk in, you see the cloud of sentinels and the king, not standing as tall as you remember him. He stands in his dark red suit, his hands near his hips and his head facing you. He looks cocky. He's not how you remember him. Yet you calmly walk up to him and stand close. A little too close, as all the guards keep their eyes on you. What are you going to do? You're the least threatening Silver. 

Maven reaches out his hand, and you stare at it for a second. You don't know what to do. He wants you to shake his hand.

He grips onto your hand with a smile. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I missed you dearly, my king."

A stabbing pain in your hand makes you flinch, and your knee buckling below you. A drop of silver blood hits the floor, and as quickly as you can you heal your wound. Maven gives you a dashing smile.

"You haven't changed."

You lick your lips, trying to hide your smirk. He hasn't changed either.

I'm pretty sure I'm the same thing.

"I hope the place hasn't changed too much for you." He says, leading you through the halls.  

"I hope you haven't either, Maven." 

His mouth twists into a smirk, something that lingered on his face as his eyesight darted across the hall. 

You got a feeling in your chest when you noticed what room he was eyeing down. The room you used to accompany during your visits here. You remember always trying to reach up to the doorknob before you were tall enough to get it for yourself. You remember Elara picking you up and placing you on your bed when your mother couldn't. You wonder if all the scribbles are still on the wall, or if your red drapes still have holes in them from when you cut them with scissors. Or if the secret bottles of wine are still there too.

Maven's hand finds its way to the bottom of your back, caressing you lightly as you both stop in front of the door.

"Don't tell me you cleaned it out," you try to joke. You can almost hear how dry your throat is.

"Not one bit."

He opens the door, and you feel relieved. It's nearly the same. Except for the bedsheets, and things you hope would get changed through time. Your blankets and pillow covers have been switched from cotton to silk. I black silk, something you would consider scandalous. You blush a deep silver.

Beyond boundaries, beyond rules,

You step inside. The walls seem to cave in, and once he shuts the door, you're trapped between your childhood innocence and him. The dark entries between the two of you begin to narrow as you step close to him.

You haven't been alone with Maven in awhile. You can feel the air against your skin, wishing his hands would take its place.

Maven takes a deep breath. "How have you been since you left, (Y/N)?"

It sounds like an accusation. Words like poison coming from the face of a bunny rabbit. 

"Better than here, Maven."

The feeling in your chest grows red and fire-y as he puts a hand on your forearm, dragging his warm touch down to your hip. 

There is little I won't do,

"If only you knew how much I missed you."

"If only you knew how much I missed you, my king."

You can almost see how his skin tingles when you call him that. It's the way his eyelashes flutter and his lips twist. It's the way he steps up to you, grabbing you with the grip of a lover as he hovers over your ear with his lips.

"Then show me."

Is the same thing true of you?

You pull away from him, holding his face in your hands and touching his nose with yours. His eyes fall to your lips, his heart seeming to fight his body as he bobs towards you and away.

You try not to smile, testing Maven was always your favorite thing to do. "I won't be showing you anything until you show me you deserve it."

Yet you still find yourself pulling him in for a kiss, the locks of his hair tangling with your fingers while you make every muscle in his body relax. He wraps his arms around you like he's scared of you leaving again, his grip so tight you can almost feel your ribcages locked together.

You haven't kissed someone for a long time. And if you think deeper, Maven was the last person you kissed. Yet this feels like your first time and his hands feel improper against your skin.

I am needing so much more,

It almost scares you how similar everything is. Of course, it isn't like you spent decades away from this building entirely. It's just an old experience becoming new again. You sometimes walk the hallways nowadays, trying to pick out small imperfections when you find them. The dust on the windows, the small cracks near the flooring. Signs of an old building trying to stay up strong. 

Every time you turn a corner you're scared to see him just standing there, waiting for you. It's such a horrifying thought to act so goofily upon. You always peak before you turn a corner, sometimes resulting in hidden smiles from the servants who are there when you finally face your fears. 

Oh god, you cover your mouth with realization as you finally turn a corner, there are security cameras and he can probably see me right now.

Every pleasure is a bore,

And Maven grabs you by the hips, holding your back against his chest. You can feel the warmth through your thick wool tailcoat. You remember the first time he did it, the tasteful feeling of his worn-out hands holding your completed body. Your heart would speed up and you would turn your silver-flushed face away from him.

Now you just laugh and pull away from his touch. And he allows you. Instead, you step between his legs and press yourself against his body. With his back against the wall, you notice how weak he looks. He leans into your touch. And you can't help but caress his neck with your fingers. 

I am something other than a common man,

I'm not a common man

And you step around the throne room, Maven sending away the sentinels and keeping his blue eyes on you. You stare the throne up and down, walking around the terrain. The stone is different, and you begin to chew the inside of your cheek. The ends of your black dress drag on the floor from behind you, your gloved fingers running against the arm of the chair. Imagine sitting in this chair, the citizens darting their eyes across the walls trying not to look at your person. That would be Heaven. And you want it so much. 

I do suspect I'm one of few,

"Do you want to train?" You ask Maven, sitting on his lap and trailing your fingers around his shoulder blades. He holds you close to him, leaning back against the back of his chair. You love the scent of him. You nuzzle your cheek against the curls of his hair, feeling the smooth locks against your silver-tinted skin. Maven knots his eyebrows together and turns towards you so you lean your head on his shoulder to dodge his awkward gaze. 

"Train?"

"What? Is training too hard for you, my lord? Losing some blood isn't going to make you lose your crown, too."

His words are like a whisper that refuses to leave his tongue, "I don't want to hurt you." 

"Well I'm not scared of hurting you, and I want to train."

He squeezes you tightly and digs his nails into your thigh. You can't feel blood so it isn't something you can heal. It's relieving pain.

"Hurt me, Maven Calore."

"Never."

I can show you something new,

All the constraints, they are all gone,

Your hands stay clasped around his neck, and his skin tickles with your breath. "Will you sleep with me instead?"

His neck turns silver but his face remains the same. Acting, you forget he does that. He's too good at it. 

"What do you mean, (Y/N)?" 

You turn to your side and stand up, stretching your legs in your silk pajama pants. You are sitting in his study after surprising him with a visit. Of course, you crossed the halls with no layers but one of silk. You assume this thought didn't hit him until you stepped towards the door. 

Maven steps up, holding out his hand to stop you. "Are you serious?"

You turn around, giving him a smile. 

"There holds no consequences when I have you to be under my sheets with me."

I'll confess no interest in right and wrong.

So you walked down the hall, the same reaction happening when you walked to the study. Maven stands close to you, practically holding your hips as you both travel to his bedroom. That's where you've been spending your nights recently. In his bedroom. Alone.

And not doing anything interesting.

Once you step into the room you feel relaxed, jumping on the bed and letting out a breath. The mattress bounces with you and the blanket grip your skin. It's comforting. The same as your room, but somehow this feels better. Maybe you just miss him. Even when he's right there. Just because you know how it'll end.

I am needing so much more,

Every pleasure is a bore,

Maven is asleep, or as you believe, and you are wrapped in his arms. But you feel trapped in his warmth. It burns your skin and you feel like you'll get eaten alive by flames. It's not fair. This castle, room, this bed. Maven. 

Maven.

You remember being a kid and playing with him, slamming him into the walls and pushing him off the bed just to see if it would hurt him. You remember him burning you one day, fighting back, and you moan with excitement as you watch your baby skin peel off like wet cotton. And you heal yourself. And he does it again. And you heal yourself.

You guys called it training. To see how much you could heal. And how much he could take. You've never quite found someone willing to take his place. Nobody had enough suppressed anger like Maven does. Did.

I am something other than a common man,

I'm not a common man.

So you look down at Maven's sleeping form. You unwrap his hands from your body, slowly crawling out of your lover's touch. The sheets are warm. So comforting, too. And your palms are pressed rough into the mattress, holding your weight. He shifts slightly. You hope he's not asleep.

You lift one of your hands, running your hands against the fire bracelet he wears around his wrist. It's cold. Kinda ironic. 

His skin is grey. He almost looks dead. You feel ungrateful for not loving him as you should. You just want your old friend back. Is that so bad? Terrible, even?

Like a banshee, you scream and slam your hands down on his sleeping form. The bed sways as he jumps and grabs your arms with his. Your heartbeat races. His palms are burning hot, and his eyes reflect one of a murderer. You blink slowly as all the tension leaves. Time returns slowly. You can see the anxiousness leave his eyes.

He lets you go and you can see the pink handprint he left on your forearms. He just stares up at you, not saying anything. And you two sit in silence.

I am reeling for a war,

You tighten your jaw and suck the moisture from your teeth, stepping outside into the garden. The wind crackles and flies past your clothes, almost taking off your hat in the process. The ribbons dance. You enjoy the outside. 

The flowers pass by you and your heeled shoe presses rocks into the gravel path. You know where to go. You spend no time looking. You turn the corner of the castle and quickly examine the gardening shed. Tools, seeds, other incomplete things. Untouched and uncared for.

Your gloved fingers wrap around the wooden stem of an axe as you playfully test it through the air. It's heavy. But worth it. You'll be able to carry it, you're sure.

I am greedy, you're a whore

Walking back into the castle with the axe was the worst part. You just had to hold it casually and try to blend it in with your black and white clothes. The passing servants advert their eyes. The group of sentinel stares in front of them as you inspect them. Just don't look over. 

Your shoulder drop in relief. You're almost to your room. You just need to pass a corner and you're there. You can't help but smile. This is perfect. 

What's the difference? Whose keeping score?

But everything falls apart when you finally step in front of your room. You go to turn the door handle but a hand grabs your other wrist. It holds you in place. You can feel their fingers graze the handle of your weapon. 

"My dear, what are you doing?"

You place your head on the door with defeat. Maven's hand slides up to your stomach as he hugs you from behind.

"I think I might need to confiscate that little weapon of yours." 

You don't want to stop him. You can't find the energy. You feel drained. Embarrassed. You'll figure your way out of this. Or you'll mellow into sanity once again.

There's no reason to be fair,

Obviously, you know exactly what to do next. Break into his room. Steal the axe. Murder the someone in cold blood. 

He made you sleep in your own room that night. You doubt he thinks it'll stop you. You doubt he doesn't know what's coming.

Still, your hairs stand on end as you creep out of your room. The castle at night is intimidating. Mysterious. The silence pulls on your skin and yanks your hair. Your intentions prickle you from underneath. Barefoot, you begin walking down the hall. What if his door is locked? Punch the handle, break the lock. You can deal with a broken hand or few. You are stronger than he is. He can burn you all he wants but he'll never get under your skin.

His door handle is cold, stinging in a way fire never could. It drags up your arm and into your lungs. Will you be able to breathe once Maven thinks of you as a threat? What will happen to your life? Will it drain with the blood that will crawl out of open wounds. You hope not. As you cannot heal the pain inside of your heart.

Doesn't matter if you're not there.

Maven sleeps with his ears open. You know that. You scared him once and you won't scare him again. You don't even bother shutting the door. You leave it open. And then you scan the room. It seems the same as when you left the night before. Would he hide it in the closet? Within the clothing to stain them all with dirt and prick them with splinters. 

You open the close, quickly pulling both doors wide. It's dark. You can hardly see. Black clothing. God. You push your hand through the thick material. Your fingers scrape the back panel, and you drag your fingers up and down it. Only clothes. Disappointing. Your hands fall to your side. 

A pair of warm hands grab your waist and swings you into the air. You didn't know he was that strong. Maven holds tight as your feet get lifted off of the ground. You feel like you're flying. Your heartbeat increases as you try to pry his fingers away. He turns and puts you down but doesn't release his grip. You try to kick but it doesn't work. You try to thrash. His grip is tight. Maybe you're too weak.

"(Y/N), please come down."

Your eyes burn from squeezing them shut. You feel like it's over. Like the thought of any future is burned to the ground.

Your life almost flashes before your eyes. A cozy sweater with a warm cup of tea in your hand. You sit with Maven. His bags are gone and his eyes aren't hollow. His hands are warm. He isn't wearing a crown. And he never met a lightning girl. 

But that world doesn't exist. And his crown hangs still from his mirror. 

You stop. Not by his demands or because you're tired. You just don't have the effort to fight against a king anymore. What would happen if you found it? You'd scare him? Rot in jail? Get executed? And for what? For getting jealous?

Because it's not Maven Calore you are trying to kill. 

Just keep breathing, if you can

You inhale, taking in warm breathes that do nothing to soothe you. "I'm okay."

"Are you okay? You've been frightening me lately."

"I'm sorry." You croak. Your throat bobs and you close your eyes. His chest is hot against your back. His passion seeps through his clothing.

"I love you."

You don't know how to respond. Not for a while at least. You both were quiet as you cradled you, rocking you back and forth. Like he knows how to deal with someone like that. Maybe that was himself not so long ago. You feel like a grounder for him. He's been getting calmer, you realize. With you around, he hasn't seemed to be thinking about that girl anymore.

Not like before you left, when everything that would leave his mouth would be about somebody he had barely met. Over you. He picked her over you. It's not that way anymore.

And you will see I'm not a common man.

The next morning you sit up from his bed with your hair in a jumble. The sunlight streams into the room. It illuminates the open closet door. Haha. Maven is missing next to you. Not unusual, but the closed bedroom door tells you as much more than his absence tends to. You miss him. You rub the sleep from your eyes before walking across the bedroom and to the closet. One more check. Just to make sure. 

I am needing so much more,

Every pleasure is a bore,

It's the same clothes you saw last night. And with the light, much better to see. No axe. No murder today. Maybe ever. You thought killing Mare would make him yours. You didn't realize he was already yours, to begin with. 

You go to close them up again. But you notice something. All the way on the floor is something hidden away by pant legs and the rim of your dresses. 

You get on your knees. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Everything tells you to ignore it. To just leave it alone and save it for another day. But you don't

On the ground is your axe, and when you pick it up, you realize there's a note attached to it. A note is written for you by the man of your dreams. The man who you would do anything for. The man you traveled back here to see after all this time. The man you love.

I am something other than a common man,

I'm not a common man.

"For you (Y/N), 

I'll let you kill her only this once."

You let the note fall to the ground. It grazes the air like a feather. Dropping to the floor. Landing at your feet. The axe suddenly feels heavy in your grasp. But it's so light to swing.