WAR STORM (Red Queen 4// Alternate Version)

Chapter 7

I'd just like to voice the genuine feeling of happiness I get when I see my story reach another hundred view benchmark, or oftentimes a simple heartfelt comment. Thank you, to all the dedicated followers of the Red Queen fandom.

"His lips are on mine, hard and warm and pressing. The touch is electrifying, but not like I'm used to."

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Mare

"I apologize for my foolish, uncontrolled actions. I didn't understand what I was creating and should've known better than to continue on in the process of making a monster. If there is any method possible to reimburse my mistakes, I will more than happy to do so," I say all of this while kneeling before Volo and his damned court, my only escape being the sight of the intricate floor tiles, an array of metals and colors.

"Miss Barrow, it is clear to everyone in this room that you have done more than enough. Unless my wife can derive how you may repair her gardens, there will be no retributions." No words are uttered from the viper's mouth, most likely a shake of the head. Out of sense and fear, I don't defy the king by raising my head to him, playing the part of the obedient little girl just as I've been told to. "Leave. Before I change my mind. You and your fellow electricons are permitted to exercise your trade, so long as you leave this estate and area surrounding it in peace."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." After ostensibly hours, I ascend, but persist bowing my neck downward, avoiding the glares of the courtiers that are surely fixed upon me. Another awkward jerk of my head, indicating faux gratefulness. Rotating on the flat of my foot, I initiate my leave.

Opposite Volo and Laurentia, Davidson, Farley, and a couple other Guard and Monfort officials inhabit the corner of the throne area, most conversing amongst themselves. Farley seeks to latch onto my gaze; we haven't spoken since the events that yesterday brought. Though I do wish to explain myself to her, other priorities emerge on my list first. Davidson and I watch one another, and he bestows and subtle nod, signaling I did well. I return the gesture.

Tyton watches me from feet away, weariness pronouncing his features. I'm not the sole one who's acquired a trying day. As I cross the threshold that separates this room from a span of hallway, he decides to accompany me, strolling at my right.

"Well acted, but not sincere. Even those hotheaded as Volo could tell."

"Of course they did," I sigh. "All they valued in my speech was the drowning in my own lies. I hated every second and they know just that."

"Yes," is all he responds with.

It dawns on me now that our conversation involving his sister was never completed, though he brushed it off as if it had been. "Tyton, your sister-"

"There's nothing more to say about it. If there is a heaven, hopefully, she's there now." He surrounds himself with a wall of stone and ice, clearly. Exactly how I have countless times, sometimes in the correct ambiance, other times not at all.

"You don't have to do that, shut me out because the words are too troublesome to say aloud." I realize my volume has risen significantly, and quickly work to bring it down. "You once told me it was unhealthy to hold sadness inside, yet you do it yourself." Hypocrite, I'm tempted to yell. Only then do I grasp the fact that my voice hasn't lowered, maybe even gone up more. Though the terrible actors pretend not to be listening in on every word, various men and women have terminated their journies, conveniently striking up conversations with each other. "I only wish to be a shoulder to lean on."

"It's not as transparent as you might think," Tyton's lips barely part when he reveals this obscure piece information. Struggle contorts his body, giving hunched shoulders and creased brows.