Maven X Reader One Shots (2)

PG. 640 One Shot: Better Than Home

(Literally as I was reading this I realized he died when he was like 18 bye I'm sad now

Reader is based off of Rosalie Cunningham bye

I'm at a house in Florida so you get one quick shot and then I'm dying for like another week sorry my computer is stupid and doesn't work in hotels)

You hold the scroll of names upon names in your hands, the tips of your hands black from the centuries of holding fire. You smile with dark toned lips rather than the sweet pink they were by birth. 

"Maven Calore?" You echo, voice booming like the raising tempo of trumpets. Your call travels throughout the great hall, the open and empty space carrying noise like a ballad. Every part of the throne room is a twisted dark red color, ashes of black forged into the material. The many demons under your name look up at you, surprised by your trial of speaking. They move quickly by your orders and go to collect the young boy.

You ask, "Aerial body or physical?" 

How did he die?

"Physical." The response comes along with the rhythmic clanking of chains. You look up, eyes piercing whoever's gaze you corrupt. From the end of the hall, you can see him as he walks up. His black hair, once filled with volume and reality, now clung to his face with sweat and shame. His dull eyes lay on the floor as he walks. You can feel fear oozing off of him. It only makes you smirk. 

You repeat his name, an offering for him to lift his head. His chin raises but his gaze doesn't. You try again, your tone more cooing and motherly. At last, his eyes fall onto yours. His pupils are dilated like bullet holes as the blue tint of his eyes are now gone. You are taken aback by how fiercely he glares at you, almost threatening your position as royalty. 

"Do you know why you're here?"

"I do not." His voice is hoarse, almost a wheeze rather than a tone. He even seems surprised by his dying speech. His chained hand goes to his neck, messaging the aching area.

You hum, running your black fingers against the arm of your throne. The tips of your nails vanish, fading like dissolving flesh and disappearing into the chair. Your life is short to end. You know one day you'll end Hell for good.

"I need somebody to love. Somebody to give the gift of long-lasting heat." You joke, the demons around you chuckling to themselves. Maven squints his eyes, not understanding your riddles and metaphors. Your lips thin as you add on, "Somebody to sit here when I'm gone." Maven's eyes light up in a way you didn't think they would in Hell. He tried to hide his smile, but doubt struck him before euphoria. 

"What's in it for you? Why do you choose me?"

A laugh escapes your lips, "You should know that more than anybody, son of Tiberias Calore VI and Elara Merandus. Such a charm she is, her nephew, too."

Maven's eyes continue to glitter as he wiggles against the grip of the demons by his side. His toes point in as he repositions his uncomfortable stance. 

"And what will happen to you?" His voice is sensitive and smooth, almost daring you with sensualness. 

"You will happen to me, my love." 

He smiles wickedly, his skin alternating to silver in response to his immortal anticipation. 

You stand from the throne, your long tunic fading off and disappearing into your shadow as you walk down your steps. You stand in front of Maven, reaching out your almost nonexistent hand with a smile. 

"And you start today."