Maven X Reader One Shots (2)

Songfic: Cendrillion

Dreaming of a dance till dawn, waltzing to the ringing bells

Every second on the clock wanes my magic spell

You start walking, holding your dress up so it doesn't catch dirt and mud. Your shoes, poor and dirty, would not be shown anyways. At least that's what you tell yourself. And you stop, standing outside of your town and waiting.

The ballroom will be golden, and you will have the time of your life. Perhaps you should forget about Maven at all. Farley's orders echo through your head. No, you can't forget. As a member of the Scarlet Guard, it is your job to start the revolution, even if you don't want to. 

You are going to have to kill Maven Calore.

You shivered in the night inside the carriage

That's when the carriage pulls up. The awkward machine that is driven by Shade Barrow himself. You curtsy to him and he laughs, motioning for you to get in. Your dress spills in your lap, not fitting in the tight space that you share with Farley. In her hand is a pair of shiny glass shoes, which she is happy to place on your feet. You really do fit the part of a princess now, don't you?

For hours the Scarlet Guard has been surrounding you, trying to cover up every single red part of your skin. You almost hate how much you look like a silver now. It's oddly intense.

The trees appear thin and fragile from a distance, twisting around the falling snow. You try and catch snowflakes in your white gloves. They cling to the fabric and melt away. The ride is bumpy and you can feel at the rocks under the metal wheels. Farley gives you a determined smile that you don't find yourself returning.

Tear it away, the rags you wore in past days, step into the halls to this ball

No one followed you to the door. You were alone. You had no hands to guide you, no bandana to reveal your intention. You're alone. You're mysterious. And you manage to find your way into the castle. The halls are gorgeous, the carpets and drapes warm tones to fight against your freezing colors.

You realize quickly that you don't match your surroundings at all. Your dress is white, pale against the lanterns' flickering lights. The gothic carpet clings to your heels, beckoning the glass to stay. You continue.

Whispers reaching, searching around me, ordered to find a face never seen

The ballroom was golden. Light shining on light and reflecting off of crystals on dresses and hats. Blinding. People glance at you, double takes and triple takes. What is there to do? Stand? Dance?

You are not supposed to draw attention to yourself. So you walk along the wall, picking a glass of wine from a servant's tray. You've never tasted something so sweet. 

And then with a blade hidden cradled within my grasp, I will steal your every last dream

You finger the blade hidden within your glove. The sharp edge pokes at your palm, making you wince every time you try and clench your fist. But the pain reminds you as to why you are here. So your eyes scan the surrounding party, trying to look for the wicked young man.

He is nowhere to be found. A cold sweat forms on the back of your neck. What if he did not show up? What would you do?

You take your first steps into the crowd, still looking left and right. Casually. You try not to look too frustrated. 

In these halls where orphans are born I soar as a seraph watching over all

"Are you looking for someone?" A hand comes out from the crowd with warm fingers to wrap around your forearm. The people around you look up. They notice you now.