𝗶𝗰𝗲 & 𝗱𝗶𝗿𝘁 - 𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝑄𝑈𝐸𝐸𝑁

#𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗘 - 𝘓𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥

The Lightning Girl is breaking down. Raindrops stick to her clothing. The most luxurious clothing she's ever worn in her miserable life. The clothing she hates. Hell, even the water despises her facade. Nature itself is attempting to destroy the character she is being forced to play. And she waits, she stands there and waits for the heavens to succeed.

But they don't. The thick silver paste coating her red-tinged skin doesn't budge. It clings to her, reminding her that she is stuck bearing the weight of this role, of this lie, of this lack of control. She has control over nothing. Not her body, not her mind, not her heart, not her soul. A coward. A damned coward. A red girl choking on her own fear. A stain on the silver Royals bibs as they are spoon-fed power.

Breathe. Breathe, Mare. For fucks sake, just-

Her hands are gripping the railing. Her only support. This lifeless architecture is all she has now. Horrid tears, choked sobs, and trembling shoulders. The holy trinity— it stirs within her. The humidity of the summer air ceases to exist, yet the warm breeze ripples her clothes and hair alike. It's a warning.

Mare has to resist the urge to scream as a heavy weight falls on her shoulder. A hand. A hand that proceeds to grab her painted arm and grip it tightly-- leaving her boiling red blood to curdle underneath. Two Sentinels loom over her, eyes piercing behind their masks.

"My lady." One of them growl, but there is no sense of respect in his words. He seems irritated, bored even.

"Let me go." Mare attempts to steady her voice, to command them properly. Like a good princess. But it is a futile attempt, a feeble request. Her voice gets lost in the wind. "Just give me a few minutes, please--."

But she is not their princess and, certainly, not their queen. She's an imposter. A being with no power, no will, no sense of self. No one answers to her, no one honors her requests.

"You heard my bride." It's another voice, that of a male. And it seems the Sentinels are all too familiar with that man. That boy. Firm, hard, the voice of royalty. Maven. "Let her go."

Mare can feel the pressure on her arm lessen and a flood of relief proceeds to burst in her chest. Maven steps out onto the balcony, unbothered by the rain. He seems to bask in it, letting raindrops carelessly explode upon the impact of his skin. The Sentinels straighten, like the prince's presence frightens them. Mare isn't sure why. Maven certainly isn't as terrifying as his brother, Cal.

"We must keep the Lady Titanos to her schedule. It's orders, sir."

"Then you have new orders." Maven's eyes seem to go void. He can feel his body release all the tension pooling in his shoulders. God, is he always so wound up? "I will accompany Mareena back to her lessons."

"Very well, sir." They are quick to respond in unison and just as quick to stomp away. Maven turns his head ever-so-slightly, listening to their footsteps echo in the distance. He has to resist the urge to sigh. They are unable to refuse a prince, yes. But he knows that if they were to run into his mother, the Queen would ask for Maven's head on an equally silver platter. And those bastards would deliver.

Mare does the sighing for him, and he is quick to re-focus. Her hands are shaking. Those calloused, thieving fingers. They wither away before his eyes. He still can't believe she almost managed to pick-pocket his own brother. He wonders if her hands were shaking then.

"We have showers inside, you know." He is nothing but sarcastic as he cautiously makes his way towards her, settling at her side. They both lean on the railing, looking out at the courtyard beneath them. Stretching on endlessly for miles.