The Great War: A Maven Calore Fanfic
"I pledge myself to you, Iris Cygnet, princess of the Lakelands. Will you accept?â
      Maven does not even throw a glance at me, he looks at Iris while saying these words. But everyone looks at me. They don't look at the King and the woman he just proposed to, they look at me. They wait for a sign. They wait for me to object, or at least leave this damned place. They hope for a show, a drama.
      But I don't give it to them. Even though their gazes make me feel like there are words written on my face- humiliating letters of black ink that will permanently stay on my skin. I just sit there, and watch the love of my life getting engaged with another woman. There is no expression on my face. No fury, no misery. I keep my wounds hidden.
      "I put my hand in yours, and pledge my life to yours," Iris replies, after her own traditions and the customs of her kingdom. "I accept, Your Majesty."
      He puts his bare hand out to take hers, the bracelet at his wrist sparking as he moves. A current of fire hits the air, snakelike and curling around their joined fingers. It does not burn her, though it certainly passes close enough to try. Iris never flinches. Never blinks. Thatâs why she is the one whom he is marrying, I think. Not you.
      I feel like I might throw up any moment now. I turn my gaze away from them. I just look at my hands on my lap. I canât hear anything anymore. I am fully focused on my pain now. It is a foolish move, I know. Just a moment ago, I was determined that I was not going to give them even a hint. But my feelings have always been my weakness. I suck at controlling them. Or hiding them under a flawless mask, like Maven does.
      When people start to stand up, I understand that it is time to go. I get on my wobbly feet. And just when I am about to turn my back, icy blue eyes meet mine. I suddenly stop. I can taste blood in my mouth. Every memory we share is a piece of glass, but every single one of them is broken and they draw blood. I press my lips together in fear of silver streaming down my chin. The question pounds in my head: Why did you do this? But I must admit that I know the answer. He needed to. And I will be fair, every king that is in Mavenâs place would do the same. But he had a choice.
      Even though he looks at me as if I am the only real thing in his world in front of everyone, I feel so heavy-hearted that I canât keep looking at him. I swiftly turn my back and start to walk. I feel so cold and the freezing weather is not the only reason. Thatâs why the fur collar of my coat and my leather gloves donât keep me warm. I feel like I donât breathe anymore. Everything inside me is dead.
     I stop and turn my back just to face one of the Sentinels. I scowl at him even though he did not do anything to deserve it, because I got no energy to deal with anybody. I just want to let my pain drown me. I donât want to fight anymore. I donât have it in myself.
âHis Majesty is waiting for you in his car.â
      The heart of glass on my chest feels heavy. It has dealt with grief so many times until this day and it was successful at handling it, but this time hits different. Because it is Maven. King of Norta who is waiting for me just after his new engagement. It sounds like a joke, but I know that it is not. I want to scream at the Sentinelâs face that he should tell his King to go fuck himself. But I canât. Even a Sentinel shouldnât witness someoneâs disobedience to the King. It is already a fragile reign.
âLead the way.â I say, with no will in my voice.
        The Sentinel does as I say. I take reluctant steps as I silently follow him. I donât want to see Maven. Moreover, I donât want to be alone with him in his car. I canât talk to him because I know that I will burst into tears if I try. I donât want him to marry somebody else. I selfishly want him all to myself even though it is not possible anymore.
        I canât see Maven because the windows of his car are so dark that nobody could see anything from outside. But when the Sentinel opens the door for me, I see him sit on the large backseat of the car. When our gazes meet, I feel sick to my stomach once again. My gloved hands clunch into fists. Iâm so angry at him that I canât breathe. Iâm furious because I wish I could hate him for making me suffer, but no matter what he does I will never be able to do that.
        I want to punch something, and scream until my throat hurts. I need to destroy it, and watch it turning into ashes. I always likened my heart to a fire, but right now I feel like Iâm the fire itself. I am made of destruction, but my pain always keeps burning me.
