(I know people like uhhhhh boneless red servant fics so here)
I shot an angel with my father's rifle
"Is that real fire?" You ask Maven, looking into the fire that started in his fingers. Inside, he felt happy that he was amusing somebody. But it wasn't as good as a high house, a silver, or even a high-class red. Because you were none of those. You were a normal red that walked the halls only to do work. You never thought you'd enjoy the presence of an intimidating prince, but this is both fun and yet so terrifying.
"Of course," he responds with a grin. You look into his young eyes that reflected mischief. You smile at him before placing your hand under his.
"I want to see more of your fire," your past self, young and naive, always said the first thing on your mind. You didn't consider the way this would affect the future and your life.
I should have set it free, but I let it bleed
Maven didn't know how to react. Behind the fact that he was interacting with a servant, but he didn't know what you implied. Being forcibly involved with his mother for years cut away his social life, so he doesn't understand if there is a hidden meaning behind your words or not. He tries to think about what he would respond with normally, like a normal person. He doesn't know how he should feel, what he should say. He can't feel things normally like other people. It just means he has to try a little harder to be human.
"You will one day," he responds before bringing his hands to his sides. You do the same, blinking in surprise before bowing to him. He feels a tingle in his chest. What does this mean?
Your hair falls as you lift your head back up before scrambling into your scheduled procedure for today. You don't say goodbye. You have to hurry, you don't want to get hurt for slacking off.
Hung it out to dry on the clothing line
Maven never failed to nod in your direction everytime you passed each other. It was something special that was never there before. Maven became one of those people who you could immediately spot in a crowd. It's like your brain got wired to find him, like an instinct. You think back to the beginning of mankind and the survival reasons you would be able to do that and if there is a purpose for it. I mean, you're a servant, you're supposed to be able to find the royals individually, right? Why is this so different? You can't be falling for the prince, are you?
As you slowly get older, you think about it every day. Falling for the prince is such a painful thing to do. You never thought of yourself as somebody to be so lovestruck over somebody who can't possibly feel the same way for you. It's just a scary thought ultimately.
And I know one day, Hell will catch up with me
And I'm sure that I will burn eternally
Maven looks at his father, observing the way he sits on the throne. He knows one day he will copy those actions. And one day he suddenly won't. The only thing he can do now is sit patiently, waiting for the Queenstrial, waiting for the day his mother will present him like a marionette. Sometimes, he doesn't want to be the villain. The villain never gets the happy ending. The villain never gets saved. What if he just wants to play a normal role like everybody else. Is that too much to ask for?
When he looks at you, he knows there's a chance he could get a happy ending. There's something in you that seems to present another alternative for him. It's something he can't explain. It's a feeling he doesn't know anything about, yet it feels so special.
I shot an angel, dragged it to my basement
You weren't supposed to work outside during the Queenstrial. You were supposed to fix up the guest rooms for the princesses. But you went outside anyway. You wanted to be with near Maven. Sometimes you wonder if you never even stopped to talk to him that one day, would this have all have never happened? Would you never have fallen for Maven? Would he just be another silver in the halls?
You didn't watch the princesses as they performed themselves. You kept your eye on Maven, watching his reaction. It was the only thing you could do. It was the only thing you would accept yourself to do.
Starved it 'til it died and I did not cry
You didn't even see a flying plate heading towards you until it was only inches away from your face. The servants are looking at you. The silvers are looking at you. Maven is looking at you.
You don't know what happened. You could see everything, except in only black and white. You didn't feel a plate. But you could feel the vibrations of all of the silvers standing up in shock, not knowing whether to attack you or welcome you.
You notice your hand, still the same shape and texture but now a dark silver color. Like your skin turned into metal. You touch your head, your metal hair flowing between your fingers. This is wild. You never knew you could do this. Yet, you never had a situation where you needed to turn into metal. This is new, amazing, brilliant. You think of all the things you can do with this power.
You think of Maven. Does he think he lied to him all of this time? Does he know that you didn't know either?
Maven stares at you, eyes widen. He looks confused, concerned and frightened. Is he frightened of you?
Sickness of poacher's pride
Maven is happy as he finds his voice, claiming you to be his bride. He knew this was going to be how it ended once he saw you turn your entire body into metal. It was extravagant. It was the most amusing thing he had ever seen. He had a weird sense of achievement like he picked the right servant to love.
"I pledge myself to you, Lady/Sir (Y/N). Will you accept?" He recites, taking your hand. You shake. Your heart begins to pound. You're going to become princess all because of one stupid mistake.
"I pledge myself to you, Maven Calore," you start. You can't stop thinking. Do you regret not working in the guest rooms that day? No. With this outcome, with Maven by your side, you couldn't be happier. Even if it is torture, eating your insides since the first words you spoke as a princess.
"I accept."