Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I frown, running my hands over the deep red satin fabric. It’s oddly iridescent - flickering between scarlet and crimson depending on how you look at it. Black jewels adorn the bodice, creating a pretty pattern down the red mesh sleeves. Simultaneously the Guard’s colours and Cal’s. Gisa’s a fucking genius. Everyone will look at this and see exactly what they want to see in it. If any part of me wanted to go to this, I would make a mental note to thank my sister for the gown, but at the moment I feel more inclined to strangle her. 

It's not that I don't want to support Davidson, of course I do. But this seemed a lot like the kind of foolish opulence that ran rampant in Norta’s Silver Court, and I despise it on principle.

I sigh. No, that's not the truth. Of course I don’t really begrudge Davidson his party. Being elected as the premier was a big deal, even if it was being re elected. I don’t really understand why he needed to retake an oath when he’d never stopped being the premier, but I also don’t really care. The idea of wearing this stupid gown and parading around just feels… it brings back so many memories, none of them good. 

Cal opens the door, stepping into the bedroom fully dressed in a fancy black suit.

Well, there might be one memory that was good.

“You’re not ready yet?” he huffs, impatient. “We’re going to be late!”

Once a general, always a general. “I just can’t bring myself to put it on.”

“It’s beautiful though,” Cal frowns, missing the point. “You’ll look amazing.”

I try not to wonder if Cal would prefer me like this – all glammed up all the time and prancing around like one of the fine ladies he was raised to marry. It’s a stupid thought. Cal likes me plenty as it is.

“That’s not –” I shake my head. “– It reminds me of… He made me wear gowns like this all the time.”

I see Cal frown. By mutual, unspoken agreement, Maven is a topic that we do not discuss. Ever. We’ve said all we could ever say about him anyway, so there’s no point. 

Cal steps over to my side, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my cheek chastely. 

“I’ll be with you this time,” he whispers reassuringly. “You’re not anyone’s prisoner anymore. It’s just a party, a celebration.”

I don’t point out that the last big party I went to was Maven’s wedding.

“C’mon,” he says, his lips brushing against my cheek.

Rolling my eyes, I step out of his arms and shrug off my robe, reaching for the luxurious satin. I let it pool on the ground before I step into the middle of the burgundy fabric, pulling it up around me. Cal holds the back of the dress as I slip my arms into the sleeves, and then he zips up the zipper Gisa sewed right along the spine. His fingers move slowly, brushing over my skin and sending a shiver down my spine. When he gets to the top of the zipper, he kisses my neck, then rests his chin on my shoulder and slides his hands around my waist.

“Ready?” he murmurs against my skin.

I groan, wishing we could just stay like this instead. I would much rather stand here with Cal’s arms around me than go to a ball with a bunch of strangers. The circle of people I actually like at this gala will be pretty small – Cal, obviously, and Davidson of course. Carmadon, Farley, Evangeline. Unfortunately not Kilorn, though he would certainly make it more fun. 

“Mare, come on,” Cal presses, stepping away from me. “I promise it won’t be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” I scoff. “I bet you did these kinds of things all the time.”

“I… Yeah.” 

I turn to face Cal and find him looking sheepish, a silver blush creeping across his cheeks. I know he still feels uncomfortable about his past sometimes, and the person he used to be, and no matter how many times I tell him that I don’t judge him for it, I don’t think he’ll ever fully believe me.

“Cal, I didn’t mean it like that,” I sigh, reaching for his hand. “I just meant that you’re much better with people than I am, that’s all.”

He smiles softly, and a little sadly. I really didn’t mean it to be a dig at him. The air feels too heavy with emotion now and it makes me deeply uncomfortable. I haven’t gotten much better at that in the last few months.

“Alright, let’s go,” I say, swinging our linked hands a little as a distraction. We really will be late if we don’t leave now.

o . o . o

The ball is more than a little opulent and it does remind me of the court, but it’s also different. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but the mood here just feels more… free. Or maybe that’s just how I feel, watching Silvers, Reds and Newbloods interacting like there’s no difference between us.

The centre of the ballroom is dominated by an open expanse that serves as a dance floor, with a quartet of musicians tucked away in one corner. In a ring on the outside of the parquet floor are numerous ornate tables topped with fancy plates and lavish floral arrangements. On one side of the room, a series of glass french doors overlook the garden terrace, which I’m sure Carmadon has painstakingly decorated for the occasion.

As we sit at our assigned table, people pass too and fro, bustling by in their fancy dress. The noise of people chatting and the clink of utensils on china forms a constant buzz that melds with the sound of the music being played, and the crowd is fairly evenly divided between people lounging at the tables and couples dancing elegantly.

“We never did get to have a dance,” Cal says suddenly, his eyes flitting across the dance floor before he looks at me with a mischievous grin. “What do you say? Think you remember everything I taught you?”

I scoff. “I don’t know that you were really the most qualified person to be teaching me anything about dancing. I think you were as bad as I was.”

Cal gasps, faking being wounded by my words. But his mock pain only lasts for a second, quickly replaced by a wide smile. 

“Prove it.”

He stands, holding his palm out to me, and I only hesitate for half a second before I place my hand in his. Dancing lessons in the palace feel like a lifetime ago, and I can’t imagine that I still remember any of the steps, but I can’t let Cal just get away with a challenge like that.

He leads me onto the dance floor, the skirts of my gown swishing around my ankles as I spin to face him. Cal smiles at me as one hand finds my waist, taking up the proper stance, and I can’t help but return the expression as we start dancing. Much to my chagrin, I seem to have forgotten almost everything from our lessons, while Cal is… well, fairly good. In my defence, I had other things on my mind then.

As we spin across the floor, the old feeling comes back again. Those butterflies in the stomach and bolts of metaphorical electricity that seem to jump between us. The magnetic desire to kiss him is as irresistible now as it was then. I let my hand drift from his shoulder to the back of his neck, and with our next step I move closer to him, leaving very little space between us. I hear his breath catch and feel his heart racing and I know that Cal is feeling everything that I am. Somehow, Cal keeps guiding us through the steps – a good thing, because I look up at him and suddenly I am lost in the deep golden-bronze of his eyes. For a moment, we could be back in Norta, dancing in front of the Silver Court at a ball and trying (badly) to hide how much we want each other. The music slows, beginning to peter out and Cal moves my other hand to his shoulder so he can wrap both arms around my waist. This time, when Cal dips his head, I don’t protest or pull away from him. Instead, I stretch up onto my toes, meeting him halfway and pressing our lips together. As exhilarating as our first kiss was, this is infinitely better.

When I pull away from Cal, I can’t help but break out into a wide grin. He mirrors it instinctively, but despite his cheerfulness, I see confusion flash in his eyes.

“What?” he asks, clearly suspicious of my happiness, which is understandable since I practically begged not to come to this.

There are a lot of ways I could answer the question, and for a moment I almost tell him how glad I am that he kissed me during our dancing lessons, despite everything that followed. But feelings are (still) not my forte, so I shy away from admitting them, as always.

“I was right,” I tease instead. “You’re a terrible dancer. If you were ever good, you’ve clearly forgotten it all.”

I know that he knows I’m lying, but he laughs anyway, a low rumbling chuckle that makes me want to take him home and do a very different kind of dance. I bite the inside of my lip, tearing my gaze away from Cal before I do something that is entirely inappropriate for our current setting. How long until we can leave? 

Cal pulls me off the dance floor, leading me by the hand through the crowd of people, through a set of french doors, and into the beautifully decorated garden terrace. Strings of delicate little lights crisscross over our heads and through the rose bushes and magnolia trees. We can still hear the buzz of the crowd and the soft melody from the ballroom, the notes blurring together in the cool night air.

I step closer to Cal, seeking out his warmth, and I wrap my arms around his neck. His arms wind around my waist instinctively, hugging me close. Consciously or not, Cal starts to sway, leading us in the steps of a dance once more, albeit at a slower and more casual pace. He bows his head and I close my eyes as our cheeks brush against each other, a warm glow encircling us that isn’t just a product of Cal’s ability.

“I love you,” I whisper, a rare occasion when I say the words first. Something about the music or the lights in the garden just seems to make my heart swell, and I’m embarrassingly overcome by my feelings for him.

Cal hums in response, and I think he’s as lost in his emotions as I am.

I stay quiet and we continue to sway, slowly turning in a circle. My mind is mostly blank, and I just enjoy this moment with Cal. Even though I’d been dreading the ball as a whole, this is actually kind of nice. But then again, Cal makes just about everything much better. Not for the first time, I’m immensely glad that circumstances didn’t keep us apart. I’m glad we found our way back to each other. 

“Marry me,” Cal murmurs, lips brushing against the curve of my ear.

His words startle me, and I pull back to look at his face. He seems a little bit surprised by his own words, as if he didn’t actually mean to say them out loud. 

“W-what?” I stammer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –” He shakes his head, looking down apologetically, but then he stops. Cal looks at me with golden eyes, shining under the lights that hang like stars above our heads. “Actually no, I’m not. And I do mean it. Mare, I love you. I want to marry you, if –”

“Why?” I ask, the first word that I manage to get out.

Cal looks at me with a confused look. “I love –”

“No,” I say with a little smile. “I meant why do you care about getting married. You’ve always been pretty clear that marriage isn’t important to Silvers.”

“It isn’t,” he answers, frowning a little as he thinks it over. “But now… no one is ever going to force me into a relationship I don’t want again. Now I get to choose, and I know my choice. It’s you. Now, always. I’m never going to want anyone else.”

I gape at him for a minute, but as my mind begins to process the whole scenario, I quickly realise that my instinct to say ‘no’ is entirely because he’s caught me off guard and not because I don’t actually want to marry Cal. The idea of being someone’s wife feels strange and it’s hard to picture. But on the other hand… Cal’s words struck a chord. I don’t want anybody but him, and I can’t imagine ever not loving him. So why shouldn’t I marry him? We both grew up in a world where marriage bore only a tenuous relationship to love at best, but if we have the chance to marry the person we love, shouldn’t we take that? And while we may not be in constant danger anymore, I don’t ever forget that a long life is not a guarantee. I wonder if Farley would feel different somehow if she and Shade had been married before he died.

“Mare?” Cal prompts, and I realise that I’ve been quiet for too long.

“I… I want to say yes, but… Cal, can we talk about this more another time? Tomorrow or something?”

He doesn’t quite look disappointed, but he doesn’t look happy either.

I push up on my toes to press a kiss to his lips, trying to reassure him while I figure out how to explain my thoughts. “ You are my choice too, Cal, every day, and that’s not going to change. And I think… I do want to marry you one day, but I just think we should talk about what that means for us. We didn’t exactly grow up with the same idea of marriage.” 

The irony that I am the one suggesting that we need to talk about something and not be impulsive is not lost on me.

Cal frowns a little, and I see the doubt creeping into his eyes, but then he takes a deep breath and the worry dissipates. He pulls me into a tight hug and buries his face in the crook of my neck. Instinctively, I let my fingers thread through his hair to keep him close. After a moment, Cal trails kisses across the skin of my neck.

“I love you,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over the curve of my ear. “So much.”

This time it's my turn to hum in reply, too distracted by the brush of his lips over my skin to form a coherent thought. My fingers tighten against him and I cling to Cal, letting him support me as his affection makes me weak and wobbly. How does he do this? I feel him smile as his lips find mine again.

“Cal,” I whine when he pulls away, causing him to smirk slightly.

“I think I’m just about ready to go home,” he says, taking my hand in his. “What about you?”

“Yes please ,” I answer, more eager than ever to leave this party. I’ve had enough of other people, and I’m definitely ready to take this gown off.

I wouldn’t mind getting Cal out of his suit either.

Chapter Text

It’s a full week and Cal hasn’t brought it up again. 

Every day, I wait for it to come up – when we meet for coffee in the morning, while we sit at dinner, and before we fall asleep on the nights we spend together – but it doesn’t. The waiting feels like it’s fraying my nerves. My mind can’t relax and I can’t do anything productive because every time Cal opens his mouth, I’m expecting him to ask me to marry him again. It’s making me crazy.

I could bring it up myself, but since I don’t actually know what to say about any of this, that feels disingenuous. Hi honey, remember how I said we should talk about marriage? You go first. So instead I just wait. And wait. 

On Saturday, nine whole days after the ball, I go over to Cal’s house. When I get there, I can smell garlic and hear a soft sizzling sound coming from the kitchen. It’s not uncommon for Cal to cook lately – it’s a new skill that he’s been developing and enjoying, and I’m certainly not complaining about it since he seems to be a natural. 

“Hey,” I greet, and he leans down a little so I can press a kiss to his cheek as he mumbles hello.

It feels… oddly domestic. Like something I would see my parents do. And even though it’s not the first time I’ve greeted him that way, and even though we’ve settled into a comfortable rhythm in our relationship, the gesture sets my teeth on edge. The problem is that it’s too normal. Cal dropped this big marriage bomb last week and now he’s just going around, cooking dinner like nothing ever happened.

“Are you ever gonna say something?” I snap, decidedly aggravated, and I fold my arms across my chest.

Cal turns to look at me with a bewildered expression, and he even stops stirring for a moment before he remembers himself. “What? What do you mean?”

His gawking, innocent expression only annoys me more. “I mean you! Asking me to marry you! You just asked me out of the blue and then nothing!”

“I… I didn’t want to pressure you,” Cal says, looking a little sheepish and more than a little nervous. “I figured you would bring it up when you were ready.”

“You thought…?” I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, to try to get my irritation under control. When have I ever been the one to bring up anything that has to do with emotions or relationships? This is a fundamental truth of our relationship – I avoid talking about things for as long as possible, and Cal pushes me to talk until I give in. It works for us. Until now, apparently. “Cal, I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up all week !” 

“You have?” His expression shifts rapidly to something oddly hopeful. “Why didn’t you just say something?”

“I… you’re the one who always brings things up like this,” I say, though it sounds like a pretty lame answer.

Cal turns his attention back to the stove and the pasta he’s making for a minute. As he stirs the sauce, I almost think he’s not going to say anything else, and I feel another surge of irritation. But before I can snap again, he ladles a sizeable helping of pasta onto a plate, dousing it in garlicky sauce and hands it to me, following a moment later with a plate of his own.

“So, what do you think about it?” he asks as he sits down, staring at me with his stupidly attractive bronze eyes. 

“I… I think… it sounds nice.” Really, Mare? I want to roll my eyes at myself and my own stupidity. I practically begged him to have this conversation, and now my whole brain seems to have disappeared at the prospect of it.

Cal smirks, clearly amused. He looks like he’s trying to force himself to remain rational and steer this conversation into at least somewhat productive territory.

“Nice?” he teases instead. “You think marrying me sounds nice ?”

“Well, yeah,” I say, cursing my own brain. This time he actually chuckles. “Don’t you?”

“I think it sounds more than nice , that’s kind of why I asked,” he replies, fighting to keep his smile under control. “But you didn’t seem to feel that way the other night.”

That seems to sober us both up a little bit, and I feel my mind start to function again.

“Cal, it’s not that I don’t want to,” I sigh. “But what would marriage even mean for us?”

“I think it can mean whatever we want it to,” he answers, sounding confused. “I don’t really understand what you’re concerned about. There are no rules about what marriage needs to be or what we have to do or… It’s just a commitment to each other, Mare.”

“It’s not, because if it were just a commitment, we wouldn’t need to do the whole marriage thing,” I protest, though I can’t for the life of me think why. “You know I’m committed to you.”

“Why don’t you want to marry me?” he asks, and I don’t miss the undertone of hurt in his voice.

“I never said that!” 

He looks more than a little agitated, running a hand through his dark hair. “Then why won’t you –?”

“Cal, listen.” I reach out and take his hand in both of mine, trying to stave off the anxiety I see growing in his eyes. “There’s no part of me that doesn’t want to be with you, I promise. I just want to know… Cal, your experience with marriage was two people who barely tolerated each other procreating and going to lots of fancy parties.”

“So?”

“So, that’s not what it would look like for us, and I want to know how you imagine our marriage,” I say, hoping that he understands. 

“I…” Cal looks like he’s at a complete loss. “I don’t know, I guess… I guess I just imagine us having a life together.”

“Tell me about it,” I press.

“I don’t know,” he repeats, but this time I get the sense that he’s just hesitant to tell me the truth. His cheeks are turning the faintest shade of silver as a warm blush creeps across them, and I can feel the temperature in the room rising ever so slightly. “It depends on what you want, I don’t want to force you…”

“You want a family?” I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that’s what he’s reluctant to tell me about. 

“I… only if you do.” Still hesitant.

“Cal, can you do me a favour? Can you just tell me what you want?” I say, trying not to get frustrated with him. “Stop making it contingent on what I say. I just want to know what you picture when you imagine our life together.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and I can see him trying to work up the courage to share this secret with me. I’m not sure why he’s so nervous – does Cal think that he’ll tell me he wants to have children and I’ll say absolutely not and leave him? I don’t know how I feel about the idea of parenthood, but it’s certainly something I’m willing to talk to Cal about. These are things we should decide together, not me telling him what I want and him going along with it.

“I…” Cal sighs heavily, looking off into the distance. “Mare, I really don’t know. It’s… I never had a choice about any of these things, I never got to want anything. There were just things that were expected, and I made my peace with them, I suppose. But now all that’s gone and… this is all new for me, Mare, trying to figure out what I want for the first time in my life. I think… I think I want kids and a family, but I don’t know. It’s hard to tell if I really want it or if it’s just so ingrained that it’s what I’m supposed to do. But the one thing I know I want is you.”

I smile at his last words. It’s hardly the first time he’s expressed the sentiment, but somehow it never gets old hearing him say that he wants me, that he chooses me, forever. I really do love him.

But I share his uncertainty too. I know that I want my future to include Cal, but beyond that… It's hard to imagine. We’ve seen so much death and destruction, so much evil in the world, and it’s still so far from perfect that I find it difficult to want to bring a child into it. But at the same time, I see Farley with Clara and sometimes it makes me wonder what it might be like to have a little person that’s half me and half Cal. Would I even be good at parenting? I don’t feel like a particularly maternal person. Cal would be an amazing father though. I shake my head a little to clear the thoughts.

“Cal, I… I think I’m just not there yet,” I say, and his smile immediately disappears. “I don’t mean you! I’m sure about you, about us , but I just think I’m not ready to be someone’s wife yet. I’m not saying no, Cal, I just need more time before I’m ready.”

I can tell he’s trying not to show it, but he looks completely crushed, and it makes my heart squeeze painfully. I don’t want to hurt him, and I wish he didn’t take this as a rejection, because that’s certainly not how I mean it. I don’t know how to explain my reluctance. I don’t think I even understand it. Rationally, there’s no reason for it. I know I love him, I know I don’t want anyone else. And yet… I just know that even though I want to marry Cal someday , I’m not ready to do it now. 

But it hurts Cal all the same. As usual, he’s a few steps ahead of me, waiting for me to catch up. Probably afraid that I never will. He knows that I love him, but I think there’s a part of him that’s still afraid that my love is conditional. I wish there was some other way I could show him that it’s not.

“Cal? I love you,” I say, reaching for him, stroking my thumb across his cheek.

“I know.” But not as much as I do. As he looks up at me, I can see it in his eyes, still flecked with sadness – his darkest thought. His deepest anxiety. “I love you too.”

I know that our relationship is unequal in this sense. He lost everything because of me, saved me, chose me in the end. And all I’ve ever done for him is leave him. Cal loves openly, with his whole heart, his whole body, everything he is. I wish I could do that – be free with my affection and make him feel loved all the time, the way he does. I wish I could make him know that my feelings are just as strong as his. It’s easy, when only one person is outwardly romantic, to think that they love the other more. I understand why Cal feels that way sometimes, even if he’d never admit it out loud. I wish I could do something to take away the fear and the worry that he’ll always be the one who loves more.

Bold romantic gestures are more Cal’s territory than mine, and right now, that’s what getting married feels like to me. Just a big, showy way of saying look how much we love each other. And it just feels so… permanent. Logically, I know that Cal and I are in this for the long haul, but something in my mind won’t let me fully accept that. It insists that I be prepared for the day Cal leaves or dies, even though I know that won’t happen. At least not the leaving. I hope not the dying either. It’s all the trauma from the war, the choices that we had to make and the difficult situation we were forced into in our relationship. Or at least, so I’ve been told. I’m working on it. Apparently, I’m not getting over the trauma as fast as Cal.

“Can we just take things a little slower?” I ask, trying to show him that I do mean what I say. That I love him. That I want him. I just need… smaller steps forward I think.

“Slower how?” he replies, and I don’t miss the sharpness in his voice. “I think we’re moving pretty slowly, Mare. We haven’t changed anything about our relationship since I came to Montfort.”

I pause, trying to think of a compromise. “Maybe… we could live together?”

Cal’s eyes snap to mine, bronze gleaming, and he looks like he’s trying to read my mind. Maybe he’s not sure if I’m serious or maybe he’s just surprised that I’m the one suggesting it, but his expression is a mixture of hope and suspicion.

“Do you mean that?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I answer with a shrug, sounding far more casual than I feel. “I’m here half the time anyway, so we might as well.”

Cal gives me a look that I can tell means he resents the implication that I’m suggesting this just because it’s convenient.

I sigh. “You know what I mean. I want to live with you. I… I hate sleeping without you. When you don’t come over for dinner, I wish you were there, and on days that I don’t get to see you at all, I just… I just miss you. It sounds stupid but –”

“I get it,” Cal says softly. The way his face has lit up is just absolutely irresistible. I always want him to look like this. He takes my hand and tugs on it lightly until I move so that I’m sitting in his lap. “You know, we kind of already lived together.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but that was at the Notch. It doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because. That wasn’t like. Real life. Normal life. That was us living in a hole in the ground while we tried not to die or get everyone else killed. I don’t think this would be like that.”

“All I’m saying is, I think we’ll be pretty good at living together.” Cal’s smile is so bright, it feels like pure sunlight. 

“I think so too,” I answer, leaning forward so I can kiss him.

Cal ends the kiss far too quickly for my taste, but I can practically feel him buzzing with excitement.

“How soon can you… I mean, when do you want to…” Cal’s words come tumbling out in a rush and he can’t seem to finish one thought before starting another. “Oh! You want to move in here, right? Not find somewhere new?”

I can’t help but chuckle at his exuberant enthusiasm. “Yeah, here is fine. I like your place.”

“ Our place,” he corrects, with possibly the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “Is it crazy if I say that it already feels more like home knowing that you’re going to live here too?”

“Maybe a little,” I answer, reaching up to push his curls back from his forehead, “but I like it.”

Cal’s eyes flutter closed as he tilts his head back a little under my touch, and he sighs contentedly. “Can you just… stay tonight and never leave?”

“I…” My first instinct is to say no. Of course not. People can’t move on the drop of a hat. But… I live with my parents, so it’s not like I need to sell a house or anything. There’s really no reason why I couldn’t just stay. “Okay.”

“What?” Cal looks at me with eyes wide with surprise.

“I don’t see a reason why I can’t –”

I barely finish my sentence before Cal is kissing me. It’s messy, because Cal is too happy to stop smiling even for a kiss, but somehow that feels perfect too. Seeing him like this, absolutely ecstatic, fills me with so much warmth and that makes me certain that this is the right choice. It might not be easy, and I’m sure we’ll face challenges, but I don’t think anything that makes us both so happy could be the wrong decision.