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Maven barely remembered the wedding itself.
It felt as if he had woken up from a dream he couldn’t quite recall, yet teared pieces of it still managed to torment him.
The unfeeling looks from the Cygnet family, his mothers voice hissing at him in the back of his head, the too bright shine of the wedding hall harmonized with the assaulting scent of carnations.
Oh those damn carnations.
After an unfortunate mishap in the planning distribution, Iris and he had ended up having to take care of the flower arrangements together.
“We have a great selection of lilies, hydrangeas, orchids. All great choices for your special day!” the over-enthusiastic florist had said, and Maven had had to physically stop himself from saying the wilted roses thrown in the waste would fit much better for their ‘special’ day.
Iris had perked up while passing through the water hyacinths. Maven had shot her way a much too cheerful smile “Yellow ones maybe.” and Iris had shot him one right back when she caught Maven gazing at the nightshade family selection for too long “Wolfs bane could be very fitting.”
In the end, after many more insults thrown to each other in flower language leaving the poor worker looking between the two in fright, they had settled on carnations. Yellow ones, to be exact.
“W-well carnations are an amazing choice! Of course!” the confused worker cried out “But perhaps I could suggest some other color..?” The couple had ignored him, giving each other what could barely count as a nod in farewell before immediately parting to opposing directions.
Now with the feel of the flowers and their spicy aroma attacking his lungs lingering even after the ceremony, he started to think the pettiness might not have been that worth it.
But even that memory playing in his head hadn’t been enough to make him forget the ghost bouncing around all over the wedding hall. From the shadows of the bouquets to the pillars towering high with their shade stretching vast, moving with the silhouette of plates the servants held to the table cloth hanging off of the guest tables.
Thought its real goal seemed to be getting close to Maven. And when it had a chance to achieve that, like a server moving towards him to offer an appetizer or his cousin coming over to try to whisper something scrutinizing in his ear, the ghost hopped right on any shadow it managed to cling onto.
Maven had to watch out and back off from anyone or anything coming close enough to cast a shadow on him. He could almost hear a faint laugh whenever he moved.
For some reason the noise didn’t bother him as much as it should.
And of course the last piece, his lovely bride, Iris. When the wedding officiant requested them to, her cold mouth had felt unnatural on his warm one, like putting ice in a drink which was meant to be drank hot.
The wedding had thankfully ended swiftly enough after that, as neither the bride, the groom or any of guests wanted to stay at this humiliation ritual for much longer.
…
Maven fidgeted with his wedding ring as he strolled across the hall.
It had become an annoying habit of his, but in his defense, he didn’t want the ring there either.
Besides he just couldn’t get it to fit properly. And its not as if he didn’t try.
First it had been too tight. Squeezed his finger making it constantly itch, so he got it loosened. Now it was too loose. He had to slide it back up every few seconds.
Iris was sitting on the edge of the bed when he came. Maven stood motionless at the door, not daring to move towards her.
She lifted her gaze and watched with eyes as empty as his.
With the commotion of people constantly around them gone, being alone with her felt much too quiet. Quiet enough that neither of them could come up with something to delay their little inevitable.
There was a task to get over with now.
The shadow danced at the corner of his vision. It looked as agitated as he felt. Maven still didn’t move.
A breeze came through parting the curtains and blew off the candles letting darkness take over the room. Maven could feel the shadow now move freely, jumping from the table to the window to the bed, standing on the opposite side of where Iris sat.
She must’ve moved her gaze away from him, as he could no more feel the heavy weight of it.
The shadow was flickering. The wind pushed through the curtains again, and moonlight almost alightened the spot where the shadow swayed. Maven shut the door and fled.
…
With a delightful voice screaming at him in his head about how improper it was, he kept running and running through the grand corridors. Away, away from that room, away from Iris, away from that cursed ghost.
A clinking on the ground halted his steps.
The ring had slid right off, as if it wanted away from him. Which, fair enough.
His little glare off with the ring gave the shadow plenty of time to catch up. Unfortunately for it, the corridors were well illuminated. It only had two options to get close to Maven, the shadow of the ring or Maven’s.
To its credit, the poor thing tried multiple times to jump into the rings tiny shadow. The silence felt like an apology when the ghost gave up and jumped in Maven’ shadow instead.
...
Thomas really wishes he got to see the death of Elara Merandus.
Maven’s entire body shook and shivered, he had to hold onto the wall to not fall over.
He panted against the wall, trying to collect himself back up. Thomas didn’t really know what it felt like to carry a ghost on your shadow but clearly it wasn’t much better then getting shocked.
Among all the reactions he got so far, which varied from passing out to endless shivering, considering all Maven took it better then most.
Thomas did not want to wonder why that was.
Maven peeled himself off of the walls and resumed his hurrying through the corridors with a couple staggers, passing multiple doors Thomas didn’t know where led to.
He just hugged close the the boys narrow shadow, trying very had to not fall off and leave a trail of ashes on the pretty marble floor.
…
Thomas remembered his death.
A fight between the two burner brothers, a fire blooming from the tents and spreading freely with dry grass all around, Maven’s beautiful eyes suddenly filling with alarm when looking towards him, his own screams he doesn’t even remember started when.
Skin burning off his body, pain he couldn’t even fully comprehend surrounding his every sense; last thing he saw with his living eyes being Maven’s blurry figure breaking free from Cal and running to him.
He remembers floating in darkness, not knowing what to do now that the pain was gone but he could still hear screams. No longer his screams, that he was sure of, but his hearing was also gone before he could figure out whose.
He didn’t know how long he had spent in that state, simply existing in an endless void. Time didn’t exist there, and he was starting to think he didn’t either.
Then his senses started to come back. They were all fuzzy and confusing. He mixed smell with hearing and touch with sight. But eventually he could make out the smell of burnt wood, the hiss of the soldiers boots hitting the grass. All perceived as if from behind a veil of uncertainty; but still, it was better than nothing.
He floated around without purpose. He couldn’t make out any faces of the living as if in a dream. Before he realized, he was standing in front of someone. Someone holding onto a pile of ash. His murderer. His lover.
It took a while for Thomas to realize that Maven didn’t know the shadows following him around were of his dead boyfriend.
Thomas used his creativity to the fullest to help Maven recognize him. He was a shit poltergeist, he had learned that with great disappointment after failing to throw various objects at people, specifically his favorite victim Samson.
However he was not completely useless. He had found out he was excellent at stealing from the living.
It started with small things, stealing voices from silver lords to mess with the staff, and their respective heirs. Then it progressed to aligning himself to their shadows, even managing to rip it off and feed his own. Temporarily, of course, the universe wouldn’t have him ruining the precious balance for too long.
But once, in an innocent attempt to steal a shadow, he accidentally pulled along skin off of his prey. He froze in his revelation. He could rip pieces from people.
He could make his shadow look like himself.
Amber eyes from one of the red servants. A crooked nose from a scary looking prisoner deep in the dungeons. Dark, unkempt mop of hair and eyebrows from a guard planted at the door of said dungeons. Almost all other features carelessly stolen from the other guards coming over to see the cause of screeches echoing all across the building.
He was much too excited to properly recall what his ears had looked like.
Lost in his exhilaration of catching the reflection of a floating face on one of the metal helmets rolling on the ground, which did somewhat look like his old face, he gave up on trying to find lips and headed straight to the castle to find his lover.
He had forgotten about the strings his mother had pulled in the boys brain.
Thomas saw recognition in Maven’s eyes for a split second, before the boy toppled over and screamed in pain.
Thomas wished he was the one to kill Elara Merandus.
…
Maven threw himself into his room, locking the door.
Behind the closed walls, Maven’s composure peeled off with little restraint. He looked tired.
Thomas hopped off his shadow. He didn’t know what to do. Maven let his body fall down with a sigh, he threw his head back leaning on the door and watched Thomas nervously sway around.
The room was dark enough for Thomas to move around easily but he didn’t want to leave the spot where he was watching over Maven, like a guardian angel or something.
It made him feel useful.
Though now looking at Maven, clearly, no one should ever let Thomas sign up as a guardian angel.
Maven sat still as a statue, even as Thomas saw curtains right across him part multiple times, it seemed even the wind wasn’t courageous enough to move a strand of his hair.
Maven’s empty eyes were strangely the only ones that could actually look at him, and not right through his silhouette of shadows.
His eyes were cold with an unnerving hue to them which had nothing to do with the dark circles of exhaustion. They made Thomas, a ghost, shudder.
It was he most alluring thing hes ever seen.
Those eyes watched his every move now, narrowed in focus. Thomas wanted so badly to find a voice somewhere and talk to him. Maybe this time. Maybe its been long enough, maybe Elara’s fuckery had worn off.
You’d think his hopes would have died off by the second time he made Maven wail in pain.
While they were still very much alive and desperate, the echoing screams in his ears are certainly more than enough to keep him rooted on the spot.
They could only ever watch each other.