she's an anomaly, and they can't help but be infatuated with her.
NO SMUT OR SEXUALIZING ━ if any of the triplets are uncomfortable with this fanfiction, it will be taken down immediately.
matt sturniolo x fem! oc x chris sturniolo (LOVE TRIANGLE)
l...
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𝖝𝖛. Welcome to the Scarlet Guard
AFTER A WEEK of staring at her clock, waiting for midnight, Maeve begins to despair. Of course Cyrus can't reach her here. It was foolish and impossible to think she could ━ even she is not so talented. However, tonight, when the clock ticks, Maeve feels absolutely nothing for the first time since Queenstrial. No cameras, no electricity, nothing. The power is completely out. She's been in blackouts before, too many to count, but this is different. This isn't an accident. This is for her.
Moving quickly, she slips into her boots, now broken in by weeks of wear, and heads for the door. She's barely out in the hallway before she hears Granger in her ear, speaking softly and quickly as she pulls her through the forced darkness.
"We don't have much time," the servant girl murmurs, hustling Maeve into a service stairwell. It's pitch-black, but Granger seems to know where they're going, and Maeve trusts her to get her there. "They'll have the power back on in fifteen minutes if we're lucky."
"And if we aren't?" the Deuveux breathes into the darkness.
Granger hustles her down the stairs and shoulders open a door. "Then I hope you're not too attached to your head."
The smell of earth and dirt and water hits her first, churning up all of Maeve's memories of life in the woods. But even though it looks like a forest, with gnarled old trees and hundreds of plants painted blue and black by the moon, a glass roof rises overhead. The conservatory. Twisting shadows sprawl across the ground, each one worse than the next. She can see Security and Sentinels in every corner, waiting to capture and kill them like they did her brother. But instead of their horrific black or flame uniforms, there's nothing but flowers blooming beneath the glass ceiling of stars.
"Excuse me if I don't curtsy," a voice says, emerging from a grove of white-spangled magnolia trees. Her blue eyes reflect the moon, glowing in the dark with cold fire. Cyrus seems to have a real talent for theatrics.
Like in her broadcast, she wears a red scarf over her face, hiding her features. But it doesn't hide a ruinous scar that marches down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt. It looks new, barely beginning to heal. She's clearly been busy since the last time Maeve saw her. But then again, so has Maeve.
"Cyrus," the seventeen-year-old says, tipping her head in greeting.
She doesn't nod back, but then, the Deuveux wasn't exactly expecting her to. All business. "And the other one?" the blonde murmurs. Other one?
"James is bringing him. Any second now." Granger sounds breathless, excited even, about whoever they're waiting for. Even Cyrus' eyes seem to shine.
