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)
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𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖎𝖛. Tuck
IN THE PAST FEW DAYS, Maeve has woken up in a castle, a jail cell, and then a train. Now it's an underwater boat. Where will I wake up tomorrow?
She's beginning to think this has all been a dream, or a hallucination, or worse. But can you feel tired in dreams? Because Maeve certainly does. Her exhaustion is bone-deep, in every muscle and nerve. Her heart is another wound entirely, still bleeding from betrayal and failure. When she opens her eyes, finding cramped, grey walls, everything she wants to forget comes rushing back at her like a tidal wave. It feels as if Queen Astraea is in her head again, forcing her to relive her worst memories, using them as a weapon.
Her quiet, sweet maids were executed, guilty of nothing but painting her skin. George, speared like a pig. Granger. She was Maeve's brother's age, a servant from the Stilts, Maeve's friend ━ and one of them. She died cruelly, by her own hand, to protect the Guard, their purpose, and Maeve. Even more died in the tunnels of Caesar's Square, Guardsmen killed by Matt's soldiers, killed by their foolish plan. The memory of red blood burns, but so does the thought of silver. Axel, Maeve's friend, her protector, a Silver with a heart of gold, executed for what she and Cedric made him do. Lady Ondo, decapitated because she taught Maeve how to sit properly. Colonel Laughlin, Reginald Lovelace, Jasper Roloson. Sacrificed for the cause. She almost retches when she remembers Jasper's twin boys, four years old, killed in the explosion that followed the shooting. Chris told her it was an accident ━ a punctured gas line, but now Maeve knows better. His evil runs too deep for such coincidence. She doubts he minded throwing a few more bodies on the blaze, if only to convince the world that the Guard was made of monsters. He's going to kill Cedric, too, and Amelia. No, Maeve thinks, they're probably dead already. She forces them out of her head, too painful to think about. Now her thoughts turn back to Chris himself, to cold blue eyes and the moment she realized his charming smile hid a monster.
The bunk beneath her is hard, the blankets thin, with no pillow to speak of, but part of Maeve wants to lie back down. Forever. Already her headache returns, throbbing with the electric pulse of this miracle boat. It's a firm reminder ━ there is no peace for her here. Not yet, not while so much more has to be done. The list. The names. I have to find them. I have to keep them safe from Chris and his wrath. Heat spreads across her face, her skin flushing with the memory of Cedric's little book of hard-won secrets. A record of those like herself, with the strange mutation that gives Reds Silver abilities. The list is Cedric's legacy. And, now, Maeve's.
She swings her legs over the side of the cot, almost whacking her head on the bunk above her, and finds a neatly folded set of clothing on the floor. Black pants that are too long, a dark red shirt with threadbare elbows, and boots missing laces. Nothing like the fine clothes she was wearing before, but they feel right against her skin.
