Fatality ━━ Matt vs Chris Sturniolo²

𝖎𝖝. Secrets Stay Secrets

[ tw: suicide ]

𝖎𝖝. Secrets Stay Secrets

Maeve

BEING A DOLL is an odd thing. Maeve spends more time on the shelf than at play. But when she's forced to, she dances at Chris' command ━ he upholds his bargain as she does. After all, he's a man of his word.

The first newblood seeks refuge at Ocean Hill, the Harbor Bay palace, and as Chris promised, he is given full protection from the so-called terror of the Scarlet Guard. A few days later, the poor man is escorted to Archeon and is introduced to Chris himself. It's well broadcast. Both his identity and his ability are now commonly known in court. To the surprise of many, he is a burner like the scions of House Sturniolo. But unlike Nick, Matt, and Chris, he has no need for a flamemaker bracelet, or even a spark. His fire comes from ability and ability alone, same as Maeve's lightning.

She has to sit and watch, perched on a gilded chair with the rest of Chris' entourage. Kol, the seer, sits with her, always quiet. As the first two newbloods to join with the Silver king, they are afforded places of great honor at Chris' side, second to Valencia and Cade.

Day after day, week after week, Maeve has to watch as more newbloods follow the burner boy. Sometimes one, sometimes a dozen. From every corner of the nation, they come, fleeing to the supposed safety of their king. Most because they're afraid, but some because they're foolish enough to want a place here. To leave their lives of oppression behind and become the impossible. Maeve can't blame them. After all, they've all been told their entire lives that the Silvers are their masters, their betters, their gods. And now those same Silvers are merciful enough to let them live in their heaven. Who wouldn't try to join them?

Chris plays his part well. He embraces them all as brothers and sisters, smiling broadly, showing no shame or fear in an act that most Silvers find repulsive. The court follows his lead, but Maeve sees their sneers and scowls hidden behind jeweled hands. Even though this is part of the charade, a well-aimed blow against the Guard, they dislike it. What's more, they fear it. Many of the newbloods have untrained abilities more powerful than their own, or beyond Silver comprehension. They watch with wolf eyes and ready claws.

For once, Maeve is not the center of attention. It's her only respite, not to mention an advantage. No one cares about the lightning girl without her lightning. She does what she can, which is little, but not inconsequential. She listens.

Valencia is restless despite an iron-faced facade. Her fingers drum the arms of her seat, still only when Elle is near, whispering or touching her. But then she does not dare to relax. She remains on edge as sharp as her knives. It's not hard for Maeve to guess why. Even for a prisoner, she's heard very little talk of a royal wedding. And though Valencia is certainly engaged to the king, she is still not a queen. It scares her. The Deuveux can see it in the older girl's face, in her manner, in her constant parade of glittering outfits, each one more complicated and regal than the last. She wears a crown in all but name, yet the name is what she wants more than anything. Her father wants it, too. Arlo haunts her side, resplendent in black velvet and silver brocade. Unlike his daughter, he doesn't wear any metal that Maeve can see. Not a chain or even a ring. He doesn't need to wear weaponry to seem dangerous. With his quiet manner and dark robes, he looks more like an executioner than a noble. Maeve doesn't know how Chris can stand his presence, or the steady, focused hunger in his eyes. He reminds her of Astraea. Always watching the throne, always waiting for a chance to take it.