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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𝖝𝖎𝖛. Nicolas Sturniolo
THE NEXT MORNING, Maeve opens her eyes to see a shaded figure standing by her beside. This is it, is the first thing that rushes through her head. I left, I broke the rules, and now they're going to kill me for it.
But not without a fight.
Before the figure gets a chance, Maeve flies out of bed, ready to defend herself. Her muscles tense while the delightful buzzing comes to life inside her. But instead of an assassin, she's staring at a red uniform. And she recognizes the girl wearing it.
Granger looks the same as she did before, though Maeve certainly doesn't. She stands next to a metal cart filled with tea and bread and anything else the future princess might want for breakfast. Ever the dutiful servant, she keeps her mouth clamped shut, but her eyes scream at Maeve. She stares at the seventeen-year-old's hand, at the now too-familiar sparks creeping around her fingers. Maeve shakes them away, brushing off the veins of light until they disappear back into her skin.
"I'm so sorry," she exclaims, jumping away from the older girl. Still, the servant doesn't speak. "Granger ━ "
But she busies herself with the food. Then, to Maeve's great surprise, she mouths five words to her. They are words she's beginning to think are a prayer ━ or a curse. Rise, Red as the dawn.
Before she can respond, before her shock can register, Granger presses a cup of tea into her hand.
"Wait ━ " Maeve reaches out for her, but the servant dodges her hand, sweeping into a low bow instead.
"My lady," she says, sharply ending their conversation.
Maeve lets her go, watching her back out of the room until there's nothing left but the echo of her unspoken words.
Granger is in the Guard too.
The teacup feels cold in Maeve's hand. Strangely cold.
She looks down to find it's not filled with tea, but water. And at the bottom of the cup, a piece of paper bleeds ink. The ink swirls as she reads the message, the water leeching it away, erasing any trace, until there's nothing left but cloudy grey liquid and a blank curl of paper. No evidence of her first act of rebellion.
The message isn't hard to remember. It's only one word.
Midnight.
This knowledge that she has a connection to the group so close by should comfort her, but for some reason, Maeve finds herself shivering. She can't help but wonder if cameras are the only things watching her here.
