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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𝖝𝖝𝖛. A Coup D'état
MAEVE SPENDS much of the next day exploring, though her mind is elsewhere. Whitefire is older than the Hall, its walls made of stone and carved wood rather than diamondglass. She doubts she'll ever learn the layout of the whole thing, as it holds not just the royal residence but many administrative offices and chambers, ballrooms, a full training court, and other things she can't even imagine. She guesses that's why it takes the secretary nearly a half hour to find her, wandering through a gallery of statues. But she won't have more time to explore. She has duties to fulfill.
Duties, according to the king's chatting secretary, that apply to a whole range of evils beyond just reading the Measures. As a future princess, she must meet the people in arranged outings, making speeches and shaking hands and standing by Chris' side. The last part doesn't really bother her, but being put on parade like a goat at auction isn't exactly exciting.
She joins Chris in a transport, headed for the first appearance. She's itching to tell him about the list and to thank him for the bloodbase, but there are far too many eyes and ears.
The majority of the day speeds by in a blur of noise and color as they tour through different parts of the capital. The Bridge Market reminds Maeve of Grand Garden, though it's three times the size. In the single hour they spend greeting children and shopkeepers, Maeve sees the Silvers assault or aggravate dozens of Red servants, all simply trying to do their jobs. Security keeps them from all-out abuse, but the words they sling are almost as hurtful. Child killers, animals, devils. Chris keeps his grip tight on her hand, never wavering, squeezing every time a Red is knocked to the ground. When they reach their next stop, an art gallery, Maeve is glad to be out of the public eye, until she sees the paintings. The Silver artist uses two colors, silver and red, in a horrifying collection that makes her feel sick. Each painting is worse than the last, depicting Silver strength and Red weakness in every brushstroke. The last one displays a grey-and-silver figure, quite like a ghost, and the crown on his brow bleeds crimson. It makes her want to put her head through a wall.
The plaza outside the gallery is noisy, bustling with city life. Many stop to stare, gawking at the two royals as they head for their transport. Chris waves with a beautiful, practiced smile, causing the crowd to cheer his name. He's good at this; after all, these people are his birthright. When he stops to speak with a few children, his smile brightens. Maeve knows that Matt ━ or perhaps Nick, when it really comes down to it ━ might be born to rule, but Chris is meant for it. And Chris is willing to change the world for the better, for the Reds he was raised to spit on. She can't help but admire him for it, her heart squeezing in affection for the boy.
She surreptitiously touches the list in her pocket, thinking of the ones who can help Chris and herself change the world. Are they like her, or are they as varied as the Silvers? Cassian was like you, a voice whispers in her head. They knew about Cassian and had to kill him, like they could not kill you. Her heart aches for her fallen brother, for the conversations they might have had. For the future they might have forged.
