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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖎𝖎. I Don't Trust Your Word
MAEVE FLINCHES. The rag Cyrus gives her is clean, but it still smells like blood. She shouldn't care. She already has blood all over her clothes. The red is hers, of course. The silver belongs to many others. Valencia, Damon, the nymph lord, all those who tried to kill her in the arena. She supposes some of it is Matt's as well. He bled freely on the sand, cut and bruised by their would-be executioners. Now he sits across from Maeve, staring at his feet, letting his wounds begin the slow process of healing naturally. She glances at one of the many cuts on his arms, probably from Valencia. Still fresh, and deep enough to leave a scar. Part of Maeve delights in the thought. This jagged gash will not be magically wiped away by a healer's cold hands. She and Matt are not in the Silver world anymore, with someone to simply erase their well-earned scars. They've survived. They've escaped. Or at least, Maeve has. Matt's chains are a firm reminder of his captivity.
Cyrus nudges Maeve's hand, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Hide your face, lightning girl. It's what they're after."
For once, she does as she's told. The others follow, pulling red fabric up over their mouths and noses. Matt is the last uncovered face, but not for long. He doesn't fight Cyrus when she ties his mask into place, making him look like one of them.
If only he was.
An electric hum sets Maeve's blood on fire, reminding her of the pulsing, screeching Undertrain. It carries them inexorably forward, to a city that was once a haven. The train races, screaming over ancient tracks like a Silver swift running over open ground. Maeve listens to the grating metal, feeling it deep in her bones where a cold ache begins to settle in. Her rage, her strength back in the arena seems like faraway memories, leaving behind only pain and fear. She can scarcely imagine what Matt must be thinking. He's lost everything ━ everything ━ he ever held dear. A father, a brother, a kingdom. How he's holding himself together, still but for the rocking of the train, Maeve doesn't know.
No one needs to tell her the reason for their haste. Cyrus and her Guardsmen, tense as coiled wire, are enough explanations for Maeve. We are still running.
Chris came this way before, and Chris will come again. This time with the fury of his soldiers, the queen, and his new crown. Yesterday he was a prince; today he is a king. Maeve thought he was her friend, her fiancé, her . . . something, but now she knows better.
Once, she trusted him. Now, she knows to hate him, to fear him. He helped kill his father for a crown, and framed his brother for the crime. He knows the radiation surrounding the ruined city is a lie ━ a trick ━ and he knows where the train leads. The sanctuary Cyrus built is no longer safe, not for them.
