war has begun, and if they're not careful, a fatality will tear them down.
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 T...
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𝖛𝖎𝖎. The King and His Ploy
Nick
THE SO-CALLED "lightning alert" echoes through the main floor of Irabelle, up and down the scaffolded landings, back and forth between passages. Runners go out, seeking those deemed important enough to get updates on Maeve Deuveux. Usually Nick isn't a priority, but he tends to go with either Weston or Matt as support for the girl they both care for unconditionally. However, today it seems he's gotten a spot on the list. As he's turning the corner of a corridor, a little girl ━ one of the runners ━ tugs on his arm.
"Lightning alert, Your Highness," she says, not sure what to call the exiled prince. That's how it is with most of them, hesitant on how to address Nick and Matt. The aforementioned doesn't care much for titles, as he never cared for being a royal either. "Come with me, please."
Nick smiles at the little girl, nodding lightly. When she takes his hand, leading him along, he's reminded of Chris. He was shorter than Nick was growing up, and back when they were kids, he used to hold his hand when he was frightened, especially of the dark. The thought of his brother sends a pang of sadness through Nick's heart. He does his best to shake it off, not wanting to be distracted during the debrief about Maeve.
The little girl pulls him through curling passages, proud of herself for knowing which way to go. Nick frowns at the red scrap tied around her wrist. She's too young to be patched to rebels, let alone living in their tactical headquarters. Then again, when he was that age, he and his brothers were already at the war front.
They reach the passage to central control the same time Weston does. His own runner trails behind, sprinting to keep up with the lanky boy tearing around the corner. As Nick's eyes graze over the boy, he realizes that Weston must have been topside, out in the frozen air of winter. His cheeks bloom red from the cold.
"Nick." He nods at him, stopping where their paths cross. Usually he would smile, but the Sturniolo can see the fear vibrating within his eyes. Weston is terrified for his best friend. "Any ideas?"
"None," Nick replies, shaking his head. He wishes he could offer more.
Weston glanced back at his runner, sending her a smile. "Thanks," he says, kindly dismissive. The kid takes the hint, turning away with relief. Nick does the same to his, gesturing with a bob of his head and a grateful smile. The little girl takes off in the other direction, disappearing around a bend.
"Starting them young," the prince can't help but whisper under his breath.
