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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𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖎𝖛. The Schemes of a Princess
Valencia
IT WOULD BE EASY to kill her, Valencia thinks.
Spindles of rose gold weave between red, black, and orange jewels at Annabel Roloson's neck. One twitch and Valencia could slice the oblivion's jugular. Bleed out her body and her scheme. End her life and her betrothal in front of everyone in the room. Valencia's mother, father, Matt ━ not to mention the Red criminals and foreign freaks they've found themselves tied to. Not Maeve, though. She hasn't returned yet. Probably still wailing over her lost prince.
It would mean another war, of course, shattering an alliance already spiderwebbed with cracks. Could Valencia do such a thing ━ trade her loyalties for happiness? It feels shameful just to ask the question, even in the safety of her own head.
The old woman must feel her gaze. Her eyes flick to Valencia for a second, the smirk on her lips unmistakable as she settles back into her chair, resplendent in red, black, and orange.
Those are Sturniolo colors, not just Roloson. Her allegiances are abrasively clear.
Shivering, Valencia drops her gaze and focuses on her hands instead. One of her nails is horribly cracked. Broken in battle. With a breath, she molds one of her titanium rings into a claw, drawing it over her finger into a talon. She clicks it against the arm of her throne, if only to annoy her mother. Nyoka glances at her daughter out of the corner of her eye, the only evidence of her disdain.
Valencia fantasizes about killing Annabel a little too long, losing track of the council as they scheme in their wretched circles. Their numbers have dwindled, leaving only the collected leaders of their hastily united factions. Generals, lords, captains, and royalty. The Montfort leader speaks, then Valencia's father, then Annabel, and over again. All in restrained tones, forcing false smiles and empty promises.
Valencia wishes Elle were here. She should have brought her. She asked to come. In truth, she begged. Elle has always wanted to keep close, even in the face of lethal danger. Valencia tries not to think of their last moments together, when she kissed her until she couldn't breathe. Damon was waiting outside the door, making sure they weren't disturbed nor caught.
"Let me go with you," Elle had whispered in Valencia's ear, a dozen times, a hundred times. But both of their fathers forbade it.
Enough, Valencia.
She curses at herself now. They would have never known in the middle of the chaos. Elle's a shadow, after all, and an invisible girl is easy to smuggle. Damon would have helped. He wouldn't stop his wife from coming along, not if his sister asked for his aid. But she couldn't. There was a battle to be won first, a battle she didn't know if they would win. And she wasn't about to take that risk with the girl she loves. Elle is talented, but she is no soldier. And in the thick of it, she would only be a distraction and a worry for Valencia. She could afford neither then. But now . . .
