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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𝖑𝖛𝖎. War is Over
Valencia
THE SILENT STONE grates against Valencia, and her skin itches with the constant pressure. It isn't easy to ignore, even with her extensive years of training. She fights back the searing urge to rip her nails down her arms, if only to feel a different kind of pain instead of the foul, decaying weight of Silence. She wonders where the Stone is buried. Perhaps beneath the meeting platform. Maybe under their seats. It feels so close she could choke on it.
Everyone else looks undisturbed by the unnatural sensation of their deepest parts repressed. Even Maeve, despite her history. She keeps her head high and her body still. No sign of discomfort or pain. Meaning Valencia has to hide it as well as she does. Ugh.
Baraka's lips curl in distaste, hating the feel of the Silent Stone as much as the rest of them. Perhaps it will make him more amenable to their cause. Yes, he despises Montfort, and he has reason to. But Valencia thinks he hates losing more. And if Matt's blustering works, he certainly won't have faith in Chris for much longer.
Chris glares at Matt, as if he can somehow measure up to his brother. Whatever compassion he counted on exploiting seems to disappear as Matt holds form, unmoved in his seat.
"Those are my terms, Chris," he says, sounding more kingly than his father ever did. "Surrender, and live."
Chris deserves little more than a bullet to the brain or a knife to the heart. He's a danger none of them can afford to leave breathing. Valencia wants to watch it happen.
His reply is guttural, coming from the deepest parts of him. "Get off my island."
No one is surprised. Damon lets loose a low breath. His fingers twitch, itching for the knives strapped across his chest. At least the Sentinels didn't think ━ or didn't care ━ to disarm anyone but the Reds. They must think magnetrons defenseless without ability. How wrong. Damon could put a knife right through Chris' eye if the circumstances allowed.
Matt leans forward in his seat, rising slowly. "Very well," he says, pained. "Remember this day, Chris, when you are abandoned and alone, with no one to blame but yourself."
Chris has no response but a smirk and a chuff of laughter. He acts well, relying on the carefully crafted image of a beleaguered boy called to greatness. The son that was never meant to rule. It has no use here. Everyone knows who ━ and what ━ he is.
Still in her seat, Queen Marella angles her face to him, leaning past her daughter. "Our terms, Your Majesty?"
He doesn't reply, too distracted by Matt and Maeve to know she's even speaking. Reva nudges him.
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