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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𝖝. Princes of Piedmont
Maeve
MAEVE TEARS APART every book on her shelf, ripping them to shreds. The bindings snap, the pages tear, and she wishes they would bleed. She wishes she would bleed. Mags is dead because Maeve is not. Because she's still here, bait in a trap, a lure to draw the Scarlet Guard out of their sanctuaries.
She hates it. She hates it. SHE HATES IT.
After a few pointless hours of destruction, she realizes she's wrong. The Guard wouldn't do this. Not the Colonel, not Cyrus, not for Maeve. Not when they know how dangerous it would be.
"Matt, you stupid, fucking idiot," she says to no one.
Because of course this was his idea. It's what he learned. Victory at any cost. She hopes he doesn't continue to pay this impossible price for her.
Outside, it's snowing again. Maeve feels none of its cold, only her own.
IN THE MORNING, she wakes up on her bed, still in her dress, though she doesn't remember getting up from the floor. The ruined books are gone too, meticulously swept away from Maeve's life. Even the smallest pieces of torn paper. But the shelves aren't empty. A dozen leather-bound books, new and old, occupy the spaces. The urge to ruin them too consumes her, and she stumbles to her feet, lunging.
The first one she grabs is ratty, its cover torn and aged. She thinks it used to be yellow, or maybe gold. It doesn't really matter to her. She flips it open, one hand grabbing for a sheaf of pages, ready to tear them to bits like the rest.
Familiar handwriting freezes her to the spot. Her heart leaps in recognition.
Property of Cedric Anderson.
Her knees stop working beneath her. She lands with a soft thud, bent over the most comforting thing she's seen in weeks. Her fingers trace the lines of his name, wishing he would spring from them, wishing she could hear his voice somewhere other than in her head. She flips through the pages, looking for more evidence of him. The words skim by, each one echoing with his warmth. A history of Norta, her formation, and three hundred years of Silver kings and queens blaze past. Some pieces are underlined or annotated. Each new burst of Cedric makes Maeve's chest constrict with happiness. In spite of her circumstances, she smiles.
![[ tw: death, violence ]](https://img.wattpad.com/dc7a0636659bc60404b1075752b001a43becb969/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5430555536637477764d6f5046513d3d2d313239313931323037372e313732643530663261343866626666653336373536373636323634302e676966?s=fit&w=720&h=720)
