LOGIN“Have you ever considered taking a pen pal, Ana?” Maddie uses the nickname. It’s a habit of hers when we are alone.
“Pen pal?” I repeat.
What is she going on about this time?
It’s been a month since Maddie started. But it doesn’t feel like much time has passed. Maybe because she makes everything seem, I don’t know, odd?
She never seems to run out of questions. That’s for sure.
Maddie moves to smell one of the roses. We are walking through her garden right now—the great garden of the late Empress Parsul, my mother.
It’s the only remains of her reign. Everything else was destroyed, as is the custom in Nochten. We purge anything of the dead.
I think that is why no one visits this place. It stays deserted, save for me.
Well, except for Maddie. She seems to like them as much as I do.
“Why would I do that?”
"Why do you think so?" Maddie leans down to fluff my hair.
“Stop,” I shift away, but Maddie plops her hand over my head. It feels warm on my scalp. It’s calming
“To make a friend, you silly goose.” Maddie goes on with a pat.
“Who would want to do that?” Let alone who will want to write to me.
Now I have to laugh.
“You’re the one being silly, Maddie.”
“Smart-ass,” Maddie bops my nose before going ahead. Her long legs take up a wider distance.
"Wait!" I start after her.
“Don’t leave me.”
“Easy, kid,” Maddie stops.
“You think I’m going to run away or something?”
“That-” She wouldn’t be the first. But I don’t say it. I just quicken my step.
“I just don’t want you to get lost.”
“Is that right?” Maddie smirks but waits until I catch up.
“Here,” Maddie reaches down.
“Maddie?” I hesitate at her hand. The gesture is still foreign to me. However, Maddie seems to like to do it a lot. It makes her happy.
If it makes her happy, then-
I gingerly take it, and Maddie smiles instantly. Her big fingers curl around mine. They are warm.
I like it.
“You never know. It can be quite fun.” Maddie winks. Apparently, That’s what it means to blink with one eye.
Winking is a new thing to me, like many other things.
“But I don’t have anyone to write to,”
“Yes, you do.” Maddie chirps,
“Who would that be then?”
“Well, what about your Father?”
“The king?” I freeze up right there.
“You mean King Alexander?”
Maddie nods, picking a petal.
“Don’t you ever wonder what your father could be thinking about?”
Do I? Something turns in my stomach. It’s shaky and sits badly in the space.
"No."
“Well, What if I were to say he thinks of you?” Maddie holds the petal.
“Would that change your mind?”
“I don’t like this question” I let go and cross my arms. My eyes are already glossy, but I stare at the roses.
No, not today. I was doing so well today.
I wipe my eye with the back of my hand to stop the first tear.
“Maybe he misses you?”
“I’m tired of talking, Maddie.” I sprint ahead.
“Ana-” Maddie follows, but I walk even faster.
I want to get out of this conversation.
Because nothing good ever comes from talking about THAT.
-x-
“What about your brother?” Maddie throws the question while in the study.
“Maddie, please,”
I thought we were done with this. But Maddie is still going at it.
“Don’t you want to see the Prince?”
“It’s study time.” I gesture to the book.
And I don’t want to talk about this anymore. But Maddie must not understand.
Or she refuses because she ignores me.
"So?" Maddie takes a seat beside me. She leans over to see the book. But with one look at the picture-less page, she gags and pushes it back.
"Good grief! How can you read this stuff?"
"Easily," I laugh. I’ve never seen someone so expressive. She always has a face for something.
it’s funny
"I could teach you if you like."
"NO. THANKS." Maddie rolls her eyes.
Thinking that the end of the discussion, I jotted down some notes. The quill scratches the paper in the silence.
This is nice. I find the break quite peaceful.
But it doesn’t last.
“Prince Nicoli has never gotten to meet you, Ana.”
I flinch when at the name.
“Maddie, please-”
“I am just saying,” Maddie stands from the desk.
“You are so different from him,”
“Who? Nicoli?” The name tastes weird on my tongue.
It’s the first time I had to say it aloud.
“How would you know?”
“He’s quite popular. Always smiling and laughing. He has your father’s blue eyes, too, you know. “
“My father?” My stomach sinks.
My face must say it all because Maddie squeezes my shoulder gently.
“Have you ever met the Prince?”
“No, I-” I was sent away shortly before he was born. But the words stick in my throat.
Because the words bring up those memories again, and I’d rather not remember.
“I've never met him." I go instead, cut and dry.
“Would you like to?”
Maddie tucks my hair to the side.
“I’m sure he’d want to meet you.”
“I…” meet me? I turn to look back and catch the mirror.
There I am. Red eyes and silver hair. I don’t have those famous blue eyes like fathers—or my little brother, apparently.
We are nothing alike.
The sight only makes me more aware of it.
“He could be eager to see you, your Empress.” Maddie, meanwhile, goes.
“Prince Nicoli may be thinking of you right now,”
“And how would you know that?” I push away her hand. My voice is clearly doubtful because I am.
“There has not been a single word from Dawny. Not Papa, not anyone.” I look down at the book, but it’s useless.
There’s no way I can read now. The Tears make everything all blurry. It’s annoying.
“Four years and nothing.” I wipe off the free tear just for another to fall.
“Little Ana,” Maddie pulls me into her arms.
I stiffen in my chair when she does. It's another gesture of hers: hugging. But it is still too new to be comfortable.
My aunt and uncle never hug me. No one has for as long as I can remember.
Is it normal to hug people?
I wouldn’t even know who to ask.
“I hear you.” Maddie, meanwhile, pulls back. She clicks her tongue at my tears but moves to wipe them off. Her sleeves scratches a little. But I don’t mind it.
Actually, it sort of feels nice. It feels warm like her hands, but I don’t dare say out loud.
It might be too strange.
“But sometimes time can make things much harder to do- more so the older you get.” Maddie goes on.
“What do you mean?” I blink up between tears. “What are you saying?”
Is she saying Papa wants to talk to me?
No, that can’t be true.
“Maddie, he doesn’t want me-”
“Maybe the King’s a big coward?” ” Maddie pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Ever thought of that?”
“Coward?”
“Uh-huh.” Maddie nods. “And maybe that’s why he hasn’t yet.”
“That-” For a moment, a glimmer of doubt does cross my mind. But no, that can’t be.
“Maddie-” It’s preposterous, but I don’t get to say it before Maddie goes.
“I bet you he’s waiting on you to act first.”
“For me?”
“Yup.” And Maddie bops my nose.
“I think the balls are in your court.”
“Ball?” I don’t understand, but Maddie smiles.
“Come on,” And she opens a drawer for fresh paper.
“Maddie,” But she shakes her head and puts it in front of me anyway.
“Just a little letter wouldn’t hurt, now would it?” She pushes my hand to it.
“Just a simple letter, Ana.” Maddie gives a reassuring squeeze.
“Just do that, and I’ll stop.”
"Do you promise?” I perk up. I don’t just mean about the letter.
“We won’t ever speak of this again?”
Maddie nods.
“Cross my heart,” Maddie draws a line over her chest with her finger. I don’t know what it means.
But it sounds convincing enough for me.
“You promised.” I remind her before I dip the quill in ink.
“Just one letter.”
*Pendwick*“Will you sit down already?” Sir Celbest’s voice boomed, crackling out like lightning across the decadent parlor. The words ricocheted off velvet drapes and gilt-framed landscapes, across the table laid with untouched coffee, across the pale gleam of porcelain that had long since stopped steaming. It was the kind of command far too familiar now, only meant to make him shrink without thinking.And for a split moment, Pendwick almost obeyed. His body flinched on instinct. Moving already before his mind could. His heel began to pivot; his shoulders drew in, making him smaller, less noticeable. Even his lips parted, as if ready to apologize, like many countless times before. Sorry. Yes, sir. Of course. I didn’t mean— The old reflex rose so quickly that it was almost comforting in its predictability to appease. Correct himself. Do better. Do what everyone else wanted.Yet, something sharper cut through it.Not courage—he wouldn’t lie to himself and call it that. Rather, it w
*Mykhol*Ana was…. Illegitimate. The words didn’t echo in the study, but they might as well have. They loomed over him, coating like a heavy smoke, seeping into the very corners of the room, staining the stone walls, slipping between the cracks like the soft rasp between his staggered breath.Mykhol stood at his hearth with one hand braced against the mantle, fingers spread over the cold rock as if it could steady him. Firelight licked along the gold of his rings. Usually, the sight pleased him— a reminder of his position, his power—yet now? The metal only clicked when he shifted. A hollow and flinching murmur. Too small. An involuntary sound that felt too close to shackles than the symbol it should have been. As if even the precious metal could be rendered worthless… given the right push. He tightened his grip.Stone bit back through the pads of his fingers. The chill grounded him for a moment—enough to notice the other things that had become suddenly loud: the faint grit of soo
*Bruno*(Song recommendation for this chapter: Light of the Seven by Ramin Djawadi)Bruno stood alone in the middle of the courtroom, feeling the cold sink into him like a living thing—not merely temperature, but a sentience that seemed to understand exactly what had been stripped from him. The stone beneath his feet absorbed his weight with a ruthless indifference, each vein feeling like a silent witness to his unraveling. His skull was still ringing from the marble's brutal kiss.The sting of drying blood pulling at the corner of his mouth each time he swallowed. And the place his mother had been standing was now an absence so sharp it felt haunted—like a missing limb, like a wound that wouldn't stop reaching for what it had lost.His bangs had slipped back into place, veiling his eyes further, but they didn’t feel like armor anymore. Not after Mykhol easily took even that from him. Exposing him, like a babe ripped from the crib and found wanting.And still, across from him, Mykhol
*Bruno*The courtroom felt like an ice-sealed tomb—stone and shadow breathing with a cold so precise it could slice flesh from bone. The long, hollow windows sweated a chill that crept across the air like invisible talons, gripping tighter with each passing moment.Only two figures stood illuminated in the dying candlelight.Like fire and ice.Sir Bruno versus the Black Knight.Mykhol still loomed over him, close enough that Bruno could taste him in every inhale—pepper and something dark, wine-rich and choking. His hand remained near Bruno’s face for a beat longer than necessary, rings catching the last restless flickers of torchlight, as if he were unable to pull himself back. Too tempted to savor this moment where Bruno couldn’t retreat.Bruno’s lip throbbed once more, where Funda had struck him; the wound sealing up now, healing, but the dried blood dragged at his skin like a reminder branded into his very being. He held himself still, jaw locked, palms stinging where his nails had
*Bruno*The moment crystallized like a crack through glass before the door even finished settling on its hinges.A razor-sharp click of heels against marble. A blur of movement so swift it sliced the air—a whip of velvet, the striking gleam of gold rings against pale skin, a hand already rising as if it had been waiting for permission all night.Cold wind rushed past, carrying the bite of stale ashen fire pits gone to embers, the sputtering torchlight, and Lady Funda's perfume— a thick gagging cluster of overlayered scents that had burned a hole in some corner of his vulnerable memories. It swallowed him.Bruno’s body tried to move- do what it had been systematically trained for. A mechanical response caved into him by fourteen years of relentless abuses. Hands instinctively rising. Head angling down. Shield the face. Brace for impact constructed from learned helplessness.But this time, his mind was a heartbeat too slow.The slap landed with a sound that seemed to crack the very marb
It was late. Very late. Bruno didn’t need a clock to tell him—he felt the hour etched into the very bones of the palace. The air had transformed into something razor-thin and sharp, as past midnight had carved itself into the very atmosphere. Sound itself seemed reluctant, exhausted, the corridor holding its breath like the walls were living things that had witnessed too many secrets.The moment he slipped out of Ana’s chamber, the warmth was ripped from him.Most torches had surrendered to the night, burning down to fragile, trembling stubs. Those few flames that still clung to life did so weakly—more phantom than light, casting more shadow than comfort. No servants moved through this wing now, no hands to trim wicks or replenish oil. Ana’s corridor was forgotten, ignored, as if like before —save for just hours ago, when servants and nobles stalked marble in wake of a collapsed Empress. The only time it ever seemed to have changed in all his fourteen years.The door clicked shut beh
*Belinda*"What in the- Alexander!" A flush of crimson surged up her throat like blood through water, blooming hot beneath her high-buttoned collar before the door had even finished groaning open. The heat crawled along her spine with fingers of flame, settling sharp as glass shards behind her chee
*Julia*The drawer hung open behind her like an accusation, its contents forgotten, abandoned mid-search. Her frustrated vexation over misplaced things had evaporated like steam, rendered meaningless beneath the weight of a single, unbearable gaze.A pair of pale brown eyes, steady and unreadable,a
*Julia* Julia stopped so suddenly her skirt swayed like a bell behind her, the stiff fabric sighing against her stockings with a dry rustle. She stood just shy of the spicery—no, the jar store, as it was formally called on the records—but everyone who mattered knew its true nature. A vault of flav
*Nicoli*Nicoli exhaled, the breath leaving him in tatters, sharp and unraveling at the edges like fabric overworn and too thin."Well," he muttered at last to the empty room, forcing his mouth into a crooked crescent of lips and brittle humor, "at least the tea had a lovely time."The joke fell fl







