LOGIN“Your Majesty,” Johan warned. But King Alexander shooed him off.
“I know what you are going to say, but I don’t care.” King Alexander had every right to be happy. And with that, he gave another skip around the room.
“Your majesty,” Johan could shake his head, but it was a lost cause. The king wasn’t going to listen.
“My baby girl, my sweet little dove.” King Alexander twirled before sitting back down. He kicked his feet before going for the letter again. It was the third time.
But it still wasn’t enough.
“I wish she wrote more.” Alexander pouted, pushing his beard down.
“But it’s a start, your Majesty.”
“Aye, yes, it is.” And Alexander was back up and walking the room. His mind was a buzz, and he had to keep moving.
“Agent Maddie has delivered on her word.” She said she would. But neither of them expected it to be this fast.
“She deserves a reward. But it should be gold.” No, gold wouldn’t be enough for what she managed to do.
The door of communication was finally opened after four years. It was no small task by any means. Yes, it deserved something great.
“I’ll give her a title.” Alexander decided at once. “And a great house.”
Alexander returned to the letter.
“My very first letter.” Alexander lifted it like a priceless heirloom. “Look at her penmanship. It’s perfect.”
"Ana must be quite the student indeed."
“Yes, She takes after her mother.” Alexander beamed proudly.
“Then Prince Nicoli must take after you.”
Alexander dropped his smile.
“Old coot.”
“Speak of the devil,” Johan and King Alexander both turned at the startled cry.
Birds were up and flying over the window in panic as a child's laughter bellowed.
“Back to terrorizing those poor creatures again.” King Alexander shook his head but peered over his to look down the window.
Below, the four-year-old with curly brunette hair and blue eyes moved to pick up a pile of leaves. He threw them up above with another roar of laughter.
“He should be with his tutors right now,” King Alexander frowned. But he wasn’t all disappointed. He skipped many classes at his age.
It was the next person with him, however, that made King Alexander grow cold.
Queen Belinda walked a few steps behind the boy. She was dressed in a white layered garden gown. Her black curls were pulled up neatly to cascade over one side of her head and frame her face and gray eyes.
The queen’s expression was an equal measure of admiration and patience as she watched on. A motherly smile crossed her face. That is until she was directly under the window.
As if already aware, Queen Belinda looked up with expectation. The smile on her face lessened to something softer, and she bowed.
“What a coincidence that Her Majesty would want to take a walk now.” Johan went, but both men knew it was anything but.
“Do you think she knows?”
“It would only be a matter of time before she would.” King Alexander wasn’t surprised. The only surprise was how fast it took.
Faster than both of them expected, apparently.
“Her spies must be quite busy.”
“It doesn’t matter.” King Alexander turned away from his desk to open the drawer. A piece of fresh parchment was pulled out with ink and quills.
“She won’t have it her way again. Not this time.” Four years was long enough.
King Alexander took a seat, dipping the quill in fresh ink.
“Johan, send for the postmaster. I want this sent with no delay.”
“Your Majesty,” Johan bowed and turned out.
“It’s about time I fix my mistake, right, my love?’ King Alexander looked up at the portrait.
The painted woman smiled at him. Her fangs slightly showed under her full upper lip. Her red hair was pulled back with gold chains and crowns to better show off how large her red eyes were.
It was quite a feat to get her to agree to the painting. King Alexander remembered how he had to beg. The vampire was naturally reluctant to her Nochten superstitions. But he had been glad of his persistence.
The painting had turned out to be his second most treasured thing. But it was time he got his first. And King Alexander was determined.
“It’s time I get my daughter back home.”
-x-
*Nicoli*
“Mommy, look!” The young boy lifted the pretty feather to show her.
“It’s blue-” Your favorite. But Nicoli could see his mother was already distracted.
Her maid, Julia, was coming from inside. She leaned to whisper something. Whatever it was, it looked important. His mother’s usual smile dropped for a moment.
But it came back just as quickly.
“Is that what he’s planning to do?” his mother laughed. “After all this time?”
Julia nodded.
“He seems set on it, Your Majesty.”
“I’m sure he would be.” His mother sighed, looking back at the castle. “He always gets sentimental this time of year.”
“But What if she does come back, Your Majesty?”
“Julia, you sound more concerned than I am.” She laughed. But the smile thinned.
“I just- I know this must hurt you,” Julia confessed.
“It does.”
“Then, Your Majesty-”
“Do you really think I will let it happen?”
“What happened?” Nicoli dropped the feather behind to come closer. What was happening?
“What’s happening, mommy?”
Both women turned with a slight start at the boy being so close. Julia bowed, averting her eyes. But his mother grew sweet again.
“Nothing, sweetie.” She cooed and motioned for him. Nicoli gladly came over. Her hand played with his curls tenderly.
It felt good. Nicoli liked having his head touched. He pressed closer to her leg as she continued.
It was also nice to be with Mommy. She was so nice and warm. Nicoli could feel his eyes droop.
“What will you do, your majesty?” Julia, meanwhile, asked again. Her face pulled thin with worry.
“IF she comes back-”
“Julia,” His mother widened her smile to show all her teeth. “How dare you doubt me.”
“I got rid of her once.” His mother stopped to take Nicoli’s hand. She turned to guide him back inside. Their random little walk was over.
“I can do it again.”
BANG.The knock on the door cracked through the dream like a whip. Nicoli jolted upright, breath tearing from his lungs in a harsh gasp.The world was wrong. Still moving. Still blurred. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. The darkness still clung to him, heavy and suffocating—her voice echoing like a ghost just out of reach. His heart slammed against his ribs, the afterimage of her face still burned behind his eyes.He couldn’t save her. He tried but he couldn’t…“Ana,” He dragged a hand down his face, fingers trembling as they brushed over cold skin. His chest ached as though the cord had broken inside him for real.It took several long, shaky breaths before he could even swallow.Slowly, painfully, his surroundings came into focus.The orange glow of the hearth cast flickering shadows across the bookshelves. The rich scent of pine logs and old parchment filled his nose. His chair creaked beneath him as he shifted, the worn leather catching against the back of his tunic.He w
*Nicoli*“Nicoli,” Her voice brushed against him like frost across skin—soft, delicate, threading through the air with a mournful tremor that made his chest constrict. He froze mid-step, feet sinking deeper into virgin snow. The sound curled up from somewhere deep within the hedge maze, floating through the fog like a dying breath. His own breath hitched, crystallizing in the bitter air, forming ghostly spirals that dissipated into the gray void surrounding him.Ana.But where? He spun sharply, pulse hammering against his throat. His eyes strained through the suffocating fog, but it was thick—so thick it clung to his lashes, so dense he could barely make out his own trembling fingers until they brushed against his face. The cold bit at his fingertips, numbing them instantly."Ana?" His voice cracked, swallowed by the oppressive silence.No answer. Only the brittle hush of frozen leaves rattling against dead branches, and somewhere distant, the ominous groan of ice splitting. The s
*Ana*“No,” I whisper, the word a razor's edge against the burning silence filling my head."It isn’t true.” The confession slides from my lips—trembling, fragile as blown glass slipping from desperate fingers. Falling. Slipping. Too thin. Too delicate to catch. They shatter in the stillness, each fragment cutting deeper than the last."I can't be in love with Nicoli—" But the sentence splinters off in my throat. It dies half-born, smothered beneath the weight pressing in from every side. Because the room is shifting. Subtly. Menacingly. But it will not stop like a pebble rolling down a great hill, gaining momentum with every stretched moment.The air bends first—then the walls. Stone walls seem to breathe, pressing closer like a closing jaw. Carved molding above the hearth liquefies, candlelight blurring into molten halos that pulse and writhe. Each breath becomes a razor—sharp, shallow, scraping against the inside of my throat.I cannot breathe.The sound that leaves me is half ga
*Anastasia*“I thought you could use a friend, just about now.”The word—friend—hangs over me, almost mockingly, slicing through the stillness of the room. It catches in my throat, sharp and bitter, a shard of glass impossible to swallow. Behind me, the fire in the grate sputters and hisses, a dying serpent casting its last embers across stone-gray walls. Each spark feels like a taunting whisper, a brittle laugh echoing the fractures of the day.Not because his words were untrue—but because they laid bare the raw, bleeding wound of what had transpired between Hidi and me. The memory burns like a brand, fresh and searing, leaving no room for excuse because the fight is still too fresh, no time yet to heal or balm.My fingers curl around the door knob, knuckles bleaching white, tendons straining beneath skin pulled taut with tension. I should close the door right now. Dismiss him. Do anything but stand here, suspended between the hollow emptiness of the hallway and the dangerous promise
*Mykhol*The high vaulted ceiling still trembled with the aftermath of her voice. It clung to the carved stone like smoke after a fire—sharp, commanding, impossible to ignore.The resonance hung thicker than the firepits still crackling hungrily into the woodpiles, the scent of burning oak and pine mixing with the heady perfumes of the nobility. Even now, the echo of it shivered down his spine, raising the fine hairs on his arms beneath layers of silk and velvet.Gods, that voice. He’d nearly trembled at the sound of it.He hadn’t known Ana could raise her voice like that—clean and precise, like a sword drawn just before the strike. The raw power of it had rippled through the court, causing silks to flutter and jewels to shiver against throats. And though her words hadn't been aimed at him, they'd slipped under his skin just the same, igniting a slow, molten ache beneath his ribs that spread downward like liquid fire.His fingers twitched at his side, the leather of his gloves creakin
*Anastasia*The echo of the court doors sealing shut behind me brings instant relief—until it doesn’t. The sound is soft and clean on it hinges as it clicks behind me, a whisper of finality rather than the slam my trembling hands wanted to deliver. But somehow, that gentle sound feels heavier than any thunderous crash could have been.As if I had to will the doors closed with more than force—with all my spine, with silence, with the last shreds of composure I can manage to scrape together against the turbulence raging inside. For an instant, the sound feels final. Solid. Like the world has agreed to stop pressing against my skull, to grant me a single moment of mercy.For a breathless moment, the corridor offers stillness. No voices clamoring over mine. No red eyes mercilessly looking at me as if daring to see the first sign of weakness. No judgment hanging in the air like a blade waiting to fall.Just cold air scented with the faint lingering ghosts of wax and candle smoke, the subtl







