LOGIN*Ana*
“Dear Empress Anastasia of Nochten, Princess of Dawny, my daughter-“ And I have to stop as the word lingers on my lips.
He…called me daughter? I feel like the wind is kicked out of me.
“Go on,” Maddie chirps, leaning over my shoulder.
I find myself looking to Aunt Funda. She stands at the opposite side of the desk. She nods in agreement to keep going. There is a clear look of interest in her eyes.
“How wonderful to see you take the initiative to reconcile with me. But don’t be hard on yourself, It’s my fault as much as it is for you.“
Do you mean that? I pause again as my head spins. He is not mad at me?
“Ah-hem.” Aunt Funda clears her throat loudly.
“Your Empress,” Her eyes target the letter.
"Oh, I- yes," Embarrassed, I quickly return to reading.
“I hope that this will also mark a beginning between us. We can become a warm family once more. I have longed to reconnect with you. And it pleases me to see you reach out first. As I can’t help but worry for you. As any father will toward his children.
And, concerning your request to meet your brother, Prince Nicoli-“
I stop to take a breath. I didn’t realize I had been holding it in all this time. But I was. And my heart is pounding- it hits hard on my ribs that it shakes my chest.
What will he say? How will he answer? Would he say no?
I’m not sure if I can read anymore. I don’t trust myself- I’m so anxious.
If he rejects me…
I already feel my chest tighten. I can’t think of a worse thing that could happen. It makes me wish I never wrote at all. Everything was so much easier without this- why did I have to be a fool and write?
But what if he says yes?
“Go on,” Both Maddie and Aunt Funda speak together. The two, finding themselves in sync, regard each other wearily.
It doesn’t look like I have a choice to stop. I see they are waiting for me. Their eyes eat at me and I swallow hard.
Nervously I turn back to the letter.
“- I will make preparations in half a fortnight to accommodate your arrival. You are most welcome in my home as more than an honored guest but as a family.
Until said time, if you have any questions, do not hesitate. I look forward to your following correspondence.
Love your Father,
Alexander Brokenoff, King of Dawny.
P.s. It gladdens me to see you want to meet Nicoli. But I must warn you not to indulge him. I fear he may be getting spoiled by all the maids and his mother already. If you were to dote on him too, I fear it will go to his head.
You'll soon learn for yourself he is quite the little imp.
Farewell until then.”
“He…said yes?” I am slow to believe it. No, it can’t be. I must have read something wrong.
Sure that I have, I re-read it. No, it still looks the same. So I read it a third time. But it’s the same.
How is this possible?
“Oh, Empress! Ana! I’m so happy for you-“ Maddie throws her arms around to hug me. I stiffen but force my shoulders down. The act of hugging is starting to work on me. But it still catches me off guard when she does.
“The King said yes!” Maddie is almost screaming.
“He did…didn’t he,” I feel myself looking down on myself from above. Is any of this real? Even the words feel strange in my mouth.
Could this really happen?
I look back at the letter. I feel it- it’s physical in my hands but I doubt if I still am awake. At any point, the letter will vanish in a puff of smoke. It has to.
This has to be a dream. I can’t see it any other way. It just has to.
But if it is, part of me wishes
I don’t wake up.Just keep sleeping.
*Aunt Funda*
Aunt Funda, meanwhile, watched her niece break into a smile. It made her back stiffen. Her mood had turned for the worst.
This is terrible. She couldn’t push away the growing feeling of dread.
But on the outside, Aunt Funda fixed her features. She appeared collected before making a professional smile.
“Your Empress, “ Aunt Funda began between Maddie’s cheers and Ana’s excitement.
Upon her voice, Ana wiggled free from Maddie's arms. Her smile flattened when she looked at her.
“Yes, Aunt Funda?”
“Do you plan to take up this invitation from the Dawny King?”
Aunt Funda purposely referred to the man as ‘King’ and not Father. She wanted to maintain a distance between such words to prevent the girl from entertaining any other ideas.
Maddie, however, just laughed.
“Of course she is, you a daft thing!” Maddie pulled Ana up from her chair.
“Can’t you see how happy she is?”
“Oh my,” Aunt Funda gasped, then frowned. How dare she speak to her in such a manner. The maid was atrocious.
This maid thinks too highly of herself. Aunt Funda narrowed her eyes to glare. But Maddie ignored her to dance.
"Come here, you!" Maddie laughed and pulled Ana up from her spot.
“Maddie-“ Ana stumbled awkwardly, not understanding what the maid was doing. Her confusion grew as Maddie started singing.
“We’re going to Dawny,” Maddie began to twirl.
“We’re going to see the Prince,”
“Maddie, please-“ Ana tried to protest again, but Maddie only took her for another twirl. The motion brought Ana to outright laugh and smile.
“Maddie-”
Ana started to move with the maid, be it, very stiffly.
"What are you both doing?" Aunt Funda gasped in horror. She twitched as her eyes darted from one to the other. The sheer spectacle that was happening before her was beyond words.
This maid is not just bold, but Ana’s allowing it! Aunt Funda growled
She's being influenced! The line between servant and master had disappeared.
Since when did the maid hold such rapport with her niece? That she could have this much sway? Aunt Funda could see she held a considerable influence on the girl than even her.
It was the worst thing she could find someone else to do. Aunt Funda could not have it. It could jeopardize their entire operations.
I must end this before it goes too far! Aunt Funda vowed.
“Your Empress?” Aunt Funda repeated herself at the ignored question. She could see the girl still being led by the dancing Maddie. But Ana seemed aware enough to become serious once more.
“Prepare my luggage and make travel plans,” Ana spoke clearly before bursting into a shocked cry as she was lifted off the ground.
“We’re going to Dawny,” Maddie repeated and swung Ana about. Ana giggled in motion.
“Maddie, put me down.” Ana breathed between laughs.
“I’m getting dizzy.”
Aunt Funda sneered at the display before her. The sight of them was now beyond unbearable. She could not put up with it anymore.
Staying any longer will only be a waste of my time. Aunt Funda could see.
I have more important things to do than watch this clownery.
“I shall take leave then, your Empress.” Aunt Funda made a curtsey, but Ana was distracted.
She only laughed as Maddie twirled her again. Aunt Funda seemed to have already been forgotten. Aunt Funda dismissed herself from the room.
I’ve never seen my niece in such a way. Aunt Funda dropped her smile in the hall. The scene had shocked her deeply.
To be happy and smiling like some average child? Ana is not how she used to be.
She is changed! The sudden development bothered her. When did this all start?
That maid ... Aunt Funda could only blame. Her nails dug into her clenched fist to cut skin.
That damn human-
“Husband!” Aunt Funda bellowed, setting off down the hall.
"She's at it again." A maid whispered to her partner.
"Just keep your head down." A boy servant whispered. Everyone knew it was best to keep their distance when she was like this.
Where the devil is he? Aunt Funda thought, growing erratic. She paid no attention as she headed toward the wing of the palace.
I need to speak with him. Everything is going wrong.
“Husband!”
*Anastasia*For a moment I can do nothing but look on. Her name burrows against the paper like a brand, burning deeper the longer I stare at it, the ink dark and deliberate against pale cream. I cannot look away. Cannot make my eyes move on to whatever waits beyond it.Queen Belinda.There it is. Written so neatly. So deliberately. Every stroke measured, every curl chosen, as if even the front of an envelope were a performance she had rehearsed until it revealed nothing she hadn't decided to give. That poised control reads even here — in the particular elegance of the B, in the precise tail of the d — the way her red lips are always painted to the exact edge of her mouth and no further. No warmth bleeds through. No softness escapes by accident.She would never allow it. Not toward me.But then—Why?My pulse stutters hard enough that I feel it in my throat. A skip, then a surge, then something that settles wrong — too fast, too shallow, as if my body has already understood something
*Anastasia* “And what do we have here?” Mykhol’s voice slips over the courtyard lightly, like a thin layer of ice grown over the stone. Slick and simple, but deadly if not prepared, not cautious. Yet equally as expectant as the very chill around us. He speaks as if nothing were amiss at all. Yet his eyes do not lift. They have yet to look back to me. Because they are still on Nugen. His vermillion eyes roll up and down Nugen, in long slow strokes. Taking stock of it all, every detail. The sight of Nugen still on the ground near the frozen fountain, between guards. His uniform dirtied from the struggle. Blood drying on his lip. Mykhol looks at him with a stillness that feels almost intimate. As if he is drinking the sight in without needing to touch it. His smile remains as it was, never growing wider–but something in him settles at the image the longer he watches. Recognition. And I’m sure Nugen feels it.I see the change in him at once. His whole body goes tighter. I see it i
*Anastasia*For a heartbeat, I cannot feel. Anything. Not the cold.Not the numbness spreading from my fingertips, past my wrists, up into my forearms like water climbing cloth. Not the wind catching at the loose silver strands over my eye, lifting them, letting them fall, lifting them again. No, not even that. Because my mind refuses what my eyes are– What am I even seeing?My gaze catches on details instead. The scrape of his boots against stone. The flash of silver armor. The blood at the corner of his mouth. The way Fulcan's gauntleted hand is twisted into his sleeve.Each little piece. Separate yet…together they make no sense. None of it does.Because this is Admiral Nugen–A scar over one eyebrow.The steady voice that always seems to have an answer before I have finished asking the question. Always there. The only one now who is still left…And he doesn’t belong between guards. Does not belong hanging limp between Sir Philo and Sir Fulcan like a common vagabond hauled in f
*Anastasia* “Bruno?” His name comes out too sharp on a snagged breath. But I can’t stop myself. Because he was just here. I only looked away for a second but he already is– He's-He’s…gone?!Already, my eyes sweep over the garden, the barren hedges, the ribs of trellises, even the charcoal sky pressed low over the garden. As if for a heartbeat I can still find him. That he couldn’t possibly have moved that quickly.Please–Then I catch it.Almost missing it entirely if I was a second slower, I found that trace. A flicker of burgundy at the very edge of the path. Hair moving in step, the light bounces, just once—before it disappears behind stone. The sound of a neglected hinge creaking on rusted joints.The servant’s side door. It draws back and closes again with a low groan, wood meeting frame like a mouth shutting. Heavy and stubborn. The door gives out easily because it’s unlocked. Or simply forgotten by anyone who isn’t watching for exactly that kind of escape.And worse…not gua
*Anastasia*“Unforgive—” The word catches on my tongue, thin, startled, as if my mouth rejects it on instinct. Not because I don’t know the word—of course I do—but because why on earth would he say—He says unforgivable like it’s a verdict.The absurdity of it lands instantaneously. Not because it’s funny or anything, but because that is just impossible.The light shifts overhead.Clouds are churning, swallowing up the pockets of light before spitting them back out in flat, brittle flashes that don’t warm anything. Bruised slate stacked on slate, sagging lower by the minute, pressing the sky down until even the garden feels cramped beneath it. Already turning the pale day sour, both too bright in one moment, and then too dim at once, as if mocking the way the sun is still above, but smothered in wool.And all the while, the air keeps scratching the inside of my throat with that strange charge. As if it was protesting for rain. But it doesn't feel right.It just pricks at my skin. My
*Anastasia* “Why are you running from me?” My words hang over the air, too loud to be just a simple question, because it feels too alive, twisting with so much more felt than said in the plainness of it, before slowly fading into thin shapes back into the bare bushes and trellises. For a moment, neither of us speaks.Only our breathing fills the space between us.His comes fast but controlled, like he’s already actively forcing it down in preparation. Like he may have already decided where he’ll bolt if given another chance. Like his eyes are already seeking new routes of escapes. Cracks to fall through. Stay out of reach like a whisper of smoke. Bruno feels like a spring, coiled tight and ready to vault once again, while I…I don’t think I can. Because I’m still breathing ragged, uneven like little torn sounds drag out of a body that was not made for sprinting. My lungs burn right now as if I’ve swallowed the torches from inside the corridors. Decorating the air with hot puffs o
*Nicoli*Nicoli's practiced smile finally wavered as they left, the muscles in his face aching from the strain of maintaining such brilliant artifice. The tension he'd been holding in his shoulders released in a subtle drop, and he exhaled slowly, tasting the lingering scent of pine smoke mixed wit
Ana*“Please, everyone, if you would just-” But it's clear no one is listening. My voice is swallowed up by the cacophony of string instruments and the colliding conversations surging around us like crashing waves. The air thickens with perfumes and colognes—spiced amber, midnight jasmine, and some
Naska stared at the cup instead of taking it, more shocked than surprised at the motion. Someone poured her drink? It was indeed a first. No one had ever done anything for her. She was so used to doing everything for herself. And glancing up, the sight of who did, only made her more confused.It w
*Belinda*“The answer is no.” Belinda threw the invitation down on the desk, wishing she could just rip the entire paper to shreds. “You are not to attend.”“But mother,” Nicoli was up from the chair. “Why?” His blue eyes searched her face, a look of confusion clear as day. “I was invited, wasn’t I







