LOGIN*Anastasia* “We both are.”The last words land like a plate clattering down to the floor. Smashing and splintering into a thousand pieces that echo against the very walls.And for a heartbeat, even the room doesn’t seem to understand what it has just heard. The silence that follows is not respectful—it is blank, stunned, as if the court itself has forgotten what comes after those words. Like losing the next line to the script we’ve all gone by till now.And whereas, I am the one most in the dark.Then the reactions begin. Small from below the dias, wrapped in involuntary sounds. As if the news slowly and finaly takes a form. The court began to break from its stuporA breath catches on a fang somewhere below. A goblet knocks softly against a table as a hand tightens too fast. Someone’s sleeve brushes a neighbor in the sudden shift of bodies, and the fabric makes a quiet rasp that feels indecently loud. The firepits hiss and pop, too bright, too greedy, their heat suddenly irrelevant a
*Anastasia*Mykhol’s hand remains firmly at my waist even after we reach the last step of the dias.His warmth leaks through the very fabric of my gown. It’s a steady and deliberate pressure that should be unnecessary and yet becomes, to my own begrudging admittance, a balance point my body readily accepts before I can. It’s almost shameful enough to hate it, the weakness, mine, can accept room for him like this.But my legs, still rebuilding their trust in me, do not argue as fiercely as my pride does. And it does not help that the dias feels absurdly higher than I remember. It’s not in measurement, it’s not as though the dias grew in the last three days like some plant, of course not. But I mean by the effort it takes to climb them. I feel it all the more. Each step a small negotiation with my hips, with the dull ache at the base of my spine, with the faint swim of dizziness that threatens if I lift too quickly.Thus, it comes as no surprise that our steps blend together in one s
*Anastasia*But I am severely naive. Naive.It is a title I never would have christened myself with before now—not in private, not even in the most unforgiving corners of my own mind. The word existed but it always belonged to others. To courtiers who underestimate my resolve. To young nobles who believe smiles are loyalty. To Lords who mistake ceremony for security.Not to me.And yet it settles on my tongue with a bitter tang, and something in me shifts at the admission—as if a seam I’ve kept stitched too tight has finally begun to give. The golden links over my forehead answer with the faintest clink, metal whispering against metal as my posture adjusts without my permission. A small sound, sterile and precise, and it feels like proof. One even my crown hears the word.Throughout my life, I have prided myself on what I could earn. Not by blood. Not by supposed beauty. Not the easy inheritance of being adored like my cousin. But something pure and evolving. By acquired knowledge.
*Anastasia*The walk through the hall should not feel this long.It is a distance I have crossed hundreds of times—sometimes alone, sometimes with Admiral Nugen at my shoulder, sometimes with Pendwick trailing a respectful step behind like a steady cornerstone. I know every curve of the stone, every arch and candle sconce, the places where the floor dips slightly, the places where the draft likes to creep along the seams.And yet today, the corridor stretches ahead of me as if it has learned a new shape.Something sharp and bitter with a faint taste of truth mixed with cold judgment.The palace has the same pale marble, the same pointed arches rising at measured intervals, but now they feel like narrowed eyes watching my progress. Candlelight flickers in its sconces and lays unsteady gold across the floor, turning the polished stone into something that seems to jerk when I move. Above, banners hang high and heavy, their ropes creaking softly as the winter draft threads down from the t
*Anastasia*“You must announce your engagement to Sir Pendwick,” Nugen’s words leech out, percise and pleading in the same measure, “or we are going to lose everything altogether.”And as if the words themselves seal us both, Nugen’s mouth closes. He doesn’t reach for my hand again.He simply looks up at me—those pale brown eyes fixed steady, the scar at his brow drawn tight—waiting.Not for my understanding.For an answer. Mine. For a moment, I don’t understand the language. The sentence reaches me, yes, but it doesn’t belong to anything in my body—like sound heard underwater, muffled and distorted. I stare at his closed lips, ringed around the last word, and the world tilts. Shifting under my feet like sand that cannot be physically correct. The fire pops behind him, a small, ordinary sound, and the candle flames shiver as if they’ve been startled, too. Somewhere near the window, winter wind worries the panes with a low howl, the glass faintly rattling in its frame. Snow is hea
*Anastasia*The first thing I notice is the weight. Not soley on my chest—though it does sit there like a hand pressed flat, patient and insistent—but behind my eyes, too: a pulsing ache that blooms with every heartbeat, as if something inside my skull is trying to push outward. My throat feels wrong, scraped dry, each breath a shallow drag over sand.And then there is something else, wrapping around everything more vividly than pain.Silence.It is so quiet that for a moment I think I am displaced, still drifting somewhere. The stillness has shape. It fills the air. It presses against my ears until I can hear my own pulse and the faint, soft rasp of my breath.It’s so quiet. Why is it so quiet? It makes no sense. It makes my skin prickle with unease.Everything should still be chaotic—people shouting, arguing over one another, the court swelling with noise like a storm trapped in stone. The courtroom—The courtroom. That’s right. It is the last thing I remember.The thought hits lik
*Ana*“Please make yourselves comfortable.” Julia stops to open the door revealing a garden-like room, painted with leaves and potted plants hanging from the ceiling. The same soft colors are used in the couches and throw pillows.“You will be notified when the rooms are ready.” Julia curtsies, sayi
*Ana*“I think we may be one of the last guests,” I say, noting by the time the carriage reaches the castle, it’s already dark and I can see the entrance is mostly deserted. No one is out, save a few servants standing about, waiting for the last guests to arrive. “They look tired.” I frown, feelin
*Hidi*Maybe he forgot I was even here? It wasn’t long before the charm of Nicoli’s disinterest fell off. And Hidi wanted to do something else. Anything more than just standing by, watching carriages and little girls come up. “Nicoli,” Hidi started, turning to touch his shoulder. “Huh?” Nicoli pee
*Queen Belinda*Come on, Nicoli. Belinda held her breath, feeling her heart pump in her chest. This was the big event, and she could barely wait to see how he would do. Surely expecting him to smile, and sweep her off her feet, like with all the servants.He’s a natural, so of course he will. He’ll







