MasukOn a bitter snowy day, a crying three-year-old Empress, Anastasia Brokenoff, is forced into the barren desert lands of Nochten, the homeland of vampires, under the promise she will have a better life amongst her mother's kin. But this couldn't be any further from the truth. In Nochten, Ana is mocked for her silver hair, while her only relatives ignore and abuse their power for their gains. Unable to do anything until her first blood, Ana hides behind books and her late mother's rose garden. It is a lonely life, but Ana accepts her fate and tries to bear with it until she is old enough to change it. That is until the arrival of a new maid, a human named Maddie, who is determined to rekindle the relationship between Ana and her father. Ana believes it will go nowhere, but to her surprise, a single letter sparks a whole chain of events that will throw Ana into a new world of people. People like Prince Nicoli, her half-brother, who invokes strange feelings Ana must keep secret as she traverses the dangerous realm of nobility while holding back her cousin, Mykhol, who is not solely focused on her throne. So, will Ana be able to keep her feelings a secret? Will she be able to keep her crown? Or will Ana end up losing everything she fought so dearly to keep?
Lihat lebih banyak-Prelude-
*Ana*
“I don’t wanna go,” I look up. “Please, I’ll be good for Stepmother, ” But the nursemaid only smiles down at me.
“You’ll be happy in Nochten, Princess Anastasia." She tries to smile. But it gets ruined between the tears. “You will be back with your kind.”
My kind?
I keep hearing that, my kind this and my kind that, over and over. But what does that mean? I don’t understand.
“Please, I swear-” But the cold, snowy wind blows us back in a hard push.
Behind me, something breaks.
My hair- the bands snapped, and my hair is dancing in the air. It blinds my whole vision in a solid color of silver.
Silver- I haven’t seen anyone else with that color Father once called it special—proof of the love between him and my mother.
But I don’t know her. She died when I was a baby. And I don’t want it because it makes me have to leave.
I want to go back inside where it’s warm- to go back to Papa.
"Don’t make me go,” I scratch at the nurse's hand. “Let me go!”
“Your Highness,” She winces but still keeps pulling on.
“Please!!” I yell between tears. “Why are you doing this!?” But she won’t look at me. Ahead, the doorman jumps down to open the carriage door.
Inside, I can see it’s full of blankets and pillows. All to make the long ride easier. But it just makes me even more afraid now.
“No!” I bite her.
“Humph,” The nursemaid cries in pain. But she doesn’t let go.
“They’ll take care of you and love you.” She goes on between tears. She even tries to smile down at me as I let go. Her hand has two tiny red points but no blood.
I’m happy she isn’t bleeding, but now what?
“Papa-“ I look behind her. “Where is Papa?”
There he is! I see him. Papa and Stepmother are standing inside. Papa stands tall while Stepmother moves her hands over her swollen belly.
“Papa!” I call again to catch his eye. “Papa, I don’t want to go-” But something is wrong. Papa isn’t smiling. He’s looking at me as if he can’t see me.
“Papa?” I call again before he turns away. And I can’t see him anymore. He’s gone.
“Yes, they will love you so much, Princess Anastasia,” The nursemaid lifts me up.
“You won’t ever feel unloved ever again.” The nursemaid backs away with a crumbling smile. Her eyes and cheeks are shiny with tears. Yet, even in such a state, she can still smile.
“Be good.” She farewells as the door closes. Above me, a whip cracks before the carriage jerks forward. We start moving, and gradually, the castle disappears into the snow.
-x-
It is a week before the carriage slows again. I am hot and tired, but I still manage to sit up. Even exhausted, I guess I can still be curious. And I am.
I want to see my new home.
“Nochten, “ I whisper, looking out at the palace. Its white stone walls and golden domes shine against the yellow sand. Outside of the building, a fountain gushes water before the grand doorway.
And behind the fountain, there is a line of people. It’s big enough to see it from even this far. They must have come to welcome me.
I sink back in the chair. I’m no longer curious about what's outside.
I just want to go home. I close my eyes as the carriage stops.
When I wake up again, please let me be home. I make a wish and hold my breath.
Please-
But the door opening sounds before I feel it. The desert heat slaps my face before assaulting my nose. Its foreign smells instantly turn my stomach.
I feel sick and cover my mouth as the coachman climbs down.
“Your Majesty?”He holds his hand out to help me down. But something is moving behind him. Three people approach, each with red hair and eyes.
The woman is the tallest. She holds hands with a portly, bald, and short man. The third is a boy some years older than me. He looks to be a combination of the two but handsome.
Are they my new family?
“Your Majesty?”
“Yes? Oh.” I see the coachman still waiting.
I gingerly take the coachman's hand and step down, but just as my feet hit the sand, I can’t do it. I don’t want to let go.
“Take me back,” I whimper and pull closer.
“Your Majesty?” He looks at me curiously, but I don’t get to speak as everyone suddenly cries.
“All praise to Empress Anastasia!” And everyone goes to kneel at once with a hand over their heart.
Why are they doing that? I don’t know, but it's scarier, and I pull myself closer to the coachman.
If I didn't want to let go before, I definitely don’t want to let go now.
“your Empress.” The tall woman goes to stand first, followed by the rest. Immediately, I feel them stare at me.
No, It’s not at me. They are looking at my hair.
“Welcome to Nochten, the empire of vampires-”
“I wanna go home.” I don't even let her finish before I go back to the coachman.
“Please, take me back.” I look up at the coachman in desperation.
“Your Highness,” The coachman frowns.
“Please!” I squeeze his hand tighter, but the coachman seems to be stuck. And the tall woman steps up.
“Empress Anastasia?” But I don’t want to look at her.
“Take me with you.” I pull on his arm. “Please, I don’t want to be here-”
“Your majesty?” He looks after me.
“Ahem,” The tall woman clears her throat, breaking the spell. The coachman pulls away.
“I must go.”
“No, don’t-” I grasp out for him, but he’s back in the carriage.
Don’t leave me with these strangers.
But he will not look at me again. Instead, he cracks the whip to make the horses start. They neigh before kicking off to pull the carriage away into the distance.
I am now all alone.
“Your Empress,” The tall woman, meanwhile, steps forward.
“I am Funda, your mother’s sister.” The tall lady starts. “And this, your Uncle Charles. And our son Mykhol, your cousin.”
“Until you’re first blood, your uncle and I will act as regents for the empire.” Aunt Funda takes another step but stops as if unsure about something.
“Tomorrow will be the beginning of your lessons. Today, let us take you on a tour to help you navigate your new home.”
Aunt Funda turns, her husband and son following, to lead back to the palace. Their footsteps move in sync as if rehearsed.
“We will first take you to your room to wash. After that, you will be dressed in our Nochten gowns-“ Aunt Funda goes on before she looks over her shoulder to see me still standing.
“Your Empress?”Aunt Funda raises her brow. “Your Empress, you need to follow me.“
“No.”
“What was that, your Empress?”
“Take me back!” I shout and throw myself down. I fall onto hard little stones in the sand. They cut into my knees and made me cry out.
“I don’t want to be here. I wanna go home.” I cry. “I want Papa.”
I don’t care about my kind or how nice they are supposed to be. I don’t like it here at all. It’s too hot, and the people look scary.
Why was I sent here?
I don’t know, and it makes me cry even harder.
“I want-” I cry, expecting someone to come over. I want someone to pick me up, hug me, and tell me it will be okay.
But no one is moving.
Aunt Funda makes a strained face before looking at her husband and son. They shake their heads. All three then look back at me, unsure what to do. It's the same for the rest of the crowd.
Around me, the crowd makes glances to each other, but no one dares go father than that. It’s almost like they don’t want to. In the end, they just decide to do nothing and return to watch me.
It’s not everyone. Some do look after me worried, but they won’t even move. I make out one man, a human with a deep scar over his eyebrow. He seems most upset, but he doesn’t move even then.
Why isn’t anyone coming? I feel the thought shake me.
Didn’t my nursemaid say this is my kind? I remember and roll my eyes over the crowd.
Didn’t she say I would be happy and that they would love me?
But I don’t see anything like that here. I don’t see a gentle expression or warm smile among any of them. I just see them stare at me.No, they stare at my hair. I move to touch it, suddenly conscious that I am sticking out even more here in all this red.
“Your Empress, Aunt Funda, meanwhile, repeats with a hollow smile. “let us freshen you up before the tour.”
“Yes, er- Aunt Funda.” I nod and push myself up. My knees burn from the rocks, and my dress is stained with sand. But still, no one comes to help.
The three stand by and wait until I’m done.
“This way,” Aunt Funda says, and, again, the three turn like one. They step effortlessly toward the doors.
“Wait-” I struggle to pull up my heavy skirt. “I can’t keep up.” My legs are small, and they walk too quickly.
“Please- slow down.” But they must not hear me because they keep walking.
“She’s so weak.” Someone snickers around me.
“That’s what you get for a halfling.” Another chimes in.
“Half?” I stop to look up, but I don’t know who said it.
I can't tell any of them apart. I just see red eyes and red hair everywhere. Everyone looks so similar. Everyone looks like they belong, except for me.
But that doesn't make sense.
Aren’t they ‘my kind?”
“Empress Anastasia?” It’s Aunt Funda again. “What is the delay?”
“my dress-” I start,” it's too heavy. Can someone carry me?”
“Is something wrong with your legs?”.
“Er- no, but-”
“Then use them.” And she returns to the two. They walk on. But the Youngest lingers back.
“Cousin?”Does he want to help me?
“Could you-” I lift my hand toward him.
“Slowpoke.” He smirks and turns to join his parents. He doesn’t look back after me again. None of them do. It’s as if I’m not even here.
Or maybe they don’t want me to be?
She lied to me, didn't she? I realized right there.
She lied when she said Nochten would be better.
“It is worse.” But even if it's a lie. What can I do?
I am no longer Princess Anastasia anymore. I am an Empress.
And Nochten is my new home now.
*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
*Mykhol*Mykhol could have smiled fully—fangs bared like a wolf over a fresh kill. He could have laughed openly, throwing his head back, golden hoops ringing together like celebration bells as he dissolved into sheer glee. Why, he could have gloated to his heart's content—performed a thousand rehea
*Mykhol*The room surged with urgency around Mykhol like a tide of incompetence trying to disguise itself as purpose.Servants collided in their desperation to appear useful—or at least avoid appearing useless. Thin-soled slippers skidded on polished marble with the squeal of leather on stone. A b
*Admiral Nugen*The room heard it before it understood it—the thin, surrounding chime of metal striking frozen stone. Clink... clink...It bounced. One step. Then another down the dais. Each clang was hollow and soft, yet somehow stealing breath from every throat. The roaring tide of heated argume
*Anastasia*Something is wrong.I feel it the moment I step through the archway. Like a wrongness that crawls up my spine in frozen fingers seeking bone.The fire pits are overstocked, logs piled high enough to throw heat that should comfort. Emphasis on the should, yet the cold cuts straight throu












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