LOGIN*Ana*
Maddie was right. I feel dismal as the temperature drops the closer the maid guides us outside.
She leads me down the patio steps toward the gardens. All the while, I try not to shiver obviously but it’s becoming more frequent. The Autumn chill is no joke. I have to pull the shawls closer.
But they are not effective and the cold stabs through. Worse, it’s just around my shoulder. My feet and legs are getting the worse end of the deal. The chilly air seems to lick at them.
I should have just put on that stupid dress. I am suffering silently.
Ahead of the maid, I can make out a stoned seating area. A table has been set with china and snacks on tiers. The table has two chairs. One is empty as Stepmother sits in the other.
Upon seeing her, I dart my eyes about. I’m hoping to find another smaller figure. Someone that should be either shorter or around my height. But, as we draw over, my expectations die. There is no one else around.
It is going to be just the two of us. Though I am disappointed, I try not to show it. I don’t want Stepmother to feel like I’m not happy to see her.
“Thank you, Julia.” Queen Belinda nods to the old maid.
Julia bows and moves to step aside. It only dawns on me that with just us three, there are no other servants around.
Odd. I’d expected there to be more. But I don’t dwell on it as I feel Stepmother looking at me.
“I am sorry to keep you waiting, Mother.” I curtsy respectfully to her.
As I stand back up, I swear there is a strange smirk on her face. But it’s gone in a flash. Or did I just see it?
Stepmother just smiles at me.
“Come, join me, EMPRESS Anastasia.” Stepmother puts a strong emphasis on my title again. Just as she did before. I wonder if it’s a habit of hers?
“Thank you for having me,” I take a seat. Sitting, I can now see her clothes.
Stepmother has dressed smartly for the outside. Her dress is a light blue velvet with sleeves lined in white rabbit fur. And a white stout fur shawl hangs loosely from her shoulders.
Stepmother has always been beautiful. But she has gone the extra mile by adorning herself in jewels befitting her status. Gold emerald earrings dangle from her ears that match the brooch on her neck. She doesn’t have the crown on but it doesn't change anything. Just the way she carries herself reeks of royal radiance.
This woman is indeed a queen. And she demands respect.
I really should have worn the dress. I am lamenting as I now find myself such a pale comparison to her. I am still in my travel clothes. Nothing extravagant on them save for the silver thread that embroiders the hems- which is covered up by the shawls.
Speaking of the shawls, I feel another gust of cold air climb up and have to pull them closer. But they can only cover so much. Goosebumps are forming on my neck and chest.
“You’ve matured since I’ve last seen you.” Queen Belinda motions for Julia. The maid comes to start serving tea. The maid strains the leaves and pours a steamy black liquid into the queen’s cup. She then does the same to mine.
Having the cup filled, I catch the pleasant earthy smell aerate from within.
So this is tea. I’ve never had any before. Dawny has a fascination with the drink. It’s a fascination that seems to be spreading amongst the other kingdoms. Except for Nochten and their coffee.
We refuse to give that up. It is our number one import from the colonies, after all. But as I am in Dawny, I wish to play by their customs. I will taste tea for the first time today.
Curious, I lift the cup to blow the steam before taking a sip. I’ve yet to add anything, not sure how it would taste black. If it were coffee, I would add copious amounts of cream and sugar as a habit.
I have quite a sweet tooth.
Queen Belinda smiles watching before she adjusts hers with a sugar cube and splash of cream. Her spoon clicks against the china as she mixes her additives before feeling her concoction ready. She takes the cup to sip silently as her eyes stay on me.
“Mentally, I mean.” Queen Belinda smiles strangely into her cup.
“Thank you for your kind words."
"I have been busy each day reading and studying.” I put the cup down. I find the drink bland and too soft. I doubt cream or sugar can help change it so I don’t try.
I don’t think I like tea. It’s decided. But just as I have the cup down, the maid is on the move again. The maid refills what I just tasted.
“Oh-” I dampened at the sight but stop myself. I wasn’t planning on tasting more but now it might appear rude.
At least it’s warm. I have to relent as more goosebumps travel up my legs.
“You mean as preparations for when you ascend to Empress?” Queen Belinda offers a cookie. This I am more eager to take and bite off the bunny's head.
“Yes, but I also find it fun,” I quickly finish the rabbit cookie.
“You do?” She seems amused. But her grey eyes seem to dull a little as if she has realized something.
“Be careful my dear,” Queen Belinda starts taking a cookie for herself.
“Men aren’t too keen on a woman who reads.” She dunks her cookie into the tea and gently nibbles on its ears.
“They find it...threatening.”
“Shouldn’t I be threatening? I am Empress.” I reply simply.
Why would I care how they felt about me? The advice seems silly to me.
Queen Belinda snorts while swallowing a bite. Her eyes lift to regard me. They linger on my silver hair. Her stare makes my back stiffen a little.
I’ve seen that stare before but I shake it away. It couldn’t be. Not with Stepmother.
We are family.
“It is proper for a ruler to be well-learned, yes.” Queen Belinda agrees politely.
“You are right, but be sure that it will be seen as coming off too strong. You are direct, I can tell. But this does not help a woman. Women need to be more subtle to get their way.”
“Subtle?” I repeat with a blink but she doesn't delve further into her meaning.
Instead, she catches me shivering. I pull up my shawls as if to play it off but Stepmother beams a new smile. She sits back and fluffs up her fur shawl. It looks so much warmer than my choices.
“So, are you involved in court proceedings yet? Or is that still too much for one your age?” Queen Belinda sips her tea.
“How are your regents? Your- hmm, Aunt and Uncle?” Queen Belinda asks and I move for another cookie.
“They are well, I suppose. And I am in court. I attend and listen to the issues and concerns.”
“That is wonderful to hear, Empress Anastasia. More experience will only help you.” Queen Belinda speaks genuinely.
“The Empire is going to be quite busy with you in power. They are blessed to have you.” Queen Belinda sounds sincere. I feel pink at the compliment.
Outside of Maddie, I don’t receive much praise. But this must be because we are family.
Speaking of which-
“Does Brother Nicoli attend court now?” I ask.
At the question, Stepmother stiffens and her eyes sharpened. She smiles tightly.
“No, Prince Nicoli is still young.” Queen Belinda is short. I can only open my mouth to form an ‘o’.
“He is four now, right?” I ask to see her verify with a nod.
“Then, how is he doing? Has the fever subsided?”
Stepmother’s smile tightens.
“Not presently.”
I can’t but frown a little. But I put on a more upbeat attitude.
“Perhaps tomorrow, then. He’ll be feeling better.”
“Perhaps,” Queen Belinda repeats. It is only here that I feel some kind of hesitation. It’s odd- like a wall is being put up in front of me. Stepmother isn’t acting differently. She still smiles and her voice is pleasant.
But maybe it’s the way she answers- short and with no elaboration. I don’t quite understand but I get the impression she’s holding back at something. What could that be?
It’s as if she is trying to push me away from speaking about my brother.
But that is silly. I have to dismiss it. That can’t be the case.
“I hope so.” I find my pocket in my skirt. My fingers feel for the box. It’s still there.
Perhaps now is the time to bring it out? I start to wiggle it from my skirt.
“I have a gift for “
“Fevers can take time to heal, Empress Anastasia.” Queen Belinda interrupts and I feel my hand freeze.
“I expect it will take up to the entire duration of your stay.”
The whole time? I hold the box in place.
“But, if so, how am I to meet my-“ I drop my words as she smiles widely at me. It’s not a warm smile-not like the one Maddie gives me. This is cold- colder than the autumn air. It feels like it has teeth that could bite.
The sight of it makes me stop in place. I am afraid to move less when it strikes.
“I thought our talk would take longer, nay, I would have preferred it to be since the air feels so crisp.” Queen Belinda moves to take up her spoon.
“But it seems the subject was bound to come up at some point.” The spoon goes into her cold tea. She stirs with a loud click of the china.
“And it’s better to handle things as they come naturally, don’t you agree?” Queen Belinda pulls the spoon away to motion for Julia. The maid takes her cup without a glance at mine.
I open my mouth to speak but find a delay. It takes an effort for any sound to come out. But when it does, it betrays my confusion.
“Mother?”
*Ana*Snow falls inside the room.It drifts down in slow, impossible spirals between wooden rafters that shouldn't exist in a desert palace, each flake suspended in silence thick enough to choke on. They kiss my bare skin with tiny deaths. Soft, cold, gone, melting before they can accumulate, leaving trails of shimmering droplets that feel like tears I haven't shed yet.The walls around me wear familiar stones but wrong memories. Stone, yes, the same pale marble veined with hairline cracks I know by heart, but the windows are changed. They stretch too tall, too narrow, pointed at the tip as if spearing the heavens, rimmed in hoarfrost as though this place has always belonged to winter's cruelty rather than Nochten's scorching sun and endless sand.My breath curls upward in small ghosts, rising through the cold to whimper out into voidless white fluff above where a ceiling should be but isn't.I am not alone in this blizzard of alabaster silence.Nicoli stands before me.His posture i
*Johan*The hall should have felt the same. Johan had walked this corridor a thousand times before. During storms that rattled the windows like bones. During celebrations that gilded the walls with laughter. And on sleepless nights when duty was a weight and sunlit mornings when it was a privilege.But tonight was different.Everything was twisted. Altered like the weight of nightmare’s geometry. Its’ truth pressing between his ribs with each hollow step toward the south wing, Nicoli's wing, had transformed familiar into foreign. The safety of red runners beneath his feet felt like walking on sanguine. The same portraits that had watched him for decades now seemed to track his movement with eyes that knew too much.Every flicker of candlelight stretched longer than it should, , reaching for him with fingers of shadow. Every echo of his footfall was swallowed too quickly, as if the stones themselves wanted no memory of his passing. As if the palace was already revolting against him.T
*Johan*“So it’s true.” The words barely escaped Johan's throat. A breath more than a whisper, yet it echoed all the same in the laboratory's stillness as if the walls themselves recoiled from the confession. The vast space seemed to shrink around him, stone and shadow pressing closer, bearing witness to what could not be taken back.He stared down at the parchment again, hoping, absurdly, that the words might shift. Willing the ink to blur and fade. His eyes traced the letters once more, as if reading them differently might change their meaning.But no matter how he wished it, the ink remained stubborn and steady. The word was a permanent stain on the page and each stroke only further held it up with strong thickly lined curls.Poison.Drawn in Master Pierce’s sharp, deliberate hand. No tremor in the lettering. No hesitation in the diagnosis. The kind of certainty that came from triple-checking, from running every test twice, from wanting desperately to be wrong and finding only conf
*Julia*The doors shut behind her with a sound too soft for how loud it felt in her bones.Not a slam. Not even a click.Not a slam. Not even a proper click. Just that faint, traitorous snick. The sealing of a letter no one would ever open, of forty years of service ending with less ceremony than snuffing out a candle.The blue box pressed into the soft flesh of her thigh through layers of skirt, its edges biting like teeth, like memory, like all the sins she'd committed in love's name. Of all she’d done.And for a moment, just one terrible, endless moment, Julia could only stand there. The hall stretched ahead of her like a blade waiting to fall if she dared a single step further.Nervous flames flickered from their sconces across the corridor. Active and anxious, likely disturbed by her presence. Their waxy halos painted dancing shadows on the walls. Shadows that looked like reaching hands attached to names long forgotten. With like accusation, no longer spoken of. And like all the
*Hidi*The parlor was warmer than she expected. Though snow still whispered against the tall windows, hushing down in lazy veils from the gray sky beyond, the room itself held the kind of curated heat that made Hidi’s skin prickle beneath her fur collar. The warmth pressed against her like unwanted intimacy, too close, too controlled. A pale fire murmured in the hearth, flames licking marble with the laziness of a well-fed cat. A slight fog veiled the edges of the long windows like breath against the leaded glass. Blurring the view of the hedge maze beyond into abstract suggestions. The skeletal gardens looked like they'd been drawn by a child's unsteady hand, all sharp angles softened by snow's mercy. The air tasted of steeped rosehips lingered in the air, cut with bright orange peel and something more exotic. Cardamom, perhaps? The spice lingered at the back of her throat, warm and slightly numbing.It was sweet, delicate. It felt controlled. Everything about this room whispered
*Hidi*Hidi took her time dressing.She moved with deliberate slowness, each gesture calculated to contain the fury threatening to detonate beneath her skin. It was a rather daunting task to be honest. For one her size and temperament, she who'd never met a door she couldn't barrel through, a problem she couldn't solve with sheer force. Or a good sharp sword through the chest, it was practically impossible. Or she’d thought so. But somehow, she seemed to muster some hidden reservoir of restraint from within just when the call demanded.Her large fingers, usually so decisive, slightly trembled as the corrected invisible flaws in her seams. The silk thread felt rough against her fingertips, catching on calluses earned from years of sword training her mother had insisted upon. The memory rose unbidden, sharp and blinding as a crisp winter morning in Almony's mountains.She'd been seven. Still growing into her height, all knees and elbows, already taller than most human children her age







