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!”
*Ana*The silence doesn’t greet me–it pounces, thick as velvet curtains drawn too tight. For one foolish moment, I almost convince myself that Pendwick might simply bow and step aside, that the tremor in my chest is just the echo of court politics and nothing more. That maybe, just maybe, this isn't what I think it is. That he's only saying hello, like any other day—just happened to find me in the hall and wanted to—Oh, Ana, you know that’s a lie. The thought cuts sharp as winter wind. I couldn't even afford to convince myself. Just look at him—Pendwick, coincidentally here? The scent of his cologne drifts toward me, bergamot and cedar, too deliberate for a casual encounter. He stands casually in the middle of the White Hall, spine straight as a ceremonial sword, hands clasped so tightly in front of him I swear I can hear the leather of his gloves creak like ship rigging in a storm.The marble beneath my feet seems to pulse with each heartbeat. I swallow, tasting copper on my tongue
*King Alexander* Alexander watched Anastasia disappear down the marble corridor like a shadow slipping behind a veil—unwavering in her expression, yet brittle as winter glass. Shoulders rigid as armor plating, chin lifted in defiant mimicry of her mother's own expression. A cruel irony that didn’t go unmissed by him. Like a blade twisting between his ribs.. Because, like mother, like daughter—it made him all the more desperate to search for the fractures beneath the porcelain mask. Anastasia was drowning. Stretched gossamer-thin, each thread of her composure ready to snap. Her footfalls echoed with leaden exhaustion, the careful measured pace of someone fighting to remain upright. The way her fingers had trembled—barely perceptible—when she'd gathered her skirts. The distant fog that had clouded her crimson eyes during court proceedings, her mind a thousand leagues away from the petitions and proclamations.She was taking this burden far harder than pride would ever let her voice, c
*Ana*The room feels too bright.Sunlight slants through the high windows of the throne room, painting golden streaks across the carpet and catching the gold filigree of the vaulted ceiling until the whole room gleams like a jewel box cracked open.It should be beautiful. It is beautiful. But all I can think about is how the cold seeps through the layers of my court dress like water through silk, despite the iron firepits lining the marble floor. Each bowl spits low, hungry flames that devour coal and resin, sending ribbons of pine-scented smoke curling between the pillars. The smell wraps around us like phantom fingers—woody, bitter, carrying memories I'd rather not hold.My crown feels heavier today, its weight pressing into my skull like an accusation. The silver circlet that once felt like a birthright now feels like a penance. Or maybe I'm just tired.No. I am tired.I sit rigidly beneath the gilded canopy, my spine a blade of steel against the throne's velvet cushions. My hands
*Nicoli*The realization didn’t come like thunder.It came quietly. Like the soft closing of a door he hadn’t noticed until it was already locked behind him. Nicoli's boots struck the marble with too much force, each step a sharp crack that ricocheted off the vaulted ceiling and chased him down the empty corridor. The palace's silence pressed against his eardrums—thick, suffocating, like being buried alive in velvet. The silence of the palace offered no comfort. Had there ever been a time these halls did? That these halls didn’t feel like some mausoleum? Was there a time the air didn't taste of held breath and hidden truths? Nicoli could not say. He didn’t know. There was so much about Anastasia's world he'd never known, didn’t realize was severely lacking all this time. But the pieces were falling into place now, each one landing like a stone in his chest.And it all felt too late. The cold seeped through the seams of his coat, through his skin, settling deep in his bones. But t
*Ana*The room is bathed in amber light. For the first time in days, the clouds have scattered. That stubborn ceiling of winter-grey that's clung to the sky like a brooding bird refusing to leave her nest has finally taken wing. And in its place—sunlight. Glorious and gold, spilling through the carved arches of the Moonroom like a long-awaited blessing from the old gods. It dances along the mosaic tiles, each piece catching fire in miniature suns, warms the brass lanterns overhead until they gleam like captured starlight, and settles over the divans and embroidered pillows in waves of honey and liquid fire.I'm grateful for it. The palace has felt dismal lately—each hallway too dim, too chilled, too full of things left unsaid. Or worse, too many things heard that I'm unable to forget.But this—this warmth—it feels like permission to hope again. Or at least pretend for one more hour that things are going well.I sit where I always do—centered, composed, draped in my choice of pink vel
The Green Drawing Room is quieter than I expected it to be. Pale winter light filters through tall windows, breaking apart on the thick clouds beyond before pooling in uneven patches across the intricate rug beneath our feet. Every shade of green imaginable lies woven into the fabric—moss and jade, seafoam and deep olive—colors rich enough to speak of distant lands and conquered artisans.I've always wondered about this tapestry. Some fallen kingdom, perhaps, from the early days of the first emperor's reign when borders expanded and cultures disappeared into Nochten's shadow. The rug might be all that remains of someone else's legacy, buried now beneath our own. Each time I look down at it, the weight of what came before settles heavier on my shoulders—the prices paid for this throne, and the costs yet to come. Hidi doesn’t glance down at the rug. She doesn’t notice it. Or if she did, she quickly lost interest. Her gaze, instead, stays transfixed on Nicoli sitting next to me on the c







