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PRT III 9 Year Wait
Last Updated:
2024-12-20 01:01:52
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Will Bear the Moon Chapter 77 What Starts As A Nightmare
*ANASTASIA*I am in the Rose Garden. But not as it is in waking life. Everything is in bloom—violently, obscenely alive. Roses spill open around me in thick, silken layers, their petals so saturated with color they seem to pulse with their own heartbeat. Deep crimsons bleed into bruised purples, while tender pinks flush pale as dawn light. Each bloom unfurls like a mouth opening to whisper secrets, their folds heavy and wet with morning dew that clings to my fingertips when I brush past. Some hang pendulous, drunk on their own beauty, hearts swollen and velvet-soft, caressing my bare arms with the intimacy of lovers' touches as I drift between them.The air is thick—almost choking—with their perfume. Sweet. Overripe. Cloying. Like breath held too long against fevered skin, like honey left to spoil in summer heat. Each inhale coats my throat with nectar so rich it makes me dizzy, makes my pulse quicken with something that feels dangerously close to hunger.I am alone. But no—I’m not
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 76 Home Made Of Ice
*Nicoli*And just like that, Nicoli was alone.Not alone in the room, perhaps—servants still ghosted past at the edges of the lobby, their footsteps whisper-soft against marble—but alone in that quiet, suffocating way that settled behind the ribs like stones and refused to leave.The sound of his mother's heels still hung in the air like a low fog, trailing down the western hall. Sharp. Precise. Each click a period at the end of sentences he couldn't finish. Then came the crystalline whisper of the chandelier above—trinkling faintly like breaking icicles as the great doors reopened to let the maids back in, their arms laden with the first of many trunks. Brass buckles caught the light. Leather groaned under weight. The familiar sounds of arrival that should have felt like homecoming but tasted instead like copper coins on his tongue.He didn’t move.His shoulders remained locked, spine rigid as carved stone. The smiles and quick hellos from the passing staff felt distant. Flat. As if
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 75 Home Sweet Home
*Belinda*The storm lashed against the glass like a beast clawing to break free, each gust sending tremors through the windowpanes that Belinda felt in her bones. Sleet hammered the tall windows of the entry hall—not the gentle patter of rain, but sharp needles of ice that struck with military precision, each impact a tiny percussion in the symphony of winter's rage. She watched without blinking, her gray eyes reflecting the storm's fury while her body remained statue-still.Not snow—no, that would have been too merciful. Too poetic. Too soft for what churned inside her chest.This was the kind of cold that stalked its prey. Bitter, wet, vengeful—it slipped beneath the heaviest cloaks like skeletal fingers, found every gap in armor, every weakness in resolve. The wind carried the scent of ice and dying earth, sharp and metallic against her tongue when she breathed too deeply. Almost fitting for the tempest brewing in her heart, her endless waiting stretching like a wire pulled to its
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 74 Just Got Here
*Ana*The wind snarls with a bone-shattering snap, its howl echoing off the marble columns like a wounded beast. It cuts through velvet and wool and fur, no matter how tightly I clutch my reinforced cloak around my shoulders. She is hell-bent to reach into every tender space with vengeance, her icy fingers finding the gaps between fabric and flesh, making a misery of everyone.Like a cruel god, each gust kicks up fine dust from the desert’s edge, peppering the White Steps and gilded stone in shades of dull ochre. Even the sky looks bruised—dark, low, swollen with snow that never falls yet but taunts with its promise. The kind of sky that presses down on your chest, that warns of a storm ready to brew with the weight of held breath. Threatening the passage back through the mountains to be slow and torturous if given more time.It will not wait. I must hurry the farewells along. A struggle as it is, because each moment is like pulling a fang. There are ceremonies to uphold. Eyes to sa
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 73 Frayed Threads
*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
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 72 Silent Game
*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
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