“Hello, Anastasia,” the Tsar’s voice was calm and stoic as if it was a business meeting and not his daughter. The Tsarina could barely look at Anastasia, picking at the gold threads on her dress.
Mikhail eyed her with particular disgust; she wore a pair of diamond earrings so heavy, wiring looped over her ears to help support them.
Whatever this fucking setup is,his thoughts were violent,I hope the Tsarina chose jewelry she doesn’t mind losing.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Anastasia’s voice rang out clear and strong. Whatever fear she felt, she hid it well. She used the formal address for the Tsar, and Mikhail was overcome with the impulse to throw her over his shoulder and run far, far away.
“You have been missing for a day, Anastasia.” The Tsar seemed to finish every sentence with her name, as if he sought to punish her with it, to remind her that she was one of them. “Please do let us know where you’ve been. The streets are full of rioters these days. It's a dangerous time. You can imagine how distraught we were when we discovered you were gone.” His voice was foreboding and full of thinly-veiled threats.
“I was with the tutor.” Anastasia’s voice was detached. She spoke of him like that’s all he was to her — the tutor. The latest in a line of them, soon to likely be executed like the rest of his successors.
Mikhail had faith in Anastasia, but this cold remembrance dripped down his spine, and he recollected what a dangerous game they were playing.
“The tutor, yes…,” the Tsar’s voice was cold, calculating. “Do you understand that’s highly improper?”
Anastasia fought back the impulse to roll her eyes at her father. He had forced her to share her chambers with hand-selected maids and tutors for years. “I’m always alone with my tutors,” she made the double entendre clear.
“You are alone with your tutors in private,” the Tsar snapped, his control slipping ever so slightly. “Not where other people can see you.”
“So it doesn’t matter what they might have done to me, as long as it didn’t spin the rumor mill?” Anastasia’s voice rose, and Mikhail couldn’t help but be proud of her. Standing up to an abusive father was one thing; it was another entirely when your father was the Tsar to all of Russia.
“We have enough to worry about without having to worry aboutyou,” the Tsar barked, his facade cracking. He took a deep breath, rearranging one of the broaches on the grandiose sash that he insisted on wearing at all times.
“Perhaps,” one of thedvoryanstvospoke up from behind him, “We would feel better if we knew how your magic was progressing.”
“It’s magic now?” Anastasia laughed darkly, staring daggers at the overinflated old man. “Because I distinctly remember you sitting in this room when I was thirteen while everyone talked about what a curse I was.”
“Anastasia,” the Tsarina glanced up, finally looking interested enough to take part in the conversation, “That’s inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?!” Anastasia scoffed. “That’srichcoming from you.” Anastasia always shrank in front of her parents, but something in her had shifted.
The opportunity to use her magic, help people, right some of the inequities that she was raised in… It had rocked her sense of purpose to the core. What that meant - she couldn’t be sure. She wouldn’t spend another minute listening to her parents conspire.
“I don’t care if you’re fucking the priest,” the Tsar’s voice was like crude oil, “Anastasia, you must use your gifts for the family. You have no idea what we are up against.”
“For the family?” Anastasia threw her hands up in the air. “You have no idea what that word even means. You don’t even know what I can do —“
“You do know?” Another one of thedvoryanstvoperked up, catching the implication in her voice.
“Tell us everything, Anastasia,” the Tsar went still. “Tell us now.”
The silence that settled over the room was deadly. Mikhail felt his hands pull into fists, ready to fight anyone in the room — including the Tsar himself — if it meant pulling Anastasia out of there.
“No.” Anastasia’s voice matched his in contempt, drawing a line in the sand. It was the first time that she had ever stood up to her father directly. She was directly refusing an order from the Romanov Tsar.
“Do not ask me again,” she continued, her voice full of iron, “Or I will show you what I can do. Is that understood?”
Mikhail couldn’t help but turn and look at her in awe. This woman had completely risen from the ashes of an imprisoned life.
Her family had attempted to crush her under the wheel of their dynasty and political games, yet here she was, givingthemorders. He didn’t know what she would be able to control but the threat was likely enough.
The Tsar waved once, and thedvoryanstvoquickly got up and filed out of the room. One look from the Tsar and the Tsarina followed, leaving with a passing glance at Anastasia that looked more bored than anything.
“Anastasia… Rasputin,” the Tsar looked at them both, an unholy fire lighting in his eyes. The cracked facade of this great man in front of them made him look like he was ready to erupt.
“You will come to see the magnitude of what you have refused to do here today. With God as my witness,daughter,” he said the word like it was a curse.
“You will extend your servitude to me as your father and as your Tsar, or I will have your magic bound, and you will be married off. Am I clear?”
