[fic] anastasia: heiress
Title: Heiress
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Anya, hints of Anya/Dimitri
Author's Note: Drabble series for my Anya claim at anya_drabbles.
#2: Hate
She saw in his eyes that he hated her. A memory flashed across her mind: this manic hatred in these mad eyes, as the madman chased a little girl across the snow. She recognised the hatred, but she realised, as she observed herself as if from a distance, she did not return it. For in the midst of her anger, there glowed a glimmer of gratitude. If not for him, she never would have met Dimitri. And so, because her actions were of vengeance, not revenge born of hate, she walked away from where Rasputin’s remains had been without regret.
#18: Music
The sky was tinted infinite shades of pink and orange as the sun inched towards the horizon. She felt the breeze on her face and her hand in his as they danced to a silent melody only they could hear. Russia and Paris and the Dowress Empress and the Grand Duchess Anastasia melted away until there was just the two of them, dancing to the music in their minds. Gradually they came to a stop. He leaned towards her, his eyes locked on hers, and she hardly dared to breath. Then the music’s spell was broken, and he turned away.
#3: Snow
By the time night had descended upon the sleepy little village, the snowstorm of late afternoon had settled into a thick blanket of white. Anya sat at the frosted window, staring out at the frozen world. From the attic of the orphanage, she could see the village that had been hers for as long as she could remember. For most of the orphans, that was enough. But sometimes, she would sit at this icy window, and wonder what life was like before she could remember. She was thirteen: It would be five years before she stopped wondering and started searching.
#17: Book
Anya loved the stories.
She loved to sit up late when she should have been asleep and read the thick, leather-bound book that she had found in the attic. She loved to fall into the world of kings and queens and knights and courtiers. When she turned out the lights, the fairytale images didn’t leave her mind. She imagined what their lives where like; she imagined happy endings. She imagined a princess with red hair and blue eyes.
Then she realised what she was thinking and shook her head to clear it of the fantasy, and settled down to sleep.
#6: Day
Anya smiled as she felt Dimitri’s body beside her own.
As the last remnants of sleep wore off, she was filled with giddy energy. She was in love. She was in love. In Paris, she had found what she had been looking for. And now, she was free to fly away with man she loved.
Her eyes travelled over his face, memorising every angle of his perfect features.
She was in love.
Unable to keep still any longer, she bounced out of bed and up to the deck, where she watched the sun rise, and welcomed a new, perfect day.
#9: Time
“Can you tell me your name, dear?”
The orphan was confused. Unfamiliar names and faces swirled around her mind as the seconds ticked by. The woman who asked the question looked down at her kindly, but she was waiting for an answer the orphan couldn’t give.
Time stretched out behind her, an empty void that must have been filled once upon a time. But now, she stared into empty space, into nothing, like she had come into existence only minutes ago. She stared, disbelieving, into her blank history for a long time before she dared to wonder about her future.
#22: Alive
Anya was sixteen when the ridiculous, impossible, magnificent idea quietly begun to form in her mind.
She was going to run away.
Her remaining rationality was desperately trying to convince her adventurous streak to settle back down into the dark little corner of her mind in which it had resided for the last eight years, but had little success. In two years, she’d be free of the orphanage and the tall metal fence surrounding it. A refreshingly cool night breeze wafted through the window, and, with the fire of determination ablaze inside of her, she had never felt more alive.
#11: Memories
She danced with her father, just as she had when she was a little girl. The melody filled her mind.
Everything was as it had been.
“Hey!” A male voice echoed around the draughty hall.
The golden fantasy vanished. The melody flitted around her mind playfully, like it knew something she did not. As her dazed mind tried to order itself, she could feel the memories slipping away. She tried to recall the golden images - the extravagant party, the ladies’ beautiful dresses, her father’s face - but they were slowly blinking out of existence, like the embers of a dying fire.
#14: Stars
An old lady Anya had met in the village once had told her that you can tell if a person in love by looking into their eyes. “It’s like they have stars behind their eyes,” she had said. At the time, little Anya had just nodded, a little scared of the strange old woman.
Now, staring at the night sky from the boat’s deck, Anya wondered where that old lady was. I’ll go find her when we get to St. Petersburg, Anya decided, and I’ll ask her: I’ll say, “I’m in love: can you see the stars behind my eyes?”
#8: Mail
“Mail for you,” Anya told her husband, tossing the letter across the table. Dimitri ripped open the envelope and smoothed out what appeared to be an invitation. His eyes skimmed the page and he started to laugh softly.
“What is it?” Anya asked, skirting around the table and leaning over him to read the letter.
“Vlad has finally proposed to Sophie. Wedding’s in three weeks.”
Anya laughed. “It’s about time those two got married.”
“Your Grandmother’s invited us to stay with her the week of the wedding.”
“Great. It’ll be good to see her again.”
Dimitri smiled. “Yes it will.”
#10: Pain
It was hard to think of Dimitri off spending his reward money. It had started off, on the night of the opera, as a sharp, stabbing pain. Now, it had settled into her heart as a dull, constant ache. She tried to convince herself that she would never see him again, so she could get on with her life. It would be so much easier that way. So she told herself again and again he was never coming back. And yet here she was, staring out at the crowded ballroom, willing his face to appear among the throng of people.
#12: Fear
Anastasia - sweet, naive, pampered Princess Anastasia - had never felt true fear until that night. She watched as the madman towered over her father, vowing revenge. She felt her grandmother’s hand on her shoulder, warm and familiar, but she could see in the Grand Duchess’ face that she was as frightened as her granddaughter. It was the panic in her strong, stable grandmother’s face that truly terrified Anya. Fear alone had paralysed her, but it was that total, overwhelming terror that gave her the energy to run. She was too petrified to thank the nameless kitchen boy for saving her life.
#20: Ring
Anya always enjoyed solitude. She would often sit alone in the garden, staring into nothingness. There was a ring of unexceptional stones under a tall tree, and the silent agreement among the orphans was that it belonged to Anya. The younger children whispered that the stones were so perfectly placed that they must have been left there by a fairy for a lonely orphan to find. “Anya found them, so now no-one can go there,” they whispered. “When she goes there, the fairies take her to fairyland to dance with them. That’s why she doesn’t answer when we call her.”
#21: Cold
She was cold. The chill seeped through her clothes, spreading like a virus through her blood. It filled her completely, freezing the blood in her veins as they desperately tried to pump life into her small body. She felt Death closing in around her, and she longed to give herself away to the cool contentment emanating from the Darkness.
But one tiny spark of life glimmered, keeping Death at bay. The spark grew, and she could almost remember what it was life to be warm. That dim ember of warmth kept her alive until she woke up in the orphanage.
#25: Luck
Anya often dabbled in what-ifs. What would have happened if she had gone right rather than left; if she had been behind the old lady rather than in front; if she had left Pooka behind as Dimitri had suggested? It was luck - just luck - that had brought her here. She was lucky to have taken the left road; lucky to have arrived early to the train station; lucky to have become too attached to the little puppy to give him up. Then she’d look at Dimitri’s sleeping form beside her and decide no, it was not just luck at all.
#13: Fight
“Why are you leaving?” Anya asked as Callie packed.
“I have to find my parents. I want to know why they gave me up.”
“By why is it so important?”
“I can’t start living until I discover where I came from."
“You’re already living,” Anya insisted, suddenly angry. “Here, with me. This is your home. Stay with me here.”
“No."
“You’ve always been here. Why fight for something you’ve spent your whole life without?”
“Oh, Anya,” Callie sighed, “There’s so much more. It’ll be worth the fight. Someday you’ll understand. Now just wish me good luck.”
Silence. Then, “Good luck.”
#15: Beginning
He spun her around, laughter shining in his eyes like the infinite stars in the night sky above them, and she knew this was the beginning of something new. As cliché as it sounded, it was true that as one door close behind her, another had opened out into her future. She had seen bad magic; had seen how hate had twisted a man into a monster. But from that moment, on a boat bound for the future with the man she loved, she was ready to start believing that all the magic in the world was born of love.
AC#1: Silk
It was harder to loose herself in the elegant folds of silk than she would have liked. The skirt of the ridiculous dress swirled around her legs like a duchess’ should, but Anya was having a hard time pretending she was a princess. The face of a certain conman drifted into her mind every time she tried to concentrate on learning to walk and talk like royalty and all those other things she hadn’t re-learnt. The memory of Dimitri was as stubborn as the real thing, appearing at the worse times, desperately trying to remind her who she really was.
#5: Night
Anya had a great time that night in Paris. Never in her whole life - or, at least, the portion that she could recall - had she seen so many elegant dresses, let alone been anywhere near a tailor. She had grown up living in rags sewn around her body - fashion was a foreign concept. That night, she got a glimpse into Sophie’s world: a world of song and dance and romance; a world in which life was celebrated simply because it existed. But even as she danced and laughed, she noticed Dimitri watching her with a small smile on his lips.
#4: Rain
Anya never liked rain. It rained the night she woke up in the orphanage, and the day Phlegmenkoff told her that she had found Anya a job in the village.
She never liked rain.
So it seemed strange to find herself standing in the chilling downpour, allowing the rain to soak through her night gown into her skin. How was it that this phenomenom that she had once dreaded seemed so welcome, and so welcoming? It was love, she decided, that had changed her view of the world. She now saw beauty everywhere she looked.
It was because of love.
#1: Love
She had never kidded herself into believing Phlegmenkoff actually loved her. Cared what happened to her, maybe, but actually loved? No chance. But she never feel sorry for herself: she would have expected nothing less from a bitter, middle-aged carer. Anya was an occupation. Never mix business with pleasure, they say. Phlegmenkoff certainly never did that. That was assuming she knew the meaning of pleasure. Or fun. Or compassion, or any of those other things that child carers are supposed to know how to do. No, Phlegmenkoff didn’t love her, but Anya didn’t need her to. She didn’t need anyone.
#7: Family
Anya had always assumed that once she had gotten to Paris, life would be perfect. She never even imagined the glamorous world of royalty into which she threw herself, but she had reckoned that finding her family would be enough. She would settle down, in Paris, probably, find a job, and see her cousins and nieces and nephews and whoever else was left every week. She would be the Auntie Anya. She’d spend the holidays with them and buy them expensive Christmas presents, because she never got any herself. She would do for them what was never done for her.
#16: Ending
As the boat started to move, Anya realised that she should be feeling sad or nostalgic or something. This was the end of a lifelong dream; she was surprised she wasn’t feeling more sentimental. This was the ending of a chapter, the closing of a door, but she felt nothing resembling nostalgia.
Instead, she was filled with a giddy enthusiasm for life. Any life. She didn’t care if it led her to St. Petersburg or Shanghai; she had just one requirement for her voyage: Dimitri. Maybe she was getting sentimental. It was the end of a lifelong dream, after all.
#19: Sky
The weak winter sunshine illuminated blanket of snow covering the palace grounds. Princess Anastasia lay in the snow, revelling in the simplicity of childhood. She stared up at the blue sky, trying to work out if the clouds in shadow were white or grey.
In seven days, Anastasia’s life would come to a halt. Her name would change and she would dress in rags. The privileged life she was living today would evaporate, and she would not reclaim it for ten years. But she would never forget the peace that came with lying in the snow, staring at the sky.
#24: Sleep
She knew she needed sleep. It was late - or early, depending on how you looked at it. She should have been asleep hours ago. But how could she sleep when tomorrow was the first day or the rest of her life?
Paris. That’s where she was going. The city of love, though that wasn’t why she was going. Her fingers found their way to the pendant around her neck. ‘Together in Paris’, it said. Someone out there was waiting for her to come home. To Paris. Who, she didn’t know. Excitement bubbled inside her. Paris, that’s where she was going.
AC#2: Gold
She slipped into the gown Sophie picked up for her and spun around, as is expected of you when you’re wearing such outrageously glamorous attire. She remembered herself in another gold dress, but it wasn’t beautiful, not like this one. It was dirty and unbecoming. It was made of rags sewn together. She had worn it for years, and it had never been beautiful or anything like it. But it was gold just the same. And, just as the tattered dress was gold under the cover of rags, the princess it had clothed was royalty, her potential concealed by poverty.
#23: Dead
She was never a particularly talkative child, spending most of the day alone. She wasn’t aloof exactly - just quiet. Because she kept to herself, the orphans assumed that she was unhappy.
She wasn’t unhappy.
She wasn’t particularly happy either, but she was alive and healthy, if a little too thin, and she knew what she could do so that she could be happy. Nothing was final until she was dead. She wasn’t dead yet. She could change this situation, and she would. By some random twist of fate, she had been spared her life.
She wasn’t going to waste it.
AC#3: Laughter
Anya laughed.
She laughed because she was done, because it was over, because she had found what she had sought. She laughed because she was standing there, on the deck a boat bound for the place she had tried so hard to escape, and she could think of no place she would rather be. She laughed because she was in love.
He held her body close, her hand in his, as she laughed. Her laughter echoed through the night sky, and the stars shined a little brighter.
Dimitri was in love with her laugh. That night, the world was perfect.
AC#4: Journey
Life is a journey. It starts at birth, the birth of a princess with big blue eyes and soft red hair.
The journey continues: the princess starts to grow. She grows into a playful little sprite: she is mischievous and talkative and enthusiastic.
Life takes a sudden turn, and the princess changes. Life spins out of control and she tumbles, head first, in a life that shouldn’t be hers.
The journey continues: the princess grows. She adapts. She goes searching and finds what she seeks. She meets a man; she falls in love.
Life is a journey.
The journey continues.
AC#5: Fairytale
She likes to imagine she’s a princess. She doesn’t know if that’s normal, but she supposes it must be, because all the other girls in the orphanage seem to do it. She doesn’t know a lot about princesses, really, but she knows that they are all beautiful and they all live far away in fairy castles.
She reads fairytales, and she notices that they always have happy endings. They always defeat evil; they always find themselves a handsome prince with whom they can live happily ever after.
She wonders if her story will have a happy ending.
She hopes so.
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Anya, hints of Anya/Dimitri
Author's Note: Drabble series for my Anya claim at anya_drabbles.
#2: Hate
She saw in his eyes that he hated her. A memory flashed across her mind: this manic hatred in these mad eyes, as the madman chased a little girl across the snow. She recognised the hatred, but she realised, as she observed herself as if from a distance, she did not return it. For in the midst of her anger, there glowed a glimmer of gratitude. If not for him, she never would have met Dimitri. And so, because her actions were of vengeance, not revenge born of hate, she walked away from where Rasputin’s remains had been without regret.
#18: Music
The sky was tinted infinite shades of pink and orange as the sun inched towards the horizon. She felt the breeze on her face and her hand in his as they danced to a silent melody only they could hear. Russia and Paris and the Dowress Empress and the Grand Duchess Anastasia melted away until there was just the two of them, dancing to the music in their minds. Gradually they came to a stop. He leaned towards her, his eyes locked on hers, and she hardly dared to breath. Then the music’s spell was broken, and he turned away.
#3: Snow
By the time night had descended upon the sleepy little village, the snowstorm of late afternoon had settled into a thick blanket of white. Anya sat at the frosted window, staring out at the frozen world. From the attic of the orphanage, she could see the village that had been hers for as long as she could remember. For most of the orphans, that was enough. But sometimes, she would sit at this icy window, and wonder what life was like before she could remember. She was thirteen: It would be five years before she stopped wondering and started searching.
#17: Book
Anya loved the stories.
She loved to sit up late when she should have been asleep and read the thick, leather-bound book that she had found in the attic. She loved to fall into the world of kings and queens and knights and courtiers. When she turned out the lights, the fairytale images didn’t leave her mind. She imagined what their lives where like; she imagined happy endings. She imagined a princess with red hair and blue eyes.
Then she realised what she was thinking and shook her head to clear it of the fantasy, and settled down to sleep.
#6: Day
Anya smiled as she felt Dimitri’s body beside her own.
As the last remnants of sleep wore off, she was filled with giddy energy. She was in love. She was in love. In Paris, she had found what she had been looking for. And now, she was free to fly away with man she loved.
Her eyes travelled over his face, memorising every angle of his perfect features.
She was in love.
Unable to keep still any longer, she bounced out of bed and up to the deck, where she watched the sun rise, and welcomed a new, perfect day.
#9: Time
“Can you tell me your name, dear?”
The orphan was confused. Unfamiliar names and faces swirled around her mind as the seconds ticked by. The woman who asked the question looked down at her kindly, but she was waiting for an answer the orphan couldn’t give.
Time stretched out behind her, an empty void that must have been filled once upon a time. But now, she stared into empty space, into nothing, like she had come into existence only minutes ago. She stared, disbelieving, into her blank history for a long time before she dared to wonder about her future.
#22: Alive
Anya was sixteen when the ridiculous, impossible, magnificent idea quietly begun to form in her mind.
She was going to run away.
Her remaining rationality was desperately trying to convince her adventurous streak to settle back down into the dark little corner of her mind in which it had resided for the last eight years, but had little success. In two years, she’d be free of the orphanage and the tall metal fence surrounding it. A refreshingly cool night breeze wafted through the window, and, with the fire of determination ablaze inside of her, she had never felt more alive.
#11: Memories
She danced with her father, just as she had when she was a little girl. The melody filled her mind.
Everything was as it had been.
“Hey!” A male voice echoed around the draughty hall.
The golden fantasy vanished. The melody flitted around her mind playfully, like it knew something she did not. As her dazed mind tried to order itself, she could feel the memories slipping away. She tried to recall the golden images - the extravagant party, the ladies’ beautiful dresses, her father’s face - but they were slowly blinking out of existence, like the embers of a dying fire.
#14: Stars
An old lady Anya had met in the village once had told her that you can tell if a person in love by looking into their eyes. “It’s like they have stars behind their eyes,” she had said. At the time, little Anya had just nodded, a little scared of the strange old woman.
Now, staring at the night sky from the boat’s deck, Anya wondered where that old lady was. I’ll go find her when we get to St. Petersburg, Anya decided, and I’ll ask her: I’ll say, “I’m in love: can you see the stars behind my eyes?”
#8: Mail
“Mail for you,” Anya told her husband, tossing the letter across the table. Dimitri ripped open the envelope and smoothed out what appeared to be an invitation. His eyes skimmed the page and he started to laugh softly.
“What is it?” Anya asked, skirting around the table and leaning over him to read the letter.
“Vlad has finally proposed to Sophie. Wedding’s in three weeks.”
Anya laughed. “It’s about time those two got married.”
“Your Grandmother’s invited us to stay with her the week of the wedding.”
“Great. It’ll be good to see her again.”
Dimitri smiled. “Yes it will.”
#10: Pain
It was hard to think of Dimitri off spending his reward money. It had started off, on the night of the opera, as a sharp, stabbing pain. Now, it had settled into her heart as a dull, constant ache. She tried to convince herself that she would never see him again, so she could get on with her life. It would be so much easier that way. So she told herself again and again he was never coming back. And yet here she was, staring out at the crowded ballroom, willing his face to appear among the throng of people.
#12: Fear
Anastasia - sweet, naive, pampered Princess Anastasia - had never felt true fear until that night. She watched as the madman towered over her father, vowing revenge. She felt her grandmother’s hand on her shoulder, warm and familiar, but she could see in the Grand Duchess’ face that she was as frightened as her granddaughter. It was the panic in her strong, stable grandmother’s face that truly terrified Anya. Fear alone had paralysed her, but it was that total, overwhelming terror that gave her the energy to run. She was too petrified to thank the nameless kitchen boy for saving her life.
#20: Ring
Anya always enjoyed solitude. She would often sit alone in the garden, staring into nothingness. There was a ring of unexceptional stones under a tall tree, and the silent agreement among the orphans was that it belonged to Anya. The younger children whispered that the stones were so perfectly placed that they must have been left there by a fairy for a lonely orphan to find. “Anya found them, so now no-one can go there,” they whispered. “When she goes there, the fairies take her to fairyland to dance with them. That’s why she doesn’t answer when we call her.”
#21: Cold
She was cold. The chill seeped through her clothes, spreading like a virus through her blood. It filled her completely, freezing the blood in her veins as they desperately tried to pump life into her small body. She felt Death closing in around her, and she longed to give herself away to the cool contentment emanating from the Darkness.
But one tiny spark of life glimmered, keeping Death at bay. The spark grew, and she could almost remember what it was life to be warm. That dim ember of warmth kept her alive until she woke up in the orphanage.
#25: Luck
Anya often dabbled in what-ifs. What would have happened if she had gone right rather than left; if she had been behind the old lady rather than in front; if she had left Pooka behind as Dimitri had suggested? It was luck - just luck - that had brought her here. She was lucky to have taken the left road; lucky to have arrived early to the train station; lucky to have become too attached to the little puppy to give him up. Then she’d look at Dimitri’s sleeping form beside her and decide no, it was not just luck at all.
#13: Fight
“Why are you leaving?” Anya asked as Callie packed.
“I have to find my parents. I want to know why they gave me up.”
“By why is it so important?”
“I can’t start living until I discover where I came from."
“You’re already living,” Anya insisted, suddenly angry. “Here, with me. This is your home. Stay with me here.”
“No."
“You’ve always been here. Why fight for something you’ve spent your whole life without?”
“Oh, Anya,” Callie sighed, “There’s so much more. It’ll be worth the fight. Someday you’ll understand. Now just wish me good luck.”
Silence. Then, “Good luck.”
#15: Beginning
He spun her around, laughter shining in his eyes like the infinite stars in the night sky above them, and she knew this was the beginning of something new. As cliché as it sounded, it was true that as one door close behind her, another had opened out into her future. She had seen bad magic; had seen how hate had twisted a man into a monster. But from that moment, on a boat bound for the future with the man she loved, she was ready to start believing that all the magic in the world was born of love.
AC#1: Silk
It was harder to loose herself in the elegant folds of silk than she would have liked. The skirt of the ridiculous dress swirled around her legs like a duchess’ should, but Anya was having a hard time pretending she was a princess. The face of a certain conman drifted into her mind every time she tried to concentrate on learning to walk and talk like royalty and all those other things she hadn’t re-learnt. The memory of Dimitri was as stubborn as the real thing, appearing at the worse times, desperately trying to remind her who she really was.
#5: Night
Anya had a great time that night in Paris. Never in her whole life - or, at least, the portion that she could recall - had she seen so many elegant dresses, let alone been anywhere near a tailor. She had grown up living in rags sewn around her body - fashion was a foreign concept. That night, she got a glimpse into Sophie’s world: a world of song and dance and romance; a world in which life was celebrated simply because it existed. But even as she danced and laughed, she noticed Dimitri watching her with a small smile on his lips.
#4: Rain
Anya never liked rain. It rained the night she woke up in the orphanage, and the day Phlegmenkoff told her that she had found Anya a job in the village.
She never liked rain.
So it seemed strange to find herself standing in the chilling downpour, allowing the rain to soak through her night gown into her skin. How was it that this phenomenom that she had once dreaded seemed so welcome, and so welcoming? It was love, she decided, that had changed her view of the world. She now saw beauty everywhere she looked.
It was because of love.
#1: Love
She had never kidded herself into believing Phlegmenkoff actually loved her. Cared what happened to her, maybe, but actually loved? No chance. But she never feel sorry for herself: she would have expected nothing less from a bitter, middle-aged carer. Anya was an occupation. Never mix business with pleasure, they say. Phlegmenkoff certainly never did that. That was assuming she knew the meaning of pleasure. Or fun. Or compassion, or any of those other things that child carers are supposed to know how to do. No, Phlegmenkoff didn’t love her, but Anya didn’t need her to. She didn’t need anyone.
#7: Family
Anya had always assumed that once she had gotten to Paris, life would be perfect. She never even imagined the glamorous world of royalty into which she threw herself, but she had reckoned that finding her family would be enough. She would settle down, in Paris, probably, find a job, and see her cousins and nieces and nephews and whoever else was left every week. She would be the Auntie Anya. She’d spend the holidays with them and buy them expensive Christmas presents, because she never got any herself. She would do for them what was never done for her.
#16: Ending
As the boat started to move, Anya realised that she should be feeling sad or nostalgic or something. This was the end of a lifelong dream; she was surprised she wasn’t feeling more sentimental. This was the ending of a chapter, the closing of a door, but she felt nothing resembling nostalgia.
Instead, she was filled with a giddy enthusiasm for life. Any life. She didn’t care if it led her to St. Petersburg or Shanghai; she had just one requirement for her voyage: Dimitri. Maybe she was getting sentimental. It was the end of a lifelong dream, after all.
#19: Sky
The weak winter sunshine illuminated blanket of snow covering the palace grounds. Princess Anastasia lay in the snow, revelling in the simplicity of childhood. She stared up at the blue sky, trying to work out if the clouds in shadow were white or grey.
In seven days, Anastasia’s life would come to a halt. Her name would change and she would dress in rags. The privileged life she was living today would evaporate, and she would not reclaim it for ten years. But she would never forget the peace that came with lying in the snow, staring at the sky.
#24: Sleep
She knew she needed sleep. It was late - or early, depending on how you looked at it. She should have been asleep hours ago. But how could she sleep when tomorrow was the first day or the rest of her life?
Paris. That’s where she was going. The city of love, though that wasn’t why she was going. Her fingers found their way to the pendant around her neck. ‘Together in Paris’, it said. Someone out there was waiting for her to come home. To Paris. Who, she didn’t know. Excitement bubbled inside her. Paris, that’s where she was going.
AC#2: Gold
She slipped into the gown Sophie picked up for her and spun around, as is expected of you when you’re wearing such outrageously glamorous attire. She remembered herself in another gold dress, but it wasn’t beautiful, not like this one. It was dirty and unbecoming. It was made of rags sewn together. She had worn it for years, and it had never been beautiful or anything like it. But it was gold just the same. And, just as the tattered dress was gold under the cover of rags, the princess it had clothed was royalty, her potential concealed by poverty.
#23: Dead
She was never a particularly talkative child, spending most of the day alone. She wasn’t aloof exactly - just quiet. Because she kept to herself, the orphans assumed that she was unhappy.
She wasn’t unhappy.
She wasn’t particularly happy either, but she was alive and healthy, if a little too thin, and she knew what she could do so that she could be happy. Nothing was final until she was dead. She wasn’t dead yet. She could change this situation, and she would. By some random twist of fate, she had been spared her life.
She wasn’t going to waste it.
AC#3: Laughter
Anya laughed.
She laughed because she was done, because it was over, because she had found what she had sought. She laughed because she was standing there, on the deck a boat bound for the place she had tried so hard to escape, and she could think of no place she would rather be. She laughed because she was in love.
He held her body close, her hand in his, as she laughed. Her laughter echoed through the night sky, and the stars shined a little brighter.
Dimitri was in love with her laugh. That night, the world was perfect.
AC#4: Journey
Life is a journey. It starts at birth, the birth of a princess with big blue eyes and soft red hair.
The journey continues: the princess starts to grow. She grows into a playful little sprite: she is mischievous and talkative and enthusiastic.
Life takes a sudden turn, and the princess changes. Life spins out of control and she tumbles, head first, in a life that shouldn’t be hers.
The journey continues: the princess grows. She adapts. She goes searching and finds what she seeks. She meets a man; she falls in love.
Life is a journey.
The journey continues.
AC#5: Fairytale
She likes to imagine she’s a princess. She doesn’t know if that’s normal, but she supposes it must be, because all the other girls in the orphanage seem to do it. She doesn’t know a lot about princesses, really, but she knows that they are all beautiful and they all live far away in fairy castles.
She reads fairytales, and she notices that they always have happy endings. They always defeat evil; they always find themselves a handsome prince with whom they can live happily ever after.
She wonders if her story will have a happy ending.
She hopes so.