*Ana*
I make no reaction as the short knock follows the door opening. In truth, I've been waiting. I happened to catch the posthorse from the window below some time before. And I knew it wouldn't be long till the knock would follow.
Though, I hoped today would be different. That today, there would be nothing for me. But seeing Aunt Funda come in with the silver tray in hand, leaves me with no doubt.
I barely need to flick my eyes over from the window to know. I can already see the blue in the glass's reflection. My eyes linger on it and then past to find my own reflection. An expressionless face regards me, cooly.
At this point, at the age of twelve, I have become better able to conceal any if all my emotions. And even now, I still have that control. I barely lift a brow as I see her move to set the letter down on my desk.
"Another letter from Dawny, your Empress." Aunt Funda informs, looking at me via the window's reflection. Her posture is perfect and straight, emphasizing her towering height despite the inches I've grown. I am still considerably short for my age.
"Aunt Funda," I turn slowly. I can feel the soft motion shift Maddie's shawl slightly from the chains. A flash of my silver hair makes an appearance when it does.
I can hear Aunt Funda's breath slightly hitch at the sight before quickly shifting her gaze to the floor. A quick disgust crossed her features and was gone.
"Your hair…it's grown quite long, Your Empress."She comments. Not with a hint of appreciation or envy, more like stating the weather. She's not wrong.
My hair has indeed grown. I move to touch it. Its thick waves reach the lower half of my back now. And that's it dry. It's even longer wet. Which is not often.
Naska does not like touching my hair if she can avoid it. So washing and combing are rare. But that is not so much a problem now. When it gets too bad, my arms are longer now and I can manage to comb it.
It's a small benefit to my growth spurt, as little as it was. But I appreciate it nonetheless.
"We…could try to stain it again, if you like?" Funda goes but I immediately shoot the idea down.
"It was too messy the last time," I remember. "All the red dripped out and everywhere. The color didn't even last the week. No, we will not try the stain again."
The last time had proven to be more than enough. My hair was too slick to hold any color. The silver is too stubborn to be hidden.
"You…could consider cutting it." Funda offers again. "We could attain a wig."
Again I shake my head at the idea.
"It would be the same effort. I'll just stay with the shawl then." I go and walk up to the desk.
"He's…drawing on them now?" I lift the envelope. It's covered with inked illustrations. All of which seem to be of bears. Each engaged in some activity.
"What a silly thing to do?" I comment softly, spotting one such bear sleeping before another, balancing on a ball.
"Your Empress?" Aunt Funda perks up peering over. "Yes, the Prince seems to like bears or something." She goes but I can't help but frown. I wasn't wanting to speak to her. I was only speaking out loud.
"He's improved," I say, ignoring her, and turn the envelope to again admire more of Nicoli's work. Looking over the paper, I spy a bear blowing snot bubbles. It catches me so off guard that I must laugh aloud.
"He-so disgusting." I shake my head with a soft laugh. Nicoli had such a boyish humor.
"Your Empress?" Aunt Funda, meanwhile, starts up at the sound. "You- you're laughing?" She seems so startled. Though I suppose she would.
I don't have much to laugh at. I realize. Let alone to hear me laugh in general. And just as I see her reaction, I simmer back down.
"It's nothing," I shift the letter to my side, shielding it from her. Something about her blatant nosiness rubs me the wrong way. I don't want her to see any more.
"Ah-" Aunt Funda groans aloud at losing sight of the letter. But quickly notices what she's done. She bows with a quick apology.
"I…forgive me, your Empress. I just- I thought I heard you laugh. I was curious what was so funny."
Curious? I doubt that. Aunt Funda never shows interest in anything of mine. But I keep the thought to myself.
Rather, I grow a little colder as my thoughts return to business.
"Find Cousin Mykhol." I go.
"Yes, of course." Aunt Funda shoots up with a quick flash of relief. "Right away, your Empress. I'll go get him."
She makes no hesitation in rushing out with the tray. But before she leaves, she does manage to steal one last glance at my hand. I move the envelope behind me.
"Please hurry." I go as if to say she was stalling. Aunt Funda makes the slightest pout but says no more. She is out the door and disappearing into the hallway.
With her gone, I take the chance and relax letting out a long and heavy breath.
"She is nosey," I admit but I have nothing more to say. I don't waste time. Mykhol will be here soon. And I want to be done before he comes.
I start on the now familiar path. Stopping just before the portrait, and take the customary look. He looks the same every time, Nochten's first Emperor.
He greets me like always, in all his glory. His blood-red eyes judged with the same intensity they had done countless times before.
I once read how cruel our first Emperor was. How he had many wives and concubines. I wonder if which one my ancestro was. A wife or a concubine? Either way, one of them had to be my distant grandmother.
Because of her, his blood runs through my veins. But that is the only connection between us. Because outside of that, I find no other resemblance.
The first Emperor was a hard man with a hard face framed in deep red hair. His eyes were so red they were almost black like obsidian. And his face was chiseled in angles and opulence.
I must have taken on more of my grandmother's traits. I decided long ago. Because I certainly didn't take on any of his. But alas, it is not something I will get to verify. Only the Emperor was important enough to break the taboo and have a portrait made. Not his women.
However, If anyone looks like the Emperor, it is Mykhol. I can see it. Even more, as Mykhol grows older. He looks like a handsome version of the Emperor. Almost a perfect match, save for a few differences. Mykhol's hair color, for example, is lighter, and his ears are pierced.
"Excuse me, grandfather." I greet and pull the side to click unlock the latch. The portrait lifts slowly open with a guided hand.
Inside, I find the shelf already filled over with five years worth of letters. I've taken to stack and bundle them in neat piles. Each is tied with a blue ribbon.
I try to organize them by date. But still, it is starting to become overwhelming. The letters bulge out because of their unbroken seals. And the shelf is growing cramped for space.
"Will he draw on the next one?"
I lift the new envelope. I pause at the illustrations just once more before I hear the door open without a knock. There is only one person I know who doesn't.
I move the newest letter to the most recent pile just as his footsteps come near.
"Another letter?" Mykhol asks with a curious note as I nod.
"Yes. He sent another one." I go, moving to close the trap door. Mykhol makes a soft sound of disappointment as I do.
"Pity, I was hoping you wanted to read this one."
"To read-" I tense up at the suggestion. A flash of the dark memory runs across my head before I can will it away.
"No. It won't be read." I go softly and step back, further willing that idea and the memory of Father's last letter to the back of my mind.
"Are the ministers all present?" I ask. Mykhol gives a soft sigh.
"Yes, they are." He then makes another soft sound of disappointment.
"I really was hoping we'd read this one." He goes on. "Mother told me it made you laugh."
"It-" I frown hearing how quickly my little slip be used against me. But I recover quickly. "It was just that he drew on the envelope this time. Nothing more."
"Ah, but still," Mykhol sighs again, crossing his arms and stepping to almost touch my back. "I can't help but be curious. I wanted to see what made you laugh."
"It was nothing, cousin." I go.
"You barely ever laugh." Mykhol goes on. " I was hoping to see you smile."
"Cousin," I shake my head at his strangeness. What would it matter to see my smile? "You say weird things sometimes."
"I do," Mykhol admits before moving to extend his hand. "But only for you."
"Only me?" I raise a brow but move to take his hand. Mykhol curls his fingers over mine with ease. His 19-year-old hands are so much bigger than my own.
"Court is ready, my Empress."
"Then let us go." I return as Mykhol opens the door. Without hesitation, I take the lead with Mykhol a step behind.
*Mykhol*
With Ana in front, Mykhol took the chance to study her expression openly.
Ana's lips were plump but still set in a straight line. She was not smiling and didn't look like she planned to. Mykhol couldn't help but feel a little cheated by that.
I was looking forward to seeing her smile for once. Mykhol sighed inwardly.
How can she smile and laugh over a simple letter? How? She never laughs at me. She never does anything. Mykhol thought it unfair.
That boy is not even here and still- Mykhol shook his head, miffed at the idea of again being denied.
But the feeling subsided as Mykhol found other ways to still enjoy himself. He continued to watch Ana's face. His eyes lingered over her lips again.
At some point, he was sure they would have to smile for him. He just needed to wait a bit longer.