Anastasia's Courtyard
Anastasia found herself standing in a forgotten courtyard. A faint, flickering light from a solitary room hinted at life within. The light struggled against the wind, much like the old woman inside, lying on a bed, her breath weak and labored.
Cough, cough, cough.
The sound of suppressed coughing echoed from the dimly lit room. On the bed lay the empress, a woman once envied by all, now frail and withered. Her life seemed as fragile as the flickering lamp beside her.
"Your Majesty, please eat something," a maid pleaded, bending beside the bed and placing a tray on the small table.
"What's the point?" The old woman's voice was unexpectedly clear, betraying her otherwise lifeless state.
The maid sighed, looking at the woman who had once been the epitome of grace and power. "You can't give up like this. As long as you live, she can't take your place," the maid said earnestly. As a servant, she could do nothing more than pray for her master's survival.
The old woman smiled faintly. Her wrinkled face remained unmoved, her dull eyes betraying no emotion. "Do you really think they'll let me live?" she asked.
The maid opened her mouth to respond but decided against it, her silence speaking volumes.
"Listen, the celebration has already started," the old woman said, her smile widening, though it lacked warmth. She seemed to mock her own fate. Once a young bride full of hope, she had been the envy of her peers when she married into the royal family. She had believed her years of suffering were over, but reality had cruelly disappointed her.
Years of pretense and struggle had left her exhausted. Life in the royal family had been far from the glamorous existence she had imagined.
"Even if I am not his mother, I raised him with love for twenty years. The doctor says I have only a few days left. He could have honored me, just this once…" The old woman sighed and closed her eyes, the pain in her heart feeling like a thousand arrows piercing her. Her body ached, and short, painful gasps escaped her lips.
Seeing her struggle, the maid rushed to a small cabinet and returned with a small bottle. She poured its contents onto a spoon and urged, "Your Majesty, please take your medicine."
But the empress did not respond. Her frown softened, and her labored breathing slowed until, finally, she stopped altogether.
Bang. The bottle and spoon slipped from the maid's hands.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" the maid cried out in panic, shaking the empress despite their difference in status. But there was no response. The empress had closed her eyes, never to open them again.
Anastasia who has been watching the entire scene suddenly felt her breath caught in her throat, realizing that she was the old woman on the bed.
...
Anastasia gasped as her eyes flew open. She was drenched in cold sweat, and tears streamed down her face. It was the same dream again.
Her room was shrouded in darkness, and the absence of light made her shiver. The small table lamp must have gone out in the middle of the night.
Even as the daughter of a duke, the resources at her disposal were limited. Though she couldn't see her hands clearly, she knew her surroundings well. This wasn't the first time she had woken up in darkness.
Shaking off the lingering emotions from the dream, Anastasia got out of bed and walked to the window. She pushed it open, letting the cold wind blow against her skin. The sensation made her feel alive and helped ease the fear from her recurring dream.
She gazed into the darkness, sighing deeply. Her world felt equally covered in shadow, as even the moon refused to shine that night.
The scene from her father's study flashed in her mind, blending with her dream the night before. "Could this be a warning?" she whispered to herself. She had dismissed the dream the previous night, but now she feared it might hold a deeper meaning, something vital to her life and future.
"What should I do?" Anastasia asked herself softly, her voice trembling with unease.
At that moment there was a knock on the door interrupting her thought.
"My lady?" Rosa's voice followed the knocking.
"Come in," Anastasia said softly, her voice still heavy with the weight of her dream.
Rosa entered the room holding a small lamp that flickered faintly, its oil nearly depleted. Resources were scarce, and Rosa hadn't dared to go to the store for more, fearing it might cause trouble for her mistress.
"My lady," Rosa said, raising the lamp to look at Anastasia. She had been worried since the previous evening and had rushed to check on Anastasia the moment she heard movement coming from the room.
"What do you think of dreams?" Anastasia asked, turning to face Rosa. She felt the need to hear another opinion, and Rosa was one of the few people she could trust.
"Dreams?" Rosa was surprised by the question. "Dreams are fragments of our thoughts. There's nothing to worry about. I once dreamt I fell into a river and drowned, but look at me now," she said earnestly, trying to reassure Anastasia.
Anastasia raised her brows skeptically.
"It's true, my lady. At that time, I was terrified of the river. I even tried to learn how to swim to overcome my fear, but I couldn't. Yet, after all these years, I've never fallen into a river," Rosa explained with all seriousness, fearing Anastasia might not believe her.
Anastasia shook her head slightly, unconvinced by Rosa's explanation.
"My lady, what did you dream about? You will realize there's nothing to fear once you share it," Rosa urged. She silently decided to visit the chapel the next day to pray for blessings. While many dreams were mere fragments of imagination, she had heard that some could predict the future.
"I dreamt that I married the Crown Prince and became the Crown Princess," Anastasia admitted.
Rosa froze, wishing she could slap herself. She had rambled on, thinking her mistress had a nightmare.
"My lady is blessed! I'm sure your dream will come true," Rosa said quickly, changing her tone without shame. She now felt her earlier response had been inappropriate, marrying the Crown Prince was a great fortune, and she dared not dismiss it.
"I thought you said dreams were just fragments of imagination?" Anastasia asked, raising a brow.
Rosa smiled awkwardly. "My lady, I only meant that sometimes dreams can reveal good fortune. I once heard a priest say that God reveals things to His children through dreams," Rosa added, avoiding Anastasia's gaze.
Anastasia smiled faintly. "Go to sleep. I'm fine," she assured Rosa. Whether the dream was a warning or not, she knew she was fine for now.
Rosa hesitated, wanting to ask about what had happened in the Duke's study, but she feared crossing a line.
"You should rest, my lady. You'll need your energy to accompany Miss Maria to her friend's party tomorrow. I heard her friend has taught many noble ladies," Rosa reminded.
Anastasia nodded, even when she knew she might be unable to fall asleep for the rest of the night.
"With your permission, my lady," Rosa said, bowing as she placed the lamp on the table. She knew Anastasia disliked the dark.