She's My Mother After All
The rain poured down in relentless sheets, a silver curtain that hammered the castle's stone walls and ran in rivulets across the courtyard.
Thunder rolled and shattered the stillness of the evening, and lightning cleaved the sky, illuminating the castle towers in stark, fleeting flashes.
Inside, a different kind of calm reigned. Moon lay curled up beside Snowflake, purring softly, seemingly unbothered by the storm outside.
"I can't believe it rained the entire day," Anastasia murmured, her voice carrying a trace of disbelief as she watched the storm lash the windows.
Hannah's eyes flicked nervously toward her. "I heard a princess is ill," she said, her tone careful, almost hesitant.
Anastasia's gaze sharpened. "Are you saying the weather's like this because a princess is sick?"
Hannah nodded. "I'm afraid so… I think she caught the flu."
"How ironic," Anastasia whispered, her gaze distant.
Without a word, Hannah held out a cloak. "You need to wear this, or you'll catch something yourself."
Gratefully, Anastasia accepted it, wrapping the soft fabric around her shoulders.
"Thank you," Anastasia said
She lifted a cup of steaming tea to her lips, letting the warmth seep into her hands.
A sudden knock at the door shattered the quiet. Hannah moved to open it, revealing Rose standing in the doorway, regal and composed despite the downpour.
"Your Majesty, what brings you here?" Hannah asked, stepping aside.
"Good day, Your Highness," Anastasia said, forcing calm into her tone.
Rose's eyes flicked to the rain-streaked windows. "I see the weather has reached you as well."
"I heard a princess has the flu," Anastasia replied, turning toward her. "What brings you here?"
Rose hesitated. "My brother… I mean, you have a visitor."
Anastasia frowned. "A visitor? Who could that be?"
"Your mother," Rose said quietly.
Thunder rolled across the sky like a warning. Hannah froze, and Anastasia's body went rigid.
"But Azriel said you don't have to go if you don't want to," Rose added cautiously.
Anastasia gripped the tea cup until her knuckles turned white.
"There's no need… I'll go," she said, forcing a smile that did nothing to hide her apprehension.
"Are you sure?" Rose asked.
"Yes… she's my… mother, after all," Anastasia whispered.
She followed Rose through the rain-soaked courtyard to the castle entrance.
Countess Fiona awaited her, umbrella in hand, her smile so practiced it could fool even the sharpest observer.
"My daughter," Fiona said smiling smoothly with a precision so perfect it could fool a witch.
Anastasia lifted her chin, standing tall, while Rose moved instinctively to her side.
"Your Highness," Fiona addressed Rose with a curt nod.
"Countess Fiona…" Rose replied gracefully.
Fiona turned toward Anastasia, a challenge in her eyes. "Wouldn't you give your mother a hug?"
Anastasia cleared her throat. "I apologize, Mother, but I seem to have caught a flu. I wouldn't want you to… contact anything," she said, her voice even.
Fiona's smile faltered for just a fraction. "Not even a proper invitation into the castle?"
"I sincerely apologize; your visit was short-noticed, and the Emperor refused entry due to reasons best known to him," Rose explained.
Fiona's lips pressed together. "I see… at least can I have some privacy with my daughter?"
Rose's eyes flicked between them.
"You won't let me inside and you won't let me speak to my own daughter?" Fiona snapped.
"You…" Rose began, but Anastasia interrupted.
"Don't worry, Your Highness… I'll be fine," she said, her smile masking the storm beneath.
Rose hesitated, her instincts screaming that this encounter would turn dangerous, then nodded once.
"I'll be inside… yell if you need me."
"I will," Anastasia said, watching her retreat.
The moment the door clicked shut, Fiona's hand lashed out, striking Anastasia across the face.
Blood welled at her lips, but Anastasia's expression remained one of icy amusement.
"You worthless piece of—what was that stunt? You almost crippled Guinevere!" Fiona spat.
"Crippled?" Anastasia laughed softly. "If I wanted her crippled, she wouldn't have walked back to you."
Fiona swung again. Anastasia's smile remained cold, detached.
"I bet you'd enjoy watching her crawl back, wouldn't you?"
Fiona's hand rose once more, but Anastasia caught it mid-air.
In a swift motion, she punched Fiona, sending her sprawling onto the wet stones.
"You should be happy… I let her live," Anastasia said, kneeling beside her mother, eyes blazing.
"You… little—" Fiona sputtered.
"How dare you?" she shouted.
"Shhhh… we wouldn't want to draw attention, now would we?" Anastasia whispered, her voice a low, dangerous hum.
"You think I'm that little girl you locked in the attic? The one who trembled at your presence?"
"You'll pay for this," Fiona hissed, but Anastasia only laughed, maniacally.
"You all pushed me to the wall. Pushed me to my breaking point! Treated me like a puppet! Never minding that I'm your daughter… your flesh and blood!. You did nothing when James—my own brother—raped me. You told me it was my fault… that I seduced him. You were supposed to be my protector, but you threw me to the wolves like I was nothing."
"You are nothing. A cursed child," Fiona spat.
"Your mistake was letting me come here… to replace your precious little daughter," Anastasia said, her voice sharp as a blade.
"Don't get comfortable. What do you think the Emperor would do if he found out the truth?" Fiona asked.
"When that day comes, you're all going down with me. In the meantime as along as i have these marks across my body… no one—not even Guinevere—can take my place now," Anastasia said, tracing the scars that told her story.
You whore," Fiona hissed.
"I learned from the best… you're my mother, after all," Anastasia replied smirking.
"You'll regret this," Fiona warned.
"You can tell the family I'll be waiting for whatever they throw at me," Anastasia said.
Fiona lunged for Anastasia's ankle, chanting in an ancient, foreign language. Anastasia yanked her leg free.
Thunder shook the sky. "So would you," she said, walking back inside and leaving Fiona on the cold stones.
Rose met her halfway down the staircase.
"What happened to your face?" she demanded, concern etched into her every feature.
Anastasia gave a small, awkward laugh. "I may have said something to upset her… but don't worry. Everything's fine now."
"I'd have her arrested," Rose said, barely controlling her fury.
"No need… she's gone home," Anastasia assured her.
Rose touched her cheek gently. "Azriel's not going to like this."
"He won't notice," Anastasia said, hiding the storm that still burned within her.