Dmitry murmured in his sleep on the makeshift bed on the floor below her. Vlad rumbled and coughed on the bunk above her. She ignored the pull in her tired muscles and the strange phantom pains deep within as she nestled further against the pillow. It had been many long days of travel and to be sleeping, er, resting in a bed, regardless of how uncomfortable it was, did feel like heaven. Including the bag of lentils that she and Dmitry fought over in the Yusupov Palace. The mattress below her was stiff, but still softer than anything she’s been used to sleeping on over the past ten years. Just darkness and the rocking of a ship at sea.Īnya adjusted her borrowed sleepshirt as she turned onto her side. There’s no moonlight, or ghostly music, or boys popping out of walls. He slinks back to the wall, and she catches sight of a crooked grin before the figure slips away, closing the wall behind him.Īnya doesn’t startle awake.
The figure stands nearby, just outside the moonlight. But the music is coming from it now, tinkling delicately and creaking like.like.Īnya looks up, straining to see through the darkness. She stares at the strange circular object in her hands, but the moon’s glow seems to wash it out completely. There’s a chuffing sound like a laugh, and then something heavy is placed into her outstretched hand. Instead, she just sniffles and holds her hand out expectantly. A tall figure emerges, and if this were reality and not a dream, she might have been more afraid. Anya’s startled into silent stillness by this fact because, well, walls don’t open. She feels foolish, like a child, for crying like this. But the hallway gets longer, and the light grows dimmer, and she’s tired, so tired.Īnya drops to her knees, frustrated tears dripping down her face. She reaches, moonlight causing her pale fingers to glow. Anya breaks out into a run, but still, she doesn’t get any closer to the open door. The scent of orange blossoms invades the hallway, and all she can think is, I’m home. It’s buried itself into the depths of her heart, burned itself into her mind, and yet, the words are lost to her.Ī small voice begins to sing, and a voice that sounds like warm sunlight joins in. She’s heard this same melody for years in her dreams. She walks towards it as a tinkling melody begins to play and echo into the hall. He calls her ‘ darling ’ and she calls him ‘ lovy ’, and Anya blushes as she steps away.Ī door creaks open at the end of the hall, a stream of light filling the darkness that the moon's glow does not touch.
After a moment, it melts into something soft and warm. A woman responds, her voice clipped and harsh in a way that makes Anya stand at attention in an odd reflex. She steps towards it, pressing her ear to the wood to try and listen.Ī man croons in a gentle voice, and the sound of it is so heartbreakingly familiar that she wants to weep. But more laughter catches her attention behind another door. Her hand tugs at the handle, but the door is locked and they don't let her in.Īnya reluctantly takes a step back, her heart aching to step beyond the closed door and see. Their words blend together, blurring into a choir of a language she doesn't know. Nothing makes sense, but something in her heart tells her that she knows, that somewhere deep down, it does make sense. Anya presses her ear against the door, trying to make out what’s being said. It strikes her odd that the picture frames are empty, considering the many paintings and photos that were always being done.Ī group of girls begin to sing behind one of the doors. Still, she can make out the outlines of doors and empty picture frames against paneled walls. She turns away, looking to her left, but there’s a darkness that the moonlight doesn't seem to hit. She waves back, an odd, warm tugging in her heart bringing tears to her eyes. A boy swings on a tree outside, his little hand waving at her wildly and happily. The moon is bigger than she’s ever seen it before, its glow blindingly bright.
#ANASTASIA STARING AT THE SUN WINDOWS#
To her right is a wall of windows with a familiar scene of snowflakes falling against a starry sky. As though it's a place really does exist, and one that she’s physically, truly been in before. Part 1 of The Only Thing I Lose Next Work → Stats: Published: Completed: Words: 284464 Chapters: 25/25 Comments: 783 Kudos: 722 Bookmarks: 124 Hits: 21599 if the musical won’t make an effort i guess I HAVE TO.Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov Grand Duchess of Russia.Dimitri | Dmitry & Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova & Vlad Popov.Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov Grand Duchess of Russia/Gleb Vaganov.Dimitri | Dmitry/Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova.Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova & Gleb Vaganov.
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