Depatures and Goodbyes

*Ana*

On the day of our departure, the heat wave breaks. The sun crowns the castle in gold, a soft halo over its yellow stone. A clear blue sky stretches overhead. The air is heavy with the scent of fresh-cut grass and blooming flowers. Wind stirs the ancient trees by the grand entrance. 

 It's a beautiful day. Beautiful, but also cruel. Because on this beautiful day, the day I am finally free, I must leave.

And I have to leave them behind.

My fingers clench, nails biting into my palms as if the sting might ground me. My heart pounds–a war of longing and duty, grief and anticipation. It's a cruel contradiction.

Now that things have changed—now that things are better—I finally have them back. Father. Nicoli. After years of being alone, I belong again. I am cared for, wanted… loved.

And yet, I have to leave.

If only I had more time—to wake to Father's laughter echoing through the halls, to exchange smiles with the servants who do not ignore me, to stay with Nicoli—

I glance up, catching his gaze already on me. He smiles, just a little, and my heart pulls tight. A shudder escapes me, heat pricking the corners of my eyes.

He will be the hardest to leave.

But wishing for more is foolish. I should be grateful for what I have. I cannot be greedy.

Because this—this is what I wanted.

Guilt stabs through me.

Nochten is waiting. My empire is waiting. The longer I delay, the greater their suffering. I must be the leader they need me to be.

I swallow hard, fingers curling around the embroidered hem of my shawl. This burden is mine alone.

It won't be forever, I remind myself. I will return.

I have to. Because I promised. 

 At that, I glance back at him. Nicoli looks to be fighting himself as much as me, fighting back the urge to cry, but when he sees my gaze, he knows better. A closed smile is back on his face, but it doesn't meet his eyes. It can't.It's understandable. Neither of us wants this.

But want and need are two very different things. I swallow again, as the rustle of stiff fabric breaks my thoughts. Looking up to find her move. My stepmother steps forward. Her face and hair made up to perfection, as always. And I doubt it will risk getting ruined by tears. 

She steps forward, her crinoline shifting to block Nicoli, forming a deliberate barrier between us on the dias.

"Mom?" Nicoli's voice sharpens with irritation. He presses a hand against the fabric, trying to see me again. When he does, his shoulders ease, just slightly.

I offer a small smile before turning my gaze to her. She nods curtly.

"Your Empress," Her graze crawls over me, noting my red shawl, the messy braid underneath, and then after me. Icy grey eyes flicker to the carriages. A soft push of her lips. Quietly indicating to speed this up. 

Somehow that doesn't surprise me. 

I lower myself into a bow. "Thank you for having me," 

"You are most welcome." She returns, something sharp lingering in her voice, cold as her gaze. She smiles, but it's artificial, perfect, just like her painted lips. 

Her gaze shifts back to the crowd gathered to see us off. Always aware of their eyes. Needing to stay pleasant in our exchange as we are both observed. 

Father, however, is less concerned. His face is wavering between a weak smile and frown as he fights himself. His blue eyes shimmer with fat tears. But they don't fall. Not yet. Even now, he can somehow still be strong. He only cast a heartfelt smile up. He lifts his chin to make himself even taller.

He reaches out to take my hand. His hand is warm, steady, the pulse of life thrumming beneath his skin. He doesn't cry yet. But I feel his fingers tighten, unwilling to let go.

"Please, don't be a stranger." He kisses my hand before squeezing my fingers. He holds onto them a moment longer than necessary-almost afraid to let go.

He doesn't want to. And a part of me doesn't want to.

But it's all the more reason I must. 

I pull away first. Hands to fold in front of me.

"I won't," My eyes meet his. For a brief moment, a flicker of pain and resignation crossed his face, but it faded. He grinned again. Not so much in delight, but because he wants to smile for me. His grin forced up his full beard into that toothy smile.

"Have a safe trip, Daughter." Father beams, lifting my heart. I can't help but smile a little at how easy that was.

"I will, Papa." 

"That's my girl."He beams–until a low scuff comes from behind breaks the moment.

"Sorry, something caught in my throat." Stepmother quickly excused herself before shooting a gaze back to the carriage. Again, subtly indicating to hurry along. 

She's not wrong.

The horses have been waiting too long. Their hooves paw at the cobblestone, restless. Anxious to move.

I unclench my hands to take in a breath one final time.

"Thank you again." Turning on my heel, Mykhol stands waiting not far down the path, His eyes spark as he immediately moves to walk beside me, making our way back to the carriage. Passing the nobles and servants that bow as we do. 

 Naska breaks away, to rush ahead. Opening the door. Her eyes excited and glittering, anxious to leave.

My heart squeezed as I saw the inside lined in red. Dread coming up as my body already predicts this will be a hard journey back. I can already feel the sweat pull behind my neck before I hear a shout.

"Nicoli, get back here!" Stepmother's voice cuts through the air, but he ignores her, his boots pounding against the ground. 

Nicoli charges forward, breathless. His hands clasp mine, desperate.

"Ana." His voice is low, urgent. His fingers tighten around mine. "Don't forget your promise."

I nod, though we both know the truth—I'll barely have time to breathe, let alone write. The Bulgeon incident will consume me.

His grip tightens. "And the letters—"

"I'll try."

"Not enough." He lifts his pinky. "Promise me."

I hesitate. He sees right through me.

Lying would be kinder, but I can't. Instead, I hook my pinky around his. "I promise I'll write when I can."

It's not what he wants, but he nods. Holds on. Let's go.

"Fine." He huffs, kicking at the stones. But not before a little spark ran across his sapphire eyes, lighting them up with mischief.

"But you better send me something." Nicoli smirks. I can't help but feel myself pull up at the sight. A laugh escapes my lips.

"Of course—Ah!"

A blur of blonde hair crashes into us.

"Hidi?" I push the mess of hair from my face as Nicoli struggles beside me.

Hidi only laughs, squeezing us both into a tight embrace.

"We'll be together again soon!" She cheers, shaking us until my gold chains jingle and my shawl slips.

"Yes, Hidi. Now, please put me down."

Nicoli groans. "Yeah, put Ana down."

Hidi relents, stepping back with a dramatic toss of her braid. "Ugh, you two are no fun." And she makes a show of tossing her braid over her shoulder dramatically. But just as she pouts, I see that glint in her smile. 

"But cute all the same." 

Nicoli glares. "Cute!?" As their bickering begins, a tap on my shoulder pulls me away.

"It's getting late, Anastasia." Mykhol reminds me of a look at the sun. I shoot a glance over to the horses. They will suffer the heat if we hold any longer. 

"Yes, I understand." I nod a quick thank you before turning back. Glancing at them one last time–Hidi and Nicoli bickering, Father smiling, Stepmother maintaining her carefully pleasant mask.

It's time I go. I accept it at last.

"Thank you. May we meet on better terms." 

Until I am back, I think with a look back to the carriage. Mhykol helps me with the first step. 

"Ana-" 

I peer up to see Father blow me a kiss. It's such a strange little gesture, but it warms me. I smile and bow again and stay smiling as we ascend into the carriage.

"Well, now we can finally go," Mykhol says as the door closes, taking no time to steal the seat next to me. He stretches out to press his shoulder against me. 

I can't help but look at him, taken aback. I wasn't planning on being squished.

But instead of starting an argument, I instead shift to space, more concerned with keeping this happy, strange feeling that seems to flutter in my chest. 

Goodbye, Father, Goodbye Nicoli. I look out the window as the carriage pulls forward. Nicoli and Hidi are waving. Father is holding up his hand. And Stepmother is just watching in place.

I move to wave a little.

"Thank god!" Naska exclaims as she sprawls on her side of the carriage. "I thought we'd never leave."

"Yes, indeed." Mykhol beams. He sounds generally happy. "It will be good to be back home."

Home…

The word lingers, clinging to the edge of my thoughts like a whisper I can't quite hear. My eyes return to the glass, watching the smiling crowds throwing roses onto the street as we departed. Lining our way back out.

But they too soon disappear, as the golden castle shrinks behind us. The crowds thin. The roses on the cobblestone are trampled beneath the wheels of our carriage, petals scattering like a farewell already fading from sight.

A hollow ache spreads. I clutch my shawl, its thin strings rough under my fingertips.

Home. The word echoes again as the carriage wheels bounce on the cobbled streets. 

Is Nochten my home? The idea only pushes deeper into my chest. 

I've never felt more loved or welcomed here. If I had the choice– I stop myself right there. Because such thoughts are useless. Wishes, hopes, prayers–those are things a child would do.

And I am no longer a child. 

I tighten my shawl and swallow hard. Sitting straighter with new determination.

 Not anymore. I press my hands firmly to my lap. There can only be one option for me. 

I am Empress. My duty is clear. 

It's time to rule.