Beloved Child and Wayward Wretch

*Funda*

The crowd of Lords and Ladies stirred seeing the carriage rock to a stop. Excited, they held their breath, eyes glued to the door. 

Funda stiffened, heart pounding. Their reunion was here. 

The door swung open. She leaned in, breathless, forgetting the crowd. Her gaze found the one she had missed most. He stepped out—tall, commanding, already wearing that familiar smile. When his crimson eyes met hers, recognition flickered between them.

Something in her chest burst free.

She moved. Leaving her husband on the dais, Funda rushed forward, her pale tunic swishing behind her. The crowd and Charles be damned.

"My son!" She threw her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder. A shuddering breath left her lips as she clung tighter, drinking in his scent, memorizing it. Had she really started to forget?

 "Finally, you are home!" 

Her grip tightened. A sting of anger crept in. He should have never left at all. Her fangs clenched. But… it wasn't his fault. She had done this.

Swallowing her frustration, Funda straightened, her gaze shifting to the petite girl stepping from the carriage. Reserved. Measured. Distant as ever—until her gaze flickered past them to someone in the crowd.

A small smile broke free.

Funda followed her line of sight and found the human.

Admiral Nugen sank to one knee, placing a hand over his heart. A few others followed suit, marking themselves apart from the rest. But the majority of the court remained standing, their silent nods revealing where their loyalties truly lay.

Funda exhaled, her tension easing slightly. Most of the court is with us.

No, not a girl. Not anymore. A smirk curled at the corner of her lips.

"Everything is in motion, my son." Funda squeezed his shoulders before stepping back. 

Mykhol took her hand and kissed it. "I had no doubts." 

Behind them, Naska stumbled out of the carriage.

"It's hot." She huffed, pushing thick hair from her face before throwing a haughty glance at Funda. 

She twitched a brow before dismissing the eyesore entirely.

"My son!" Charles finally reached them, clasping Mykhol's hand with a firm shake. His chubby cheeks bunched up in a rare grin. "We've been counting the days." 

Mykhol squeezed his hand back. "It is good to be home." He turned to see the crowd erupt around them, their cheers swelling. It was a celebration of his return—not Ana's.

Just as it should be.

Funda stepped aside, linking her arm with his. "There are only a few that still oppose the idea." 

 "A few, hm?" Mykhol's gaze swept the crowd before landing on the lone human. 

"That man…" 

Admiral Nugen straightened, his brown eyes locking onto Mykhol's. He stiffened at once.

She pursed her lips, flicking a stray cotton thread from her sleeve. "An old relic from Empress Parsul's reign." 

Charles pushed up his glasses. "A rather stubborn pest." 

"A pest?" Mykhol's smile thinned. His voice dropped. "Then we need to exterminate it."

Funda let out a soft breath, waving her hand dismissively. "In due time, my love. For now, just bask in the applause." She motioned to the crowd. "Listen."

The cheers grew louder.

"Ah, Lord Mykhol—" they called.

"My lord!" Ladies waved their handkerchiefs, cheeks flushed, eyes alight with admiration.

Funda beamed. This is what Nochten deserves.

Not something like- 

"Mykhol?"

She turned.

He wasn't looking at the crowd. His focus had shifted. His smile softened as Ana approached.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" He teased his parents.

"Ah, your Empress." Funda gave a practiced nod, though the stumble in her voice was barely concealed. Charles did the same, adjusting his glasses.

"Officially, Empress." Mykhol corrected, a warmth flickering in his eyes.

 "Yes," Funda nodded but couldn't understand. Why was he confirming it?

They all knew. The court knew. Ana had her first blood. She was an adult now.

But Mykhol was making a point of stating it.

 Funda's heart stalled. Before the entire court, Mykhol dropped to one knee.

"All Hail Empress Anastasia." His hand pressed over his heart as he bowed his head.

Funda and Charles faltered, their gazes darting to one another in confusion. They studied Mykhol, unsure of this new turn. 

What was this? An act to appease Ana. To lull her into false trust. 

It had to be. She would ask later, slightly annoyed he changed the plan without notice. But she trusted his judgment. Mykhol was perfect.

They went with the crowd, mirroring in a roar. Voices boomed against the palace walls as they knelt.

"All hail Empress Anastasia, ruler of Nochten and the colonies!"

"This is…" Ana stiffened, watching everyone a moment. And for the first time, Funda saw it. Her doe eyes glistened.

Was she crying?  Funda blinked rapidly. For this?

She almost scoffed, but the sound tangled in her throat. Disbelief warred with something she couldn't name.

Why? Why would a few hollow words move her so much? Why did it look as if they had struck her? They meant nothing yet. Words were cheap. Fleeting. She had heard them spoken a thousand times to Parsul, and look what that meant for her.

It wasn't real.

But whatever that emotional outburst, her niece fell back to her usual self. Her gaze firm and cold, eerily older than her age. Focused.

"Let's get inside, cousin." She lifted her chin, shifting back her shawl to show a whisp of silver hair. The rest pleated back into a messy braid. 

"Yes." Mykhol fell into step beside her without hesitation. A small smile ghosted his lips.

Funda nearly grabbed her throat.

That smile…

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"What was that?"

"Did he just side with the Empress?"

Funda stiffened. More were starting from the crowd. Concern and confused looks amongst the crowd. 

Fundas' throat tightened as something twitched in her chest. Not sure either. Why did Mykhol bow to her? Was this also part of an act?

Charles shifted beside her, eyes squinting behind his glasses. "Wife?"

But she bit her lip.. For a moment, she didn't want to trust her eyes. 

It's like he's- no, I'm wrong. Funda smoothed her tunic, feeling a drip of sweat falling down her temple. She pushed a stray hair back into her high bun. Her rings clinking, giving her relief at the sound. 

"I'm sure it's part of the plan. " Funda swallowed, picking up her skirt to follow. 

Yes. Nothing was wrong. Mykhol was acting. The plan was going ahead. 

"Hurry up, slow poke." Funda snapped her fangs, dragging him, stumbling along as they tried to catch up. 

*Ana* 

The moment I step into the white palace, I waste no time. I have thought of little else on the ride back. And it is time: it will be my first order of business as Empress. 

"I want to set up a committee immediately," I start my first orders. "Have everyone gather in the courtroom." 

"A committee?" 

Aunt and Uncle blink at me, their shock evident. They turn to Mykhol instead, as if he will explain. But he shrugs. 

Why are they looking at him? I gave the order. 

"For the colonies in Pave?" I didn't think I needed to iterate further but I am wrong. They blink after me, struck dumb. 

I need to spell it out further.

"The Bulgeons and the Southerners?" I go further to see a spark of clarity finally register. 

"Oh, you mean that…" Aunt and Uncle look back at Mykhol. 

Mykhol, meanwhile, motions for Naska to go ahead. Something which Naska has no qualms with. She quickly leaves, not for mine but for Mykhol's hall. But I have no qualms with that. 

 I don't expect to retire at the moment. There is too much to do. 

"Yes, we need to set up a court. Uncle, announce for the nobles to start gathering." I walk ahead for the courtroom. 

It is only when I look back do I find myself confused. I turn to see not my Uncle but Funda now step forward. 

"What about your dress, your empress?" Funda pipes over me. 

"Dress?" For a moment, I can't help but blink at her. It then dawned on me that she meant for me to change. 

" That's not important. I'll change it later. Right now, I must make plans.-

"I'm not talking about today."Funda interrupts me again. "I mean for the coronation." 

"The coronation?" I echo. My Aunt nods. 

Behind her, the nobles were starting to enter the hall. They must have heard us because they grew more animated. 

"The coronation?" They look at each other with growing smiles. 

"Please-" I hold up my hand to stop this thread of thought.

 "We need to address the situation first-"

 But it seems my words fall on deaf ears. Instead of hearing me, Funda is motioning a maid over. 

"While you were gone, I took some liberties to get things started." I see the maid is carrying something made of different fabrics. They're gowns. 

"I've had some gowns prepared in preparation." Funda excitedly pulls up a thick white and gold gown. 

"Though I wasn't entirely optimistic about the sizing-" Funda stops to look me up and down before smiling as if confirming something. 

"You haven't grown that much." The way she smiles with her fangs makes me slightly cringe. I'm not sure if that was an insult. But again, I don't want to dwell on it. 

We are moving off-topic. And I can see it will only unravel the further I let this go on. 

"Aunt Funda, this can wait." I point to dismiss her. "Take the gowns away-" 

Funda pouts at me. "I took all this time to prepare them." 

"I didn't ask you to." This was the last thing on my mind. We have a problem in the colonies, people are missing or dead. 

I wasn't even concerned about it, but now Funda huffs. And it is Uncle who now looks as if he is trying to keep the peace. 

"Why don't we just humor her? Just look-" Uncle is trying to appease his wife, but this does nothing for me. I do not need any appraisal. 

I am starting to grow frustrated."It can wait. We need to" 

"What do you think?" Funda pulls Uncle over to look at a gown. "I was thinking something white with silver thread?" 

Uncle nods without any objective opinion. "Very nice." Uncle has never been someone concerned with fashion. I know this because the man wears the same style of tunic my entire life. He never deviates. 

So asking my Uncle is a waste of time. But Funda is moving to another dress. Already absorbed in the business, Funda turns to another noble lady.

"What do you think, Lady Bassy?" 

"Oh, that is-" Lady Bassy rushes over with excitement. And behind her, I can see Noble ladies following suit. They start to crowd around the maid and pick up the different gowns. 

"Oh, this one is nice." 

"But this one would look best on her, don't you think?" 

"No, she hasn't developed enough for that one yet." I feel a direct look at my chest. I move my hand over to cover myself. It only brings up another giggle.

"Give her time, everyone," Mykhol speaks before winking at me."Ana will grow up soon enough." I know he says it to my benefit, but I only feel more put off. 

Why are you even talking about my chest? My face burns, feeling their gaze. 

"This isn't important right now-" I go again, but it's useless. I can see my voice lost to everyone's enthusiasm. They talk over me and look at the gowns with more scrutiny. 

Worse yet, I can see more nobles pulling in. And they seemed headed this way. It's not just the ladies. Men are coming over. It seems the talk of gowns and coronation has everyone buzzing. 

Or do they mean to use the opportunity to speak with Mykhol? I can't help but be suspicious, as many make a beeline directly to him instead. 

"Lord Mykhol, welcome back." Some greet him with energy. 

 His group of interests quickly surrounds Mykhol. I find myself stuck in the middle of both. The first is for Funda and the gowns. And the second for Mykhol. Yet, not one of them pays attention to me. Or for the dire situation that is still at hand. 

How can they be so distracted? I find myself disturbed. I can't just stand here. 

I need to find someone who isn't swept away by either. Where is someone with a good head on their shoulders? Someone who understands the situation. I can only think of one person at the moment. 

"Where is Admiral Nugen?" I look over the crowd coming in. I do not see him. Is he still outside? 

"I'd like to speak with him-" Where is he? He will understand. But I don't see him. "Admiral Nugen, where is-" 

"You just got home, and you want to start with business already?" Mykhol's voice is smooth, teasing, his ever-present smirk in place.

"That's why I came back, yes," I state it plainly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Because it is. What else would I be doing?

"Aren't there other things first?" He gestures toward the nobles, toward Funda with her gowns, as if this whole charade is something I should be indulging in.

"Lord Mykhol," the ladies giggle as Funda holds up another gown. Meanwhile, the men murmur amongst themselves, a few chuckling under their breath.

"Yes, indeed."

"Isn't that what girls like? Dresses?" Another laughs.

"My, how bizarre."

Bizarre? My jaw tightens. I don't care if they find me strange. Let them. This isn't important.

"My coronation is not as important as the people held captive—"

"Where are they going to go? They're captive."

I whirl on her. " Aunt Funda?!"

She only shrugs. "What? Am I wrong?"

The sheer indifference in her tone stuns me.

"We must also discuss that," Uncle adds, his measured tone meant to smooth things over, but his words are vague, empty. That. Not the crisis, not the missing people, just… that.

I feel my pulse rise in frustration, but before I can press further, Mykhol shifts. With a practiced ease, he takes my arm, drawing me in just enough that I have no choice but to look at him. He smiles—his courtly, effortless smile that charms everyone but me.

"Decorum first. You know better."

I blink up at him. "Decorum?"

He only shrugs, as if the matter is simple. "Cousin, this is Nochten. You know how it is." Just a fact. Just the way things are.

And he's right. I do know. Nochten is a place of ceremony, of order. You can't just storm in and demand things, no matter how urgent. It doesn't work that way.

He leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. "Unless you'd rather force them to listen?"

My stomach twists. No. Of course not. And he knows it.

I exhale sharply, looking over the gathering nobles. They are all too distracted—swept up in gowns, in gossip, in the excitement of my coronation. None of them are listening. None of them will listen if I press now.

I need someone with a steady head. Someone who understands. "Where is Admiral Nugen?" I glance around, searching for him.

Mykhol smirks at nothing.

"Cousin?"

"He must be heading to the dungeons for his punishment."

"Punishment?"

"Remember? We talked about it." He taps my nose, light, playful. 

I jerk my head away, but the memory comes back. Yes. I had agreed to it. But I had assumed it could wait. That it would wait until I had spoken to him.

"I need to speak with him first—"

"You don't take back your word, do you?" Mykhol covers my hand with his, squeezing just enough to be firm. His smile doesn't falter, that polished, easy grin that puts everyone at ease.

"You're not that kind of empress?" 

"I…no." I hesitate.

He taps my nose again, teasing, almost affectionate. "You're still young, cousin."

The nobles chuckle, as if we're sharing a private joke.

I resist the urge to sigh.

I don't like this—I don't like that I have to humor gowns when people are missing, I don't like that I can't push back without turning this into something bigger than it needs to be. But fighting Mykhol over this now feels like a waste of energy.

It isn't as if he's wrong. It's just… frustrating.

Before I can say anything else, he lifts my hand and presses a slow kiss to my knuckles before lacing his fingers through mine.

"Good Girl." Mykhol beams, and the laughter swells again. 

I bite my tongue. But I'll endure. How far can you talk about dresses? I assume that shouldn't be long. They will get tired of it soon. 

It's easier to let this go. For now.