Eyes squinting, she gives him a once over; his features ringing
a bell—— vaguely. “You look familiar. Why do you look familiar?”
so this is sorta a music box version of safe and sound by taylorswift.. i’m open for song requests. feedback would be nice too.
“Oh, it’s not cold here, really. St. Petersburg has had far more
intense winters than this, in my experience.”
━━━ she has no business eavesdropping on
others and less so to intervene, but she can’t
help it. The girl’s nature wasn’t that to turn
away. It never hurt to try, right?
❝ I think it must be a poor harvest season.
but, ah… if you want, I have some extra
change and I would be more than happy to…
Anya hadn’t expected anyone to be listening. This sort of thing is
normal for her—- food is hard to come by and money even less so. She’s
been turned away at every corner when trying to get a job. She doesn’t
know why, but she just keeps trying. Because something had to give,
eventually… right? A brow quirks at the other. She’s touched by the offer,
but her pride will hardly let her accept it.
“Thanks… but I couldn’t let you do that. I mean, I wouldn’t
even be able to pay you back.” And she hates owing people.
━━━━ ◣ ♔ ◥
❝Why would I keep the money,
when I could keep you instead?❞
His tone is gentle as he presses a kiss to her forehead.
It hadn’t been a choice for him. She was worth more than
anything the Grand Duchess could give him.
❝I just pity you. I don’t exactly
have the best life, ya know.
But, you can get to sleep in
the old palace if you’d like.
I can work, and we can come back
here so you can live near your
grandmother. I don’t have reason
to stay in St. Petersburg.
I’ll follow you wherever you’d like to go.❞
It’s a good answer— the perfect answer, really— so she doesn’t refute it,
instead letting her eyes close for the brief moment his lips brush against
”Oh, please. You know that is hardly going to bother me. I’m
still Anya. And that means I want to work, too. I’d like to see
the Palace one more time, but… it might not be the best idea
right now. Seeing as my face is plastered on every newspaper
in Europe right now, I’m not exactly sure how safe returning to
St. Petersburg would be.”
No matter how much she wishes to walk through those empty rooms again,
memories playing through her head like the music box melody, she knows it
isn’t safe. For either of them. There is nothing left for her in Russia. It was her
grandmother that had said that, and maybe it was true. Yet, A N A S T A S I A
still feels tethered there, perhaps because she’d never really said goodbye.