Anastasia
He smiled, brushing the flowers he was holding absently. Sunflowers. For her. She had said that those were her favorite, though he didn't quite understand why. Such a boring flower... The only thing it was good for was sunflower seeds...
He headed to the palace, a small hopeful smile on his lips. Maybe... maybe tonight the girl would agree to become his. he knew she was nly a human, and that this was foolish, but.. he was a country- the largest. He could take care of her for her short human life and she, in turn, would make him happy until the day she died.
He rubbed his head. Why did it hurt so badly? He tried to enter- The Tsar had called him a 'friend' and he had a key-, but... why would the door not open? the key fit in the lock... It felt like something was pressed against the doo-No... It couldn't... He forced the door open with his unnatural strength, quickly hitting the Man guarding the barricaded door with the now broken chair leg, knocking him out instantly.
The palace was silent.
No!
He heard noises coming from a small, somewhat plain door to his left and quickly hid himself. He could take care of himself, but he did not wish to alert them to his presence, for then they may hurt her.
He only hoped he was not too late..
Once the group left the basement, a pit settled in his stomach. They would only have such a large group if they were planning an assassination. An extrajudicial killing of the royal family?
Looking at who the group was, recognizing many of them, he feared it was so.
No!
He crept down the now vacant staircase into the basement, swallowing and hoping... hoping that maybe, just maybe...
His hopes were crushed when he saw the royal family, all murdered in some way or another. But wait... Where was she?
The hope was rekindled. Maybe they had taken her prisoner? that was a somewhat morbid thing to wish for, but it meant he had a chance.
He turned to leave again, but made an uncharacteristic yelp when he tripped, palms hitting the ground to spare his head the impact.
He made a sound, looking at it, nervousd, butgiving a relieved half laugh when he saw it was just a pipe. He made to heave it off of the ground, confused when he met resistance, heart stopping when he saw a small, pale hand in a dead man's grip n the large pipe, the feminine hand to small to even encircle it. He hoped beyond all rational hoping that she was a servant caught in the crossfire, but swallowed when he saw a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair.
Well... it was a common hair color! In fact, a young servant whom had served him tea had had blonde hair!
But it wasn't this shimmering, beautiful, red-tinted color that he would never forget tickling his face as the girl whom owned it gave him a sweet kiss to the cheek after tackling him to the ground.
He knelt next to the tiny corpse, brushing the hair off of the cold face, wincing as half-dried blood cracked and made squelching noises as it was pried off, letting out a cry of anguish (which he muffled with his hand) upon seeing half-opened unsparkling and glazed blue eyes.
The eyes which he knew so very well would light up in delight when she successfully pranked a servant or managed to shock someone.
NO! his mind screamed out in perfect unison with his cracked lips forming a whispered
"Anastasia."
