Thanks for being patient yall! Now strap in for a hefty chapter kids, this is a 6.7k chapter eek
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Ember Kravar, 23, Mortefierro
The crowd roared encouragement around Ember as she raised her fists despite every instinct begging her to lie down and take deep breaths. Her opponent, was in just as bad shape, visibly swaying in her place. It was Round 3 of their match, and it had become more of a test of endurance than anything else.
The shrill tweet of the whistle marked the start, and they circled each other warily. The punch she'd taken to her nose was pulsing acutely, making it hard for her to focus on the fight, rather than the brutal pain radiating from the center of her face. Raja, the other fighter, had taken a particularly nice hit from Ember to the jaw, and been knocked clean out during Round 2, which seemed to manifest itself now in the way she seemed unable to focus her eyes. Ember probably looked like nothing more than blurry figure to her at this point.
"C'mon, finish her off, Phoenix!" came a bellow from the crowd, to screams of approval from the other onlookers.
She grinned around her mouthguard. He was right. It was time to end things. Ember rolled back her shoulders, clenched her fists, and then darted in to begin her final attack.
Raja sloppily blocked her initial punch, which she'd made intentionally obvious to cover for the lightning fast kick to the ribs that followed that. The kick made beautiful contact with an audible crunch of impact, and Raja went staggering to the side to a soundtrack of vicious shouts from the crowd.
In an impressive show of willpower, she managed to pull herself together long enough to dodge the jabs Ember threw, and even block a right hook. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't quite fast enough to avoid the follow-up uppercut, and went stumbling back. She regained her balance to some degree, but she was swaying in place.
The other girl was clearly in no condition to continue fighting, but she raised her trembling fists as Ember approached. In an obvious final rush tactic, she threw herself at Ember, swinging wide from the left.
Ember easily dodged the hit, and used the wasted momentum to plant another kick that sent Raja into a heap on the floor. She didn't move for a moment, and Ember's heart leapt into her throat. Was this the end?
"Three!" the crowd roared along with the ref.
Raja was barely stirring, clearly trying to muster the strength to get up. She tried to prop herself up, but her arms shook and gave out from underneath her.
"Two!"
Some part of Ember was cheering her on, begging her to get back up. C'mon, she thought fiercely, c'mon, you can do it. Get up, Raja.
"One!" The tweet of the whistle sliced through the air, officially marking the end.
The crowd went wild as Raja failed to get off the floor, and in doing so, had lost. Ember spat out her mouthguard to grin at the audience, pumping her fists victoriously.
"Yeah!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, raising the energy level even higher.
"Phoenix is the winner!" The ref was yelling from beside her. "She will now receive a five thousand dollar cash prize!"
Five thousand dollars, now that was music to her ears. She drank up her victory, beaming uncontrollably at the surrounding people and posing cheesily for them.
"Alright, Phoenix, that's enough, dontcha think?" The familiar dry drawl came into earshot, and she turned. Her cousin stood at the edge of the ring, hands on his hips, with raised eyebrows.
"Didja see me out there?" She said eagerly, bounding over and giving him a bear hug that he accepted with a chuckle. "Holy shit, I owned that! She went out like a light!"
"I saw indeed," he said, mouth twisting into a smirk. "I also watched you crack that poor girl's ribs. I hope she knows a good healer."
"You should go over there and offer," Ember said off-handedly, waving goodbye to her fans as Pyrrhos led her out of the ring. "Charge her like fifty bucks."
"What sort of scam would we be running then?" Pyrrhos asked, laughing. "You crack her ribs and then I charge her fifty bucks to heal them?"
"Eh, she shoulda known what she signed up for when she decided to go into cage fighting. Especially against me," Ember added with a wolfish grin.
They went through the double doors that led to a quiet hallway, and the sounds of the people outside died down. They stepped into one of the locker rooms, and Ember laid down on one of the benches so Pyrrhos could do his work.
"Let's see how bad it is," Pyrrhos mused to himself, hands grazing briskly across his skin, from her face, down her arms, abdomen, and legs. "Hm… your nose is only a little fractured, I can fix this up pretty quick. Bruises… a few cuts… oh, yep, just as I thought. Torn ligaments in your left hand and a little bit of a fracture in your shin, obviously. But I addressed that a bit already."
"Well, whatever you did to my shin before round 3 worked, I barely felt it," Ember said, lying still while Pyrrhos's magic spilled across her skin, the sensation hot and liquid.
"Mm, good," he muttered distractedly. "I've been working on my numbing technique. Now quiet while I'm working, unless you want your nose to end up crooked."
She held very still as his fingers prodded at her face, pushing and shaping the cartilage back into order. Luckily, Ember was fairly accustomed to the sensation, and it didn't hurt as much as it used to.
A knock sounded at the door, and both cousins looked to the door, confused. Ember propped herself up on her elbows and exchanged a glance with Pyrrhos.
"Are you expecting anyone?" he asked, brow furrowed.
"Maybe it's the prize money?" she offered, just as perplexed. Usually with these types of things, they'd send the prize in the mail a week or two later. She raised her voice to announce, "Come in!"
The door swung open to reveal a short man with an irate expression, wearing an exceptionally well-tailored suit. His shoes clicked sharply on the ground as he entered, and Ember eyed him warily.
"You're Ember Kravar? The winner of the competition?" he asked in a nasally voice.
"That's me," she agreed, sitting up. "Is this about my prize?"
"Indeed it is. We need to have a chat about it," the man said. "I'm Gable Corneel, I'm the one who organized this competition."
Pyrrhos cleared his throat, and Ember could detect a note of irritation in his voice. "Is this urgent, Mr. Corneel? I'm her healer, and I'd prefer to finish my work before she discusses anything."
Gable looked Pyrrhos up and down and his lip curled. "I wasn't speaking to you, Razzi."
"Hey," Ember barked sharply, bristling at the use of the slur. "Watch what you say, mister. That's my cousin."
The man rolled his eyes long-sufferingly. "Terribly sorry about that. Now, if we could discuss your prize."
"What's there to discuss?" Ember asked suspiciously. "I was promised five thousand dollars, and I expect five thousand dollars."
Gable pursed his lips, and his eyes darted to Pyrrhos at her shoulder.
"Perhaps you should send your healer out for this, it's a confidential discussion," he said delicately.
"Pyrrhos stays," Ember said, her tone steely. "And I'll ask you kindly to hurry this up."
Gable pressed his lips together but nodded stiffly. "I'll be straightforward–I'm an agent of the king, and I orchestrated this fight to find a representative for Mortefierro in the upcoming Selection."
There was a pause as they processed that. Ember blinked.
"Whoa, wait, what?" she said, head spinning with the information. "You're an agent of the crown, and what?"
Gable re-explained himself tersely.
"What's a Selection?" she asked, scowling. "Some kinda tournament?"
"Of a sort. It's a competition to compete for the hand of a royal. Crown Prince Silas is having one in Verelys very soon," Gable said. "The king would like you to be one of the three representatives in it."
"What do I do?" Ember asked, frowning. "Fight people?"
"Yes, that would be the idea," Gable said archly.
"And do I get my prize money?"
"Rest assured, you will be well-imbursed," he said impatiently. "Do you accept?"
Ember thought about for a long moment. On the one hand, stepping into a world of politics and royals was way out of her comfort zone; she had no idea where to even begin with that. She was a fighter not a talker. On the other hand, she liked the sound of "well-imbursed". Not to mention, there was no real reason why she shouldn't. This might be a once in a lifetime opportunity, for better or worse.
Ember knew what she had to do. She took a deep breath, looked Gable in the eyes and told him what she knew in her heart was the right choice:
"Nah."
He blinked.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm, like, vastly under-qualified to do that," she told him cheerfully. "I'll just take my five thousand and go. Have fun trying to find someone else though, good luck."
"M-Miss Kravar!" Gable sputtered, going red. "Do you understand the chance you are rejecting? This is an invitation from the primor himself to meet the prince and compete among the elite! This is your opportunity to become queen of Hyalus!"
"No, yeah, I totally get it. That's just not my game," Ember said, shrugging. "It was cool talking to you, though. I'll expect my money in the next two weeks."
Gable gaped like a fish on land while Pyrrhos coughed awkwardly, poorly concealing a laugh.
"Are we done here?" She asked. "You're welcome to leave any time, Mr. Corneel."
"Miss Kravar, I'm going to have to insist that you participate in the Selection," Gable snapped, puffing up his chest. "In fact, I command you to! By order of the primor!"
It was Ember's turn to gape. "Hang on, you can't possibly be allowed to–,"
"We will be in contact with you shortly," Gable spat, getting to his feet in a huff. "Congratulations on your victory, Miss Kravar! I'm sure you're very proud!"
The door slammed behind him, leaving them in echoing silence.
"You know, that wasn't quite how I expected that to go," she said after a thoughtful pause.
Pyrrhos didn't respond for a moment, and she glanced over to see his expression. Her cousin's face, split in a grin, was almost totally red. He was wheezing silently with mirth to himself, and Ember, seeing it, started to laugh too.
"What?" she asked between giggles. "Why are you laughing?"
He squeezed his eyes shut, still shaking with the force of his laughter, and shook his head.
"I don't know," he gasped out. "I can't–his face when you–,"
They both collapsed into laughter, snickering like school children until their stomachs hurt. Ember wiped tears from her eyes, and clapped Pyrrhos on the shoulder.
"Well, I guess I'm in the Selection now," she said, once they'd both recovered. "What do you know?"
"You're really going to let them force you into doing this?" Pyrrhos asked, eyebrows raised. "That's not the Ember I know."
"What am I going to do, fight the whole Mortefierren army?" Ember snorted. "I don't exactly have other options, cuz. Might beat ol' Gable up later for calling you a Razzi, though."
"Don't do that," Pyrrhos said, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. "I appreciate the sentiment, but that would be an incredibly bad idea. Now, enough with the fighting, let me fix your nose before it freezes that way."
She layed back down, interlocking her hands over her stomach. As Pyrrhos's magic spread back over her face, her mind wandered.
"Pyr, you godda watch oud for Ag'di while I'mb gone," she said thickly through the numbing magic.
"I will, Ember. Anyway, Agni's a grown man now, he can handle himself," Pyrrhos said.
"I know. Bud I'mb his big sister, I'mb always gonna try to look oud for himb." She let out a long breath through her mouth and closed her eyes. They lapsed into silence.
"Pyr."
"Yes?"
"You godda look oud for Garlic while I'mb gone too."
His face twisted with confusion. "Who on earth is Garlic?"
Ember gasped. "Garlic? The love of my life? My best frien'd?"
He stared at her for a long moment, the gears in his head turning. When he finally understood, he let out a long groan.
"You're not talking about that demon fish are you? Tell me you aren't," he said, moving to heal the ligaments in her hand.
"Garlic is an angel," Ember replied indignantly. She crinkled her nose, testing her control as the feeling came back into her face.
"It hates me! It tries to bite me every time it sees me!"
"He's a fish!" she argued. "How would he even do that, he doesn't have teeth. Anyway you could heal that, easy!"
"It's not about the bite, it's about the loathing of the devil he holds in his tiny, scaly body," Pyrrhos snapped. "And he does too have teeth! How do you think betas literally kill each other if you leave them alone together!"
Ember guffawed. "True. That's why I got Garlic in the first place."
Pyrrhos stared at her with unmasked horror. "You sicced Garlic on another fish?"
"What? No!" she protested, shocked. "I just like knowing he has bloodthirsty potential."
"Sometimes I can't believe we're related," Pyrrhos sighed. "Yes, I'll look after the damn fish while you're gone."
"Thanks." She giggled, suddenly overwhelmed with amusement at the whole situation. "The Selection. God. What is my life."
"About to get a lot more complicated," Pyrrhos warned. "Better strap in, kid."
...
Anastasia Hildekant, 22, Vinterbroste
Anastasia was breathing heavily as she picked her way through the steep, rocky path. She was careful to avoid the patches of slick ice glazing the ground, making sure the soles of her boots gripped the ground securely. Her eyes stayed trained on the path, her mind blank as she focused on the rhythmic contact of her shoes with the dirt.
The brisk wind snapped and whirled around her as she finally reached the summit, and slowed her pace. The cold air stung her nose a little as she tried to regain her breath, but she ignored it, licking her chapped lips.
Her steps crunched in the ever-present snow as she approached the three marble stones standing tall against the wind whipping around them. She stopped at the closest stone, and sank to her knees, carefully arranging herself in a sitting position.
Her hand trembled only slightly as she reached out to smooth her hand over the cold surface of the rock. There was a fine layer of frost over it that crumbled where her touch disrupted it.
"Good morning," she greeted softly, her voice rasping a little. She cleared her throat, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, and tried again. "Good morning, Mother."
Anastasia paused, trying to sense any sort of response from the environment around her, but just felt more alone than ever. Sighing, she abandoned her strict posture to draw her knees up to her chin, feeling suddenly like she was ten again.
"I know it's been a while," Anastasia said quietly. She paused, trying to choose her words. "I hope you aren't upset. I came to say goodbye before I go off to Verelys to compete in the Selection."
She traced a spiral in the snow, dwelling in the thought for a moment.
"I'll try to make you proud," she said, smiling very slightly. "I don't really know what to expect, honestly. All I've heard is that I'm to represent Vinterbroste in winning the Prince's hand. A strange notion, right? You'd say it was all silliness."
Really, it is, a voice said warmly, making her smile brighten. Your father's idea, wasn't it? Oh, Dimitri. Such a silly choice. You have better things to do.
"Do I?" Anastasia asked, amused. "Such as? Raise the children?"
I don't know, Anu, but surely there must be something you want to do besides… whatever this is, Kayva said with a smirking tone.
"I do want to do this," she insisted, glancing down. "I want to do what makes Father happy."
Are you sure? You are your own person, love, and that's not a crime, Kavya reminded her.
"You don't need to worry about me," Anastasia said firmly. "I'm sure of what I'm doing."
One day, darling, you're going to have to stop giving pieces of yourself away. Before you run out of self to give.
"Maybe so. But that day is not today," Anastasia replied, hands bunching in the fabric of her skirt. "I still have time."
The wind howled around her, giving no answer, and her shoulders slumped. She inhaled slowly, letting her hands uncurl, taking a moment just to drink it all in. Then she let out all the air at once, and got to her feet, dusting herself off.
"Goodbye, Mother," she said, pressing her lips together. "I guess I'll see you on the other side."
Anastasia looked to the other two graves, and walked to the other side of the third one. From within her pocket, she retrieved a smooth white stone, about the side of her palm, and placed it in the snow. It seemed to disappear almost immediately in the sparkling snow, but she stood there for a long moment staring at it.
Then, abruptly, she turned to dip a little curtsy to the two other graves. before turning on her heel, and beginning her descent. The wind became thick with flurries of snow as she hiked down, her steps heavy.
As she made her way down the winding route, the Hildekant castle loomed ever larger. She squared her shoulders as she reached the backdoor, and prepared to enter.
Back into the lion's den, she thought resignedly.
The warmth of the kitchen swelled over her as she opened the door and stepped in. The staff, accustomed to watching her go in and out, barely spared her a glance. She crossed the room, ignoring the chefs she cut off as they tried to maneuver around. When she exited the kitchen, into the hallway, the concentrated heat dissipated, and that empty cold seeped back into her skin.
"Anastasia! Anastasia, there you are!" Victor yelled as he jogged over, sapphire eyes alight. "Vera thought you left without saying goodbye, nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"I did not!" Vera complained, right on her twin's heels. "I just said maybe that was what happened! I know you wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."
She locked eyes with Anastasia, and as the realization crashed over her, she blushed. She came up short, nearly skidding on the royal floors, and rushed to straighten out the bunches out of her skirt. Self-consciously smoothing her hair, she cleared her throat.
"Right, right," Vera mumbled. She took a breath, drawing herself up, and then nodded calmly to her half-sister, a stiff picture of elegance. "Hello, Anastasia. I see you've returned from your excursion."
"Good morning, Vera," she responded with a practiced smile. "And good morning, Victor. You've come to see me off?"
"Course!" Victor agreed brightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Are you packed? Do you even know what you're gonna need? When are you leaving?"
"Shush, Vic!" Vera hissed, elbowing him. "Stop asking so many questions, she can't get a word in edgewise!"
He bristled. "Stop telling me what to do, you–!"
"It's alright, Vera," Anastasia said placatingly, taking each of their hands in hers and leading them down the hall. "I'm nearly packed, but you two can help me finish up."
"Aw, don't you have maids for that?" Victor complained, but fell silent at a raised eyebrow from her.
"I just want an extra moment with you two, Victor," Anastasia said, chiding. "Is that too much to ask?"
"No," he replied bashfully, ducking his head. "Sorry."
"Anyway, where is Sir Isak? Aren't you two supposed to be in lessons?" She asked, brow furrowing.
"Old 'Sak let us go because you're leaving," Victor explained with a pleased grin. "You should have seen it! I just got a little teary-eyed about missing you, and he melted like butter!"
"Proud of yourself, are you?" Anastasia asked, amused. "Deception isn't the mark of a good prince, Victor."
"I know, but it wasn't really a deception. I will miss you," Victor said, in a rare show of sincerity. His face flushed red when he realized what he'd said. "I mean, sort of anyway. Won't cry about it, or anything."
"I'll miss you, too," Vera chimed in earnestly. "I promise to look after things while you're gone."
"Well, then I won't worry too much," Anastasia said fondly, squeezing Vera's hand. The younger girl lit up and beamed back at her.
They reached Anastasia's room, and she let go of Victor's hand to open the door.
"Rama, off the bed," she commanded as they went in. The old dog peered at her, unimpressed, and went back to sleep.
"Aw, don't give him a hard time," Victor said, scratching him behind the ears. "You're just a big sleepy baby, aren't you, Rama? Aren't you, Rama?"
He dissolved into delighted cooing, and Anastasia and Vera exchanged an amused glance.
"Come on," Anastasia said to her half-sister with a smile. "Leave him be. You can help me pick something to wear on the train."
"You're taking a train?" Vera asked, nose scrunched. "Do you have to?"
"Afraid so. The journey's too far to Vere to go by carriage," Anastasia said, grimacing. "But the engineers in Alunde have been working very hard, I'm sure the train will be just fine."
"I don't like it," Vera said, wrinkling her nose as she opened the wardrobe. "Mother says not to trust anything the Alundish make. There's no magic in it, it's all just lifeless machines."
It was nearly ironic, she thought to herself, that Valeriya would say that. Ironic, since she might be the most machine-like person Anastasia had ever encountered, magic notwithstanding.
"Your mother can have her opinions as she wishes," Anastasia replied simply. "Take care to have your own mind."
A short sentence, but the impact of them made Vera's eyes gleam, and she could see the younger girl had taken the words to heart.
"What about this one?" She asked for a change of subject, pulling a modest black dress out.
"Not that one," Vera said, shaking her head. "That's too formal. I like this one."
She pulled out a jet black coat that buttoned to the throat and cinched at the waist with a black belt. The structured silhouette, with the angular shoulders and flared sleeves, reminded Anastasia a little of a bat, but she didn't dislike the comparison. Against her ivory skin and moon-white hair, she'd look almost out of this world.
"It will be a strong impression I make," she said carefully, looking to Vera. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," Vera said gravely. "You ought to make an impression, you're representing us all."
Anastasia smiled and accepted the coat. "If you're sure then."
There was a warm pride in her chest at the fierce certainty in the young girl's eyes. Vera had grown up well, and Anastasia was pleased with the role she'd played in her half-sister's upbringing. She still had room to grow; after all, she and Victor were only twelve, but already she was displaying traits of independence, sagacity, and pragmatism. She'd make a good leader when she was older.
Vera pulled out black, fitted pants, glossy boots, and a pair of leather gloves to complete the onyx ensemble. The gloves were a can't-miss in every diplomatic venture House Hildekant went on, in order to spare foreigners their characteristic icy touch.
Anastasia stepped into the bathroom to quickly change, and glanced in the mirror when she was done. She had been correct; her albinism made her stand out against the clothes, turning her into a monochrome figure, almost like a piece of art. She blinked her snowy eyelashes, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked unreal. Beautiful, but...untouchable. Like there was something about her that wasn't quite human. Did she like it? Well, she couldn't quite say. It would certainly contribute to Vinterbroste's distant, icy image.
Vera's face lit up when Anastasia stepped out, and her eyes sparkled, but she seemed to catch herself on the verge of exploding with excitement. Instead, she nodded, lips tight as she tried to quell an uncontrollable smile.
"Whoa!" Victor exclaimed, from where he was trying to entertain a disinterested Rama. "Is that what you're going to wear?"
Her lips twitched. "Do you like it?"
He shivered exaggeratedly. "It's terrifying."
"Well, I'm not exactly there to make friends," Anastasia pointed out, carefully parting her bangs.
"Exactly," Vera echoed sagely. "When she walks in, the other competitors will know not to mess with her. It's the perfect statement to make."
There was a knock at the door, and all three siblings looked up.
"I'll get it," Victor said eagerly, springing to his feet. He opened the door to reveal–
"Father," Anastasia greeted. Her eyes scanned his face and read his expression in a second. "Is it time to go already?"
"I'm afraid so," he agreed, not unkindly.
"Very well." She took one last glance in the mirror, satisfied with her appearance, and then turned to the twins.
Before she could say anything, Victor had already launched himself straight at her, and wrapped his skinny arms around her. She nearly stumbled backward with the force of his body, and only just caught herself.
"G'bye," he mumbled into her coat, the words coming out muffled. "I know you're going to win 'cause you always win when we play cards, so don't worry, okay?"
She bent to hug him back, affectionately patting his head. "I won't worry, Vic. As long as you're here thinking of me, I'll be alright."
"Then I'll always think of you," he told her solemnly, stepping back. "And you can crush all your enemies."
"I'll do that," she replied, just as serious. "Behave while I'm gone, won't you? Listen to your sister."
Victor pulled a face at that, but reluctantly nodded agreement.
"And you," Anastasia said, facing Vera, who had been standing a distance away with the most peculiar expression. "Are you going to say goodbye?"
Vera nodded, and silently approached to hug her sister tightly. When she spoke, her voice was heavy with emotion. "I'll be rooting for you, Ana. And I'll take care of everyone here while you're gone."
"No tears, Vera," Anastasia chided gently, wiping them away from Vera's crystal eyes. "I know you'll do a good job while I'm gone. Don't be sad, now."
"Sorry," she whispered, swallowing with some difficulty. "Bye, Ana, I love you."
The admission made her heart contract almost painfully, and her eyes briefly closed. After a moment, she felt it was safe to look back at the girl holding tightly to her, like she was a life preserver.
"Be good. I'll come back very soon," she promised. "Whether I win or not."
"Are you ready?" Dimitri asked her, and she looked back to him.
"Yes, I'm ready." She grabbed her trusty black handbag and knelt to press a gentle kiss to Rama's head. Not sensing the significance, he went on snoring as usual. Even so, she couldn't help whispering, "Goodbye, old friend."
Dimitri offered his arm to her, which he accepted, and without a backward glance, they began to walk down the hall at a brisk pace. Neither of them were avid conversationalists, and the walk remained silent until they reached the double doors that led to the outdoors.
"There's a carriage outside that will take you to the train station," he told her, studying the buttons on her front. "Eliza's already waiting for you there."
"Father–,"
"The train ride shouldn't be long, just a few hours, I believe," he continued briskly. "Of course, there will be meals available anyway. You only have to make the request."
"Father–,"
"Remember your manners, you're representing all of us. And don't push yourself over your limits, you must prioritize your health if you're to do well. If you need anything from us in order to ensure success, just write us. Or you can talk to General Bronte's daughter, she'll be there with you. And of course, if–,"
"Dad." His eyes finally snapped up to hers, almost alarmed. She carefully took his hand. "Thank you for seeing me off. I'll make you proud."
"Of course you will," he agreed, the lines in his worn face softening nearly imperceptibly. "And… I want you to know–that is, I. Well, I–,"
"I know, Dad," she said softly, cutting him off. They weren't the kind of people who needed words to say things that important aloud for them to be true. "I'll see you soon."
"Take care," he told her quietly, nodding. There were a thousand messages in the look he gave her, behind icy eyes and a stoic frown. Be careful, they said. I'm proud, they said. I love you, they said.
She sent him a final smile, and then went outside, strangely calm. A footman helped her into the carriage, and she dropped into the seat across from Eliza, who looked up from her knitting to smile at her.
"Good morning, Ana. Said your goodbyes?" She asked warmly.
"As much as I can," she answered. "But I'll be back in no time."
"That you will," Eliza said, her wrinkled face creasing with her beam. "And they'll be with you when you're far away."
A comforting thought– one Anastasia could only hope would feel as true on the lonely nights as it did now, when they were still perfectly in reach. Instead of voicing her worries, she just nodded as the carriage began to move.
There was no time to dwell in fear. She was Lady Anastasia Hildekant from now on, and she had to act like it. Years of building who that person was would come into play as she stepped into the global spotlight. She could not afford a single misstep, a single flicker of weakness.
The blank landscape outside the carriage window blurred as they picked up speed, and Anastasia settled into her seat. There was a long journey ahead.
…
Avyanna Bronte, 22, Vinterbroste
The blast of the train whistle shattered the silence, and Avy looked away from the window. Across from her, on the other bench, Glacier lifted his head, ears pricked up. There were footsteps approaching, and her trusty wolf's chest rumbled with a warning.
"I hear," she said softly, eyes trained on the door. Her body tensed, and her mind flickered to the knife stowed in her boot.
But the footsteps faded away as harmlessly as they had appeared, and both girl and wolf relaxed somewhat.
"Shall we look for Hildekant?" she murmured to Glacier.
He slowly blinked. I couldn't really care less.
"Honestly, me either," she admitted. "But we'll need to stick together with the other girls to present a united front. It's a gesture of goodwill to approach her."
Glacier set his chin back down. Whatever you say. If you go, you know I'll be there.
"And I appreciate it," she said fondly, reaching over to stroke his head and scratch behind his ears.
There appeared a knock at the door, and both jumped to attention. Glacier's ears flicked backward, but he made no sound, looking to Avy for guidance.
"Who is it?" she asked, on-guard.
"I–um, I'm Eira," a girl called back. "Eira Bliven, I'm a contestant."
"Come in," she said slowly. "But don't scream."
The door slid open. "What do you mean, don't scr– oh my–!"
A slightly build girl with wide grey eyes stood in the doorway, a hand clapped over her mouth. While she was stunned, Avy scanned her up and down without missing a beat. Luckily for Eira, she saw no sign of concealed weapons, aggression, or general threat. There was a surprising amount of muscle on her, which Avy attributed to what she knew of the girl's profession. She relaxed somewhat in her seat. This girl was far from a threat.
"Don't mind Glacier, he won't hurt you," Avy said mildly, eyes trained on Eira. "You're the figure skater, right?"
"I–yes," Eira said, sinking uncertainly onto the bench next to Avy, leaning away from Glacier. "Did you hear about everyone else?"
"Some of them," Avy settled for saying. "I know the Vinterbroste candidates, among others."
"Wow, they didn't tell me anything," Eira said with a half-smile. "You're lucky."
Avy shrugged carelessly. "Comes from being the general's daughter. There are certain advantages, sometimes."
"General's daughter?" Eira asked, surprised. "Wait, I think I–are you Avyanna Bronte?"
"Avy," she corrected quickly, the words coming out unintentionally sharp. She forcibly softened her tone, noting the spooked, rabbit-like nature of Eira's body language. "You can call me Avy. The other contestant is the Primor's daughter, Anastasia Hildekant."
"Is it?" Eira looked thoughtful at that. "I think I met her once at Nationals. She seemed nice."
Avy's eyes narrowed. "Did she? I believe we've met once or twice, at government functions. Never got to speaking, really."
Eira just nodded, and they lapsed into a bit of an awkward silence.
"So, did you hear anything else about what we're going to do in this competition?" Eira asked, delicately clearing her throat. "I haven't heard anything so far."
"I haven't either," Avy said, lips tightening. "I assume if they've sent me, there'll be some sort of fighting aspect. Not quite sure why they sent you or Hildekant."
Eira's grey eyes seemed to glimmer with something surprised and taken aback. Her voice was tense with what Avy deduced to be defensiveness, when she said, "Well, there's more to the strength of a person than just fighting abilities."
Avy realized belatedly she had offended the girl, and internally sighed. She'd spent so much time amongst soldiers and her own tough-love style family, she'd forgotten to be tactful.
"It wasn't an insult, just an observation," she said, attempting to be comforting. "I'm sure your skills will be useful at some point."
For some reason, Eira didn't look impressed by her words. God, how did one talk to normal people again? Avy flattened her lips in frustration and tried again.
"Everyone has strengths and weaknesses," she said matter-of-factly. That was relatable, right? "I'm good with strategy and fighting. You're probably a very nice skater."
Eira's mouth twisted. "Thanks."
Avy cocked her head, latching onto the topic. "Do you do anything aside from skate?"
The skater's cheeks flushed red, and she blinked quickly. "I–,"
"Sorry," Avy amended, catching her expression. "What I mean is, do you do anything with your powers?"
"I'm–well… I don't use them very often," Eira said, glancing to the side. "I'm working through some stuff with that."
"Better work through it quick," Avy advised coolly, eyebrow arching. "Sort of bad timing, don't you think?"
"Is there a problem?"
Avy blinked. "Why would there be a problem?"
She was just beginning to think they were actually getting on quite well. Eira was going to make her list of trustworthy allies if she didn't screw it up now.
"You've kind of been rude to me since I showed up, and I'm not getting why," Eira said, frowning. "Do you have a problem with me, or is this some sort of weird intimidation strategy?"
"I–what? No, no this isn't a tactic. Trust me, my tactics are much better than this," Avy replied slowly, brows knitting. "On the contrary, I think the three of us should stick together to present a united front to the rest of the empire."
"So to be clear, you don't have an issue with me?" Eira clarified, squinting.
"No. My apologies if it's coming off that way." She paused, and then added in a more subdued voice, "I don't usually spend a lot of time around...people my age. Not civilians, anyway. I must be more out of practice than I thought."
Eira's expression turned gentle and she nodded sympathetically. "I get that. Talking to people can be a bit of a struggle sometimes."
Wait a second. Was that what had finally seemed to get through to Eira? It was–ew–opening up? It seemed she had just accidentally won the girl over by admitting weakness. Well, it was certainly a difference from the army, where weakness was preyed upon. This was valuable information, she could work with this in the future.
"We should work together in the Selection," Avy decided firmly. "I can help account for your lack of fighting skills, and you can help me...well, I haven't figured that out yet, but you can help me with something, surely."
"Maybe I could help you relearn how to talk to people," Eira said with a dry smile. "You are a little rusty."
Avy scowled, but nodded. Being vulnerable about her weaknesses, or whatever, right? If that was what it took to win around here, then she'd adapt to that. She was equipped to handle any situation–making friends? That was nothing. Especially when Eira was basically writing 'stepping stone' across her forehead.
"Hey, I'm gonna go back to my compartment and get some sleep," Eira said with a fragile smile. "Let's catch up later?"
"Sure," Avy said, and then offered a smile. Hopefully it looked less awkward on her face than it felt; though Eira's reaction wasn't supporting that wish. Still, she kept it up until the door had closed safely between them, and then she dropped the act.
"Forgot how sensitive and mild these people are," she mumbled.
Glacier opened one eye to stare at her. Cutthroat.
"I have to be," she answered under her breath, leaning over to scratch his head. "It's a competition. And I'm going to be the best."
Hm. Glacier closed his eyes again, peaceful. Whatever you say.
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Hey! SO! This happened. Let me know what you thought in a comment, and hey, if you have recommendations for who you want to see written next, drop them too!
Those who have a reserved place, please send in your apps in the next week or so! It's really hard to plan without my full cast. I'll be sending out a PM to you this weekend if you haven't submitted by Sunday, so please get those into me, or you might lose your place!
