Chapter 11

The Advicer

Late that night the throne room was quiet and dark. The king chuckling cheerfully, having had a little too much to drink, the red wine in his hand splashing over the carpet. Spread out lazily across the throne in his oversized expensive fur robes. Golden chains adorning his aging neck.

"My lord." a guard announced, stepping forward and kneeling before his king. "Majesty a woman approaches...demanding an audience."

"Does she know what hour it is?" the Stuart slurred, rolling his eyes. "Send her away. I have more important things to deal with than peasants."

"She's making quite a fuss." the soldier pressed. "She refuses to leave."

"Then get rid of her." the phony king snarled, or was his guard to incompetent for that? To handle a single girl? How pathetic the royal guards where. It wasn't until the thought crossed his mind that the doors were flung open, a vicious wind whipping through the ballroom that pulled even the 8 foot doors from their hinges. A single figure emerging, silhouetted in the dim evening light, her red hair seeming to be the only spot of color in the darkness.

"On your guard!" the captain called, several soldiers approached, surrounding the figure, but the woman didn't seem to care. With a distasteful glance and a flick of her wrist the soldiers were sent flying in several directions, slamming violently into the walls, falling motionless to the ground with a sickeningly wet crunch. The remaining guards backing away, spears trembling as the woman looked up at the stand in king, her long black gown whipping at her ankles as she strode towards him, her fierce emerald eyes striking against his as he began to cower on her throne. The wine glass slipping from his hands, shattering on the floor.

"G-guards!" he demanded, glancing around the room frantically. "Stop her!" A single glare of the red head's icy gaze froze the soldiers in their tracks.

"You're guards are mine now." the woman's words were ice, as soulless eyes stared down at the king.

"Who are you?" he begged, his voice and body trembling as she drew near. WHAT was she to emerge with such a power?

"I am Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova Granddaughter of Empress Alexandra Feodorovna Romanova, Grand duchess and rightful heiress to the throne of the Romanovs. And i am taking back my kingdom." The man was speechless...this couldn't be possible, the Romanovs had died a long time ago, years in fact. There was no possible way this woman could be who she claimed.

"I'm afraid that if i let you live this wouldn't be a very good ku." Anya continued, almost frowning. "I'm very sorry that it had to come to this, I really am. Perhaps next time you wouldn't be such a cruel Stuart ...not that there will be a next time." The man did his best to flee, but there was simply nothing he could do from so close as Anastasia reached into his chest, painfully scooping out his pulling wine red heart.

"No." he begged. "Please-"

"Shut up." Anya ordered, the man immediately falling silent, horrified to find that his lips simply would not move an instant later finding it impossible to draw a breath as Anya gazed down upon him, his hands scraping and clawing at his throat but to no avail, the man's back finally slumping, sliding off of the throne as Anya released the pile of dust in her hand, allowing it to crumble to the ground as she took a seat in her newly acquired throne. She was the empress now...and she would crush anybody who stood in her way.

Midnight ticked by but Anya hadn't moved from her throne. All she could do was stare blankly over the ballroom, echoes of people, fragments of memories dancing across its ghostly hall. It was strange. She could remember it so well now. The soft features of her mother's face, her father's strong voice and even her grandmother's kind words. Only a week before she had given up on finding any knowledge of her true family. Now, haunted by her past, Anya stared unmoving over the castle's grandest room, rebuilt to be bigger, and more extravagant than before...but still to her it was somehow the same.

"Things seem to have gone well."

"Humm?" Anya quizzed, glancing up as the same woman from the woods appeared in her shattered doorway, splinters of wood scattered throughout the room.

"Yes, yes..." Anya trailed off, lolling her head uninterested as the woman took her place at Anya's side.

"The smoke spell didn't give you any trouble getting in?"

"None at all. It was very useful and i thank you for its knowledge."

"I could teach you far more than that simple trick." the woman spoke, finally drawing Anya's attention. "Such an amateur trick, truly it should have been one of the first things you learned." Anya stiffened, t-that couldn't be true! She was a skilled sorcerous! Regina taught her well. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, Anya returned her focus to the woman.

"Then you shall teach me. From this moment forward you shall be known as my magic teacher...in exchange you shall share in my recourses, my power is your power...but if you betray me." Anya's tone turned dark. She wouldn't be able to take it again if someone betrayed her, if she didn't kill the woman than surly her own heart and mind would fail her.

"I would never dream of it, my lady." the elderly woman assured, in a light tone. "I graciously accept your offer."

"Good...then as my first act as empress I appoint you, Cora, my royal adviser."