fₒᵣ ᵢ ₐₘ bₑcₒₘₑ dₑₐₜₕ, dₑₛₜᵣₒyₑᵣ ₒf wₒᵣₗdₛ
Anastasia Morozova is a kinslayer. Anya Varamyr is a murderer. Anastasia is a decorated soldier. Anya is a backstreet cutthroat. Anastasia would die for her country. Anya would die for her friends.
Anastasi...
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As the summer months moved forwards, Anastasia began to bloom. Each morning she'd train with Tamar till her legs began to ache; then she'd have a usually rather eventful lunch with the Grisha army; afternoons were spent avoiding Alina as her search for the third amplifier grew more ardent - no matter how bad she felt, she couldn't bring herself to reveal the truth behind the Morozova name.
Still, she practiced the Small Science with the young sun summoner, learning faster than she'd ever done before. Her evenings always ended pleasantly - sometimes she'd have to shake Zoya or Alina off and sneak her way into Nikolai's office; sometimes he'd slip in through her door with a grin on his face and a skip in his step - but every morning, as dawn broke, she'd wake up to a fleeting kiss on her forehead, the sweet taste of brandy still on her lips and a warm empty space in her silken sheets.
The council meetings she had to attend were long and painful. At first, she'd been shunned as a traitor, as a spy - but then as she'd slowly begun to peel back each bitter, power hungry layer of the Darkling for the war room to see, she slowly gained the beginnings of trust. Still, she kept her origins to herself, deciding that whilst the country as ready for Anastasia, the World Ender was someone else entirely.
The only misfortune she'd come to discover, was that her newfound romance had to remain a secret to everyone that wasn't them; not that she really minded - she enjoyed having someone that was solely hers to admire and to cherish. They'd come to find ways to spend their days together - one of her favourite was tinkering around the Fabrikator workshops. Nikolai loved to put his input into whatever new contraption they were building, Anastasia loved to watch as his eyes lit up in delight at every new discovery or idea, and poor David was too oblivious to notice anything was the matter. When everyone left for dinner, and the curious Prince was left to work on intricate plans for a flying ship of sorts, Anastasia would rest her head in his lap, tendrils of shadow trailing from her fingers as she tentatively worked to get stronger.
Another day she took him to meet Botkin, and laughed as the violent man knocked him off his feet in a matter of seconds. Of course he tooo had had his chance at amusement, when Sergei challenged Anastasia to a hand to hand and she'd left him strung up on the chandelier of the dining hall. In fact he'd been so amused he'd cornered her in the nearest alcove and kissed her silly - she discovered later that week that Zoya had witnessed everything and if she was being honest, the constant teasing warmed her heart. It had been a long time since she'd had a proper friend, and not just one by circumstance.
