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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♥✎ ✲❁✰❄✫✾✹✾✷❂✷✬✶❄✲ 🐙ൠ
It had taken Anya all but five minutes to get black out drunk once the Ravkan party had left. Genya had hugged her, Zoya had sent her a conspiring wink, and Nikolai had decided kissing her knuckles on the way out was entirely appropriate.
She turned to look for Kaz, only to hear the distant click of his cane as he strode upstairs with Jesper; leaving Wylan to accompany her. The red head raised his eyebrows and took a tentative step towards her. "Are you ok, Anya?"
"Not really," she whispered, eyes moving rapidly around the room. "No-one was supposed to find out."
Wylan moved to hold her hand, sympathy shining in his eyes. "Know what? That you were to be a Queen? I don't think of you any differently, Anya - none of us do."
"You and I both know that's not true," she muttered sadly. "I never thought I'd see him again, you see. I swear it, Wylan!"
"Listen, I don't know what goes on in Kaz's brain," Wylan whispered. "I doubt anyone does really - or wants to for that matter. And I don't know what's going on between the two of you either-"
Anya snorted. "Neither do I. I thought we'd finally gotten somewhere good, but you know how Kaz is - he's not going to listen to me after all this - this mess!"
Wylan was at a loss for words. "Do you want a hug?"
"Yes please," Anya sniffled. "That would be nice."
Wylan gently wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed his cheek to her shoulder. Anya managed a small smile, and sunk into his grip. "You're a treasure, Van Eck," she muttered. "If Jesper steps one toe out of line, you let me know and I'll deal with him for you, yeah?"
Wylan blushed as red as his hair, but a small smile crept up onto his face. "Thank you, Anya. I would offer the same, but I don't know how much I could do against Kaz and his cane - or the King of Ravka for that matter."
Anya cleared her throat and patted Wylan on the shoulder. "Alright, enough emotional hugging or Matthias might have another quarter-life crisis. I need a drink - or three."
And so there she sat, huddled into her armchair with the last dregs of her brandy bottle swishing around messily as the rest of the Dregs crowded the room around her. It was late, the stars having come out to shine over the polluted city not too long before.
