20 | season of love

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"A-A-STORIA GREE-GREENGRASS."

"That's good enough for today dear," Myra whispered quietly, "you still have trouble saying the words in the beginning but, you do finish it which is progress since three days ago."

Astoria's eyebrows stitched together, weirded out that she had forgotten those three days. In fact, when Myra told her a happy Valentine's Day just yesterday she was even more confused. It was as if all of her memory had been erased from her brain.

Myra settled Astoria down for bed, lying her down slowly and tucking her in. The room would've been pitch black, hadn't it been her nightstand lamp that was on. From her position, she looked up at Myra. The way she looked down at Astoria, eyes kind but she saw a layer underneath that. A layer of sadness.

"My-Myra," she paused. It was hard enough to speak in a regular volume so she decided to whisper instead. "What's wrong?"

Myra took her ocean blue eyes off of Astoria's hands and quickly looked back at her eyes.  A small line of tears were being fenced in but she shook it off, shaking her head.

"Nothing dear, nothing," she smiled brightly before shaking her head once more, "come on now, lights off in ten minutes."

She stood up, the weight on the side of the bed had disappeared. Astoria watched as Myra left the room, not before giving her one last smile. She turned off her lamp and laid on the right side of her body, eyes open and watching the open window.

The sad ocean blue eyes never left her mind that night.

~

MYRA STUART WAS quite talented in many things. But one thing she never achieved was gaining the trust of the Van Daskni family. The difficulty of the acceptance in the horrid family was a talent itself, the acceptance so rigorous.

She closed the door of Astoria's room, leaning against it and sighing.

Betty, oh my Betty.

She closed her eyes, not caring if anyone in the hall was watching her as she let out silent tears. She quickly wiped them away however and shook her head, knowing to remain focused. She walked down the hall, spruce doors and family portraits from hundreds of years ago covering the walls. She continued down the granite floored hallway until finally meeting the grand staircase.

She was a few steps down from the marble staircase before she heard a familiar voice.

"Myra Stuart," a deep voice said behind her.

Shivers went up to her spine as she turned around, face to face with the old, vicious, and selfish man she called her father-in law. He had the same permanent snarl, grey hair and cold and dead piercing brown eyes. For a man who was older than a century, he looked quite fit and sturdy.

A man of power.

His long dark coat with violet inside fabric made him even scarier like an evil wizard. If he didn't have ears and eyes almost everywhere, Myra was sure people would call him that.

"Victor," she said sternly, "what brings you out of your room at an hour like this?"

His mouth changed into a smirk. "I felt a weak force in my home, came to investigate it. What about you?"

"Heading to my room in fact."

"Ah, visiting my grandson's fiancée, now? Quite a beauty, isn't she?"

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