*King Alexander*
As soon as the door closed behind them, Alexander barely glanced around the room before locating the water basin on the vanity. Without a second thought, he rushed straight toward it. He thrust his hands wrist-deep into the bowl of icy water. An instant jolt of shock ran up his spine, pulling in his shoulders, but he bit down, stopping the short cry from breaking past his teeth in a shallow hiss. He didn't want to make a sound.
It would be too risky. Because if he did, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop after that. No, he knew he wouldn't. He was infuriated.
Alexander clenched his teeth so tightly that he could hear a pop, his jaw aching from the strain. He swallowed hard, attempting to suppress the new wave that threatened to overwhelm him. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, his heart beating so forcefully that it drowned out the roar of the fireplace. The rage felt endless, bubbling up and raising his body temperature, beads of sweat forming under his collar and sleeves, mingling with the dirt and grime from the week's travel.
Desperate to abate the heat, he splashed icy-cold water a few times over his face. Letting the waves assault his senses and distract him for the time, filling his nose with the smell of salt and water before cupping another handful to throw up. The water slipped over his cheek and down his beard to pebble on the dark coarse hair and then slide into his collar, making him shiver in protest and delight.
It was working, at least, to cool him down. But as saphried colored eyes lifted to the looking glass, he stilled. His old friend was standing behind him, still and waiting. His pale brown eyes were set and firm in a quite understanding.
With a shuddering sigh, he could only relent and grasp for the wash cloth. Roughly drying his face as if the scratch of cloth could help ground him more. Anything would be worth trying because he was already teetering between rage and going on a full attack. It was good that Johan did not pack a sword.
It would be too tempting to paint in the red blood of all these vultures circling. Alexander barely hid the murderous smile before dropping the towel. He swallowed deeply before starting.
"So it's all true." Alexander gruffed at last, ears focused on the sound of the water softly slushing against the porcelain bowl. A calm sound should have been present. But the water had turned a milky color and was clouded over. It wasn't clean. It made his stomach turn at the sight, forcing him to lift his eyes. However, the mirror only made it worse. His twin looked back, suddenly years older. The grays in his beard multiplied in an instant day.
The day wasn't fully over yet. Alexander gripped the edge of the small table. His voice darkened as he met his friend in the glass.
"I saw a whole gaggle of them in the gardens. Would be suitors–" He nearly spat out the last word. They were not suitors. No, they were parasites.
Ana wasn't even on the throne yet, and they were already circling, trying to draw in anything they could.
Alexander had to swallow down an urge to scream before continuing. "I didn't think there'd be so many. And gods, most of them are triple Anastasia's age." It was disgusting to him. Did they have no shame, or was the power that tempting? He knew damn well it wasn't because they cared for her.
He clenched his teeth as his body tensed. The need to throw something, break something, overwhelmed him for a moment before the wave passed, leaving him trembling all over from the exertion. It was taking more energy to hold it in than to lash out.
However, he was managing so far, and not without notice. The tall old servant seemed to only stay standing, folding his hands in front of him in patience, giving the king enough space before he finally broke his silence. His words, though, were cold and matter-of-fact.
"It's worse," Johan said, his expressionless face betraying the gravity of his words. "I overheard things when I was investigating." His tone was cold and matter-of-fact, adding weight to his revelation.
"You heard– Gods," Alexander was already in disbelief as it was. He hadn't been with her for a solid day and already seen and heard enough to be more than troubled.
How has she been able to survive this long on her own? It was heartbreaking to think about. His daughter walked alone among these creations for years, talking to them and being manipulated by them.
At least Parsul had her father's support. She was raised with someone to guide her until he passed. But that was something. She came into the court when she was old enough to understand how it worked.
Even then, it still turned out that she had to run away– Alexander stopped himself there, his heart clenching from the sour memories. The cold truth hit him harder, making him swallow. He turned to face Johan now, needing to meet his gaze.
"What's possibly worse?" He asked, but he felt his breath catch after as he watched his old friend's face darken.
"Those rumors are back."
"What–" He blinked, but it didn't take long for him to recognize. "Oh," Alexander's stomach turned." So we were right about that too."
"It is as we suspected. And by the sounds of it, most believe it to be true. That Lord Mykhol will marry her Empress sometime after the coronation."
"Do they now?" Alexander growled, his eyes blazing darkly at the very idea, but then something struck him to pause. "But I saw the others in the garden."He had seen the group of lords, a mix of old and older, dressed in their finest, and a flamboyant-looking one was in front of them. He was the one who seemed to be leading the group, his every move exuding confidence and authority.
If Johan's statement was true," Not everyone agrees with Lord Mykhol becoming Emperor." He stated that he wanted to see Johan form the tiniest smile. A slight hope was dancing across his brown eyes.
"From what I gathered, softer factions do not believe his legitimacy is enough to forego their own chances."
Alexander scuffed at that. "Forego their own. You mean fossils." But still, that was good news. "Then they don't have the complete support of the court. There are still sections that don't contribute." And such lords can be persuaded to come to Ana's. Alexander could find a little more relief.
But still–
"Perhaps I should have finished the job back then." Alexander mused darkly, remembering the teen's face back in his study. The sheer look of fear was honest as he held the sword to the teen's throat. "It would have made things easier."
"If you did or not, it's in the past. You'll need to take care now." Johan replied, his voice firm and clear. "They may not have the full court's support. But Lord Mykhol's faction has grown since Ms. Bustlier last reported."
"Of course, it would," Alexander was exhausted with the details. It was already enough. But Johan wasn't finished.
"There is something else,"
Alexander could feel his chest tighten a little at the thought. "There's more?"
Johan nodded. "The rumor about her Empress spending through the royal treasury for her gown; I traced it back to the source."
"Let me guess." Alexander barely hid his sarcasm. "You didn't have to look far."
"I didn't ." Johan barely flicked a smirk. Alexander sighed, moving to tug his beard lightly. His mind was turning over the news before he looked up to find Johan still standing. A question burned in his throat. One he didn't want to ask but had to, all the same.
"So, then, who does support Anastasia?" Who was on the side officially? Alexander watched the man grow silent for a moment. His stomach sank as he could already guess. "Not many then." His voice fell quite to the fire as the two men seemed lost in thought. The crackling of wood only served to break their thoughts at small intervals before he could breathe out shallowly.
"Then who do we need to convince?"
"There are a few that remain neutral."
"You mean opportunists."Alexander didn't hide his contempt.
"Not all, My lord," Johan noted. "The Celbests are among them."
"The Celbest's?" Alexander mouthed the name as a vague memory resurfaced. "I recall they were one of the families Parsul was trying to gain support from." The memory began to become more apparent.
He could remember Parsul's difficult ascension to the throne more than most because she was the first Empress in an unbroken line of Emperors. Many families openly disdained her for it, while others refused to support her endeavors.
"I only saw Parsul break down and cry twice in her life. One was the time it finally got to her. The struggle to keep the few loyal families as she pined for support from others finally wore her down." Alexander recanted. "And in the end, the Celbest never gave their support." They never did. Even to the day Parsul died, the Celbest stayed silent. Neutral.
Parsul could not fully gain power to become Empress. Would it be the same for Anastasia? Alexander could already see his daughter's reign would no doubt be plagued with the same turmoil if left alone. But where her mother dealt with the sexism, Ana's would be double-edged being not just female but a half-breed. Her life would be difficult.
Not unless I make the decision. Alexander clenched his hand as Johan cleared his throat to speak again.
"The Celbest are richer now." Johan continued. "They have been successful in the sugar cane crops. They are in a better position of power."
"Good for them." Alexander went dryly. "But if they aren't going to give support, it doesn't matter-"
"They have a son," Johan countered with a knowing tone that made him look up. The older man neither smiled nor showed any other expression, but Alexander could all but feel it. The implied meaning of his words. "He is Ana's age."
"And I'm sure Sir Celbest would no doubt be interested in some sort of arrangement then." But Alexander sighed, combing his dark hair back. His anger was gone, but now he was just weary. And cold. Despite the fire burning, the room felt icy. Autumns in Nocthen were never as cold as Dawny's, but today seemed to be the exception.
Alexander moved to rub at some of the water still pulled around his collar, likely making him feel even colder. It was irritating, but not so much as he felt about having his hands tied now, with one option becoming the only real choice.
"Noted." He sighed, rubbing his calloused fingers against his eyelids before dropping his hand. His eyes unfocused over the fire a moment before exhaling.
"I don't think I'll have a choice, Johan. I have to."
His friend squared his shoulders at the news but followed with a soft bob of his head. "Your Majesty has decided then?"
"Decided or not, it has to be." He countered, saying that there were just too many problems here not to. And even if it made a mess of things at home, well–
Johan followed as if he knew what he was thinking. "Her majesty will not be happy with your choice."
Alexander winced. "No, she won't." He didn't even have to imagine how Belinda would take it. She would be more than upset—this would leave a lasting imprint on their marriage, a stain that she will never forgive him for, no matter how many years later. But he had no other options.
"I'll consider it my penance." Alexander ended with a bitter laugh. The sound rang into a hollow echo in the quiet room. Only eaten up by the fire crackling again. Alexander moved for it. Stopping before the hearth. Watching the flames move. It burned through the wood so hungry and loud, yet Alexander could feel no heat. His skin was like ice.
"My king," Johan went as Alexander continued to stare. "Even if you have made the decision, there is still the other issue of Lord Mykhol."
"Lord Mykhol," Alexander scuffed. "That boy…" He closed his eyes as if he could feel the heat creeping up his face.
"He's already gained too much support," Johan continued. "At some point, he will become untouchable even as is."
"Untouchable?" His lips cracked in the bitter laugh. Again, he wished he had just shoved the sword right through. He was too merciful then. Too naive. "If only I could make him disappear?"
It was a joke, but behind him, Johan straightened his back. Something flashed across his features for a moment. A thought occurred.
"If I recall," Johan fell silent before lifting his brows. "Lord Mykhol came back to court around 14."
"Is that right?" Alexander shrugged. "Why? Is that important?"
"Your Highness," Johan went more slowly. "Wouldn't that mean Lord Mykhol left before finishing his education at the academy?"
"So what?" Alexander fully turned to look at the older man. "He never got to finish." What did that matter? "Johan, what are you rambling off about now—oh?" His voice cut off as something clicked at the words.
"The academy. Of course. Mykhol's schooling was unfinished." A laugh, quick and sharp, bubbled from Alexander as its weight struck him deeper.
"Lord Mykhol's absence from court–that could change everything." The nobles who leaned on him, turning to him for guidance. His power to manipulate everyone and his presence serve to twist and cast doubt against Anastasia. They could do that because he was here. But without him?
The nobles would be left without their champion if they could force Mykhol to return to the academy. They would lose their voice. Their resolve would crumble. And Ana could assert herself without him undermining her at every turn. And most importantly, it would give her the space to solidify and grow in her authority unchallenged.
Alexander had to laugh a little louder, realizing it all. " You clever dog." It was brilliant. Justified. No one could argue the importance of a proper education, especially from the academy. Especially for a noble like Lord Mykhol. And once he was gone–
Ana could finally be safe.
"The only dog in this room is you, my lord," Johan said calmly, but Alexander knew. Behind his facade, the man was proud of his clever idea.
"It takes one to know one." Again, Alexander could only laugh after him.
Johan bowed. "I will look into it, Your Majesty."
"Don't keep me waiting. For both our sakes." Alexander turned to see his servant head back for the door to investigate the matter. And knowing Johan, he would figure it out. One way or another. He just hoped it would be quick enough.
Because he did not like the look of things here, Alexander fell back to the fire. The orange glow filled the space in a dance and wave of flames. The red reminded him of how her hair flowed behind her as she danced freely among the roses once upon a time. Her laughter sang through the air, carefree and alive. His beautiful Parsul.
But only a memory now. A memory that made him clench his fists as he refused to dwell in despair. No, he was resolved for their daughter. They had already taken so much away from Parsul. But never again.
He would never allow anyone to take anything from her. No vile suitor seeking her power. No scheming noble to steal her throne.
And no, Lord Mykhol. He would not let her end the same. He could no longer change the past. But by the gods, he would change Ana's future.
No matter the cost.