Anastasia blinked rapidly, her chest heaving as she struggled for composure.
"Mikhail?" Her voice cracked, and she looked confused to see him there.
"It's me," he gave her a soft smile, afraid to reach across the distance between them. They were both sitting up in the bed, but there might as well be a chasm between them.
He fought the instinct to crush her to his chest and lay them both down, the instinct to try and take the pain away.
"You left," her voice was distant and small, sounding like a wounded child. "You left... I don't...," she trailed off as she realized she was in no place to be making demands of him. She buried her face in her hands, "Everyone leaves, Mikhail!"
Her frame was wracked with sobs. The way it contorted her body made Mikhail want to jump in front of a train to stop her from feeling any of the pain that she was feeling.
"What do you mean?" He nudged her gently, and she looked up at him with blotchy cheeks.
"Everyone leaves. My parents don't care. Even the tutors don't last. Alexei stopped coming to see me years ago... everyone leaves."
When was the last time someone deliberately took care of this woman?Mikhail wondered, aghast.And then when she let me close to her, I said it wasn't enough and left. Fuck. Fuck!
Mikhail sighed. Anastasia stared at him, and the last of his resistance melted away when he met her bright blue eyes. He leaned forward and pulled her into him, lying both of them down on the bed.
Mikhail gently shifted her until her head rested on his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He barely breathed as he waited for her reaction, waiting for her to scream and push away from him. To declare that she was fine and didn't need this from him. He waited, preparing his apologies.
A moment passed, and Anastasia sniffled, her head moving back and forth in the smallest of mannerisms as she burrowed closer to him. Her arms went around his neck and her legs tangled with his, pressing them up against one another until they couldn't tell where one started or the other ended.
They were quiet for a moment, and Anastasia's soft cries started up again. Mikhail rubbed her back gently, pressing soft kisses to her hairline.
"What do you need, Anya?" He murmured gently. "Tell me what you need."
"Hold me tighter," she whispered, looking up at him. "And please don't let go."
Mikhail nodded, sensing how her plea extended far past just their embrace. He obliged, momentarily using his hand to pull the blankets up around them.
"Sleep,malyshka," his voice was slow and lingering, sending pleasant shivers down Anastasia's spine, "I'll wake you up before dawn. We'll go back to the palace."
"Together?"
"Together."
True to his word,Mikhail woke Anastasia before dawn. They had no extra clothes but quietly fixed their garments, smoothing down stray hairs in an attempt to look as presentable as possible.
Mikhail could tell from looking at Anastasia that she was embarrassed. He had caught her in a moment where she was at her most vulnerable, ripped from sleep with terrors from her past chasing her into a bottomless panic.
The past keeps getting in our way. Mikhail chewed on his lip as Anastasia tied up her shoes.We can't seem to let it go.
You won't heal from it, is what you mean.Asya's voice rang in Mikhail's head. Sometimes, he heard her so clearly that he was convinced she spoke to him from beyond the grave. Knowing his mother, he wasn’t entirely convinced that wasn’t what truly was happening.
The walk to the palace was just as silent as the rest of the morning had been. The streets were empty with the rising sun. They made their way through the sleepy town and to the side of the Winter Palace, whose gate was much less guarded than the front entrance.
The Romanovs were so convinced that the palace servants would be happy to have a job that they wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. The door remained unwatched and unguarded for anyone to sneak in a cousin or a friend. Or, in this case, the Grand Duchess.
Anastasia and Mikhail made their way through the abandoned hallways. When they finally saw the door to Anastasia’s rooms, Mikhail released a satisfied sigh.
As much as he had tried to keep a calm facade around Anastasia the night before, he was worried that they would be discovered. Mikhail stepped in front of Anastasia politely, holding the door to her chambers open for her.
She smiled demurely as she passed him, turning to go into her rooms — but froze on the spot. The color drained from her face, and she sucked in a sharp gasp. Mikhail’s brow furrowed, and he flung the door open wider to see what had caused her reaction.
In the middle of Anastasia’s sitting rooms sat the Tsar and Tsarina, accompanied as always by the same threedvoryanstvostanding behind him. All of them stared expectantly as if Mikhail and Anastasia were late to a prearranged meeting.
Mikhail gently put his hand on Anastasia’s back, moving her forward and shutting the door behind him. He felt himself edge in front of her subconsciously, an overwhelming desire taking over him to protect her from this family. Herownfamily.
