My god, Anastasia… What is this?Mikhail was too stunned to move as she wrapped around him as a bulletproof shield. The bullets were deflecting off of her magic, one by one, as they increased in speed.
Mikhail found himself standing in a firestorm of bullets, completely untouched.
“Mikhail!”Anastasia’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. “Run,you idiot!” Her voice hissed at him through her sparks, “I can’t hold this for long!”
Mikhail snapped out of his wonderment and bolted toward Anastasia as fast as he could.
They were both vulnerable out here like this, and using her magic always made her somewhat of a static target. He could see her tight expression, her nose beginning to bleed again, as he got closer.
Two blocks left.
One.
Then, almost just as suddenly as it had started, the golden light around Mikhail flickered out. He didn’t stop running.
As his vision cleared from the magic, he cursed. He was hurtling towards Anastasia — now only a block away at the gates of the Winter Palace — and she had a knife to her neck. An imperial guardsman had come up behind her, holding her hands back while the blade glinted in the late evening light.
“No, Mikhail!” Anastasia screamed, wincing as her shout caused the blade to dig into her skin. She wanted him to take cover, to hide, to run in a confusing pattern. He needed to do anything other than run at her in a straight line.
There was another gunshot. It seemed to sound final. Mikhail stumbled, falling. Anastasia let out a heart-wrenching cry, beginning to shake and fight against her captor, knife be damned. As soon as he had emerged from the darkness, the man holding her was gone. She was free.
Their objective had been accomplished — Mikhail had been shot. The offenders slunk back into the darkness, rifles stowed, knives sheathed.
Anastasia raced towards Mikhail’s motionless body, face-down on the road. This was now the third time she had stared down the idea of a future without him, and the thought terrified her.
“No, no, no,” she tossed herself down on her knees, her hands shaking his shoulders as she grunted.
She struggled to turn his massive body over, screaming as she did it, her eyes scanning over him as her magic lit up her hands once more. She was desperate to try and find the offending bullet, to rip it from his body with her magic and pull him from the claws of death once more.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She cursed as her hands ran over him. She couldn’t see where he had been shot, and she began to panic. Her hands were shaking, and she had to keep wiping at her eyes so she could see.
“Mikhail,”she sobbed, grabbing his face and leaning over him, “Where is it? Where did they shoot you? Where, where, where? I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it —“ She stopped, nearly screaming when Mikhail’s eyes blinked open, and he grabbed hold of her wrists.
“Ssh, Anya,” his voice was muted and quick. “Come on. Let’s get out of the street. Hurry now.” He hauled himself up to his feet almost immediately, leaving Anastasia blinking through the remnants of her tears and kneeling on the ground.
“Were you… were you fucking playing dead?”
Mikhail leaned down and grabbed her hands, helping Anastasia to her feet. She was too stunned to negate him, letting him guide her body and telling her what to do. He wrapped an arm around her protectively and walked them the remaining few feet to the palace gate.
They slipped inside, Anastasia walking forward like she was comatose. The shock written on her face was palpable.
She felt numb as she watched on, Mikhail then maneuvering in front of her and leading her towards the door. She followed him inside, not bothering to even notice that they had been left alone.
A few tense moments later, they made it back into Anastasia’s rooms; Mikhail immediately moved over to the fireplace and stoked it. He turned around to see Anastasia still frozen by the door.
“Anya,” he said quietly, moving towards her as if she was a spooked animal. “It’s okay. I’m right here. I had to give them what they wanted to make him let go of you.”
Anastasia nodded dumbly, her face incredibly pale. When she said nothing, Mikhail moved forward a few more steps, dropping his voice low to a tone that she never heard him take outside her rooms.
“I was faking it,” he said softly, closing the gap between them. “I’m alive. I’m right here.”
Mikhail grabbed Anastasia’s hands and gently led her towards the center of the room. He sat down in an oversized chair in front of the fireplace, tugging Anastasia into his lap.
She fell into him without hesitation, curling her body around his, and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her, rubbing up and down her back and periodically squeezing her tightly. He waited until every last bit of tension seemed to seep from her, turning his head to kiss her forehead.
As soon as he did, she let out a soft cry. The tears came quick and sudden as her breath struggled to keep up. Mikhail sat with her for as long as she needed, letting her acclimate. He held her as she finished the grieving that she no longer needed to do but had to see through.
“Here,” he said softly, whispering in her ear. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his chest, sliding the collar of his shirt to the side as he placed her hand on his heart.
