The Second Archon War: Comedia Glacialis 15 (Patreon)

Comedia Glacialis 15: The Dancer’s Costume Changes, the Thief’s Grand Reveal

The bedsheets rustled, and Anastasia turned around to see Thoma sitting up. She smiled at him, returning to the bedside to give him a kiss. 

“Up already?” he asked, returning the kiss groggily and scrubbing his face with his hand. His cheek was still rough, with red stubble showing. 

“Yes. I need to get a practice session in before…” she trailed off, swallowing. 

“It will be fine,” Thoma said, taking her hands gently. He was always so gentle with her. “It’s been months. Surely he’s accepted that you’ve made your choice.”

Anastasia could only bite her lip and nod. There were few times in her life that Anastasia could recall her brother ever changing his mind about anything. He’d always been stubborn and determined, as well as possessive. In the past, it had been flattering, or even comforting, to have someone who would protect her and treasure her. 

Now, however, her brother was showing her the same vicious face she had long known he wore when he faced the world. Before, she could pretend it didn’t exist. Now, however…

Now she just felt powerless. 

The one place that Anastasia still felt in control was during her dances. She’d always been good, but lately, she’d thrown everything she had into the practices for the upcoming new ballet, The Grand Imperium, that had been composed to honor the Tsaritsa’s arrival on Earth Bet, to be shown at the Crystal Theater here in New Moscow. 

Despite fierce competition, Anastasia had been selected to play the role of the Tsaritsa herself. She hoped that she had received the honor because of her own skill, not because of who her brother was, or who she was sleeping with. The anxiety about that had soured what was the role of a lifetime. Wasn’t Anastasia worthy of something on her own? 

She drove herself hard during practice, going through the complicated motions until her toes began to blister. That was rare, as she had the very best shoes, but she was forced to take a break before she hurt herself to the point she couldn’t dance. 

“You were dancing like the devil was after you today, Nastya. Excited that your brother is returning?” one of the other dancers asked. 

She smiled and laughed. “Of course! It has been too long since I’ve seen Tolney. He’s been in America for months now.”

Her heart, however, was much less certain.

The New Moscow Airport was still under construction; the Tsaritsa was not familiar with such facilities, due to the fact that her homeworld had no airplanes. That meant that Anatoly had flown first to Smolensk, and from there would take a helicopter. There was a helipad near the palace, those being much easier to construct, so Anastasia waited with Thoma, Kollei, and the Tsaritsa, along with a contingent of the fatui as the helicopter descended. 

Anastasia’s heart was in her throat as her brother disembarked, turning back to help Elena. He was dressed smartly as always, in a white suit with his Cryo Vision as a cravat on his breast. When his cold blue eyes met Anastasia’s, her mouth went dry. But then, her heart froze in her chest as his gaze slid over her as though she were not even there. 

Both Anatoly and Elena walked first to the Tsaritsa, both of them falling to one knee before her. 

“Everything is prepared,” Anatoly said, his eyes on the ground. “Soon, the curtain will rise, and my grand performance shall begin.”

The Tsaritsa smiled, extending a hand to lightly caress Anatoly’s head. “Most excellent, my Thief. Rise. There is much to discuss and plan this day.”

Anatoly stood, and as the Tsaritsa turned, he locked gazes with Thoma. “We will have much to discuss, you and I. About the debt you owe me.”

“I have always admired you, Anatoly. And I am grateful for what you did for me. For your sister’s hand, I would do anything you ask,” Thoma said gravely. 

“Including betray me,” Anatoly sneered. 

Anastasia opened her mouth, but Elena put a hand on her arm. Silently, Elena shook her head. 

Fighting back tears of frustration, Anastasia could only listen. 

“There was no betrayal. I asked for your blessing, but you refused me. But the love I feel for your sister is real. What Anastasia and I have together-”

“Is a farce. You used your position to sneak into her bed,” Anatoly snarled, his Vision glowing brightly as he leaned towards Thoma, who remained nonplussed. 

“That was never my intention, and it is why we waited to inform you of our attraction before I took her to bed,” Thoma said, his voice calm. But Anastasia could see the muscles of his neck tensing, hear the slight rasp. She knew he was on the verge of exploding in anger himself. 

“Oh, so you have remained chaste? You have not touched my sister?” Anatoly laughed. 

She couldn’t take it any more. “Tolney, we-”

“Silence!” Anatoly snapped, turning to glare at her. “This is men’s business. Your betrayal wounds me, but we can yet be reconciled if you but beg my forgiveness and return to my side.”

Hot anger made for hotter tears that burned down Anastasia’s cheeks, and she hated herself for her weakness. “I am your sister, not your doll! Nor am I a child! If I choose to sleep with Thoma, it is no business of-”

The back of Anatoly’s hand flashed towards Anastasia’s cheek and she recoiled, only for it to bounce off of a red shield in a burst of flames. Still, she took a step back in startlement, only her training allowing her to maintain her balance. 

Thoma had transformed, taking on the appearance of a horned demon with a burning mask, his clothes shedding to reveal an armored form. In his hands was a trident with barbed red tips, and he was pointing it at Anatoly!

Touch her, and suffer. She is my lover. By her choice.

“SHE IS MY SISTER!” Anatoly roared, and a blast of ice struck the fiery demon. He had a knife in one hand and a gun in the other, and the two combatants were locked for a brief moment, both snarling and straining to get at one another. 

Horror filled Anastasia’s mind, and she tried to scream. How could this happen?! Her entire world was collapsing! 

And then, something snapped. She saw a vision of stars, of an endless space, vast and horrifying in its emptiness, and saw a vision of terrible shadows that filled her mind with-

Enough.

Anastasia blinked, and found the Tsaritsa at her side, holding her up, a grim look on her face. 

But it had not been the Tsaritsa who had spoken. 

Kollei had separated the two combatants, a thick web of frozen vines wrapping about both men, a look of fury on her face. She was floating in mid air, a halo of frost covered branches hovering over her head. You two were friends. Brothers! And this is how you treat one another? Uncle Anatoly, I admired you! You were a refined gentleman, a hero who helped rescue me! And Uncle Thoma, a valiant knight! Now you brawl like school children! Must I discipline you, or will you cease? 

F-forgive me, Princess. I should have restrained myself, Thoma gasped, looking contrite despite his demonic mask. 

“I…apologize. I was overwrought. You have my sincere regrets,” Anatoly said through gritted teeth.

“Hmph.” The halo vanished, and Kollei set back down. She waved a hand, and the branches restraining the two men vanished. 

But Anastasia could barely focus on that. There was a terrible pain in her head, and when she touched a hand to her left ear, it was damp. When she inspected her fingers, they were crimson with blood. 

Thoma was the first to notice her state, but Anatoly was not far behind. Both raced up to her, reaching out their hands.

“”Nastya!””

“Do not approach,” the Tsaritsa said, scooping Anastasia up in her arms despite them being much the same size. “A demon has just possessed her. I must purge it.”

“I…what has…” Anastasia said weekly.

“Hush, my child. I will tend to you,” the Tsaritsa said firmly.

“Anastasia! Your Majesty, what has happened to her?” Thoma pleaded, while Anatoly was grimly silent, looking pale and horrified as Elena clutched at his arm. 

“Trigger event,” Kollei said, hurrying over and running a hand over Anastasia’s forehead. “My mother has blocked it somewhat, to prevent the demon from seizing hold of her. But we will have to work quickly. Allow me.”

Gentle vines wrapped themselves around Anastasia, and a warm green pulse filled her body, easing her pain. She closed her eyes and allowed unconsciousness to claim her. 

Sitting by Anastasia’s bedside, Kollei felt a sense of deja vu. It had been ten months since she’d sat with Anastasia at the Tsaritsa’s sickbed. Less than a year ago, but it felt like several lifetimes. So much had changed since then. Especially Kollei. 

She looked down at her Vision, which glowed with the emerald power of life itself. However, the glow was occluded by the layer of frost that rimmed its surface. She could feel both powers running through her body; the power of Life, and the power of Love. It was a heady mixture, and Kollei was still learning how to wield both effectively. 

She was thankful that she’d managed it so easily earlier. When Anatoly and Thoma had attacked on another, Kollei’s mind had actually calmed. Instead of becoming nervous and overanalyzing her situation as she usually did, she simply reacted, the training she’d undertaken with the Tsaritsa in controlling her powers coming to the forefront as she ended the conflict as swift as an icy wind. 

But now that the crisis had passed, Kollei’s hand trembled as she gathered Dendro energy and cast a simple spell to check Anastasia’s vitals. They were strong, but she was still in the coma that had overcome her. She bit her lip as she sensed the hole that was in Anastasia’s brain, as well as the void in her soul. The Demon had latched onto her during the Trigger event, but Kollei’s mother had acted swiftly to freeze it in time and space, preventing further damage for now. 

As Kollei continued her meditation, she sensed something. It was like an echo, or mirror seen through mists. It was the same as the place where she had met Lord Buer and her mother shortly after she’d received her Vision. The Dream. Anastasia was there now, struggling to fight her way back to consciousness, though Kollei was keeping her from waking. Hesitantly, Kollei reached out to soothe the other woman, and-

Bright light nearly blinded Kollei, and she raised a hand to block it. She blinked into the light, for a moment seeing only darkness before her. As her vision cleared, she realized it was a bright spotlight that was shining directly on her, while before her stood a vast chamber; a theater. She was standing on a stage, which was set to resemble the starry night sky. Though the scenery was a bit too real. Now that Kollei looked, she could see a vast night sky, full of great celestial objects. 

Looking directly overhead, Kollei gasped in shock: A massive, forbidding object hovered high above, its surface frozen solid. Beneath its ominous shadow, Kollei feared the thing would come crashing down, and obliterate her at any moment.

Her heart pounding, Kollei looked around. The only other person on the stage was Anastasia, who was dancing to music only she could hear, gracefully pirouetting and sliding across the black stone of the stage. 

“Nastya!” Kollei cried, tearing her gaze away from that horrible shadow and hurrying towards her friend. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

“I can’t stop dancing,” Anastasia said, her voice distant. “If I stop dancing, it will never fall. I have to touch it. If I do…I won’t be weak anymore.”

“That thing, it’s a demon!” Kollei said, pointing up to the horrible sphere. “If it touches you, it will drive you mad!”

“No, I’d be a parahuman. Like Thoma. I wouldn’t be anyone’s doll anymore,” Anastasia said in a sing-song voice, never ceasing her dancing. 

Kollei bit her lip, then glanced furtively up at the demonic moon. She could understand that feeling. She’d hated feeling powerless too. She knew her mother could use the Demons that caused Trigger events, that made parahumans, and turn them into Delusions. Could she…?

Kollei tentatively reached out, not with her body, nor with her mind, but with her Spirit, using the essence of Dendro to extend herself into the-

DATA. CONFLICT. CYCLE. SPECIMEN. WARRIOR. DATA. CONFLICT. CYCLE. SPECIMEN. WAR-

An icy hand gripped Kollei’s essence and ripped her back into her body, away from the Demon. She gasped for breath, and found herself lying on the stage, still in the dream, her mother kneeling over her. Only…not quite.

“That,” Bronya said, her expression grim. “Was exceedingly foolish, child.”

“Why…” Kollei gasped. “Why do you look so…human?”

Bronya blinked at her, then looked down at herself. She started, then barked out a laugh, even as Anastasia continued to dance behind them. “How ironic. Well. I suppose that this…” she gestured to herself, which was the same appearance she’d had in the dream with Lord Buer. “This is how I conceive of myself. Even after all these centuries. Not as the Archon, but as the girl I once was.”

It was true: there were flaws in her skin, freckles, a mole, and some other blemishes. “Dreaming was never something I excelled at. The Ice shows the shadows of the past, not the illusion of the present. It preserves and maintains, shows us reflections of a world that once was, not what might be. As a god, I can, of course, exert some Authority over the Dream, as I can create, and all creation stems from the Dream. But when I am here…I am shown as I see myself. A weak, pathetic, and foolish mortal child.”

“But, you’re so wise, and powerful! How could you think that about yourself?” Kollei asked, feeling dazed more by her mother’s words than by the mind-numbing cosmic horror she had just brushed against. 

“We all have our Delusions. Some are more persistent than others,” Bronya said. She helped Kollei to stand, and they both faced Anastasia. “Now…what to do with her. I did not think her so weak that she would snap and succumb to the Sustainer’s possession so easily.”

“It’s not her fault! She just…she wants to be strong! She wanted the power. Like…like I did,” Kollei admitted.

“Hmm.” Bronya considered that, then nodded. She snapped her fingers, and Anastasia started, faltering in her dance. She quickly caught herself, planting both feet gratefully as she blinked as one coming out of a deep sleep. 

“What, where…Thoma! Tolney! They did not-” she looked about, and spied Bronya and Kollei. Hastily, she stepped towards them, then fell to her knees, taking Bronya’s hand in supplication. “Your Majesty! Please, I have to stop them! Help me claim this power as my own! I don’t want to simply be a doll for anyone anymore! Make me one of your Harbingers, that I might be able to save those I love!” 

“You know not what you ask, Dancer,” Broyna said, sounding utterly weary. Where had this come from? Her mother was always so confident, so in command of everything and everyone around her. “I had hoped to spare you from this. You were to be a prized gem in my collection, unmarred by the troubles of this world.”

Anger flashed on Anastasia’s face, and she dropped Bronya’s hand, smoothly rising to her feet. “So, you see me as nothing but a toy either. You, my brother, my lover, everyone! I’m always just a pretty doll! Taken out to perform, and then set back on the shelf once I’ve done my dance! Well, no more! You see that? That fell moon above us? It’s mine! I will claim it! And I will be like the Nutcracker Prince, not Clara! I will come to life, and take up the sword! I will protect the innocent and weak, instead of becoming a bully like all the others!” 

One of Bronya’s pale eyebrows arched. “You would stand up to me, Dancer?”

“If it means earning your respect, yes! You have everything I want! You’re not just a trophy for someone else’s mantle! You are powerful and beautiful and…and my brother loves you, and respects you! Why…why can’t he do the same for me?” Anastasia pleaded. 

“Mother…I think…I think we should let her have the power she sought. It’s hers, isn’t it?” Kollei said quietly, glancing furtively up at the iced-over demon. 

“It will be a terrible path that I send her down. One does not become one of my Harbingers without paying a heavy price. Each must fully embrace their Delusions. Her brother believes himself a noble hero, while he is a a Thief. Her lover believes himself to be a noble knight and retainer, when he is but a Servant and demon. She will think herself a Dancer, when in truth, she will be a puppeteer,” Bronya said.

Anastasia didn’t seem to hear Bronya, still looking at her pleadingly. Kollei bit her lip again, gnawing at it as she tried to think. Was this right? 

“Is it better to live in peace without power, and be at the whims of those who have it, or to seize it for yourself, and live in conflict?” Kollei whispered, more to herself than anything.

“That, my daughter, is a question I have asked myself each day for the past five hundred years,” Bronya said, and there was no more weariness in her voice, but the strength of ice. “Very well. Anastasia Borisovna Kamisarova. I shall grant your request. Behold: the power you sought, and attained.”

For a brief instant, Anastasia looked ecstatic, going en pointe, and extending her arms upwards. 

Then the ice shattered, and what Kollei could only describe as a tendril of corruption stabbed out, striking Anastasia in the brain. She screamed in pain, and Kollei instinctively formed a ball of Dendro energy. 

But Bronya extended an arm, blocking Kollei. “No. She must fully become possessed. Her powers will be attenuated if she is not allowed to fully Trigger.. She will suffer agony as her Will and Body are reforged by the False Sustainer, to be the instrument of his vile Cycle.” 

Nodding, Kollei felt the tears in her eyes freeze, and she blinked away the crystals of ice. Without pain, there could be no growth, and without suffering, there could be no wisdom. So she could only watch as her friend was reforged by the Demon of the Cycle. 

At last, Anastasia lay upon the stage, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, her body soaked with sweat. The demon withdrew its tendril, and it began to retreat, fading back into the void it had come from. 

“I think not. You attempted to maim one of my own. There is a price for such, Demon,” Bronya hissed, and her sword formed in her hands, the great blade of ice and metal. With a single leap, she soared into the sky, and she was Bronya no longer, but the Tsaritsa. Beautiful and terrible, the Lord of Ice and God of Love. 

Space and time warped around her, but Kollei was able to keep her mother within her sight as the Tsaritsa approached the Demon. Her breath caught in her throat, as she realized the demon was truly the size of a moon, a thousand, a million times larger than her mother. It struck at the Tsaritsa, sending out waves of exotic energy, boulders the size of mountains, and crushing mental assaults that would have reduced a mortal’s body to dust, and mind to a gibbering slave. 

The Tsaritsa met the assault head-on. Her ice froze the alien energy to inertness, her strength shattered the boulders to frost, and her Love swept aside the mental assault like a feather in a blizzard. On the parry, she struck back at the demon. At first, it looked like an ant biting an elephant. 

Then, once more, the demon was covered in a thick layer of ice. The Tsaritsa touched down upon its surface, resting her blade upon her shoulder. 

NOW, I WILL EXTRACT THE PRICE OF THOSE WHO WOULD STEAL THE LOVE OF MY OWN FROM ME. 

With that, she plunged her sword into the body of the demon with both hands. It groaned and shuddered, great tremors rocking the ice so that it cracked and buckled, but did not dissipate. 

And then, the demon shattered into a million tiny pieces. Each was a flake of ice, drifting now upon the wind. The Tsaritsa extended her hand, and the snowflakes swirled into a ball at her fingertips. She crushed them together, and sparkling gems emerged. Delusions. 

Drifting back down, the Tsaritsa landed by Anastasia, who was still unconscious. She shimmered, and the regal god was gone, replaced once more by her own inner vision of herself: the mortal girl Bronya. 

“These demons are the power source for those they possess. Slaying one deprives a parahuman of their powers,” Bronya said, taking one of the Delusions she had crafted and holding it up to examine it. “However: even slain, a dead god, or demon, yet retains a great deal of power. It is corrosive to the mortal soul, but it grants great power.”

“You mean, Anastasia will be driven mad?” Kollei asked, horrified at the thought.

“No. I let her trigger fully and naturally. Her soul has already been reforged into a vessel for the demon’s power. Had I not, she would have inevitably used her own Soul and Life Force as fuel for her power. But now…”

The Tsaritsa pressed the glowing blue gem, like that of the yet to appear Hydro visions, into Anastasia’s forehead. It slid into her, vanishing. A moment later, her eyes fluttered open. She coughed, and Bronya helped her to sit up. 

“What…what has happened to me? I…I feel…” 

“You underwent a Trigger event, and attracted the attention of a demon. Today was the worst day of your life,” Kollei said, giving Anastasia a hug. “The good news is…it gets better from here.”

“I…I’m a Cape now?” Anastasia asked, hope blooming on her face. 

“No,” Bronya said, and pulled Anastasia up to her feet. “You are one of my Harbingers. Go forth, Dancer, and make the world step to your own tune.”

Anatoly paced about in the hall, doing his best to ignore the man sitting in a chair by the door. Once, Thoma had been his strong right hand. Now he was like all the others. Nipping at Anatoly’s heels, trying to take from him what was rightfully his. 

His eyes darted over to Elena, who was sitting at the other end of the hall, looking frightened. Good. She had to know she was his, and that he would not let her slip through his fingers. Shortly, he would confront her parents, and inform them that Elena was now his. It would all be his. 

All he had to do was finish this job. He was close. So close. He never actually thought he’d get an agreement with the Americans to tour their ultra-secret base with the remains of a dead god, but he was close. So close. His interference with the Slaughterhouse Nine the day before was to be the final tipping point. 

The door swung open, and Anatoly spun about. Kollei and the Tsaritsa stepped out, and Anatoly was there in an instant, barely noticing that Thoma was beside him. 

“Is she-” they began together, and both men paused to glare at one another. 

The Tsaritsa and Princess stepped aside, and Anastasia was there. A sense of relief flooded Anatoly; his sister, his precious little sister was well. He reached out for her, but something arrested his motion. His feelings for her swelled, and his muscles tensed up as his desire increased. Something was wrong. Anatoly had always doted on Anastasia, but he’d never felt…this. Not for her. She was his sister. 

“Brother. Tolney. Do you still seek to control me? To own me?” Anastasia’s voice demanded. She was so…beautiful. So wonderful.  He had to protect her. Had to have her. 

Oh God, what is wrong with me? 

“You…you are mine. I raised you. Protected you. I deserve you,” Anatoly found himself saying. “I want you. Give yourself to me.” 

And the worst part was…it was true. He did want her. So very, very badly. Wanted to dominate her. To possess her. Before he had simply wanted things to go back to the way they were when she was younger, when she worshiped and adored him, and only him. But now…he needed more. 

A tear slid down Anastasia’s cheek. She turned to Thoma. “And you? Am I nothing but a doll to you as well?”

“I…I need, you, Nastya,” Thoma said gruffly, and Anatoly wanted to snarl and bite at the man, but found he couldn’t even move. “I know I am not worthy, but…with you, I feel like I can be. You’re so strong, so beautiful…I want to protect you. To have you. To love you. Forever.”

Anastasia smiled and wept again, but her tears were less mournful, and more delighted. “Very well. Brother. I think it’s time we had this out. Come.”

Anatoly stumbled, finding himself released from whatever it was that had gripped him. He felt his heart race, and horror overcame him. Had he…and he truly wanted to…with Anastasia?! His sister!? And yet…there was a dark, lingering side of him…that did want her like that. 

But she was walking away, heading down the hall, Thoma half a step behind her. Anatoly strode off after her, Elana jumping to her feet and following him, but he ignored her. 

Anastaisa led them out to the courtyard of the Winter Palace, which was frozen over, even in early October. The air was chill, and his breath misted before him as he panted. Anastasia strode over to a frozen pond, walking out to the center, before turning to face him. 

“I will no longer bend myself to your will, Tolney. Now, you will bend to mine. So, come and claim me, if you can.”

“Nastya! Please, what are you doing?” Thoma gasped, struggling to reach her on the ice. 

“Thoma…if you love me, trust me. I must face this alone. He will never listen otherwise,” Anastasia said. 

Thoma’s face was filled with regret, one foot still on the ice. “Are…are you certain?”

She nodded. “I am. Trust me. Please.”

“Very well, my lady.” Bowing, Thoma backed off the ice. He strode towards Anatoly, lowering his voice. “If you hurt her…”

“I’ll take care of her, then you. I’ll show you how the Boss handles an insubordinate bro,” Anatoly snapped. 

Thoma growled, but he moved out of Anatoly’s path. 

“Anatoly, what are you doing?! Do you really wish to…to take her by force? She’s your sister!” Elena said, taking hold of Anatoly’s elbow. 

He shoved her away, and she fell down, gasping in pain. “Do not try to stop me from taking what is mine. Stay here. Once I claim her, I will remind you that you are mine as well.”

Elena didn’t respond, and Anatoly didn’t look down. He stalked out onto the ice, striding as easily as if it were solid ground thanks to his Cryo Vision. “Now, dear sister, let me remind you of the order of things…”

“I think not,” Anastasia said. “Times change, Anatoly. And while you were not looking, I have become a woman, and more. I am not your doll.”

The ice suddenly shuddered, then cracked, and water erupted from below, drenching Anatoly as he staggered and tried to keep his feet. The icy liquid wrapped itself around Anastasia, shifting and changing. It did not freeze, but instead wove itself into her, until she had changed form entirely. She stood now upon the liquid surface, dressed in an ornate ballerina’s outfit that was a deep azur hue, a strange symbol upon it. 

One that Anatoly would recognize when Hydro Visions began to appear. 

I am the Dancer. And now, I will make the world move to my tune.

Desperately, Anatoly froze the surface of the water to give himself something to stand on, then drew his gun. He aimed it at Anastasia, angry enough to fire. What had she even become?! This wasn’t his sister, this was-

Water strings reached out from Anastasia’s hands, latching on to Anatoly’s arms and legs. He found his limbs jerked aside, and that same overwhelming feeling of desire and longing overcame him. His body began to twitch and move not according to Anatoly’s wishes, but the strings that bound him. 

Goodbye, brother. I have made my choice.

Anatoly stepped over the edge, and into the icy pool. He tried to open his mouth to scream, and water rushed in. Blackness overcame him, and he lost consciousness. 

“What have you done?! You’ve killed him!” Elena wailed, rushing forward to the edge of the pond. She desperately tried to wade into the pool, but Anastasia used her strings to bind the other woman. 

“Don’t follow him into destruction, Elena,” Anastasia said. “If you wish to leave Anatoly…I will protect you. I have that power now.”

Elena glared at Anastasia, her cheeks red with tears. “You BITCH! Unlike you, I love him! I’m pregnant with his CHILD! Would you have your nephew born without a father!?” 

Anastasia jerked back. “I would not…I’m not going to kill him! How could you even think that!?”

“Your heart has frozen over like the rest. You just drowned your brother,” Elena spat. 

Anastasia sighed, then tugged on the strings that still bound Anatoly. He rose up out of the water, still and going blue from the cold. His vision was flickering, but had not dimmed yet. With a flick of her fingers, Anastasia drew the water out of Anatoly. It had taken a great deal of practice in the Dream to learn how to do that, but time passed differently there. A few twitches, and she forced Anatoly to breathe. He coughed and sputtered, and then she laid him out on the bank at Elena’s feet. 

“He is yours. Keep him. I have no further use for him,” Anastasia said, and turned her back on her one time protector. He would always be her brother, but she had no Love left for Anatoly. Not now. 

“That was incredible! The Tsaritsa has blessed you too!” Thoma said excitedly, rushing over to embrace Anastasia. 

For a moment, she nearly wrapped him in watery strings and bent him to her will as well. Then, she relaxed. He was Thoma. Her faithful knight. He would let her be free. 

“Yes. I choose you, Thoma,” she said, and returned his embrace, kissing him deeply. Behind her, Elena was resuscitating Anatoly. He would awaken soon. When he did, she wanted to be gone. 

“Come, Thoma. I feel so…alive. I want to share this with you as well,” she told him. 

They went back to their rooms in the palace, and Anastasia shut the door. Soon, their clothes were off, and they were embracing passionately on the bed. Before, Thoma had always been stronger than her, even before he’d received his Delusion. Now, however, she had a strength of her own. 

He held her down gently, but Anastasia was done being the lesser partner, the one who lay back and let others have their way with her. She tapped into not her Delusion, but the demonic powers she’d been granted by her Delusion. Now, she could make people Love her. Serve her. She didn’t want to hurt Thoma, but she did want him to understand she was no weakling now. 

She let forth just a bit of that, and felt her powers take hold of Thoma. He grew more feral, more passionate, and in some ways, it was wonderful. But it was also terrifying. She used a little more, until she fully asserted her hold over Thoma. She could feel his own powers fighting back, and she plucked his Delusion from his breast, tossing it away. 

“Can you hear my music?” she asked him as she straddled him, looking down at his beastial eyes. “Can you feel it? The world now dances to my tune! I can- Thoma? Thoma!” 

“Yes, my lady,” he growled. Only…it wasn’t quite him. 

She had gone too far. 

Hastily, she abandoned her powers. She half expected Thoma to master her there and then, but instead…he just lay there. Just looking at her. Waiting.

She leaned down and kissed him, and he returned it, but when she sat up a little more…he just lay there again. Waiting for her command. 

“What have I done?” she gasped. Hastily, she probed him with her powers. She found he was hers. Utterly and completely. But that bright spark of love…had been strangled by the strings she now commanded. 

“Get up, get dressed,” she ordered. 

He complied immediately, and she followed suit. “Come with me.”

Hastily, they ran to the Tsaritsa’s chambers. To Anastasia’s surprise, the Tsaritsa herself opened the door for her. 

“Your Majesty, something went wrong! I…I used my powers, just a little, on Thoma, and…and…”

“And he is yours. Just as you wanted,” the Tsaritsa said, looking Thoma over. “Aren’t you?”

“I serve Lady Anastasia,” Thoma said firmly. 

“Yes, but…you’re supposed to be…supposed to be…” Anastasia swallowed. “Can you…fix him?”

“This is how he was meant to be. The Servant. What he wants. He wanted a master, but Anatoly rejected him. So now, he serves you. Isn’t that what you wanted?” the Tsaritsa asked. 

“No! I just…I wanted him to know…wanted him to know I wouldn’t be a doll,” Anastasia said, her mind racing. 

“I could heal him. But if I do, he will know what you did to him. Know it was you. Is that what you want?” the Tsaritsa asked. 

Anastasia felt fear and panic seize her. She couldn’t lose Thoma. She’d just lost Anatoly, forever. She’d chosen Thoma. Whatever was wrong with him…she could fix it.

“No, I…he’s still himself, right?” Anastasia asked desperately. 

“He is the Servant. Yours, and mine. I give you his body, though I will require his soul,” the Tsaritsa told her. 

Anastasia didn’t know what that meant, but didn’t like the sound of it. “I…thank you. I’ll take care of this myself. Come, Thoma.”

“As you wish, my Lady,” Thoma said, and trod after her.

“Dancer?”

Anastasia paused, looking back at the Tsaritsa. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I told you there would be a price. You have found it. But do not think of reneging on your agreement. The world will dance as you command. But it is I who writes the score. Do you understand?”

Anastasia curtsied deeply, and Thoma copied her motion. Like a puppet, pulled on by strings.

“Of course, your Majesty,” Anastasia said. 

Then she led Anatoly back to their rooms, and commanded him to love her. He did. 

Like a faithful Servant, serving his master. 

It was then that Anastasia realized that the Tsaritsa had taken both their hearts, and sealed them away in ice. 

Anatoly gasped and panted above Elena. But his mind was elsewhere. Not on her, but on another woman, on one he had lost. In his pain and sorrow, he cried out a name. 

Anastasia!

As soon as it left his lips, he knew he had made a mistake. A horrific one. Elena’s expression changed. Her embrace slackened. She didn’t let go, but her eyes grew empty. Haunted. 

When he was done, he went to the bathroom, and stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were sunken. Haunted. What had Anastasia done to him? What had he done to her?

He slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering it, and then locking it away behind ice. He went back to the bedroom, pulling on his clothes. Elena was curled up on the bed, the blankets wrapped about her. 

“I am going out,” he said, coming over to stand over her. 

She nodded, shifting slightly, her back to him. 

He reached out a hand, hesitated, then withdrew it. “I…I love you, Elena.”

Again, a nod. 

“I said I love you!” he snapped. 

“I…I love you…also…” she said, looking furtively at him, before looking away and hugging herself again. 

He turned away, and left the bedroom behind. 

The Tsaritsa was waiting for him in the garden. Sitting amidst frozen flowers on an icy bench. 

“You’ve taken everything from me,” he said, coming to stand before her.

“And yet, I have also given you all you have desired,” she said, meeting his gaze with icy calm. “A country is at your feet. You are one of the most powerful and respected men in the world. You have a woman who loves you waiting in your bed. She will give you children. You will continue to be my Harbinger. Does this not satisfy you?”

“No,” Anatoly said, and stepped forward, reaching for the Tsaritsa. Reaching to claim her, to take her as his own. 

The blow she dealt him left him on his knees, clutching his jaw as it throbbed in pain. 

“I will never be yours. For you are mine. Do you finally understand that, Thief?”

Slowly, he nodded, rubbing his jaw. “I will never be the ruler. Never be the hero.”

“No. You will work from the shadows. Hated and reviled by all. Even the woman who shares your bed, and bears your children will curse your name, for you are rejected by society. Yet, you will stand above it all. You will serve at my feet, stealing what I command, coveting all about you.”

He bowed his head. “I…accept. I will be your Thief. I will steal the world, and make it yours.”

He felt her icy smile more than he saw it. “Then you are at last ready to embrace your Delusion. Arise, Thief. The stage is set. The players are ready. The band begins to play. And the show…begins.” 

Anatoly accepted the glowing purple gem from the Tsaritsa, wrapping his fingers about it tightly. Power crackled through him. “Then I shall make it a performance to remember.”

Author's Note:

And here's that L that Anatoly was waiting on. At least the first one.