*Nicoli*
It must be today.
Nicoli involuntarily shivered, pulling his sweater tighter before returning to the window. Despite it still technically being autumn, the air was already turning frigid, like winter had come early just to spite him. Sitting beside the window proved difficult—the icy fingers of the outside world seemed to reach right through the glass to find him, wrapping around his spine, making his teeth chatter softly.
But it didn't matter. If anything, the cold only made him dig in deeper, root himself harder into the window seat.
No, that made the young prince more stubborn in his resolve.
The colder and more unbearable it became, the more determined he felt. Like a soldier refusing to abandon his post, he would sit here until the end. Until the post horse bound up the cobblestone walkway, his mail sack bursting with letters. Letters for everyone.
And one of them—one of them had to be for him. With the red wax seal of Nochten. Ana's seal.
Because she would have written by now, she had to.
Even if she was busy—even if being Empress meant days full of meetings and ceremonies and people tugging at her from all sides—surely she had a moment to write to him. Just a line. Just something.
He assured himself with the steadfast logic of a 9-year-old. Yes, she would write by now. There were no excuses.
Because they pinky promised. Things would be different from now on. It couldn't go back to how it was before.
Because there had been a time when he wrote and wrote—years of sending letters into silence. Of asking after her, coaxing, pleading, hoping each new envelope covered over in drawings would be the one that finally earned a reply. Something would finally make her forgive him for running away that snowy day.
Yet nothing ever came.
He had almost stopped. He still remembered that moment—sitting at the fountain, wondering if she had already forgotten him. Wondering if he should let himself forget her too.
But he never did.
And then she was there, standing in front of him. Crying. And he held her. Held her so tight like he would never let go. Never wanting to let go. They held and hugged each other—together then and now—even if there were hundreds of miles between them. They were still together because things were better now, weren't they?
But even so, that silence, those long years of waiting, still lived inside him, curled up like a ghost in his chest. He couldn't bear for it to come back.
If there was no letter today, then he'd just wait for the one tomorrow. And if not, then the next day. And the next. And the next after that—
A sharp gust howled against the window, making the panes rattle, and Nicoli flinched, a fresh shiver overtaking him. His teeth clattered, and this time the sound didn't go unnoticed.
Behind him came the soft sigh. He didn't have to turn to know his mother's eyes were on him. Grey and observant. Tempered but annoyed.
"Nicoli, if you're cold," his mother began, shifting from her endless pile of correspondence. She always seemed to be working these days, ever since his father left. Her smile, when it came, was sweet but stretched thin—more weary than warm. "Come sit by the fire, darling."
But Nicoli just curled his legs tighter against his chest in protest, burying his chin in his knees. His sapphire eyes remained fixed on the frosted glass.
Belinda sighed again and shook her head, dropping the quill to her desk with a soft click.
"Nicoli," She applied again, dropping the quill to the desk. "Be a good boy. Listen to your mother, now." Her face softened further, but the boy only shook his head, doubling down.
"Not until the post horse comes." He insisted, pulling his sleeves over his fingers to keep warm. "I'm not budging."
"Nicoli," Belinda sighed, but her voice did not have the strength to fight back. Her gaze was already drifting back to her work, a frown pursing her painted lips. Another problem had arisen the night before, swamping her with work, making the paper stack even taller than yesterday.
In the end, she only lifted her manicured hand at Julia with expectation. Without needing a word, the maid knew exactly what to do. Nicoli felt the blanket draped around him before even realizing she was at his side.
"Ah, thank-" Nicoli peered up, but the old woman was already gone. Her strict bun slightly bobbing as she returned to her own post beside her mother. Hands folded in front of her, standing stiffly, as if waiting for the next command.
Nicoli couldn't help but notice her always being there, always at his mother's side, as far back as he could remember. Making him wonder how his mother never seemed to get sick of her.
Nicoli was undoubtedly tired of Thomas. And Thomas was tired of him. But what about Julia? Was it different for her? Did she like working for his mom?
Nicoli couldn't recall seeing his mother close to anyone save his father.
What made Julia stay by her side? He thought before hearing it. The sound of the great gates creaking open from below. Nicoli immediately whipped his head back. A puff of excited air hit the glass, and he gasped. What could it be?
He bounced in his seat as he saw the horse galloping to a stop. "Finally!" He could barely sit still as the sight of the familiar man came forth from below. Taking a bundle before hurrying back inside. A bundle of letters that now made Nicoli jump up from his perch when a solid knock on the door followed moments later.
Julia barely made it to open the door for him with his golden tray before the boy rushed over.
"Nettle!!!" Tossing the blanket away in a burst of energy, he descended upon the man. Gangly arms reaching for the man's golden tray. His sapphire eyes already glittering at the sight of white letters! He had letters!
"Nicoli," His mother toned from her desk. A flash of warning in her voice. "Let Postmaster Nettle through the door first."
It stilled the boy enough to stop reaching for the man. A quick flash of regret ran across his features. "Sorry." He apologized. But his act of contrition was short-lived over his need to know. He was up on his tip toes before long, stretching his neck to peer over the cusp of the tray.
Perhaps it was his honest eagerness, or Nettle was getting used to such behavior from years with the boy waiting for his sister's letters in the past, but he let out a small chuckle.
"And a good morning, your majesties." Nettle greeted, casting a knowing glance at the excitable prince. His love for his sister was well known to him by now, if not from the times before. And just as much, he knew how the boy would be once he told him. "You have mail today, your majesty."
Nicoli nearly jumped. "I do!?" He moved to reach for the tray before his mother cleared her throat, giving another verbal warning to contain himself. Nicoli stiffened, but knew better, forcing his hands to his sides.
Nicoli stepped back to behave. "Do you?"He went again, aware of how to use his best manners now. More manners than he normally would, enough to make his etiquette teachers weep for joy that they saw him now. Being around his mother meant he had to. She wasn't like Father.
Her grey eyes saw everything.
With that in mind, Nicoli only tempered to stretch his neck again, trying to peer over the tray as he spoke. "Is there anything from Nochten?" His eyes scanned for the red wax. Wax, he didn't see, making his hope sink.
Hope that sank a touch further as the postmaster gave a thin smile.
"Nay, they are from His Majesty and Her Majesty of Almony," Nettle announced to lower the tray revealing what he said was true. Showing letters for both his mother and himself. A strike of blue wax and yellow.
But no red. Again.
Again? Nicoli's shoulders fall. His disappointment was thick enough to cut with a knife. She didn't write to him. No letter from Ana.
He puffed his cheeks with a low huff. "Damn." The soft curse made the postmaster chuckle knowingly.
"At least her majesty writes." He toned softly and pressed the tray over. Nicoli shrugged, begrudgingly taking up the envelope. Already feeling it's heavy. Hidi always wrote too much for his liking.
But maybe this time she answered some of my questions? He tried to rally. He'd written her a whole list of things to ask, since Ana could barely seem to write these days. Hidi was the next best thing. She was there. She could answer.
Even if it was a second-hand account, it was better than nothing. At least someone was writing.
"Thank you, Nettle," Nicoli added, hugging the letter to his chest, noting again its weight. Hidi must've been especially detailed this time.
Good. He wanted details. Anything about Ana was going to be good. He had questions, and Hidi always had something to say. Probably too much.
It could be the first time I'll enjoy reading something that isn't about bears this long, he thought with a smirk. He wasn't usually one for reading. That was Ana's thing. She always had her nose to a book, studying something complicated he didn't understand.
She was so smart that way. But her letters—when they came—never felt like enough.
Even when Ana wrote, she didn't say much about herself. She'd ask questions. She'd wonder about him, always more interested in what he was doing, what he was learning. She never said what she felt. What made her laugh? What made her cry? What dreams did she have now that they were older?
Sometimes it made him angry. Not because she didn't care—but because he knew she did. And still, it felt like she was so far away.
It wasn't fair.
He didn't want words on a page. He wanted her. Her laugh, her bright silver hair, her sandalwood smell. He wanted to hug her when she was being cute or stubborn, to pull her along by the hand for another adventure, she always protesting but giving in at last, and how it always turned into something bigger. Better. Dancing the night away in a dark ballroom. Sneaking into the kitchen for snacks.
No. Writing wasn't enough. It never would be.
Meanwhile, Hidi was the complete opposite. Her letters were like stories with only one character—herself. What she ate, who she saw, what she wore. Sometimes he wondered if she forgot who she was writing to.
But… she still wrote. Consistently. And that counted for something. She answered things Ana had never had time to do. That made her useful. Not better.
Just… the next best thing.
"From Her Majesty of Almony?" Belinda perked up beside him, her voice lighter, touched with something that sounded suspiciously pleased. "How nice of her to write even while she's traveling."
Nicoli gave her a sidelong look. That weird tone again. Why did his mother always sound so happy whenever Hidi wrote? And why did she look like she was waiting for the letter as much as he was?
Like now.
"Nicoli, you must open it," the queen said quickly, sitting up straighter. Her grey eyes lit with something suspiciously bright, darting between the letter and him. "Tell me what she says."
"I just got it, hold on—oh?" He blinked as the maid appeared beside him yet again, silent as a ghost, offering the golden letter opener like she'd known he'd need it.
He stared, startled, before gingerly taking it. "Uh, thanks?"
"Your Majesty," Julia answered evenly, already drifting back to his mother's side, resuming her post like a nesting hen.
Yeah. She really was different from Thomas.
Thomas would've stood there, waiting for praise, grumbling if none came. Julia moved like she didn't need thanks—like being invisible was her job.
Nicoli watched her for a second, then looked back down. The weight of the letter pulled his curiosity down with it.
Without any fanfare, he sliced it open, revealing a thick bundle of folded pages.
"Oh, my!" his mother laughed softly, clapping her hands once. "She's written quite a bit this time."
"This time?" Nicoli raised a brow. "She always does. She likes to talk."
Mostly about herself. But he kept that part to himself.
Belinda giggled again, hiding another one of those strange smiles he couldn't decipher. It wasn't just cheerful—it was pleased. And amused. Like there was some joke he wasn't in on.
"Well," she said, brows lifting. "She must like you quite a bit." She exchanged a look with Julia, who broke into a smile for once.
It made Nicoli squirm a little.
Why did they always do that? It was just a letter.
He turned away from them, his focus returning to the packet. At least this one might have something about Ana. Anything.
As Nettle passed behind him, still holding the tray, the older man paused.
"And there is one for you, Your Majesty," he added, offering it to the desk. "From the king."
His mother lifted the letter with a softer expression upon hearing it. "From Alexander? I wonder why he would write-" She didn't even speak before Julia was moving. Her old wrinkled hands felt like soft sandpaper on Nicoli's fingers as she quietly took back the knife to return to her in one smooth motion.
Belinda did not thank her; instead, she sliced open smoothly and quietly. But as she pulled out the contents, her perfect brows pinched together.
"It's short…" She complained softly, turning the paper over to see just one side with writing. Her frown deepened. "That man, sometimes- I'll read it after. " She griped quietly before putting it down. A soft exhale breaking through her lips before her grey eyes lifted back to Nicoli.
"But first, Nicoli, tell me what Her Majesty has excitedly written for you?" She dismissed Nettle with a wave. The man bowed, leaving them. "Read it to me." His mother shifted to make herself comfortable in her chair. Her gray eyes regarded the paper with a keen interest. "She certainly has a lot to say."
"When doesn't she?" But Nicoli turned to struggle a little to read.
Why did Hidi have to write in such a foofy script? I can barely read it. But Nicoli kept the complaint to himself, knowing this would only spark another rant from his mother. He already knew his writing was poor- he didn't need the lecture about doing more studies.
"She says the people run away from her."
"Vampires," His mother corrected instantly with a tone."It's vampires, not people. We are people." Her words sharpened. "Vampires are…different."
"Vampires," Nicoli rolled his eyes, but didn't see the importance of distinguishing it like she did. What did it matter anyway? Ana was a vampire, well, half, actually, because of their father. But he didn't see anything else to it. There was no need to make such a significant split between them.
Ana was Ana. He thought it before her first blood. And he still thought it now after. Even if she had to eat blood, it didn't change who she was. She was his sister.
He didn't need to fuss over much else.
Returning to the paper, Nicoli did his best to read, skimming through the letter. Hidi wrote a lot but hasn't seen Ana's name mentioned yet. Where were the parts about her?
"Nicoli?" Belinda prompted.
"Sorry," Nicoli went, "It's a lot of boring stuff about food and–" Nicoli immediately forgot himself over the excitement on the next page. Ana- that was Ana's name! His blue eyes instantly sparked to life again as he eagerly dug down to read the part.
"Oh, Hidi says she likes Ana's coronation dress. The jewels were so pretty!" What kind of dress was it? Was Ana pretty in it? Nicoli paused to read ahead, but only felt his stomach fall with disappointment. She didn't write much more on it. Talking about herself and how she planned to use the jewels. Damn, why didn't Hidi write more details?
Hungry for more, he quickly scanned for more information. Anything to do with Ana. His eyes sparked alive again as he found another sentence.
"She says Ana's had a growth spurt. She's taller." Nicoli went on breathless. Gripping the letter tighter, half wondering already how tall. Did that mean she was taller than him?
She better not be. Nicoli wiggled his toes. He recently grown as well. And was very proud of his new height. But what if Ana was even taller?
No, she better not be. He wanted to be the taller one. He was a boy. Boys were always supposed to be taller, even if she was his big sister.
"Yes, yes." Belinda yawned as if bored with the topic. "But what else does Her Majesty say besides about her Empress?" She leaned over to whisper to the maid, but not so quietly.
"I will never understand that girl's obsession with that child."
" Indeed." Julia could only return with a flinch of her lips, as if for straining or saying something worse. Some quiet message exchanging between them. Nicoli saw it but didn't see the reason.
Whatever it was, though, he left it behind as he found something to make him pause in the letter. "There's something about Father."
"Is there?"
Nicoli nodded, "Father announced he will help Ana against the Bulgeons in Pave."
"His Majesty will assist Nochten?" His mother sat straighter in her chair. Her lips pressed into a thin line as Julia shifted uneasily. Her expression thinned as if aware of how that news displeased her.
"Is he now?" The queen's voice was shaped at the edges, and a bitter laugh followed. His mother wagged her head with a tap of the desk.
"Of course he'd want to help. Alexander, you–" The word cut off as she huffed sharply. Her eyes fell to the stacks of papers. Her jaw clenched. "I knew him going was already a bad idea. That stupid–He already ignores his duties. Now he wants us in another war? And one that isn't even ours?"
Her tone was pitched low, almost muttering. "The cost alone—has he even considered what it would mean to stretch our treasury across two fronts? To leave Dawny while he runs off to play father to Nochten? The waste of money alone should have been more than enough to tell him I won't like the idea–"
"It's not a waste." Nicoli abruptly shot up hearing her. No, how could she think it was a waste? "It's helping Ana. Ana is family."
Belinda stiffened at the word. "Family? You think Ana is part of our–" A coldness lingered around her before she swallowed. Forcing down the dark expression before pushing up her sweet smile again. Like pulling up a mask in real time.
"Go on, Nicoli." Belinda pressed lightly, looking back at the letters. "What else does Hidi say?" She seemed to want to ignore whatever that strange moment was.
Nicoli obliged, but kept her comment somewhere in the back of his mind. Her reaction was peculiar. However, he found himself dropping his jaw as he read on.
"That-heh?" Nicoli blinked, trying to make sense of it before blurting with a huff."That's not fair! He can't do that! Mama!" Nicoli turned up with a start. "Why does Father get to be with Ana and I don't?"
"He? What?" His mother's smile wavered. "What do you mean?" Her voice had gone thin, strained at the edges. "What do you mean he gets to be with—"
"It says it right here." Nicoli frowned at the paper in his hands.
No, it really wasn't fair.
"Father is going to be Ana's war council advisor," he read out, before kicking at the rug beneath his feet. "That's not fair, Mama! I want to be there too! How can he—"
He wanted to be with Ana. But his father got everything?
He's hogging her. Again.
Nicoli huffed just as something shifted besides him. Only briefly feeling the brush of her dress, he whispered of heels—he hadn't even noticed her rise before he knew his mother was there. Swiftly pulling the packet right from his hands.
"Mom?" Nicoli's arms remained frozen midair, eyes wide as he watched her tear through the packet.
Her grey eyes grew wider and wider at the sight. Color drained from her cheeks as she continued to rush through the papers, her eyes growing darker and darker with each flip.
And then she was charging back to her desk. Her smile was gone.
Julia immediately moved as they noticed something had begun to change the color of her face."Your Majesty?"
"Mama?" Nicoli's voice pitched higher, uncertain. His hands hovered, useless in the air. "Mama, what's—" but the words dropped as her crumbled. Her usual poise and perfection were lost in a moment of pure confusion and something else. Something pained.
She was reading his father's letter before letting out a sharp cry.
"He did—" Her hand flew to her mouth. Her shoulders trembled, her body shrinking in on itself as her eyes brimmed and overflowed with tears. Nicoli stiffened.
He had never seen her like this before.
Not his mother. Not the mother who always smiled. Who was ever in control and beautiful. Who never let anyone see her cry. Not the mother who always had the answers, always knew what to say.
"Mom? What's wrong? What's happening?" He made to step toward her in worry before his mother immediately snapped back. Her eyes were red and brimming with tears as she seemed to be holding something terrible in. Not wanting him to see.
"Nicoli," Her voice was tight. "I think it's time you went to your room now."
Nicoli's eyes went wide. "My room? But why?" He wagged his head in disbelief. "But it's still morning- I don't want to." It was too early to be in his room. He inched a step closer.
"Mom, what's wrong? Why are you upset? What's happening?" His eyes fell on the papers, and his letter was scattered over the desk. The words were coming out before he could even think.
"Is Ana okay?"
"Ana?!" A screech cut through the room, making Nicoli freeze. The roar of anger and pain and something darker, something the likes of which he had never seen from his mother, suddenly in front of him. Her mouth open, her teeth bared, her breath coming out in shallow huffs. Her grey eyes almost seemed lost to recognize him a moment before they snapped back.
A look of guilt and shame crossed her features, but the pain, that mysterious pain, was still there. She covered her face with her hand before lifting her hand with a shudder. Julia was up and holding her arms for a moment as if she needed to keep her mother from collapsing.
"Take him out of here," Belinda whispered.
"Yes, my lady," Julia moved faster than Nicoli could throw a fight. Old hands grabbed him by both arms to twist him around. Pushing him fast and hard out the door. Nicoli barely had a chance to realize he was being forced out.
"Wait, Mom- don't." Nicoli could barely register that something was wrong again. His letters- she still had his letter from Hidi.
"Mom, my letter-" I need my letter. He called back, looking over his shoulder, but his mother didn't hear him. Or she ignored him. She was turning away, covering her face as her shoulders shook as she directed the subsequent demand.
"Close the door," came the hoarse command. "And lock it."
"Yes, your Majesty." Julia yanked Nicoli along to thrust him into the hall. His body being flung out to almost fall onto the carpet, the action was so fast that even Thomas, waiting outside nearly jumped back.
"Julia?" He barely choked, clearly stunned by the sight, but the maid was already pivoting. The door slamming behind her, the lock clicking against the vacant halls.
Nicoli barely able to come back to his senses in time to see what just consipried. He was thrown out. His mother had just thrown him out the room. Something she had never done before–no, something he never thought she would ever do.
But she had. And Nicoli was now standing with Thomas, looking after the door in a whirlwind of emotions.
What just happened? He didn't understand. What was going on with his mother to make her act like this? He had never seen her in so much pain, so much anguish, fury–
And she still had his letters.
"Mom, wait -my letters!" Nicoli called back, rushing to pound his fists at the door. But the door was clearly locked. He had been pushed out and left with nothing, nothing, and just confusion.
"Mom?" Nicoli called, his voice breaking. His chest growing tight as his hand spread over the door. The gentle sounds of talking came from within, but they were too soft for him to hear. To understand.
To understand what made her so upset? His fingers curled.
"Your majesty?" Thomas, meanwhile, shifted, unsure, his beady black eyes darting in panic from the door to him and back. "What was that- did you do something?"
"What? No!" Nicoli spun on him, eyes flashing. "I didn't do anything!" He shook his head, lips trembling. "I didn't do anything…"
He was just reading the letter, and suddenly his mother was pushing him out of the room. It was all happening so fast. And he didn't understand. He didn't know what he did.
He didn't do anything—nothing he knew—but that didn't mean he was going to stand by and not do anything either. But still. She had screamed. She had cried.
And she had pushed him out.
Nicoli swallowed hard.
No, he was going to find out whatever was wrong with his mother. Nicoli clenched his fists at his side. The thought of her pained face–why did she make it?
It was not going to stand by and just let that go. He would find out. He clenched his fists. Her face flashed again in his mind—the pain, the fury.
He had to understand.
He needed to.
Determined, Nicoli spun on his heel, charging down the hall. His mind was set with purpose, as the sight of his mother plagued his mind.
"Your majesty!?" Thomas called behind, his legs trying to keep up. "Where are you going?"
"To my room." He answered that he was already planning to use the secret passage. If he hurried, he might be able to make it with both of them still inside. He could hear what they were saying then. Figure out what just upset his mother so much.
He did not like seeing his mother so pained. It hurt, like when he saw Ana hurt. And just like here, he wasn't going to let her cry alone.