A/N: You’re not dead, but RIP prose/good description in this story at this point, tbh. There wouldn’t be a part four if you were dead, after all. (Would this chapter be considered filibuster??)
~x~
You scream as the pain takes over you, like lightning crashing into the base of your spine. Blood rushes out of your mouth into an undignified retch, and your vision turns spotty. Dollar bills that have found their way to the floor have been stained with your blood.
“Sheesh. What a bloody mess,” Empress Maria snarls, lashing out again. Your nails find their way scraping down your cheeks, iron sharp pain pulling at your senses. I will live. I have to live. Your thoughts are a muddled mess of raw human instinct and inescapable fear.
“Servants. Clean her up. I don’t want to see her again. Oh, and, Miss Natadova, you’ll still have take the girl with you.”
At this point, you just want to die and see your mother.
~x~
Your eyes flutter open in the midday sun. Groggily, you try to sit up, but your back protests. In your slight agony, you lay back down with a harrumph. Where are you?
A blond figure steps into view, his blue eyes popping into the corner of your vision. He appears to be not too much older than the girl’s age. Possibly he's the nurse's apprentice, or something of some sort...
You open your parched, dry mouth and whisper for water. It's only now you start your surroundings beyond the strange boy that stands in the middle of the room. Your bed is starch-white, and so are the walls and floor. An IV drips through your left wrist, and as a jab of pain travels through your aching back, you wince. This is a hospital room, apparently. Empress Maria was merciful enough not to let you die.
"Are you Miss Natadova?" the boy asks, a strange edge to his voice. "I'm only allowed to be in here for a short time."
"A girl...And a boy?" you murmur deliriously. "Do I have to take care of you both?"
"Gods, no," the boy smirks. "Who would want a crone like you for a mother?"
He certainly has audacity, you think bitterly, rubbing your eyes. You're not that old.
The boy sighs. "I'm Yulian. Pleased to be your acquaintance."
Acquaintance!? He just called you an old crone!
Something more about Yulian throws you off. He acts a lot more mature than his physical age, and his open mouth had revealed fangs. If Empress Maria was a physical witch, then maybe the two would have something in common. But they are both children, your common sense argues. At least they appear to be.
But looks can be deceiving.
"I assume you know who I am," you croak, your cheeks flaring red at the hoarseness of your ruined voice. Yulian stays silent, watching you stare mindlessly at the cold wall. Perhaps he does, and the past twenty-four hours have only been a mere, fleeting dream.
"Listen up," Yulian snaps at you, and you jolt to your senses. "I don't have time for your indifference. That girl you are going to take care of has abilities beyond what you know. Call her Viktoriya and nothing else. Do you know Maria Petrova? She's leaving the capital temporarily to stay with you and act as Viktoriya's little sister, Anzhelika Natadova."
"Y-You just called the Empress by her first name!" you exclaim, sounding more like a wheezing rush of air than a dignified figure.
"So what?" Yulian sneers, cracking his knuckles. A strange aura has drifted around him, protruding the relative calm. "If you don't cooperate to the conditions, Maria has the right to execute you."
You were nearly executed the other day. It couldn't get too much worse. A chill runs down your spine. Maria has the right to execute you.
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