Anastasia was there, but she was not there.
She woke at the usual hour, dressed neatly, and helped with the small duties assigned to them in the palace guest wing.
Her movements were precise, practiced, almost too perfect. She smiled when spoken to. She answered when asked. Nothing was outwardly wrong.
Yet everything was.
Drizella noticed it first. Anastasia did not complain when the ribbon tangled in her hair. She did not tease when Drizella dropped a spoon. She did not roll her eyes or make a sharp comment under her breath. She simply fixed the ribbon herself and handed the spoon back.
"That's suspicious," Drizella muttered later, narrowing her eyes. "You're being… polite."
Cinderella tried next. While they were folding linen together, she asked softly,
"Did something happen? You've been very quiet."
Anastasia shook her head. "Nothing," she replied. Her voice was calm, empty of emotion.
Cinderella frowned. "Are you tired?"
"A little," Anastasia said, though she did not yawn.
At lunch, she ate slowly, as if each bite required effort. When Drizella joked about palace food being tasteless, Anastasia only nodded. No sarcastic remark followed. No laughter.
Drizella put her spoon down. "Okay. That's it. This is scary."
Anastasia looked up. "What is?"
"You," Drizella said bluntly. "You're acting like someone replaced you with a quieter version."
Anastasia smiled. It was the same smile she had worn all day. Careful. Controlled. It didn't reach her eyes.
"People change."
Their mother watched everything in silence.
Lady Beatrice had spent years reading rooms, reading people, surviving by noticing what others missed.
By evening, worry had settled deep in her chest.
Anastasia avoided sitting near windows. She avoided the corridors that overlooked the training grounds. She avoided any place where she might meet someone familiar.
At night, Beatrice finally spoke.
"Anastasia," she said gently, "look at me."
Anastasia obeyed.
"What's hurting you?"
For a moment, it seemed as though Anastasia might answer. Her fingers curled slightly, nails pressing into her palm. Then she relaxed.
"I'm fine, Mother."
Beatrice reached out, holding her hand. It was cold.
"You don't have to carry everything alone," she said softly.
Anastasia nodded, withdrawing her hand politely. "I know."
But she did not lean in.
She did not cry.
She did not explain.
And that frightened them all more than tears ever could.
* * *
Drizella sat on the edge of her bed, her diary closed but not forgotten, fingers tapping against the cover again and again. The room was quiet, too quiet.
Normally Anastasia's voice would drift in, complaining or joking or narrating some half-formed thought. Tonight there was only silence, heavy and wrong.
She hated it.
Anastasia being loud was normal. Anastasia being sarcastic was normal. Anastasia being this quiet felt like a warning bell no one else could hear.
A soft knock sounded.
Drizella looked up sharply. "Come in."
Rowan stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He was still in his palace uniform, but his posture relaxed the moment his eyes found her. Relief crossed his face, unguarded and honest.
"You're here," Drizella said, standing up.
"I have to," he replied.
She didn't wait. She crossed the room and hugged him, pressing her face briefly against his chest.
"You have no idea how boring home was without you."
He laughed quietly. "I missed you too. The palace felt quieter without you somehow."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small wrapped parcel.
"I brought you something."
Her eyes lit up instantly. "You didn't."
"I did."
She unwrapped it quickly. Inside was a simple bracelet, silver with a tiny charm shaped like a feather. Elegant, not flashy. Very Rowan.
"It's beautiful," she said, genuinely touched.
"I saw it and thought of you," he replied. "Quiet strength pretending to be clumsy."
She scoffed. "Rude. But accurate."
For a few moments, the world shrank to just the two of them. His hand brushed hers. Her smile returned, real this time. The tension eased.
Then Rowan's expression shifted, careful.
"How is Anastasia?" he asked.
Drizella's smile faded.
"She's not fine," she said bluntly. "Don't let the act fool you. Something broke in her."
Rowan stiffened. "I thought so."
Drizella's eyes narrowed. "You know something."
He exhaled slowly and nodded. "Yes."
She crossed her arms. "Start talking. Before I punch and rearrange your face."
Rowan raised both hands quickly.
"Please don't commit treason tonight."
She glared at him. "Rowan."
So he told her everything. About Kit. About the disguise. About the plan that was supposed to protect everyone and ended up hurting the one person who mattered most.
By the time he finished, Drizella's face was dark with fury.
"I will kill him," she said calmly.
"Drizella."
"I mean it. Slowly."
Rowan stepped closer, gripping her shoulders. "Listen to me. What happened was wrong, but it was not intentional."
"He played with her feelings," she snapped.
"He fell in love with her," Rowan replied firmly. "And that was the problem."
She hesitated.
Rowan continued, his voice steady. "Do you think Anastasia would have treated him the same if she knew he was the prince from the start?"
Drizella opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
The answer sat between them, uncomfortable and undeniable.
Anastasia would have kept distance. She would have guarded her heart. She would never have spoken freely. Never teased him. Never confessed.
Silence filled the room.
Drizella's anger softened, turning into something sharper and more painful. Worry.
"She's blaming herself," Drizella said quietly. "I can see it. She thinks this is her punishment for daring to want something."
Rowan's jaw tightened. "She doesn't deserve that."
"No," Drizella agreed. "She deserves honesty. Respect. Choice."
Rowan brushed his thumb against her cheek gently.
"This is why I am glad I am not a prince," he said softly. "I can love you openly. Without disguises. Without permission."
She looked up at him, eyes warm despite the worry. "Show-off."
He smiled and leaned down, kissing her. It was slow, grounding, full of promise.
When they parted, Drizella straightened her shoulders.
"Leave Anastasia to me," she said. "I'll make sure she gets what she deserves."
Rowan nodded. "And if she asks for the truth?
"Then the prince better be brave enough to give it properly," Drizella replied.
Her eyes hardened with resolve.
"No more half-stories. No more pretending."
This time, the villain's sister would protect her own.
Drizella did not wait for morning.
She marched straight to Cinderella's room, knocked once, then entered without waiting.
"Get up," she whispered dramatically.
Cinderella blinked from her bed. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes," Drizella replied. "We can't sleep. That is very wrong."
Within minutes, the two of them were sneaking down the corridor like conspirators, carrying one blanket and absolutely no plan.
They slipped into Anastasia's room without knocking.
Anastasia was sitting by the window, pretending to read. She looked up, surprised. "What are you doing?"
"Emergency sister meeting," Drizella declared, climbing onto the bed.
"Topic: insomnia and bad thoughts."
Cinderella followed more gently, sitting beside Anastasia. "We thought… maybe we could sleep here tonight."
Anastasia stared at them for a moment. Then, slowly, she moved over to make space.

They lay down side by side under one blanket, like when they were younger.
To fill the silence, Cinderella began telling a story about the market. "Today, I saw a man arguing with a chicken."
Anastasia blinked. "Arguing?"
"Yes," Cinderella said seriously. "He claimed the chicken insulted him."
Drizella snorted. "Did the chicken apologize?"
"No. It ran away."
Anastasia's lips twitched despite herself.
Drizella took that as victory and immediately added her own story about tripping over absolutely nothing in front of three noble ladies and bowing as if it were intentional.
"They thought I was demonstrating a new greeting," she said proudly.
Anastasia let out a small, real laugh this time.
After a while, Drizella grew thoughtful. "I heard something beautiful today," she said quietly.
Without waiting, she began to recite.
Her voice softened as she spoke a love poem. It was simple but deep. About waiting. About hands almost touching. About choosing someone even when the world stands in the way.
The room grew still.
Anastasia looked at her. "Where did you learn that?"
"A poet came to the palace," Drizella replied. "For the upcoming trials. He was reciting in the courtyard."
Anastasia studied her sister carefully. "You should pursue it."
Drizella blinked. "Pursue… poetry?"
"Yes. You love words. Don't hide it."
Drizella hesitated. "Should I really consider it?"
"You should," Anastasia said softly. "Not everything has to be about marriage or trials. You can choose something for yourself."
Cinderella nodded in agreement.
Drizella smiled faintly.
Anastasia lay back, staring at the ceiling.
In that quiet, she felt something warm and steady beneath the ache in her chest.
How lucky she was.
Not to be loved by a prince.
But to have sisters who climbed into her bed at midnight just to make her laugh.
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SIDE NOTE: Everyone should have a dream. I also have one. Do you?
If you like my story then give it a star and share it with your friends, this will help me to keep motivated and write new stories.