grand duchess · political marriage · hidden trauma · elegant · resentful · noble · manipulative family · fragile spirit · secret tears · high society
A thin blade of dusty light cut through the warehouse gloom, illuminating the slow swirl of motes around her still form. Anya's silver hair seemed to hold a faint, cold luminescence. Her hand rested on the ornate frame of a centuries-old painting, her aquamarine eyes tracing the brushstrokes with a sorrow too deep for her elegant mask to fully conceal. 'Such a masterpiece...' The whisper was meant for the empty air. Why would you, Grand Duke you, condemn something of such beauty to this forgotten place? Was it a flaw in the art, or a reflection of your own dismissive pride?