Chapter 187: Political Consequences [2]

Anastasiya’s chest rose and fell beneath her clothes as she stared at him, while Ilya’s face had gone almost completely blank.

They both knew the implications, and they had known for long enough that putting it into words would accomplish nothing except make something painfully real that neither of them needed explained.

Eventually, Anastasiya spoke again.

"Father is still Father," she said. "He is still the Grand Duke, and I will respect him as both until the day I die. But you cannot look me in the eyes and pretend you haven’t noticed that he isn’t making decisions the way he used to."

"...."

"You’ve seen it too."

Still, he remained silent.

Anastasiya laughed bitterly and shook her head. "Of course you have. That’s why you’re not arguing."

"I don’t need to agree with you just because I don’t answer."

"Then tell me I’m wrong."

"...."

"Tell me," Anastasiya repeated. "Tell me Father is perfectly capable of handling everything before him right now. Tell me you haven’t noticed anything wrong, and tell me that if he suddenly decides marrying you to an Imperial Princess is the best thing for the North, neither of us has any reason to question whether he has actually considered everything that comes with it."

"Watch your mouth."

"Why? Because it sounds ugly when someone finally says it?"

"Because he’s our father."

"And he’s my responsibility!"

The words came out before Anastasiya could stop them.

Ilya froze. Anastasiya froze as well. For several seconds, the hallway fell completely silent.

"Your responsibility?" Ilya eventually asked.

Anastasiya closed her eyes. "That’s not what I meant."

"No, I heard you perfectly."

"Ilya."

"Our father is your responsibility now?"

"I told you before. Stop talking back to me—"

"So that’s how you see it," he said. "Father is something you have to manage, I’m something you have to protect from myself, and the entire North is waiting for Anastasiya Valentinovna Belozerskaya to save it from everyone else’s mistakes."

"I never said that."

"You didn’t have to."

"Don’t throw my own words back at me."

"Why? They sounded good when you said them."

Anastasiya clenched her fists. "You insufferable little shit."

"And there she is again."

"Would you stop saying that?!"

Her shout was loud enough that somewhere farther inside the residence, a door quietly closed.

Neither of them cared.

Anastasiya stepped toward him again, but this time Ilya didn’t move at all.

They stood almost face-to-face, glaring at each other with the kind of anger that could only exist between two people who knew exactly where the other’s wounds were and had spent enough years together to know exactly where to press.

"I am doing everything I can to keep this family standing."

Anastasiya clenched her teeth.

"Father isn’t in a state where I can simply place every decision in his hands and assume everything will somehow work itself out, and you know that as well as I do. I don’t enjoy questioning him, I don’t enjoy watching over things that should still be his responsibility, and I certainly don’t enjoy having to wonder whether every decision he makes is something he would have made years ago."

Ilya’s expression remained unreadable.

"But I don’t get to ignore it because acknowledging it makes me uncomfortable," Anastasiya continued. "I’m his heir. If he stumbles, I have to be there. If he makes a mistake, I have to correct it before the North pays for it. And if he makes a decision involving you that I believe could drag this family into something we aren’t prepared for, then yes, I will oppose him."

"...What are you so afraid of?"

Anastasiya stared at him.

"We’ll get politically eaten alive, you slow idiot."

"...."

"Do I seriously have to explain this to you?"

Anastasiya snapped, throwing both hands into the air before pointing one accusingly at his chest.

"You’re talking about marrying an Imperial Princess, Ilya. Not some Baron’s daughter from the countryside, not some harmless noblewoman Father found because her family owns a few mines, but the Emperor’s daughter. The moment that engagement becomes official, you aren’t just Father’s useless second child anymore. You become the Grand Duke’s son married directly into the Imperial Family."

"I’m touched that you still consider me useless."

"Shut up and listen for once in your miserable life."

Anastasiya looked genuinely offended that he had forced her to explain any of this in the first place.

"The moment you marry Liselotte, every bastard in the Imperial Court starts asking what the North is planning. Why did the Emperor give one of his daughters to a Belozersky? Why did Father accept? What did we promise them? What did they promise us? Is the North moving closer to the throne? Is the Emperor trying to secure our military support? Is Father trying to gain influence over the succession? Does Liselotte support one of her sisters? Do you?"

"...I don’t."

"They don’t fucking know that!"

Her voice echoed down the hallway.

Anastasiya took another step toward him, practically getting in his face now.

"And they won’t care what you say either. That’s the part your thick skull apparently refuses to understand. You could spend the rest of your life screaming that you don’t care about Imperial politics, and they’ll still assign you a faction because of who you married. You could lock yourself in a room and do absolutely nothing, and somebody would still decide that your silence is a political statement."

"...."

"And do you know what happens to me? Suddenly, the future Grand Duchess has a younger brother married to an Imperial Princess. Every decision I make gets compared to whatever you’re doing in the capital, every agreement I negotiate gets examined for Imperial influence, and every noble under us starts wondering whether the Emperor has gained another way to stick his hands into the North."

"So this is about your position."

"Oh, for fuck’s sake!"

Anastasiya grabbed her hair with both hands for a moment, looking genuinely tempted to tear some of it out.

"No, you self-important prick, this is about the fact that House Belozersky does not exist in a fucking vacuum!"

She dropped her hands and glared at him again.

"If you marry Liselotte, you become a bridge between the North and the Imperial Family whether you want to be one or not, and everyone who wants something from either side will start crawling all over that bridge!’

Ilya’s expression darkened.

"And that’s before we even start talking about Liselotte’s sisters," Anastasiya continued. "She’s an Imperial Princess. That means her marriage affects them too, because anything that strengthens Liselotte can be interpreted as weakening someone else. If one of her sisters has enemies, those enemies may decide you’re useful. If one of them has allies, those allies may decide you’re a threat. If there’s ever a disagreement inside that family, congratulations, you’ve married yourself directly into it."

Anastasiya shoved a finger against his chest again.

"Even if you claim that you aren’t involved, you don’t get to marry into the Imperial Family and then declare yourself uninvolved. That’s like jumping into a river and deciding you’re not wet because you don’t particularly care for water."

"That’s a terrible comparison..."

"I’ll find a better one after I’m finished strangling you."

Ilya slapped her hand away.

Anastasiya barely reacted.

"And what happens if His Imperial Majesty dies one day?" she demanded. "What happens when one of Liselotte’s sisters succeeds him? What happens if two of them disagree over something important? What happens when one faction looks at Liselotte’s husband and remembers that his father commands the North?"

"...The throne."

"Exactly. And you don’t even need to want the throne. Liselotte doesn’t need to want it either. People only need to believe the possibility exists, because you’re a Belozersky and she’s a Bismarck, and between those two names there is enough power to make every paranoid old bastard in the Empire lose sleep."

She stepped back and dragged a hand down her face.

"And meanwhile, what do we have here? A North that’s barely holding itself together as cleanly as everyone thinks it is, a Father who..."

Anastasiya stopped herself, jaw tightening so hard that the muscles visibly shifted beneath her skin.

"A Father who is not in the state he used to be, and an heir who already has enough shit to clean up without her younger brother accidentally dragging the Imperial Court into our household because a Princess thinks calling him her fiancé is amusing."