His wife

>hidden halo<

21st of July 1942
Moscow, Soviet Union

So far everything is going well.
I perfectly fit into the dress father chose for me; it is white, rather short, has a fitted top and a flowy skirt, all in all it is very simple which apparently is due to the fact that Stalin didn't want this to look like a royal wedding. Vasily is still sober, which he actually has been since the night of the fight with his father and that is because of my begging and persuasion.

Right now we all sit down on a bench and get ready for the dozens of photos photographers will take. Vasily doesn't like the idea of that, though he smiles as he glances to the side into my eyes and puts his hand over mine for the photo. He is in his pilot uniform, the men behind us in the typical party uniform and due to the collar and buttoned top of my dress I nearly feel like I am sitting here in uniform as well.

For the picture we all fake something, Stalin rests a hand on his son's shoulder who therefore tightens the grip around my hand. My father tries to hid a bit of his enthusiasm because if not, he'd be smiling too brightly.

I haven't talked to him very much since Stalin revealed his plan to me, but because nothing seems to be different for him I assume he either knows or he is blind, else he'd see how uncomfortable Stalin's presence makes me feel. But just like Vasily gets ordered to by his father, I smile at the camera like a doll. Like the pretty little doll they dressed me up as.

Like I am clueless of what the men behind me have planned for the helpless children in front of them.

After that the guests arrive, father took over the invetations like I assumed. Unlike mine and Vasily's wish to rather invite less people, father invited everyone he knew. Literally everyone he could think of because he wants all of them to see that he therefore got more power than ever before. And meanwhile they can also watch as he leads me down the isle in my rather simple dress. Father also invited literally everyone from Vasily's pilot training and judging the way they greeted him, they see him as a friend.

When Vasily saw my confusion, he whispered into my ear that they are only his friends because of their personal interests and his father's power, but who would I be to judge?
My father arranged this whole thing for his personal advantage.

Now Vasily stands next to the priest and near his father at the altar and maybe my eyes lie but he seems to smile, not forcefully even.

While others prepared the wedding, we actually formed some kind of friendship which was unexpected. After that night he slept in the same bed as I did and as father stormed in the next morning he was of course very happy to see this. Though he imagine something else into the situation, just like Swetlana and probably even Stalin did. Maybe even just like you do.

I'll spare you the hours of talking, repeating vows and putting rings on fingers. The last thing before the kiss, which only the idea of it makes me nervous, I sign the papers with my now new name.
Anastasia Maximowna Stalina.

Hardly I swallow as I read this. This name just isn't truly mine, well the first name is but my father's name which we all have, belongs to my father and my last name is now purely there to show that I now belong to this boy next to me who stares into my eyes as we get told to kiss.

From his glance I assume he sees that I am nervous as he steps a bit closer, holds my hands in his and presses his lips on mine gently. The kiss is hurried if you can even call it one. No emotions, no movement and barely long enough so the propaganda gets its picture. Father is truly having a bliss and Stalin enjoys the show as they all get up to clap.

Following we have to celebrate and for me it is truly a have-to because I am not a fan of this. After I have shaken the hands of extremely many people I could swear I have never seen in my life, after father and Stalin take shots of vodka near me to celebrate this union and after Vasily and I dance, we get our freedom.