Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Insanity gripped at tsesarevich Natalya's neck, choking out any semblance of reality she had retained thus far.
^^^
"The defense lines today, General?" she questions, her sharp words cutting through the still air.
"We've gained some territories, lost others," he states his rehearsed line, causing uncontrollable annoyance to bubble in her throat.
"A real answer. Now," she commands, her direction leaving a distasteful expression on the General's face. The room quiets at their tsesarevich Natalya's response, a defiance from the script she had followed for the past two years mystifying them.
"We wouldn't want to muddle your feminine mind with such affrighting knowledge," the General reasons, his sanguine smile stained with anger at the tsesarevich's disobedience.
"When your tsesarevich gives you an order, General," she seethes, taking three calculated steps towards the General, her head towering over his short figure, "you respond accordingly. Indiscipline is equivalent to treason."
"With all due respect, tsesarevich Natalya, you have no real authority in military matters. You are not a man. You do not understand the violence and strategy of war," the General jeers, the mention of treason setting a fire in his beady eyes.
"My sex does not dictate my capabilities," she thunders, her eyes flashing with a rage that competed with the General's. "Now, tell me about our standing at the Black Sea."
"Very well," the General sighs, realizing he wouldn't win this battle. Not in public, at least. He launches into a detailed explanation of their troop movements around the Black Sea, promising to keep the information as tedious as possible.
Tsesarevich Natalya left the room knowing that she had most probably moved the date of her assassination to a much earlier moment in time, but the victory on her lips tasted much sweeter than the bitter taste of looming death.
^^^
She returns to her chambers that night with a smile still spread across her face, the newfound power coursing through her veins addictive.
"Tsesarevich Natalya," one of the maidens greets, dipping her head with the usual feigned respect. "How may we be of service?"
Natalya finds the eyes of the newer maid, her grasp on power formulating a plan that sends an excited shudder through her body. It's then she decides that she might as well give into the rumors.
