96: A Touch of Comfort

A Touch of Comfort

1Music Recommendation: Forever alone- Jurrivh

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Without carrying a lit candle, Anastasia walked through the corridors, following three steps behind Dante in silence. She stared at his broad back, noting he hadn't worn a coat to protect himself from the cold night. 

Once they reached a seemingly familiar room and walked towards the balcony, she realised she had come here the first time they had spoken to each other. It was the garden balcony, with reddish-pink flowers and creepers that curled around the pillars and the railing. The place looked as beautiful as when she had first seen it. 

Dante walked towards the railing of the balcony, his strides long and languid, before he came to stand in front of it, and Anastasia, who was still wary about his mood, saw him look at her over his shoulder and remark, 

"You can step forward. I won't bite."

But he could bite if he wanted to, Anastasia said to herself, because he had done it before.

Anastasia bit the inside of her cheek before cautiously taking a few steps forward to stand in front of the railing, maintaining a distance between them. She noticed the moon missing from the starry sky, while the gentle breeze swayed her untied hair, which she had forgotten to secure once her feet had left her bed. 

Dante leaned forward to rest his forearms on the railing as they watched the sea and the sky together. 

"Do you come here often?" Anastasia asked, and at the same time, Dante said, 

"You have been avoiding me." 

Anastasia saw Dante turn to look her way, his eyes focusing on her, causing her to tighten her grip on the railing where her hands rested. She responded truthfully, 

"I didn't mean to. I didn't know if I should approach you or not." 

Dante continued to stare at Anastasia, as if gauging her words. He inquired, "Is that why you turned around to return to your room earlier?" He pushed his forearms against the railing to stand straight and advanced towards her. The crashing waves of the sea were not enough to drown out the resounding thump of her loud, racing heart. 

Anastasia's lips trembled, unsure if it was due to the presence of the cool wind or because of him, before she mustered a response, "You killed an innocent man."

The calm expression on Dante's face didn't change, and he remarked, "You didn't feel bad when Mr. Langston died, despite him never defiling you. We justify our actions under the guise of protecting what is ours, when in fact, he was merely utilising the service the court offered him, so where did his fault lie?" His head tilted to the side as he continued, "The servant wasn't telling the truth because I heard a hitch in his heart as he spoke."

"Heard?" Anastasia asked, her eyebrows slowly drawing closer to each other. 

"I can hear things from a considerable distance when I focus my attention on them, like the sound of the water colliding against the stones or the rhythm of a beating heart. Like yours that was racing a moment ago, as if I caught you doing something you didn't expect," Dante stated, watching her brown eyes widen. 

Upon hearing Dante's words, Anastasia tried to calm her heart, but it only quickened its pace. She murmured, "I see," before diverting her gaze towards the vast expanse of the sea, sensing him staring at her. She then said, "But it is possible that he was hiding something completely unrelated to the letter…" 

Dante was so blinded by rage and anguish over his mother's death that he had impulsively killed the servant without waiting to interrogate him about whom he was working for. But the act of taking a life brought him satisfaction like never before, awakening the burgeoning bloodlust within him. He could feel it coursing through him, as if the weight of the guilt he had long carried for the thousands of men he had killed in the past now felt insignificant. 

"Your eyes… they are red," Anastasia finally pointed out when she briefly glanced at him. 

"They belong to the demon whose blood runs through my veins," Dante responded, seemingly already aware of it as he didn't seem bothered by this observation, unlike Anastasia, who was frightened by the sight of it. 

Anastasia instinctively took a step backwards, and Dante made no attempt to stop her. He looked slightly amused, yet at the same time, his eyes hardened after a second. It was because she could step as far away as she wanted, but she would never succeed in escaping his reach, as he possessed the ability to close the distance between them in a mere breath. 

"Are you scared of me, little rabbit?" Dante's red eyes continued to glow as his voice dipped lower, sending a shiver down her spine. 

"I know you won't hurt me," Anastasia replied, not moving from where she stood. 

He had protected and helped her when she needed it most, knowing he made an exception for her. But that didn't mean she could guarantee the safety of those around her. To switch the subject, she asked him, "How are you feeling today… Dante?" 

Dante's midnight eyes seemed to reappear, softening with the passage of seconds, and Anastasia, witnessing this change, felt herself relax at the sight of it. She saw him turn his gaze towards the undulating waves of the sea and heard him take a deep breath before he said, 

"A lot of things, and none of them are good," a small sarcastic smile playing upon his lips. He continued, "When my mother was exiled to the old palace, I was worried about this very scenario. Being unable to stay beside her when she needed me most." And despite his efforts to travel back and forth between the two palaces, it hadn't been enough. 

Anastasia's hands clenched tightly against her sides as a surge of guilt washed over her again. Bowing her head, she apologised, "Please forgive me. If only I could have acted differently in the past—"

"I did think about it," Dante interrupted her. In the days following his mother's death, his mind had been consumed by a whirlwind of thoughts, including the memory of how he had spent the night with Anastasia, the very night when his mother fought to cling to life. He said, "It made me very angry at myself, but no one could have known what would happen. And if my mother were still alive, she would have chosen for the events to transpire the way they did. So there's no need to feel guilty or believe it is your fault."

In moments like these, Anastasia glimpsed a version of Dante that defied the notion of him being the cursed prince, a figure more human than a demon, despite his family's claims of demon blood running in their veins. 

And though Dante forgave her, Anastasia couldn't shake off the burden in her chest. This time, she summoned the courage to take a step forward and gently took his hand to hold it in hers. She tried to offer comfort by saying, 

"I heard from Lady Sophia that before she passed away, she didn't struggle for breath or experience pain. Lady Lucretia spoke to Lady Sophia during her… last moments, to convey that she loves you and her desire for you to be happy, even if you both didn't get to exchange words one last time."

But Anastasia's words only triggered a recollection of the constant humiliation his mother had to endure until her very last breath. It made him clench his jaw, and his eyes darkened at the memories of his poor mother's suffering. 

Unsure of what she had said to invoke Dante's anger, Anastasia tried to placate it by saying, "I mean, it is a difficult time, but you sh—"

"Each and every single one of them who has caused her pain will pay for it with their own blood, and no one will be spared," Dante swore, determined to exact justice until they experienced the same level of suffering as he and his mother did. 

Upon hearing his words, Anastasia's grip on his hand loosened. More blood. More death. But at the same time, she could understand Dante's feelings because she herself wanted to punish the person who had killed her sister. Pain had the ability to drive people to think irrationally, blurring the boundaries of what was right or wrong in the moment. 

They stood there for a few minutes before eventually sitting down on a dull white bench positioned at the rear of the balcony. The bench was free from creepers and vines, while the wind gently brushed the fallen flowers scattered on the ground around them. 

Anastasia and Dante had positioned themselves at opposite ends of the bench as they continued to watch and listen to the rhythmic waves of the water. The initial fear she had felt before slowly drifted away, much like the waves of the water gently carrying the sand from the shore. In this serene setting, time didn't seem to matter as they shared the night, even though there was a lot more silence between them than usual. 

After a few more minutes passed, Anastasia said, "I should probably go before someone notices me."

However, before she could rise from the bench to get up, Dante's body swiftly turned such that his shoes now rested upon the seat while he laid on the bench, his head on her lap with his face turned upwards. He remarked, "Stay."

Anastasia sat like a statue without moving an inch as she stared at Dante, who had closed his eyes while comfortably resting his head on her lap. It seemed like he didn't mind lowering his guard when they were alone, and he did what he pleased.

"How did you manage to step out of the tower?" Dante questioned, causing Anastasia's eyes to drift towards his moving lips, "Did you bribe the guards there?" 

"T—That, the guards were asleep when I was leaving," Anastasia replied and heard Dante murmur, 

"Looks like the guards need to be dismissed from their positions for not doing their job. Or maybe some of us should be thankful," and he didn't seem bothered by it. "This is comfortable. But you should eat more now that you have access to quality food." 

Anastasia stared at him, and for a moment, her lips threatened to curl into a smile at the thought that the prince wanted to fatten her up so that her thighs could serve as a better cushion for his head.

"I believe a pillow would offer you better comfort than me," Anastasia replied. 

"Maybe, but it wouldn't be very good company, as it doesn't talk or breathe," Dante responded to her in jest. 

Anastasia noticed the bags under his eyes which held a shadow darker than the rest of his face. Then her eyes fell on something so faint that she had missed all this time. There appeared to be a faint scar next to his left eyebrow, and her eyebrows drew together as she leaned forward to take a closer look at it. 

It was indeed a scar, Anastasia acknowledged. She wondered when he had received it, as it seemed to be an old one. 

"Are you going to kiss me, Anastasia?" Dante's eyes fluttered open, meeting hers. 

"No," Anastasia whispered in response. 

"Then what is your breath doing so close to my lips? Enticing me to kiss you?" Dante questioned, and this was enough for Anastasia to instinctively draw her face away from him. 

"Sorry," Anastasia apologised, and Dante's eyes, which were now open, remained fixed on her as he said, 

"Don't be," he reassured her, while at the same time, he ran his fingers through the front of his hair. He suggested, "You can avoid apologising by returning to your previous position."

"I don't think it would be a good idea," Anastasia responded, flustered by his insinuation, and she redirected her gaze in the direction from which they had entered the balcony. 

"What were you thinking, leaving the tower then? Did you think of how to comfort me?" Dante asked her, his implications far from subtle. 

Anastasia marvelled at his shift in demeanour, wondering how Dante could go from cold to warm so easily, and deep down, she found herself gradually growing used to this special attention she was receiving from him. In times of trouble, she leaned on him for support, and here she was now, offering him her own shoulder, or lap, as a source of comfort. In the midst of this cruel palace, where trust was hard to come by, they both found solace in leaning on each other for emotional support. 

"I wanted to offer my company if you needed it," Anastasia answered, her intention innocent, but her words unintentionally presented opportunities for the conversation to veer off-course, and Dante emitted a thoughtful hum. 

But Dante wasn't one to miss opportunities. He raised his hand, reaching for her face and gently caressing her cheek. 

He found comfort in her presence. In the past, he had to carefully weigh his actions and words due to his mother, but with her gone, he might have assumed he would have nothing left to lose. But here was the one thing that still mattered and was gradually finding its way into his heart. But he was greedy for more comfort, and he asked, 

"And what kind of comfort did you have in mind?" 

Anastasia tried to think of something before she could be pulled into the quicksand and said, "This."

She weaved her fingers through Dante's thick locks as she revealed, "When I was upset and sad… Mary, my sister, used to run her hands through my hair, and it made me feel better when I was feeling down, like this. It isn't much." Sensing him freeze, she scolded herself for crossing the line and apologised again, "I am sorry. I didn't mea—"

"Stop apologising," Dante gently scolded her. He said, "I never said I didn't like it." Lowering his hand to his side, he closed his eyes, as if telling her to continue. 

Anastasia's fingers, already entangled in his hair, continued to run through his strands with a gentle touch. Who knew that the prince would settle for a head massage and forget about the kiss he was trying to obtain from her? A small smile came to form on her lips, seeing how he was simpler than the other people in the palace. 

"This feels very good," Dante hummed in approval, and Anastasia continued to run her fingers through his hair, wondering how much pain he carried within him. The palace was a lonely place, she thought to herself. After five minutes, he said, "That should be enough," and he gently grasped her hand, which had grown cold. 

Dante got up and sat straight with his legs back on the ground. He remarked, "Any more, and I will fall asleep. And you will catch a cold." 

His hand reached out for hers, rubbing it between his hands to make it feel warmer. Warmth spread to her cheeks, and he said, "Time to go back."

Anastasia nodded in agreement and got up with him from the bench before they stepped back inside. Just before they exited the room that connected to the beautiful balcony overlooking the sea, Anastasia asked him, 

"Not that it's pressing, but I was wondering when would be a suitable time to visit the dungeon to retrieve my sister's ashes?" 

"You don't have to visit the dungeon for it. I will arrange to have the ashes collected in a clay pot and give it to you tomorrow," Dante replied to her, and Anastasia offered a slight bow to thank him.

Anastasia and Dante continued to head towards the Paradise Tower in silence, enveloped in slight darkness as most of the flames in the torches and the candles had dwindled and extinguished themselves. But as they walked, they suddenly heard something in the corridor they had just passed, leading them to stop abruptly. She whispered, 

"I can make my way to the tower by myself."

A grim frown came to form on Dante's face as he stared at the end of the corridor. He said firmly, "I will see you to the tower. Come."

Once they reached the foot of the stairs, Anastasia offered a bow to him before turning and tiptoeing up the stairs. Dante watched her disappear up the spiral staircase before he walked in the direction they came from to investigate the source of the noise. 

Dante pulled out his dagger as he quickly advanced through the corridors without making noise, his eyes reverting to the fiery red hue as they scanned the surroundings, searching for an object or a person. And he would have missed it if it weren't for the rhythmic thumping of the person's heart that he could hear beating against the silence. 

His hand grabbed the maid, who was hiding in the corner. The woman sputtered, 

"Please spare me! I am only here on orders!"

"Whose?" Dante glared, the tip of his dagger pressing against her throat. 

"Queen Maya's! She told me I should keep an eye on the corridors here to see if anyone enters or leaves!" The maid appeared to be in her forties, and she looked frightened upon catching sight of the first prince's red eyes. 

Dante's eyes narrowed, "And what did you see?" 

The woman shook her head, her voice filled with anxiety, "Nothing, Prince Dante! I didn't see anything at all! I just came back here after a brief visit to the kitchen when I bumped into one of the vases." She wondered if there was something to see or if she had missed something that should be reported to Queen Maya. 

"Why?" Dante insisted, pressing the woman to come out with the information as she stumbled over her words. 

"I—I don't know. I s—swear, I was only d—doing wha—t I was told without any information."

"What are you doing with the maid?"

The reason why the maid was asked to keep an eye on the corridors was here. Dante's eyes shifted from the maid to look at Maxwell standing not far from them. 

"She was here snooping around when I arrived," Dante responded, retracting his dagger and stepping away from the trembling maid. "She said something about Queen Maya wanting to keep an eye on these corridors… in case someone showed up," he added, even though the maid hadn't explicitly uttered those last words. 

Maxwell's eyes moved to look at the maid, who continued to tremble while she offered him a deep bow without raising her head. He said, 

"There's no need to keep an eye on the corridors here, and next time, if my mother gives you any other instructions, inform me directly." 

"Yes, Your Highness!" The maid was quick to respond, acknowledging his directive. 

Dante noticed how Maxwell's eyes subtly shifted between him and the maid before finally moving to look at the other end of the corridor. His brother stayed there for a second longer before he turned around and walked away, while the maid wasted no time, hurrying out of there to not die by his hands. 

Back in the Paradise Tower, Anastasia ascended the spiral stairs when she heard the faint echoes of a guard's voice and the sound of approaching footsteps. Filled with sudden panic, she swiftly turned around and descended the stairs again. Taking a turn to the left, she could still faintly hear the voices in the distance, and she veered to the right to hide until the guards disappeared out of sight, and she could return to her bed to sleep. 

Taking shelter, Anastasia watched the guards walk past her hiding spot, and she sighed in relief. She could feel Madame Minerva's disdainful glares directed at her back earlier today, as she was the reason the woman had been slapped in front of everyone, and she was certain the woman was simply waiting for an opportunity to catch and punish her. 

Stepping out of her hiding spot, Anastasia made her way back to the Paradise Tower, her foot poised on the first step of the staircase, when she heard, 

'Anna.'

Anastasia turned, and her eyes fell on her sister's ghost standing behind her. Even as a ghost, where her sister's body was translucent, she still looked beautiful, yet pale. 

"Is that truly you, Mary?" Anastasia whispered, wishing and hoping this was her sister and that she wasn't a figment of her imagination. To make sure of it, she extended her hand, intending to touch her sister's ghost. 

[Music Recommendation: Endless- Haximum]

However, her sister's ghost caught her hand and began walking, compelling Anastasia to follow. 

"Where are you taking me?!" Anastasia asked, the hem of her dress fluttering as they walked through the corridors. 

"Mary, wait!" Anastasia pleaded, stopping her sister from dragging her further away from the Paradise Tower. She yearned to talk to her and get answers about what happened to her. Her sister's ghost came to a stop, and she implored, "Mary, who killed you? Please tell me. What happened—"

Marianne's ghost raised her hand, placing a finger on her translucent lips as she turned to Anastasia, signalling her to be silent. 

Whispers reached Anastasia's ears from the far end of the corridor, prompting her to turn to look in their direction with a slight frown. When she redirected her attention back to her sister's ghost, it had vanished from sight. 

"What do you mean he's going to find out?!" Anastasia overheard a hushed whisper originating from the far end of the corridor. 

"Dante has been inspecting and investigating the guards for answers! How could you jeopardise it?!" came an angry whisper, and upon hearing Dante's name, Anastasia couldn't turn away and caught the subsequent words, "We have been careful with everything!"

The first voice spoke, "A rift was necessary to cause an imbalance. Everyone has been playing too safe without making a move. This is for our benefit." As the words were whispered, Anastasia found it hard to make out whom the voices belonged to. 

"We cannot afford any mistakes right now. You know how important it is! We are fortunate that the servant wasn't questioned and was killed right away."

"I know, I thought that too," the whispers continued. "Dante has been patrolling the corridors, so we have to be on alert."

Anastasia clenched her hands before cautiously taking a step forward. Inching closer to the voices, she strained her ears, trying to see who was talking. The conversation seemed to relate to the message regarding Lady Lucretia's condition that had been sent to the main palace. It was evident that someone had intercepted it, which meant Lady Sophia was innocent in the matter. 

She wanted to move closer to hear them clearly, as she didn't understand some of the words that were spoken from her position. It didn't look like the whisperers were standing at the corner but on the other side of the corridor. These were the people who had caused Dante grief, and she took two steps further. 

"What is Dante doing wandering around? Maxwell has also been roaming in the middle of the night."

"He always does that, scouting the corridors as if he doesn't trust the people around him. Do you want me to have someone keep an eye on him?" 

"That will only cause more trouble. Let us leave things how they are and wait to see if your plan to create a rift works successfully," the whispering only grew fainter, as if Anastasia was walking in the opposite direction of the voices. 

As Anastasia reached the end of the corridor, the whispers continued. Bit by bit, her upper body leaned forward, and her eyes widened upon seeing the person standing there. It was the Vizier, wearing a serious expression on his face. 

Anastasia couldn't lean any more forward, as that would only reveal her presence. She heard the Vizier say, 

"I am going to keep a close eye on all of them. It is only a matter of time before the cards fall into your lap."

Anastasia was taken aback by the revelation that the Vizier was the one responsible for preventing the news from reaching Dante. But why? she asked herself, trying to ponder his motives. And while she was lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice that the other whisperer had fallen silent, as had the Vizier. 

She then heard someone breathing behind her, turning her body stiff, and before she could turn to look at who it was, she felt something hard strike the back of her head with force.

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