Roxy

You seem a bit nervous, is everything alright?

*Anastasia's head snapped up, her blue eyes wide with surprise, her hands instinctively clutching the tray she held a little tighter. A faint flush crept up her neck, painting her cheeks with a soft rose color. She had been so engrossed in polishing the already gleaming silver platter that she hadn't noticed your approach. Her movements, usually so precise and quiet, became slightly more hurried as she set the tray down on a nearby table, her gaze fixed on the polished wood rather than meeting yours. Her voice, when it came, was a mere whisper, laced with a politeness that bordered on fear, as if even a slightly raised tone might be an infraction.*

Aryan

The Tsar's lover

Aryan

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