Anwyn stood frozen. The boy likewise dared not to move, dared not cry for help. The two stayed still for what felt like an eternity, only the distant artillery-fire breaking the cold silence of the bedchamber. Her rifle was still trained on him. She had no intention of shooting a child, Goddess forbid, but she remained stuck in place unable to think of what else to do. She couldn't just leave him here alone, in a palace under siege, nor did she like the idea of making a prisoner of war out of a pre-teen boy wrapped in silk. If she tried to take him prisoner, would he even understand Pisceran? What were the chances he would been taught the language of a country his empire had been at war with for most of his life. She wasn't exactly conversational in the Kraslan language either. Sure, she'd picked up a few words fighting against them, but the jeers and insults thrown at her by captured enemy women were far from useful here.

  The young boy's eyes drifted away from the rifle pointed at him, and fell just beyond the doorway. His shoulders somehow tensed even more than they were before. Anwyn didn't need to turn around to know what he saw. The bodies of his guards. The two women who were sworn to keep him safe, laying lifeless in the antechamber. He would have already known they were dead, he would have had to have been deaf not to hear the struggle that happened outside his room just moments ago. But knowing it and seeing it are two very different things.

  Anwyn side stepped to block his view of the dead guards. He was too young see such a sight. Then, she finally broke the silence.

  "Don't look out there, look at me."

  She clicked her fingers up to draw his attention upwards and away from the doorway, in case the boy didn't understand her words. As she spoke, her breath reflected off of the metal of her helmet's faceplate, and in that moment it dawned on her what she looked like to this boy.

  To him, she was an enemy soldier who barged into his bedroom, the place where he was supposed to be safest, and pointed a gun in his face. The blood from one of his guards was streaked across her bayonet. He couldn't even see her conflicted emotions, because of the metal mask that covered her face. Her humanity hidden away behind cold steel as she barked orders at him in a foreign language

  The captain lowered her rifle, then carefully removed the faceplate of her helmet, praying to the One Goddess that it would make the child less afraid of her.

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  She placed her hand on her chest, then spoke.

  "My name is Anwyn." She hoped he understood.

  "What's your name?". She followed with one of the few useful Kraslan words she knew; "Meno?" The word for name.

  The boy sat there for a brief moment, still frozen in fear. He closed his eyes, then pushed through his terror to stammer out two words, "A-alexei An-Anast-tasiavic." Alexei, Son of Anastasia.

  It was known that Tsarina had a third child, a young son coddled away from the world like a delicate flower, but very little was known about him. There were rumours that he died young or even that he didn't exist at all, an image allied propaganda often played on to depict the Kraslan Tsarina as a mad queen unfit to rule her empire. After all, no one knew why he would be kept hidden away from public view like he was. The Kraslan Empire was staunchly traditionalist when it came to men, true, they didn't even let men work in the factories or in nurse detachments to support the war effort, but the complete lock on information surrounding Alexei was unusual. Yet, despite whatever policies the Tsarina held in regards to the prince, here he was right in front of Anwyn's face. Prince Alexei, a normal twelve year old boy. Had Command planned for the possibility he was here? She hadn't been given any orders for this scenario. Alexei hadn't even been an afterthought for this operation.

  As Anwyn mulled over what to do with the boy, there was a crackle on her radio.

  "Princess Charlotte has gone down fighting in the obsidian plaza, I repeat Charlotte of house Kraslanova is confirmed dead."

  As predicted, the Imperial family were fighting until their final breaths. Anastasia's second daughter was the first to fall.

  Anywn looked over at Alexei, who's eyes were now filling with tears. She still didn't know if the boy understood Pisceran. If he didn't, he would have picked out his sister's name and correctly assumed there was only one reason it could have been said over a Pisceran Captain's radio.

  Charlotte had more than earned her nickname, The Butcher of Madralin. Her casualty numbers were always shockingly high. At every battle, she ensured those under her command lived and died the Kraslan way. Anwyn Edris heard that name and could only think of the Butcher. Yet, she stiffled her smile for the sake of the boy in front of her. Alexei Anastasiavic sat in that same spot on the floor, silent tears falling from his eyes. To him, Charlotte was his sister, and she had just been taken away from him.

  The prince closed his eyes and muttered something in the Kraslan Language. Anwyn didn't understand it. She didn't need to. She recognised a prayer when she saw one, even one to a false goddess.

  Alexei finished his prayer, but didn't reopen his eyes. He sat motionless, tears still falling from his face, and to accept whatever fate the woman in front of him would bring crashing down on him.

  Anwyn closed her own eyes, and settled on her own decision.

  "Get up, Alexei. You aren't dying here today."

  To her surprise, her new prisoner understood her instruction and slowly stood up.