Never Die Villain

"To cling to Lord Ilya in such a manner, and out in the open no less." Miss Ellen stopped several paces away. "Have you forgotten everything I’ve taught you? You are the Grand Duke’s eldest daughter. Behave like one."

Anastasiya reluctantly loosened her arms.

"Miss Ellen, my sister is still a child." Ilya turned around, placing himself between the tutor and Anastasiya before the woman could reprimand her any further. "If she’s hurt, she’s allowed to cry. I don’t see what’s so shameful about that."

"Lord Ilya, I don’t recall asking for your opinion."

"...You were speaking about my sister."

"And Lady Anastasiya is under my care, not yours." Her eyes moved over him with poorly concealed distaste before returning to Anastasiya. "There are standards expected of the Grand Duke’s daughter, standards you would do well not to interfere with simply because you happen to share a father."

Ilya understood exactly what she meant.

"...We share more than a father."

"Do you?"

Miss Ellen’s answer came quickly enough that Anastasiya looked up.

The tutor regarded Ilya for several seconds, her courtesy barely concealing what she actually thought of him.

"Lady Anastasiya was born to the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess. She carries the responsibilities of their union and will someday be expected to represent House Belozersky before the entirety of the North. Your circumstances are considerably different, Lord Ilya. I would advise you not to confuse affection with equality."

"Miss Ellen..."

Anastasiya tugged nervously at the back of Ilya’s shirt.

Ilya remained quiet.

He had already heard variations of those words countless times since. The servants were usually careful around Diane, and few would openly insult the Grand Duke’s concubine within Valentin’s own estate, but everyone knew what they thought of her son.

Miss Ellen extended a hand toward Anastasiya.

"Come, My Lady. Your lessons aren’t finished."

"I don’t want to."

"Lady Anastasiya."

"She said she doesn’t want to."

Miss Ellen turned sharply toward Ilya.

"You are becoming rather presumptuous, Lord Ilya. Perhaps Lady Diane permits such behavior from you, but you would be wise to remember that the indulgences afforded to the Grand Duke’s concubine and her child should not be mistaken for authority over the future of House Belozersky."

Ilya’s fingers tightened around the wooden sword. Anastasiya immediately stepped out from behind him.

"Don’t talk about Lady Diane or Ilya like that!"

Miss Ellen stared at her. "My Lady?"

"Lady Diane is nice to me." Anastasiya grabbed Ilya’s hand and held it tightly. "And Ilya is my brother. I don’t care what you say."

"...."

The tutor’s face went rigid.

Anastasiya sniffled once before pulling Ilya closer to her side, as though the simple gesture alone could prove the woman wrong.

"He’s my little brother," she repeated. "So stop being mean to him!"

"Sigh..."

Miss Ellen rubbed her forehead, looking between the two children as though neither of them had understood a single word she had said.

Anastasiya stared back defiantly despite the tears still clinging to her lashes, while Ilya stood beside her without making any attempt to pull his hand away.

"My Lady, one day you will understand why I am telling you these things."

Miss Ellen’s voice remained stern.

"You cannot spend your entire life clinging to your younger brother whenever something becomes difficult, and Lord Ilya cannot continue indulging you whenever you run away from your responsibilities."

"I’m not indulging her."

"You are six years old, Lord Ilya."

"And?"

Miss Ellen’s brow twitched.

"And you are in no position to decide what is best for Lady Anastasiya." She turned her attention back toward the girl. "You were born first, My Lady. Whether you enjoy your lessons or despise every second of them changes nothing about what is expected of you."

Anastasiya’s fingers tightened around Ilya’s.

"But Ilya said he’ll become Grand Duke."

Miss Ellen stared at her. "He did?"

"I did," Ilya answered.

Miss Ellen looked down at him.

"...."

Her irritation gave way to a coldness that made even Anastasiya notice something was wrong.

"You should be very careful about saying such things, Lord Ilya."

"Why?"

"Because there is a considerable difference between being permitted to carry the Grand Duke’s blood and having the right to inherit what belongs to his legitimate children."

Miss Ellen spoke slowly, making certain that he understood every word.

"Your mother was brought into this household as His Grace’s concubine. You would do well to remember what that makes you before filling Lady Anastasiya’s head with fantasies about becoming her replacement."

Anastasiya immediately stepped forward.

"Don’t say that!"

"Lady Anastasiya, enough." Miss Ellen reached for her wrist. "You are returning to your lessons with me, and we will discuss your behavior along the way. Lord Ilya has his own training to attend to, and I expect the two of you to stop encouraging each other’s foolishness."

"I don’t want to go!"

"You have already wasted enough time."

Anastasiya resisted when Miss Ellen began pulling her away, looking over her shoulder toward Ilya as the distance between them grew.

"Ilya!"

Ilya watched quietly, his fingers slowly curling into fists.

Concubine this. Concubine that. He was sick of hearing it. Diane had done nothing to deserve the contempt these people held for her, yet somehow her position as the Grand Duke’s concubine was enough for them to speak about her as though she were something shameful.

She was gentle, sweet, and perhaps far too forgiving for her own good, and every time someone used her to remind Ilya of his place in the family, his resentment toward House Belozersky only grew.

"Ilya!"

Anastasiya called for him again.

He wanted to follow her. He wanted to tell Miss Ellen to let go of his sister, to tell the woman exactly what he thought of her and everyone else who spoke about Diane that way, but his feet refused to move.

He could only look down, fists clenched at his sides, caught between his anger and the knowledge that there was very little a six-year-old illegitimate son could actually do.

Anastasiya saw him looking down.

She saw Ilya stay behind while Miss Ellen continued dragging her toward the mansion, and for a nine-year-old girl who had always believed her little brother would come whenever she called for him, that was enough.

She didn’t understand why he had stopped, nor did she understand what thoughts were keeping him rooted there.

She only knew that she had called his name.

And Ilya hadn’t come.

Perhaps that was the first time Anastasiya ever felt any sense of betrayal by him.

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