"Annie, please say something."
She blinked, like she'd just remembered how to function, and opened her mouth—Then closed it.Then opened it again.
Then—"I—"
Oh, this was going to be painful, wasn't it?
Her hands fidgeted.Her weight shifted.Malvor had never seen her look so uncertain in her life.
"I—okay, listen, I don't—this is—ugh," she groaned, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead, frustrated with herself.
Malvor just watched, waiting, unsure if he should be amused or concerned.
"It's just—" she sighed. "I don't really… know how to—this isn't—damn it."
She looked at him, helpless, like she was holding a handful of broken pieces and had no idea how to put them back together.
"You just—" she huffed. "You just say things! Like they're—like they're—easy!"
She gestured wildly at him, as if he was the problem here.
"But it's not easy! It's not easy, Malvor! I don't—I don't know how to just… be."
She exhaled.Deflated.Ran a hand through her hair, looking anywhere but at him.
"I don't know how to explain it. I don't even know what it is. I just—"
She sighed again, softer this time.
"I just know it's… different."
That was it.
That was all she could give him.
And somehow…It was more than enough.
Malvor stepped forward, closing the space she'd placed between them.
His fingers tilted her chin up, gently, deliberately, until those unsteady, overwhelmed blue eyes met his.
"Annie," he murmured, voice low and certain,"That is enough."
The moment those words left his lips—Something inside her snapped.
Anastasia broke.
Not a soft cry.Not a single tear down her cheek.
But ugly, body-wracking, uncontrollable sobs.
The kind of crying that stole the breath from her lungs.That shook her shoulders.That ripped through her like a storm she couldn't stop.
Malvor didn't hesitate.
He caught her.Arms wrapping around her.Holding her together as she fell apart.
"Shhh, Annie, it's alright," he murmured.
His lips pressed to her hair.He rocked her slightly.Soothing her with touch alone.
His hands ran slow, steady paths across her back.His fingers were gentle.Grounding.
"I've got you, beautiful," he whispered, voice softer than it had ever been."You're okay. I've got you."
And gods damn it—He meant it.
Annie clung to him, sobs shaking her frame.But something inside her shifted.Something settled.
She wasn't just Anastasia anymore.
She was Annie.
Not a title.Not a role.Not an identity someone had forced on her.
This one was hers.
Even in her own mind, even in the quietest corners of herself—She was Annie now.
Malvor's Annie.
And gods help her…
That thought didn't scare her the way it should have.
She could be more.More than the shrine worker.More than her body.More than the value others had placed on her—reduced to dollar signs and expectation.
Here, in this place, with him—She was free.
Free to be herself.Free to feel.Free to start healing.
Malvor held her like she was precious.
His touch gentle but steady.His warmth wrapped around her like something solid.Something safe.
"It's alright, Annie," he said softly."You don't have to hold it all in anymore."
She buried herself in him.Letting herself be held.Letting herself be seen.
And gods—It was terrifying.
But it was also…
Good.
For once, she wasn't something to be taken.She wasn't something to be used.
She was Annie.
And she was enough.
"Thank you, Malvor. Thank you for everything."
Malvor froze.
Not because she thanked him.She'd done that before.
But because of how she said it.
"Thank you, Malvor."
Not out of obligation.Not because she had to.
Because she meant it.Because she was grateful.
"Thank you for everything."
His chest tightened.
Something warm and dangerous crept in.
Something he wasn't ready to name.
He swallowed, masked whatever that was with a lazy grin.
"Oh, Annie, my sweetest treasure, keep talking like that and I might just think you like me."
She huffed a soft laugh. Still watery. But real.
"I don't know about that, Malvor… but I think… I don't hate you."
He smirked, running a hand through her hair.
Still holding her close.
"I'll take it, Annie Love."
They finally broke apart—But neither moved far.
There was something unnamed in the space between them.
Something warm.Something raw.Something uncharted.
Neither of them said it.
Neither of them knew how.
So Malvor did what Malvor did best.
He broke the tension.
"Let's build a sandcastle, Annie."
She blinked.Then blinked again.
"What?"
Malvor grinned. Hands on hips. Full dramatic flair.
"A sandcastle, my beautiful Annie. My emotionally devastating Annie. My—"
She held up a hand.
"If you call me one more obnoxious nickname, I swear to the gods, I will drown you."
His grin widened.
"Oh, Annie, I'd like to see you try."
And just like that—The weight eased.
They didn't bother dressing.
Didn't care that they were half-undone.Skin marked by warmth and touch.Hair messy from wandering hands.
None of it mattered.
Not here.Not now.
They sank into the sand, side by side, and started building.
At first?
Ridiculous.Chaotic.Completely unserious.
Malvor flung sand everywhere.Made dramatized gasps when Annie smacked him.
But then…
Then it became something more.
Their hands moved in tandem.Carving towers.Smoothing walls.Shaping arches.
Malvor—being Malvor—snapped his fingers.
The sand twisted and rose, detailed architecture forming, turning their mess into something fit for a king and queen.
Annie laughed.Full.Unrestrained.
And damn it all—
Malvor thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
As the sun sank low—As their laughter faded—
So did they.
They sat in front of their masterpiece.
Malvor's arm around her.Annie leaning into him.Letting the moment settle.
No words.No games.
Just holding each other.
Because for the first time in a long time—Maybe for the first time ever—
They were just two people.Together.Under the fading light of day.