“In the third year of the four hundredth… Era, His Majesty Monomakh was invited by the other Archons to Liyue to celebrate the end of the Archon War. The Tsar of White Sands ordered Grand Duchess Anastasia to accompany him, while Grand Duke Filippov remained to govern the realm. The banner of the Pale Star Court was raised in Kitezh City, and the chariot of the Sovereign of the North traveled east, scheduled to reach the Mondstadt border fifteen days later.”
— *History of the Pale Star Spirits: Annals of the Archons’ Early Era, Prologue*
Beyond the frost-covered carriage window, the greyish-white of Snezhnaya’s permafrost carpeted the earth.
Early spring greenness in the northern realm was sparse; the branches of the birch forests pierced the sky like thorns.
Inside the ornate carriage, Anastasia Fyodorovna rested with her eyes closed.
The muffled sound of wheels rolling over frozen soil was rhythmic and steady.
This most noble Grand Duchess of the Pale Star Court wore a luxurious fur cloak of silver-white embroidered with dark blue patterns, her long hair draped over her shoulders like flowing white gauze.
Her delicate face still retained the soft, gentle contours of a young spirit.
Compared to the legendary Tsaritsa of later generations—famed for her cold, majestic aura—a genuine smile could still be found between her brows and eyes at this time.
The grand scale of this diplomatic visit alongside His Majesty was indeed unprecedented in the history of the spirits.
But Anastasia was not surprised.
This was, after all, the first official gathering of the Seven Archons of Teyvat; the entire continent was celebrating the end of the thousand-year Archon War.
She knew her lord had looked forward to this trip to Liyue for a long time, so excited that he had processed even the most tedious official documents at lightning speed.
At the thought of His Majesty Monomakh, a faint curve naturally touched the corners of Anastasia’s lips.
In the eyes of Snezhnayan nobles and spirit subjects who knew no better, the Tsar of White Sands’ most trusted favorite seemed to be the shrewd and capable Grand Duke Filippov, who managed countless affairs.
Countless elites racked their brains just to get a distant glimpse of His Majesty at court banquets.
A few grand dukes had even engaged in “friendly banter” over who would get to share a meal with His Majesty—tasting dishes cooked by an Archon himself—nearly dismantling half a side hall in the process.
Only after a stern reprimand from His Majesty did those fellows settle down.
Meanwhile, having three meals a day with the Tsar of White Sands was already routine for Anna.
Yet only Anastasia knew that the favor enjoyed between ruler and subject was vastly different from what she possessed.
She was special.
Long before she took human form, she had followed Monomakh before he ever claimed the throne.
She had seen with her own eyes that contraption falling from beyond the sky, smoking and spewing strange sparks, crashing into the snowfield not far from her habitat.
Its construction resembled an iron lump that only Hyperboreans could possess.
From then on, she witnessed how Monomakh started by uniting a weak spirit clan and rose step by step.
Uniting all possible allies, he ultimately defeated another spirit pretender, crowning himself as the Tsar of White Sands and taking hold of the Cryo authority among the Seven Archons.
His Majesty possessed a technology capable of preserving images—a marvelous creation called a Light Cone.
Transparent along the edges and thin as a mirror, its interior contained vibrant colors like a picture.
Special individuals could even acquire recorded emotions—or even strength—through a Light Cone.
While other grand dukes exhausted their wits just to obtain a single Light Cone, even Grand Duke Filippov had only collected about ten.
Most were “mass-produced” souvenirs like those from Snezhnaya’s founding ceremony.
What Anastasia had was a private collection large enough to fill a small chest—enough to deal a hand of poker for ten tables.
A newly tailored dress with a unique design today?
His Majesty would paint one and give it to her.
When His Majesty picked up a frozen, fluffy young snowfield fox in the snowy woods, he painted one and gave both the fox and the painting to Anastasia.
Even when she was simply reading in the courtyard under the afternoon sun and His Majesty thought the light was nice, he would record it on a whim.
Those Light Cones carrying the warmth of daily life were true, priceless treasures.
She had even been allowed aboard that “extraterrestrial carriage car” that had fallen with His Majesty.
Though Monomakh had never explained the knowledge beyond the sea of stars in detail to her.
“Children won’t grow tall if they know too much,” he had said back then, though Anastasia felt it was a flimsy excuse.
But in that small space filled with a strange mechanical atmosphere, she had played “games” with moving pictures.
She had listened to “songs” with odd yet strangely catchy melodies, and curled up on comfortable seats as he recounted fragments of adventures among the stars in adapted fairytale tones.
Between His Majesty and the other spirits, the bond was ruler and subject, protector and protected.
Only with her, through long years of companionship, had that emotion long surpassed simple ruler and subject.
It was closer to…
family.
He was the star she looked up to, one of the “Nameless” from the stories told.
He was also an elder who would secretly drop an extra sugar cube into her warm drink.
He had habits uncharacteristic of northern spirits—disliking service by servants and disdaining overly luxurious clothing.
And he obstinately insisted on placing a handkerchief over someone’s belly button whenever he saw them sleeping.
He was deeply fascinated by Liyue things—clothing, vases, books, paintings, bonsai.
“Of the nobles attending this time, I’m taking you,” Monomakh had told her the night before departure, checking the gift list.
His ice-blue eyes appeared extraordinarily gentle under the candlelight.
“Go see the other gods and the lands they govern. Perhaps one day, this northern realm will be handed over to you.”
Anastasia knew she was His Majesty’s chosen successor.
This heavy trust and expectation filled her with warmth while placing a heavy weight upon her shoulders.
Anastasia drew a deep breath, her fingers unconsciously brushing against a small Light Cone hidden in her sleeve.
Recorded within was merely an ordinary afternoon when Monomakh tried using Cryo elemental energy in the courtyard to carve a comical rabbit.
Because he was distracted listening to her chatter about boring gossip among the nobility, he had given the cute rabbit an exaggerated, ridiculous expression.
He had even said incomprehensible things like, “When you and I get implemented, it’ll definitely be a massive banner—the rabbit-head fans are going to pull till they blow up.”
That ice sculpture named “Rabbit Head” by His Majesty was infused with special Cryo energy that never melted, and Anna kept it on her desk.
Strength and gentleness, majesty and casualness, god and family—these contradictory traits blended in her lord with singular harmony.
The carriage jolted slightly, pulling Anastasia from her memories.
She opened her eyes, her pupils reflecting the gradually changing scenery outside.
Snezhnaya’s border was near, though there was still some distance to Mondstadt—a buffer zone left between the two nations.
The chill in the air was no longer as piercing, and the wind began to carry a moist, free breeze belonging to Mondstadt.
“We’re almost at the border,” she murmured to herself.
The panel at the front of the carriage was knocked gently before sliding open a crack.
A lightly armored spirit guard reported in a low voice:
“Your Highness, His Majesty requests your presence.”
“Understood,” Anastasia nodded, her posture impeccable.
She smoothed her neat sleeves and skirt, tucking away the soft expression brought on by her memories.
Once more, she transformed back into the elegant, perfectly poised royal of Snezhnaya.