Remember when I said this would be a short, epilogue-y thing? Yeah, I lied. Also, Poland snuck in here in flashback and portrait form.

This is it, folks! Happy New Year!

I listened to: "The Flowers" by Regina Spektor on repeat.

The next morning dawned bright and clear over Saint Petersburg. Though the palace was still in the way it always was after a ball or party, many of the younger nobles (and those with higher alcohol tolerances) could be found bundled up in the snow-covered gardens. Ivan watched them from my window.

"Why does everyone like the winter so much?" He sighed, touching the glass pane and cringing at the chill emanating from it.

"Don't make generalizations, Ivan," I reprimanded, without much bite. "I don't like this damnable season. All I ever seem to acquire in the winter is an illness of some sort."

Ivan let out a short bark of laughter, before abruptly sobering. "I wonder if Torija likes the winter," he said contemplatively, looking out the window at a couple having a snowball fight. "I think she might."

I skimmed over the next piece of legislation, dipping my quill into the ink to make a correction. "What makes you say that?"

Ivan still stared out the window at a scene that no one else could see. His voice seemed far away. "I rode out on a diplomatic mission to see them during the first half of this century, before we acquired Latviya. She was out walking with Pol'sha when I arrived. He was covered in snow, but she was of good cheer," my empire finished with a smile in his voice.

"You think Litva was the one who caused Pol'sha's snow-covered state?"

"Considering he pushed her into a drift a second after I turned the corner, yes."

I tried to picture Toriya smiling and carefree, and found I couldn't. "Hm."

Ivan, taking my noncommittal hum as a sign to keep talking, described a scene I tried to picture.

Roughly a century ago, Lithuania and Poland were still happily married. The Commonwealth presented a united front against my empire, and from what I could tell, both were united in their dislike for Ivan as well. That particular day, the pair were apparently practicing the time-honored strategy of discussing important things where no sane person would venture to eavesdrop.

As with many young couples, though, the conversation eventually turned to happier things. By the time Ivan arrived, he was able to follow the sound of laughter to find the pair.

Good for him, I thought wryly, I wouldn't have been able to recognize it.

But despite the good cheer of the Commonwealth, his reception was a frosty one. Poland, being the first to spot Ivan, quickly pulled Toriya to her feet and behind him. She peeked over his shoulder.

"Rosja. What do you want?"

Toriya intervened, looping Poland's arm around her waist and curling into his side. He immediately relaxed. "What Feliks means, is that this is rather unexpected. If we knew why you were coming in advance, we could have prepared a bit better."

Ivan smiled at her. Her eyes widened, and he smiled wider. This I had no trouble picturing. "It's not a large thing I am here for. I wish to speak about-" here Ivan cut his story off, adopting a pensive expression. "I can't quite remember why I was there."

I waved my hand dismissively. "Well, is there more to tell?"

Ivan nodded, smiling tightly. "Of course, Empress."

Toriya had found the request reasonable. Poland had not. "If you will excuse us for a moment," he had said, taking Toriya's hand and leading her around the corner. Angry conversation was heard in a mixture of Lithuanian and Polish too quick to follow. The volume escalated from angry whispers to just below yelling. And then Toriya's voice broke, and there was a rustling of fabric.

Ivan peeked around the corner to see Toriya wrapped in Poland's arms, her head on his shoulder. This I had trouble picturing for two reasons: one, Toriya just didn't seem like the sort of girl who would allow herself to be held in such a manner, and two, I had no clue what Poland looked like.

So lost in my thoughts, I only noticed Ivan had stopped talking when I heard the startling crack of wood breaking. Ivan stood at the window, the molding of the windowsill in pieces under one hand.

"Continue, Ivan," I said in a low voice, not bothering to scold him after observing the tension in his posture.

"They came back, more... together...than they previously had been. I could still tell they were at odds, but otherwise, they had put aside whatever difference was troubling them. And they invited me back to the estate." He paused, thinking of what came next. "He threw a snowball at her and started running back. She shouted something after hi-" abruptly, Ivan cut himself off.

"I was... wrong," he said with no small amount of bitterness after a small pause, once again staring out into the gardens at the couple playing in the snow.

"What?" was all I could manage.

"I haven't thought about that day in years," he mumbled. "What she said... It was Polish. I never understood it because I always tried to translate it from Lithuanian. She said-" here he said something I couldn't have understood if he had woven it into a grand tapestry.

"And that is Polish for...?"

Ivan laughed bitterly. "'I hate the cold.'"

"Oh, Ivan," I said, standing slowly (why was I so slow these days?), "Just because she said that a hundred or so years ago doesn't mean-"

Ivan turned to me and I stopped short. Those large violet eyes were pleading. "You don't understand; I need- She's so-" He cleared his throat, shutting his eyes briefly, and I grasped his hands in what I hoped was a comforting manner. My empire was in pain, and I would do all I could to remedy that.

"I can't explain it; she's like fresh flowers in the dead of winter, or, or something," he said, frustrated at not being able to find the simile he was looking for.

I knew, then. I knew there would be no breaking him of this love for a long time, and I wished my successors more luck with my stubborn empire than I had. Ivan and I stood like that, with our hands clasped, for quite a while.

After Ivan left my apartments, I decided to find Toriya. My reasons were not as clear as I might have liked; all I knew was that I needed to speak with her. When I entered her rooms, though, I was greeted with remnants of absolute chaos. It looked as though a windstorm had blown through her room. Amber jewelry was scattered across the dresser. Bonnets littered the floor. It looked as though a box of ribbons had exploded. In all the carnage, I nearly missed Toriya curled up by the window, looking more like a heap of muslin than a woman. Her hair was loosely braided, and various strands of it fell across her face. She was asleep, clutching something to her chest.

"Toriya," I said. She did not stir, so I bent down to shake her. At that, she mumbled something, but remained asleep. "I should not have to do this," I groused, before pushing her off the the window seat.

She awoke with a shriek that brought several guards running into the room. I waved them out with a scowl, while Toriya just looked embarrassed as she scrambled to her feet.

"Your Imperial Majesty, I am so sorry," she said. I sighed. 298.

I ignored the apology in favor of picking up the object she had been holding. Made of fine, polished wood, I recognized it immediately. It was the frame to a double miniature. I did not bother asking for permission to open it, and Toriya just watched. Inside, there were two paintings, of Lithuania and who I believed to be Poland.

"Feliks had it commissioned for our hundred-year anniversary. This was painted in 1669," Toriya said. It was an accurate representation of them, I thought, just because the artist captured Toriya so perfectly. She was smirking, looking at the portrait of Poland from under lowered lashes. The portrait of Poland had one eyebrow raised, staring back at her with the same sort of expression. It was a clever, confident sort of look they shared, one that said they could rule the world. And, I reflected, at that time they did.

"We were so angry, before the end. I knew where we were going but I didn't have enough power to stop it. But…" she sighed, brushing a finger across the frame of Poland's portrait, "He did love me. And I love him."

"Love?" I said, a little surprised. "Do you mean loved?" I asked, making the past tense quite clear. Maybe it was a mistake in her Russian.

She glared at me. "I do still love him. Am I still in love with him? I don't know. He could be annoying at times, but I have my faults as well. He used to call me-" She stopped, abruptly, backing away from me. "I'm sorry to have bored you with this inane chatter; you came here for a reason."

If I was younger and more ill-bred, I would have screamed in frustration. You can't just leave something like that hanging!

"What did he call you, Toriya? Viktorija? Some derivative of victory?" I asked, trying to keep both the thwarted curiosity and frustration out of my voice.

"Raivis called me Viktute," she said with a smile. I almost bit out " I didn't ask about Raivis!" but restrained myself.

"But Feliks? Feliks called me, among other things, Saulė."

"Saulė," I repeated, the word unfamiliar on my tongue.

"Yes, Saulė." She stepped into the light, illuminating her features. An amber necklace gleamed at her collarbone. "He said it described me. I think it cleanly sums up why Rusija might be so infatuated with me, to be honest. It's a word in my language; my word for the sun." She turned back towards me. The sunlight on her hair gave her an odd sort of halo. "So now you see," she said, echoing my words from the night before.

"Yes," I said. Because, really, I looked at her as a source of light, something to warm his wintry world. But I also saw how cold she herself could be. And Ivan, trying to use her to keep himself warm, would only grow colder from his efforts.

"Empress…" she started. I looked at her wage an inner battle with herself. And our tally stops at 298 "Your Imperial Majesties," I thought.

"Yes, Toriya?" I said, handing the portraits back to her. She looked down at them, seeming to study the one of herself this time.

"Never mind, Empress. It doesn't matter anymore."

I came to stand by her and looked down at the girl in the portrait. She was happy, confident, and in love.

"No," I said, "It doesn't."