Anastasha walked through the crowd, and she looked at every face around her. Nobody dared to look her in the eyes, they all lowered their heads, either out of fear, respect, or sothing else. She then glanced at the other side of the hall, the side that belonged to the family branches of the Asghar family. Even to them, Anastasha was a figure they didn’t dare to stare at directly, but there were a few that did, and when she stared back at them, they averted their gazes or lowered their heads.
When she stood in the center of the hall, the remaining people that dared to stare at her were the people in front of her. A whole line of people with fancy outfit while standing tall and stared at her like a lost child. They were the elders of the Asghar family as well as Anastasha’s siblings and Zechariah’s children.
"I greet the patriarch," Anastasha said, but instead of lowering her head, she lifted her head and stared directly at the man with black long hair with a circlet made of obsidian that decorated his head. A man with dark green eyes, a sharp and cold gaze that looked down on the people like they were pests in his house.
Zechariah didn’t move a muscle or even say a single word. He sat on that throne that wasn’t made from scratch but rather a part of the mountain that was carved into a throne, it was the stone at the peak of the mountain. That signified his status, a man that sat above the peak. His elbow rested on the armrest while his cheek rested on the back of his hand.
"You look bored, father. Or perhaps you find my presence unsightly?" Anastasha smirked, a direct confrontation with the fact that her father had tried to assassinate her due to her desire to compete for the throne that was against tradition.
"You dare to speak to the patriarch with such manner?!" A male elder stomped his cane on the marble floor that echoed throughout the hall.
"Why should I show my respect to the man that tried to assassinate his own daughter?" Anastasha unfolded her fan to cover the lower half of her face, but she was obviously smiling from the shape of her eyes and the wrinkles that appeared on the corners. "He has been sitting on that seat too comfortably that he didn’t even have the gut to take soone’s life with his own hands," she chuckled.
The honored guests that ca to enjoy the gathering and to create connections or deepen their relationship with the Asghar family suddenly got involved in a family matter, not just any family, but the Asghar family. They began to murmur and whisper to each other, wondering what was happening and if it had sothing to do with rumors of Anastasha deciding to join and compete in the successor.
"You’re outrageous, Ana," a man with similar facial features and eyes as Zechariah with the sa long black hair said, his voice was calm and yet commanding, his light skin and his tall figure made him look intimidating and impossible to disrespect that befit him as the eldest son, Zayn Asghar.
"Outrageous, eldest brother Zayn? You called outrageous when you sent your assassins to hunt down?" Anastasha arched her brows, still covering the lower half of her face with a folding fan. "There’s no such thing as outrageous in our family, everyone that stands in front of has either pointed their blades or even stabbed their own blood and flesh to be standing here. We are savages, outrageous doesn’t exist in our dictionary," she chuckled softly, almost mockingly.
"Creating a scene in front of others like this only makes you look so childish, sister," a young version of Zayn, Zeke Asghar responded, but his skin was lighter and his hair was slick and pulled back, leaving a few strands of hair that he let loose beside his left eye. "But that’s given since you have been always like that," he added, his gaze almost lazy and unbothered.
"Brother Zeke, it’s better to be loud than quietly playing safe like you always do. This is exactly why you will never be able to beat brother Zayn, or even your younger brother, brother Zoran. You’re irrelevant," Anastasha scoffed, she didn’t bother to turn her head or even glance at Zeke. "Just wait for the blade to cut your head in the future, brother," she added.
"Sister, father is still the patriarch. His presence, his actions, and his words are absolute, you’d want the sa thing from others when you’re in his position. So please, mind your words," Zoran said, the third son of Zechariah, unlike his two older brothers, his hair was wavy and dark brown, and his skin was darker compared to his siblings.
"Whose patriach? Brother Zoran? He has decided to kill , I don’t think I’m an Asghar in his eyes anymore. So, I’ll do whatever I want," Anastasha unfolded her fan, showing a playful smirk to her brother.
The guests, and the branch families found Anastasha’s words extrely uncomfortable because at that mont, everyone knew how ruthless Zechariah was. They were in a hall where their lives were basically in his hands, and she ca in, poking the sleeping dragon that would either eat them alive or burn them to ashes.
Anastasha shifted her weight to her left foot, unbothered by the death stares and killing intents that were pointing at her. She knew nobody dared to command the guards to capture her or to send her away because authority was single-handedly in the hands of Zechariah, a system that had been passed down from generation to generation. However, there was one thing that bothered her, and that was the fact Zechariah didn’t show any reaction and still looked as bored and unbothered as always.
"I ca here not to cause a ruckus, brothers, sisters, and elders," Anastasha said as she stood tall with her chin lifted. "I ca to question the patriarch’s decision to get rid of when I had decided to join to compete for the successor position. I’m still an Asghar, and I was taught to retaliate to whoever dared to challenge no matter who they were. Including my own flesh and blood," she pointed out, her expression turning cold and serious when she stared directly into Zechariah’s eyes.
Everyone had no choice but to keep quiet, even the elders and the main family mbers after what Anastasha said. Everyone was waiting for Zechariah to answer the question that Anastasha uttered. At the sa ti, it was the mont Anastsha had been waiting for, the powerlessness of others until she could raise to et the only person she wanted to confront, her father.
Zechariah hadn’t moved a muscle, his cheek still rested on the back of his hand. The mont he shifted position to lean back against the backrest and both arms rested on the armrests, the atmosphere in the hall turned cold and undeniably intense.
"Your achievents so far, they’re aningless," Zechariah revealed, his deep voice echoed throughout the silent hall. "Everything you have done so far in the past year, they’re all possible due to that man who stands beside you. You have done nothing," he pointed out and stared down at Anastasha.
"aningless?" Anastasha tilted her head, keeping eye contact with Zechariah. "Patriarch, don’t speak as if you’re different. Look at the people here, they’re insignificant in your eyes, but why you allowed them to be here?" She asked with a smile ford on her lips. "Because you need them, my brothers need them. Don’t say that what I did was all thanks to Rasmus, because you have done nothing either," she took a step forward, closing the distance as a sign of challenge. "You’re sitting there to make sure the gears keep spinning. You’re not the one who built this, you’ve done nothing as well. What makes us different?" She chuckled softly and took another step forward.
"I have done everything not under my last na, I have done everything under my first na. Those who are standing behind , they all see as Anastasha, not as an Asghar. They fear because of my last na, yes, but they follow my view, my na, not yours. I have done more, than you did because all you did is under your last na, not your na," Anastasha said with a cold expression, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"And yet here you are, desiring for this seat. In the end, you did it all for your last na," Zechariah pointed out, his expression still impassive, bored, and uninterested.
The silence was deafening, now everyone was waiting for Anastasha to make a move, to see if she could escape the corner.
"Yes, so I could burn everything down to ashes," Anastasha answered.
The shock on everyone’s face was like an achievent for Anastasha, and yet Zechariah was still impassive and unimpressed.
"All of you hear what your sister said?" Zechariah looked at Zeke and his sons who were competing as successors.
"Yes, patriarch," all of them lowered their heads.
"She asked for legitimacy, and so I’ll grant her wish. Fight for this seat and I’ll be watching," Zechariah said and once again positioned himself like before his elbow on the armrest while his cheek rested on the back of his hand. "Anything else?" He stared down at Anastasha.
"No, patriarch, that was all," Anastasha said and turned around, walking back to Rasmus’ side. The atmosphere in the room imdiately beca breathable, everyone took a deep breath and exhaled deeply unconsciously from the intensity.
As soon as Anastasha stood beside Rasmus, she glanced at him, who had been staring at Zechariah.
"You can’t make him powerless," Rasmus muttered.
"That’s why he’s the patriarch. I already know that," Anastasha smirked as he glanced at Zechariah from over her shoulder, noticing that Zechariah no longer stared at her like she wasn’t significant enough to matter in his eyes. "But I have you," she brushed her hand against Rasmus’ chest.
Rasmus could feel the trembling of her hand on his chest.
"Just like he said, try not to rely on too much," Rasmus pointed out.
Anastasha chuckled softly as she nodded with understanding.
"I’m aware of that," Anastasha said and stared into Rasmus’ eyes. "Now, shall we feed your hungry wives? They seem so eager to taste those foods and drinks," she suggested as she walked past Rasmus and approached Aris and the others.
Rasmus smiled and then that was when Zechariah’s eyes t his. They stared for a few seconds before Zechariah averted his gaze while Rasmus turned around to be with Aris and the others.
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