Steven
Maith Manor was exactly as she remembered it. It hadn't occurred to her how long it had been since she'd last seen it's halls until she was upon them again. Over a year had passed, and the last time she'd been in the Isles she'd been here as Duchess of Vincentien. Mikhail had been begging to see North Feyshore. Amalthea hadn't betrayed them. She'd not feared for her son's life and the lives of a whole nation who decided to put their faith in her. 

It had been simpler, but she didn't think there was a way back to that life. She was escorted through the gates, and two servants took her trunk. The other's luggage was taken as well, and they were moved to be placed in their respective chambers. She'd accepted the invitation and told Maith who would be in her company, and he assured there would be adequate housing within the manor so that they wouldn't need to worry about booking a room at an inn. 

The festival was going at full force outside, the rest of the city enjoying themselves while those invited to the banquet prepared for it. As she was taken to a waiting room, she passed the dining hall, and caught a glimpse of the long table that awaited the nobility that would soon occupy the room. The white and red was supposed to be festive, but it only reminded her of Mikhail. 
And as if thinking of the boy summoned him, she came upon the entryway to the waiting room she was being guided to, and a voice called out in delight. 

"_Mama!_"

Mikhail sat on the couch before the fire, dressed in a jewel tone coat of deep emerald that complimented the glinting gold of his hair. He set the book aside that he was reading _A History of Azarya_ and scrambled from the couch to the entry. 

Anya hardly believed the vision to be real, as the last time she saw him he'd been, well, ghastly. The paleness to his skin hadn't faded, but the rosy hue that the cold brought to his cheeks helped cover the blue beneath the skin. He moved with excitement that didn't seem to fully encompass him, but she could see the flicker of that boy in him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she dropped to her knees to be able to do the same. Her height compared to him was too great in her heels, and on her knees they were face to face. 

"Mikhail, my darling, it's so wonderful to see you." She told him, her smile bold and bright. Up close, he looked like death.

"I didn't think you'd be attending the festival, Mother." Mika countered, his head tilting a bit. "How long will you be here? How are things in Astoria and South Feyshore, did you get my letter?"

"Don't fret over that right now, darling. How are you feeling?" She prompted, looking over the boy. Her hands cupped his cheeks, unhappy to find they were actually quite cold, and the rosy look had just been from the fire against his skin and not any circulation of his own. The glint in his eye had also died out up close, and she couldn't help but attribute the flame to the fireplace as well.

"I'm alive, isn't 'at what matters?" 

That wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. He'd left for the isles to find happiness, not existence. 

"What have Maith's physicians said about your condition?"

"They've never seen any'fing like it." Mikhail answered truthfully, and Anya pressed her lips into a tight line, her hands finding his shoulders. 

Maybe she'd imaginined it, but his voice sounded like it had slipped into an accent not unlike Bradai's. 

"I've brought a physician with me, I was hoping he'd be able to meet you.-"

"What's the point, mother?" Mika asked before she could finish. He realized he'd cut her off, and gave an apologetic look. "Father is going to send me to Azarya. There's a necromancer there, he's hoping he'll know how to help."

"He's _what_?"

"No one knows how to help me, maybe we need to start thinking less in terms of me being a child that suffered from a brief spout of death and more in terms of me being someone who was raised from the dead." The way he said it was so... Calculated. It made her blood turn cold, and the sigils on her arm deepened in color for the first time, turning the color of the freckles that dusted her and Mikhail's noses. 

"When is this scheduled?" 

"From what I can tell, the festival is seconding as a send off for myself."

Anya pressed her lips into a line once more, and her silver gaze moved to the ceiling briefly to curse the Pirate King for not informing her of the change of plans, and when she lowered her gaze back to her son she gave him a soft smile. 

"I need to talk to your father, but promise me you won't leave the Isles without saying goodbye to me, yeah?"

Mikhail nodded, his blonde locks catching the glint of the fire as she stood. 

"Good, return to your reading, I'll see you at the banquet my love." Anya told him, and watched as he turned to return to his seat on the couch. 

There was a small limp in his gaint, but from afar he _looked_ the same. The woman waited until he was seated once more to leave the room, resisting the urge to tear the house apart to find Maith.
Shirley
Turned my son into a common bumpkin.

"I'm Mikhail and I now speak like my two front teeth were knocked out, oh also, I'm a crackhead"
Steven
Han/ Greedo of Marin
Charlene
Canonically, Han abandoned his child too
Shirley
Heath didn't abandon him. He chose to be a little booger and ran away from real, fatherly love
Rhonda
The Pirate King was just about to force the opium on Audrey again, but was interrupted by his secretary. He was now clean shaven, save for a small nick on his chin. A piece of cloth was wrapped around his finger, and he dabbed it idly against the wound, creating a little pattern of identical bloodstains. 

"Your Grace, I was informed not to interrupt bu—" He opened the door to see his boss exhaling out the window, with Audrey Tillotson beside him. She reeked of gin. He sighed, closing the door behind him. "Anyanka's here." His formal tone had faded, a small hint of annoyance in his voice. 

"Ah fuck—" The Pirate King leaned forwards in his chair, away from the window sill. He tapped out whatever remained from the pipe into his palm and moved to tossed it out the window. "Clean vhis shit up, will y—" He pursed his lips, looking back down at the pipe. There was a brief pause before he refilled the bowl and finished it off. Ollie offered a condemning gaze. 

"Vhis is—" Bradai coughed, a puff of smoke exiting his lungs. "Vhis is Anyanka we're talking about. I'm going to strangle 'er if I'm sober." 

His secretary shrugged, as if to say "Fair", and opened the door. "She's in the foyer. I'll send men to bring her to your throne, your Grace. And uhm..." He paused, slowly running a finger down his clipboard. His brow furrowed, and he flipped through multiple pages until he found the name he was looking for. "Ms. Tillotson, is it? Carbonell? Ms. Audrey, we'll get you into something more presentable and less reeking of alcohol." 

Bradai stood from his position behind the desk and made his way to the door, watching as the Poppies from before came in, cleaning everything and returning it to its original position. 

Ollie beckoned Audrey down the right side of the hall, and The Pirate King was quickly received by his royal guard to meet the Grand Duchess in the throne room.
Shirley
Prince Nickles arrived. He smiled, breathing in the salty air. It stung his lungs and he doubled over in pain. He retched and coughed up a blood clot, right in the street. "I'm home...," He smiled, raising his head toward the sun, blood caking in the corners of his lips.
Steven
She was retireved from the foyer after she'd left the parlor Mikhail occupied. At least she was glad to have seen him before Bradai, if she'd suffered through an encounter with him _not_ telling her of his plans, she'd have been livid. At least knowing beforehand gave her the opportunity to question what on earth the man was thinking sending an eleven year old ot Azarya to be poked and proded by a necromancer. 

Her heels clicked on the tiles as she moved through the home on her way to the throne room. It wasn't unfamiliar, and she felt the escort was a little unnecessary. But considering their friendship died when Mikhail had, she figured it was a display of power on Maith's part. He didn't trust a damn decision she made, and blamed her for everything that had happened. 

But on the other side of the same coin, his guards had done nothing either. No Poppy had moved forward to intervene, Anyanka and Bradai hadn't had _time_ to make a command before it was all over. She didn't blame Maith for what happened, in truth, she'd blame herself for the rest of her days. But she wasn't self loathing enough to believe herself completely responsible for the affair, there was enough blame to go around if they were going to start assigning it. 

When she entered, she paused when indicated, and gave a deep curtsy to the man she'd ever thought she'd have to bow before again. "Maith." She said finally, straightening up and shifting her weight to take a firmer stance before the Pirate King.