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i.
It starts two grueling months after the longest night in Alina's life. It starts the day she and Nikolai marry. It feels strange in a way, like even after all the time they've spent grieving and repairing, and punishing those who sided with the Darkling, they still haven't done enough. Perhaps the joke is that there won’t ever be enough done. Always more work being added onto the pile.
For today though there is no pile, or at least no pile bigger than who’s sitting next to whom, and what food will be served.
Genya comes out of her self-imposed exile to help prepare Alina. She won’t meet Alina’s gaze in the mirror, even after two months she’s too aware of her scars and the way people look at her.
Alina does her best to ignore it, making conversation while Genya adds gold to her hair before putting it up into some elaborate hairstyle. Elaborate enough that there are even temple rings woven in, shaped like suns of course.
The longer she works the more relaxed Genya becomes, much to Alina’s relief. Eventually it turns into a real conversation and not just Alina talking to herself.
It takes a whole hour to get Alina into just the dress, it’s all of gold and Alina grumbles that it has to weigh as much as one of the mirrors still on the roof of the Little Palace. Genya laughs, and still looks beautiful.
Genya’s putting on the kokochnik when Zoya bursts into the room. “If you’re any more late I’m going to have to take your place Starkov.”
Alina rolls her eyes. "You'd hate having to look less fabulous than Nikolai." It feels strange to be joking, to be this lighthearted after everything. But it's nice too, nice to know that her life will go on, and that perhaps one day she'll feel like herself again.
"True." Zoya tosses her hair back. "Come on."
"Don't rush," Genya snaps. A little of her old self showing, perhaps the best wedding gift her friend could give her.
Eventually though Genya’s done all the fussing she can, and Alina lets Zoya chivvy her along to the carriage that will take her the church—thankfully not the one she ruined when she finally began to mourn Mal’s death.
Os Alta’s recovered well, the whole city feeling almost festive as she travels through it. Ravakans grateful for a chance to celebrate something for a change. She doesn’t begrudge them that, though she can’t say she feels the same. Mal’s death is still a vise around her heart, impossible to ignore. Thankfully Nikolai hasn’t asked for her heart—not yet at least—he’s only asked for her friendship, and for her to stand by him. Both of which she’s willing to give.
A crowd’s gathered along the long carpet she’ll have to walk down, cheers going up when the carriage door is opened, Tolya’s huge hand helping her descend.
Despite wanting to rush towards the church, Alina makes herself walk slowly; it helps that the dress weighs enough to make running quite impossible. Behind her Tolya and Tamar glower at anyone who tries to touch her, meaning the crowds only chant: Sankta Alina, Sol Koroleva, Rebe Dava Stolba, an endless march of titles she’d been given by people she’d never met.
The late summer sun shining down on her is comforting at least, although it doesn’t make her long walk any more tolerable. By the time she gets to it the cool sanctuary of the church is almost welcome.
Almost.
Here there’s no chanting, only whispers. The disparate voices turning into an ocean of meaningless sound by the church itself. But Alina knows what the nobility say as she walks towards the front of the church: Grisha witch, peasant girl, how dare she?
Most Ravakans and Grisha call her savior, but not these particular otkazat'sya. She wonders what tune they would be singing if the Darkling had won. Perhaps they’d welcome her with open arms, but hate themselves for it.
Nikolai is a welcome distraction. Standing by the alter in his new uniform. With his guns and sword at his hip he almost looks like the privateer he once was. The grin he gives her as she begins the climb the small flight of steps certainly isn’t that of a prince.
The Apparat, who in his way had appeared after the Darkling’s defeat and sung the praises of this soon-to-be Lantsov king, begins to speak.
Alina has not forgotten he had helped the Darkling, however. Yet today will not be the day he answers for his myriad of crimes.
She and Nikolai both kneel, although she dreads how long this wedding and coronation will take. It might be necessary, but she doesn’t like it all the same. She’s grown better at doing the pomp, at being a politician; she’ll never be truly comfortable with it. Not like Nikolai.
On and on and on, until finally they are at the end. Nikolai looks down at her, wan smile on his face. “I know what I said about kissing you, but I do believe the situation calls for it.”
“Just kiss me,” she rolls her eyes. His words bring up a brief, if sad, spark of fondness.
They kiss, behind them the nobility cheer as they are required too.
This time she gets to rush, Nikolai almost dragging her and her heavy dress as they exit the church, the bells ringing so furiously that it nearly drowns out the cheering of the crowd. It’s certainly enough to cover up her brief shriek as Nikolai manages to scoop her up and carry her into the carriage, the crowd cheering even louder at the display.
He sets her down on one of the seats, taking the place right next to her. She lets herself lean against him, his warmth sinks into her as she bites back a yawn. “Do we have to have the party?” She’d much rather just go to his rooms and sleep.
“I do like the way you think.” He laughs softly and kisses the top of her head. “But no. We have to put on the good show required of us, for a little while at least.”
Alina groans. “I just hope taking off this dress won’t take as long as putting it on did.” Nevermind the relief that she won’t have to wear it for much longer. As beautiful as it is, it’s not ideal for dancing and walking around.
She can feel his smile against her hair. “I’d offer my assistance, but I fear Safin would chase me out.”
It gets a laugh out of her. “Zoya,” she corrects. “Genya’s still a romantic at heart.” It’s why she cries a little every time David brings her a new cream to help with her scars, or some little bit of Fabrikator craft to try and pique her interest. Genya still loves him, and it’s clear David feels something for her too, but she’s so very afraid. Alina wishes she knew the right thing to say or do that would fix it all, if such a thing even existed.
“Even so,” Nikolai murmurs. “She’s quite fierce when she wants to be.” Alina’s smile is sad.
Turning her head she kisses him, to pull them away from the conversation, and a little because she can.
Nikolai’s smiling when he pulls away. “Growing bolder I see,” he teases. “Should I expect you to start punching me again tomorrow?”
Alina rolls her eyes. “You wish,” she replies lightly.
The carriage finally rolls to a stop and the door is opened, Genya whisking her away. This time Alina’s dressed in a golden silk kefta, far more comfortable and lighter than her wedding gown. Her kokochnik is removed, to be replaced by her crown, although the rest of her hair stays as is—she dreads having to take it down tonight. Although perhaps Nikolai might find it entertaining.
When she reaches the ballroom the party’s already in full swing, although everything stops with her arrival. People who dislike her swarming around her and wishing the marriage well, promises to pray for an heir soon, hopes that she’ll make a good queen. Some of the people perhaps even mean it.
Nikolai rescues her with his usual flare, offering her a glass of champagne as they traverse through the crowd together. She perhaps drinks it far more quickly than she should.
Their first dance as husband and wife comes soon after, an elegant waltz that neither of them quite like—it’s tradition however, and with everything that’s changed some tradition is necessary. They part when it’s over, she gets swept up by Colonel Raevsky into another dance, Nikolai gets pulled into a conversation about Kerch loans.
More hours pass, Alina drinks more champagne, not enough to make her truly drunk, but everything’s a little brighter and hazier than when she’d arrived. She finds Nikolai out on a balcony, staring out into the deepening night—soon it will be autumn. She wraps her arms around one of his own and rests her head on his shoulder—something only possible by the fact he’s bent over. “We should go, leave them wondering where we went.”
He laughs softly. “It would be quite fun, although I’m fairly certain they’d all know where we’d gone to.”
Heat crawls up Alina’s cheeks, it’s their wedding night after all.
Nikolai wraps an arm around her, helping push back some of the night chill. “Let’s go.” He gives her that Sturmhond grin and he pulls her towards a flight of stairs.
Laughing she follows, glad that she even can after everything. She pushes those thoughts from her mind, they have no place here right now.
Together they rush through the gardens. Nikolai nearly trips over a low bench and she all but falls over laughing—tipsy enough to find it funnier than it really is. There’s enough light that she can see a glint in his eyes as he stands. “Laugh at your king will you?”
She gives a mock shriek and runs, summoning a light so she can find her way more easily.
He eventually catches her, scooping her up like he did only a few hours ago. Except this time he doesn’t carry her, instead he puts her on his shoulders. “We should find Tolya, maybe I’m tall enough now to look him in the eye.”
Nikolai laughs. “While that would be fun…” His hands settle on her thighs, to help keep her from falling off she knows, but she becomes far too aware of how warm and rough they are. “I do believe we already had plans.” With ground eating strides he begins to take them back to the Grand Palace.
Servants stare at them as they pass, Alina finds that she doesn’t care.
They reach the royal chambers—part of them are hers now, although she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to really think of them as such—and he helps her down. He keeps her close though, looking down at her, hazel eyes soft. “Alina…”
It’s a stretch, but she rises up on her toes and kisses him.
Alina’s sure that on one’s wedding night there shouldn’t be thoughts of anyone besides the person you married. And for the most part there isn’t. Nikolai’s fingers dance down the buttons of her kefta, undoing each with ease. With far less grace she shoves off his jacket and almost rips his shirt apart. They both laugh when the sound of tearing fills the room.
The more clothes that come off the gentler they become, sharing scars like secrets; although he has far more than she does. She traces his lightly, this one from a bullet, this one from an accident involving the ratlines, another bullet scar—although from the army and not from some pirate. He traces the scar the Darkling gave her too, although it soon becomes Nikolai’s mouth and tongue. The sensation making her body prickle and ache.
It tears a gasp out of her, nails digging into his back as he reaches the lowest part, so very close to her breast. He lavishes it with the same amount of attention that he did the rest of her scar, before moving back upwards. “Don’t you dare,” she snaps, nails digging even deeper.
Nikolai laughs against her collarbone. “As my queen commands.” She uncurls her hands from his back and tugs on his hair.
She can feel his smile as he moves down again, closer and closer to where she wants it.
Alina doesn’t quite know why that particular motion makes her think of the Darkling—except she does, the winter fete not so long ago and the dark room she’d found herself in with him—but it does. The connection between her and him thrums and she tugs on it, drawing him to her.
Nikolai’s lips curl around her nipple when she spots the Darkling. Even in this vision he’s in chains and gagged, but his gray eyes say a wealth of things.
She buries her fingers into Nikolai’s golden hair. “More, Nikolai, please,” she pants, every word of it intentional. Her eyes never look away from the Darkling. She doesn’t know if he can see who she’s with—although he likely knows—but she wants him to know. Wants him to know that she’s given over the parts of herself he’s always wanted to someone else. Someone he thinks unworthy of her.
The Darkling’s eyes spark with anger and she sighs in delight.
Nikolai’s rough fingers trail up her hip, refocusing her body to him, shifting around her until…
Sensations burst inside her when his fingers touch her clit, the feeling both familiar and alien. The best and worst of it is that she doesn't know what he’ll do next, the uncertainty of it thrilling in its own way. “Harder,” she demands.
A moan escapes her as he obeys, the pleasure in her rising higher. Nikolai’s hand shifts, thumb still teasing her clit while his fingers move to press inside of her. The Darkling’s gaze burns as she arches into that clever hand. “A little higher.”
“I know what I’m doing,” it’s good natured grumbling though. Nikolai’s experience is only a little better than hers—all too aware of how the bastard of a bastard might look if he were careless.
She laughs and brings his face back up to hers, kissing him deeply. Shrieking into his mouth when he finds what he was looking for. Tearing her mouth away she thrashes, the moan falling from her lips turning into a scream when orgasm overcomes her. Her body falling pliant as Nikolai pulls away slightly, she watches under hooded eyes as he licks his hand clean, satisfied smile on his lips. He’d likely be even more satisfied if he knew about their silent guest and the hate radiating off him.
Finding some strength in her still, she reaches out and pull Nikolai close. “Now,” she tells him. Ana Kuya’s words about the first time she had sex with a man rattle in her brain; how it was supposed to hurt, how there would be blood. Alina wants it to be quick, while she’s still lost in the haze of an orgasm. Perhaps then it won’t feel so bad.
Nikolai kisses her slowly, his body moving above her, his hands wrapping her legs around his waist as he begins to press in.
The feel of it makes her gasp. It stretches, and the fullness of it is almost painful. But the true pain she’d been told of is nowhere to be found. Instead it feels like he pushes into her for forever, stretching and filling until his hips press against her own.
“Alright?” Nikolai presses a brief kiss to the corner of her mouth.
Unsure if she can talk, Alina only nods. Her nails digging into him once more, legs squeezing tight. He pulls his hips back, only to rock back in and she makes a sound she can’t name at the feel of it. He keeps up a steady pace, the pleasure of it is enjoyable, although it doesn't thrill her as his fingers had. Which doesn’t change the fact that she likes this. “Harder,” she demands again, finding her voice.
She can feel Nikolai smile against her lips. He picks up his rhythm though, the sensations sharper. His mouth trails down her throat, until his teeth set lightly into the pulse there, and she can feel the points of her collar dig into his cheek. She lets herself begin to glow, casting their shadows starkly against the walls, against the Darkling’s body.
A few more minutes and Nikolai makes a grunting snarl against her throat, his cock pulsing inside her as he reaches his own completion.
He begins to move away, but she holds him close. “No, I want to stay like this.”
“Is that so?” She lets him pull away enough so that she can see his face above her. “I don’t think you’ll ever stop surprising me,” he sounds pleased by the idea.
She smiles back. “If all else fails I know how to pluck the wind right out of your sails,” she replies tartly.
Alina lets him take one of her hands, kissing her palm lightly. “You do at that, lovely Alina.”
Over the course of the night they have sex three more times. She makes the Darkling watch every one of them.
-
As much as Alina would like to sleep in she finds herself rising with the sun. Next to her Nikolai murmurs, clearly starting to wake up himself. She bends over and kisses his cheek. “Sleep,” she whispers. “I’ll be back soon.”
She has work to do.
Getting out of bed she goes to Nikolai’s wardrobe and digs around until she finds a coat. It’s a little long on her, but it will do the job she needs just fine. She staggers a little as she heads out, the fur lining the coat tickling and teasing her bare skin. She does her best to ignore it though, it would only be a distraction now. She instead thinks about the fit Genya would throw if she saw Alina going out as she was: improperly dressed, hair still half up from the wedding, all the rest a tangled mess.
The guards in the hall jump to attention when she steps out of the royal chambers. She nods at Tamar, who nods back, then begins to follow. Alina would prefer to go it alone, but she knows an escort is expected.
The dungeon in the Grand Palace itself hasn’t been used in well over a century, not since the one in Os Alta was build. But the Darkling is no ordinary prisoner, it’s only right to keep him close.
More guards start at her appearance when they reach the dungeon, not sure what to make of it. “Stay here,” she tells Tamar. Gathering a ball of light, she opens the door that leads to the dungeon proper and steps onto the cold stone stairway.
Closing the door she begins to descend, her light never wavering. The stairs even off into flights eventually, leading to different halls, but she keeps going deeper. Until she reaches the lowest level, where no light ever reached. Any prisoners here didn’t have windows, or even the whispered promise of fresh air.
Except for last night they haven’t seen each other since his trial. The months feeling ever so long. She draws herself up straight, letting the coat fall open, and paying no mind to the way her body reacts to the cold. The only thing she lets bother her is how uncomfortable her sticky thighs have become during the walk over. Even that falls away as she approaches the Darkling’s cell.
He’s sitting on the hard slab that’s now his bed, but shoots up to his feet when he sees her. Although he nearly falls over with his hands behind him. His gray eyes consume what she shows him, and she lets him have it.
He even approaches when she beckons him closer. Her empty hand reaching up to loosen his gag. “Alina…” His voice is full of anger and disappointment.
“You’ve brought this on yourself,” she reprimands. “You could have stopped at any point, but you didn’t. I know the names of every person who died in Novokribirsk, of the people you killed when you attacked Os Alta, and you will be punished for each and every one of them, Aleksander.”
He recoils at his own name. She wonders when the last time he heard it was. Baghra? Some distant lover? Was it during his childhood? Or more recent?
“Who told you?” He hisses, shock now warring with anger. Yet he answers before she can. “Baghra."
Alina nods. “Your name, and my training, were the price she paid for you to live.” Baghra might have agreed with the latter begrudgingly, but that hasn’t stopped her from being her regular charming self when Alina goes to her. “Although by the end I wonder if she’ll regret her choice.”
He returns to the bars, gray eyes flinty. “I’m hundreds of years old, Alina. I doubt you’ll be able to do anything to me that I have not already experienced in some fashion.”
“That remains to be seen, I’m an apt pupil after all,” she answers. “I’d say last night was a new experience for you.” His expression hardens. “It might take a thousand days, or perhaps a hundred thousand, but there will come a day when Nikolai will give you an order, and you’ll obey. Gladly, without question.”
Her pronouncement earns her a sneer. “No, Alina, I will not. Not him, or any other otkazat'sya you might find. I was not made to please princes, and certainly not kings,” his voice is low and dangerous. Despite everything, something in her shivers in delight. “No. I will find a way to escape and it will be I that punishes you.”
A sunlit smile crosses Alina’s lips. “So you say.” Closing the coat back up she turns. “We will see each other again soon, Sasha.” She can just barely see him start at the nickname. Yes, she thinks as she begins the long climb back up, this will be quite the experience.
-
Nikolai wakes to find the bed empty, Alina nowhere to be seen. A vague memory rises up, her telling him she’d be back. Perhaps she already is, waiting out in the main room and having already eaten all the food they were supposed to share for breakfast, no doubt.
The thought makes him laugh softly. But he hauls himself out of bed and gets ready for what will likely be another long day.
When he does enter the main room Alina’s still not to be found. It’s a note of worry, but he trusts her.
So he pours himself some tea and settles in for breakfast, tugging over the pile of papers that is their most recent trade agreement proposal with Novi Zem. He’s halfway through the papers—and on his fourth cup of tea—when she finally does return. He arches an eyebrow at her appearance, although there is a lazy part of him more interesting in knowing what she has on under his coat. “I’m sure this will be all the rage next week,” he grins in way of greeting.
A smile tugs at Alina’s mouth as she comes over, laying a brief kiss on his cheek. “I’m sure,” she groans. “I’ll be right back.” She vanishes back into his bedroom. She steps out about ten minutes later, simply dressed in her own clothes, her hair only slightly less of a mess, and settles in across from him. “I have an idea,” she says as she begins eating.
He makes a thoughtful sound and gives her his full attention. “Is is dangerous?” It’s always a toss with Alina. “I do miss being able to do dangerous things.” Kings aren’t as disposable as second princes. Less able to get away with things too.
It earns him a kick on the shin, although he takes advantage and catches her foot between his legs before she can pull it back. She rolls her eyes. “Dangerous in that if it backfires it will likely destroy the country...maybe,” she answers.
He slouches in his chair some, taking a slow sip from his tea. “Do tell.”
And she does.
By the end of it he’s wondering how long they can put off their respective morning meetings—the two of them have just been married, people would understand right? “Highly unorthodox.” Which is just his sort of thing.
Alina gnaws on her bottom lip. “I don’t really know if it will work, but it’s worth a try right?” Outside of their room she’d never show such hesitancy, but here she can doubt.
Here she knows he’ll never judge her for it. Here they are not just political partners, they’re friends. And, one day, he hopes something more. “Yes. I’d say it’s worth a shot.” It really is his favorite sort of risk, although Alina’s right about the consequences should it fail. Which makes it all the more heady if they do succeed. Nevermind that the idea pleases some dark, ruthless part of him—likely that part of him so much like the Darkling himself. Reaching across the table Nikolai takes Alina’s hand. “It will certainly make things more interesting,” he grins as he kisses her fingertips.
She huffs, but she’s still smiling. “Then the first thing you must know is his name…”
ii.
They begin that night with dinner. Unusual, Nikolai is sure, but he’s won harder battles with stranger plans. On the other hand he’s also never done anything like this.
Nikolai’s not sure whether or not it helps that he’s the first king to come to the Little Palace uninvited. He’s certainly the first king who comes into the dining hall and makes conversation with the Grisha there. He’d had to pull himself away from a conversation with some Fabrikators on the newest of his flying ship designs. As stimulating as his own plans can be, there was a far greater stimulation waiting for him.
Alina had rolled her eyes fondly when he’d finally arrived.
Now he sits across from her, dinner laid out between them, and watches as she summons their third party. He can only tell that she’s succeed by the thrum of tension in her. She takes another deep breath and curls her fingers, a form beginning to take shape to Nikolai’s left. It’s always a little surprising to see how versatile her powers can really be.
When she finishes it’s not perfect, but the man’s certainly recognizable as Aleksander. Nikolai at least knows where to look now. He lounges in his seat some, taking a sip of brandy. “Hello, Sasha.”
Nikolai almost wishes the man were here in person—but there’s not enough trust for that yet—just so he could get the full effect of shock. Instead what he gets is jerky movements and a face that becomes hazy. Nikolai’s certain the other man speaks, but Alina’s powers are only light, not sound.
Alina makes a face, confirming his guess. “He’s not happy.”
“Mmm, he’s just going to have to learn to live with it.” It feels about due for a time when Aleksander doesn’t get everything he wants. “You should eat,” he tells the other man. They’ve planned this so that he should be able to eat when they do. “You’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re going to try and overthrow me.” Not something he should be joking about considering, but Nikolai likes being a little reckless.
“I think he wants to set you on fire,” Alina stifles her giggles.
Nikolai grins.
She and he begin their dinner, their conversation flowing. Quite a lot of it ends up being things they both already know, but that Aleksander doesn’t: the integration of the two armies, Alina’s efforts to try and find more Grisha, how well the tests of the flying ships have gone.
Neither of them try to speak to Aleksander, only occasionally acknowledging him with a glance. The point at this time isn’t to have conversation with him, but to show him that they’ll keep him aware of what’s going on in Ravka and the greater world. If he’s smart he’ll do quite a lot to make sure they keep doing it.
He doesn't know if Aleksander catches onto that, but if he says anything more Alina doesn't convey it. They'll have to talk about that some tomorrow, Nikolai would like to know exactly what he's dealing with, but he understands why she might not want to. That can wait for tomorrow though. They have other plans for tonight.
They finish their dinner, and Nikolai lets himself enjoy the few moments of quiet that come after. Satisfaction and anticipation balancing on a fine edge inside him.
Alina seems content to do the same. Aleksander is harder to read, but that’s a flaw of him not being here rather than Nikolai’s own skills, he’s sure. Even still, it’s nice. Although it will be interesting to see how things go when they’re all there in the flesh.
She stands first, moving with an unhurried grace to the bedroom. Anticipation spikes a little higher in Nikolai.
He tosses back the rest of his brandy—perhaps a waste of good brandy, but he also doesn’t care—and follows.
Perhaps it’s a good thing Alina never bothered to change her rooms in the Little Palace, although now Nikolai feels a slight frisson of something he can’t quite name as he walks into the bedroom, leaving the door behind him open. The Dark-Aleksander’s tastes might have been sparse, but these rooms still feel undeniably his.
Which Nikolai’s certain will only help tonight’s little game. He goes up to her, standing by the bed. “Is he here?” Nikolai wonders how well she’ll be able to concentrate in the heat of the moment.
She shakes his head. “Still in the other room, and he likely won’t come in on his own.” No surprise there. “We’ll just have to lure him in.”
Nikolai huffs. “I don’t doubt we will.” He helps her up onto the bed, making it easier for him to bend down and kiss her. It’s slow and soft, for now. Just a kiss between the two of them, nothing more, nothing less. Alina sighs into it, some of the tension in her leaking away the longer he keeps it light.
Meaning she’s not quite expecting it when he begins to kiss her harder, arms wrapping around her tight to keep her close. This time she moans, and he devours the sound. Tearing himself away from her mouth he moves down her throat, making a trail of rough bites as he goes. Her breathing hitches and she trembles. He finds himself loosening his hold some, taking one of her hands in his own and giving it an encouraging squeeze.
She squeezes back. Her head falls to the side as he reaches the collar around her neck. Letting go of her hand he slides his up, until his fingers are between her skin and collar, Alina’s pulse fluttering wildly as he curls them around the antlers. “Mine,” he growls.
Her skin begins to glow softly, and her eyes close. “Yes,” she pitches her voice to carry. “I’m yours, Aleksander.”
There is perhaps something wrong with Nikolai, that he hardly minds being called another man’s name. He’s been Nikolai, Sturmhond, perhaps half a dozen other people he’s invented; being someone else for a time doesn’t seem all that strange.
Alina had once claimed the two of them were alike, it would be interesting to see how far he could go.
He pulls himself away from her, hands stripping her ruthlessly, pushing her firmly onto the bed. “I told you I was going to punish you,” he keeps his voice low. “No one’s going to rush in to save you. There’s only you and I, and I intend to savor every moment of it.”
Trailing a hand down her body, he stops right before his fingers touch her clit. “Beg, and perhaps I’ll be merciful.”
Her eyes flash in challenge, one Nikolai finds himself responding to as just himself. “I’ll never beg, Sasha. Not to you.”
“We shall see.” Nikolai lets a slow smile curl on his lips, as his hand slips lower.
Alina shrikes as he pleasures her, his movements relentless, and perhaps a little too harsh. That’s the game though, and now that they’ve begun Nikolai finds he’s loathed to back down. Sparing a quick glance to the room he’s unsurprised to find Aleksander standing a few feet away, the whole of him flickering wildly as Alina’s powers fluctuate. There’s even less expression in his face now than there’d been at dinner, but Nikolai’s certain there’s hunger in the other man’s eyes.
He brings Alina near orgasm three times, each time pulling away before she tips over. She’s shaking as he begins a forth, teeth digging hard into her lower lip to keep herself from crying out again, or begging.
Perhaps her assessment about the two of them was right, because Nikolai does love her dearly; but some dark part of him is enjoying this. Far more than Nikolai’s almost comfortable admitting.
Bending down he runs his tongue across her lips, cleaning the blood off them. “Beg, Alina,” he growls. His free hand finds its way into her hair, grasping tight and pulling back, making her whole body arch. “I’ll only give you what you beg for.”
He slows his fingers down, letting his movements become lazy and grazing. Alina’s mouth flies open, a shaky wail falling from her lips. He waits, patiently, while she tries to reclaim herself. His fingers begin to move in time with her shuddering breaths, distracting her even more. Annoyance flashes in her eyes and he gives her a mild smile. She knows what she needs to do.
“Sasha…” One of her hands grasps his arm, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. “Please.” It’s hard to tell if the shudder that passes through Aleksander is from her words, or because of her powers. “I need you, please.”
“What do you need, Alina?” He bends close to murmur in her ear. His fingers slow again, thumb ghosting across her clit.
She gives a delightful wail. “Orgasm, please, I-” He twists and pushes his fingers up and her words turn to screams as she finally reaches release. Nikolai squints against the bright flare of her powers, grateful when they begin to fade.
Pulling his fingers away he licks them clean, enjoying the taste of her. As aftershocks still move through her he strips and climbs on top of her. “Alright?” He whispers into her ear.
“Yes,” she murmur.
Reassured he positions himself and thrusts in. Alina cries out and he can feel her squeeze tight around him. He bites back a sound of his own; Saints, that’s good. As he begins to thrust in earnest he pulls her head to the side, retracing his earlier path, making sure his marks are nice and deep. His free hand digs into her hip, bruisingly hard.
Her voice begins to fade some, cries turning into brief sharp sounds. He himself pants harshly against her shoulder as he moves, he can feel his end fast approaching. It makes him move harder, wanting to wring every last sound out of her that he can.
Alina obliges, panting and gasping as he gives one final thrust. He bites into her shoulder as he orgasms. “Aleksander!” She shrieks, as blood fills his mouth. It draws an answering sound from him, muffled by her flesh.
In the aftermath he releases her, arms moving to prop himself up so he doesn’t crush her. Silence stretches between them.
Until Alina speaks, her voice ragged. “Bow,” she turns her head towards where Aleksander is, looking more hazy patch than man. “You could have me, if you bow.” It’s the part Nikolai had been most hesitant about, but after this...he thinks he’d like to see it. See this other man attempt to bend Alina, never knowing how futile it was.
Perhaps they could compare notes. He stifles his brief laugh.
Aleksander must respond, because Alina’s face tightens in anger. “Fine.” There’s a flash of light and not even the haze remains. “He’s gone,” she confirms a few seconds later.
Now he pulls himself away fully, resting on his side next to her. Fingers brushing her sluggishly bleeding shoulder. “Perhaps I was overly enthusiastic.”
Fond laughter leaves her. Before he knows it she’s scooped his hand up, bringing each finger to her lips. “Nikolai, Kolya,” she kisses a finger with each name. Warmth settled in his chest, a pain far more awful and delightful than anything he’d ever experienced. “Sobochka,” she fills it with more love and affection than he’s ever heard from anyone else. “Husband.” She kisses his thumb, the corners of her eyes crinkling a little as she smiles. “Lisitsa.”
This time he lets his laugh out. “A very dashing fox, if I might be so bold.” He laces their hands together, tugging her a little closer. “And you are my most delightful wife, and friend.” There are other words that demand to be let out, but he holds them tight. Alina’s not ready to hear them just yet. He can be patient.
“Yes,” she agrees. “Although I’m going to get you back for my shoulder.” He likes the glint in her eye.
“I look forward to it.”
-
In the morning Alina feels sore and tender. Vigor apparently making a world of difference, or at least intensity. A shiver races through her as she remembers.
It hadn’t been perfect, Nikolai looked nothing like Aleksander after all, but it had still been far more than she’d thought it would be. She’s sure it will be a while yet until she has the real thing—"Not even for you will I bow Alina." —but she’s sure given time it will come to pass.
Sounds come from the sitting area of her rooms. Most likely Genya, Alina knows. Today will be...interesting.
Nikolai begins to wake as she untangles herself and makes a light. He looks just as much as mess as she does, and she lets herself take satisfaction in that. “Morning,” she kisses his cheek.
“Morning.” He stretches, swaths of pale skin distracting her for a moment.
She tears herself away and stands. Going into the bathroom she cleans herself up as best she can before finally going out to face her friend.
Who’s good eye widens when she sees Alina. “What…”
Alina gives an apologetic smile as she takes a seat where Genya’s set up. “We got a little over enthusiastic last night.” The words make a blush ride high on her face. “Sorry.” Genya’s work will be cut out for her today, Alina’s neck alone likely a nightmare.
Genya hesitates for a moment, then begins her work. “Alina...I know you agreed to marry him, but…” There’s only concern on her friend’s face, even if she won’t quite meet Alina’s gaze in the mirror.
“Nothing happened that I didn’t ask for,” she consoles. Genya will still worry, but she shouldn’t.
“Safin,” Nikolai’s stumble is an affect, and Alina rolls her eyes, granted she understands why. Dressed only in his pants he looks quite debauched: hair going every which way, a collection of hickeys on his chest, and a bite on his shoulder even more eye catching than her own. “I do hope you’re up for doing a little Tailoring on me as well.”
Trust Nikolai to know exactly what to do. Genya’s eye widens again, and this time she meets Alina’s eyes in the mirror. “Alina!” Her voice is now only full of scandalized delight.
Alina gives a haughty sniff. “I gave as good as I got.”
iii.
Two years. Two years pass and Alina can’t quite believe it herself.
Slowly Ravka begins to get back on it’s feet. It helps that their wars have fallen into a lull again; their flying ships, even now, still catching their enemies off guard. They certainly make up the difference for the dearth of Grisha. The army’s fully integrated now, but even that can’t hide the fact that there are so few of her Grisha out there.
Reluctantly she’d agreed to send out more hunting parties, hoping the promise of training and safety will be enough to lure more Grisha to Ravka. It’s only been a mild success, but that’s more than Alina ever expected.
Sometimes she wishes Ravka were the only country that had changed in these past two years.
Parem had seemed only a nightmarish fantasy, at least until the botched assassination attempt last week. Now it is something all too real that must be dealt with. Even if no one has any idea what to do in that regard.
Some horrible part in her murmurs how it would make things with Aleksander so easy, and she hates herself for it. She doesn’t want easy. She wants him to beg for their love, not for his next taste of parem.
Moments alone are rarer now. Which means she takes advantage of the ones she has.
Although ‘alone’ isn’t quite right, there are guards within shouting distance, a few Grisha too. But she can’t see any of them at the moment at her seat in the conservatory, so she’ll take what she can get. Nikolai was supposed to be joining her, but his meeting must have run over.
Perhaps she should have been in that meeting herself—it was ostensibly her council meeting after all—arguing and debating over what they were going to do. But she’d seen the look on Nikolai’s face when the whispers had started of big things possibly happening in Ketterdam. Knew full well that no amount of argument or debate would change his mind, not with the promise of being part of something like that. It only remained to be seen how long it took him to convince everyone else.
Alina sighs.
Calling Aleksander is as easy as breathing to her now. As he appears next to her she watches him look around, and she can see his slight shift in expression when he realizes they are alone.
“Sasha,” she smiles at him.
He no longer flinches when they call him that, a small, but important step. No, she won’t throw that away, not for anything. “Alina.” He sits. “You’re looking well.”
She snorts. “I think you mean looking pregnant.” It seems that the nobility have nothing better to gossip about than the sex lives of the king and queen, because she’s heard more than few whispers about that fact. Little prince Konstantin barely ten months old and the queen’s already expecting again. As if that were a scandal.
Aleksander says nothing, but the slight narrowing of his eyes says much. So transparent.
She hides her smile behind the rim of her cup. Deciding not to mention that he looks well also. Two years of no powers, no merzost, and he’s hardly changed at all, except perhaps that his hair has gone ragged and a little long. It’s an absent thought on whether she’ll be the same in time. She shakes it off, there’s more important things right now.
“Nikolai and I were almost assassinated.” They’d been holding off on telling him, telling him about parem too. He deserved to know about both, but it was all a matter of choosing the right time. The way things stand right now however that right time might never come.
He stills, but she can feel anger crashing from him in waves. She tilts her head at him. “Isn’t that what you want? With us dead you could likely take the throne for yourself, Ravka would be desperate.”
That anger finally shows on his face, gray eyes flashing. “You know that’s not what I want Alina. Your husband dead at my feet, that I would welcome gladly. But you? No, never you Alina.” Good that he admits it.
“And what about Kostya?” She rests her hand over her belly, not yet showing. “Or this one?”
Aleksander leans closer. “They’re your children, Alina. I know their deaths would cause you pain.” So reasonable.
“No,” she bares her teeth at him. “They’re Nikolai’s children too. You can’t just ignore that, just like you can’t ignore the parts of me you don’t like, Sasha.”
“As you seem intent on reminding me most nights.” She rolls her eyes at the sour note in his voice. “Who made the attempt?”
She drinks from her tea, there’s food but she finds herself disinterested in it. “Grisha,” the truth, if not the whole of it.
“No,” it’s quite sweet that he denies it. “What reason would they have?”
“They didn’t have a choice,” she shrugs. “Their masters,” likely the Fjerdans considering the murmurs Nikolai’s spies have been hearing about another supposed Lantsov heir. “Had the parem they craved, they’d do anything for it.”
“Parem? ” His curiosity is only passing, but she knows once she tells him it will be more than that.
She takes a deep breath. “It’s a drug derived from jurda. It allows Grisha to...do almost anything. They were Tidemakers…” Her hands curl into fists at the memory. “And they walked right through the walls as if they were paper.” They’d had the element of surprise, but even they’d fallen when pitted against her own powers—if only by luck. It seemed that whatever they did to make themselves intangible made them evaporate under the onslaught of light and heat.
Again his anger, but this time directed at those who would hurt her and not herself. Aleksander had threatened everything she’d loved once, yet when others threaten her he dislikes it. She and Nikolai have taken advantage of that fact, perhaps more times than Aleksander has realized.
“Have we managed to get a hold of any?” She wonders if he knows what he’s said.
If he doesn’t, she won’t say a thing. “No, not through lack of trying.” They’d hoped to get a sample to David and Genya, if anyone could discover how it worked it would be them. But it seems that Yul-Bayur had sent samples of it to everyone except Ravka. A fact her country might suffer for.
His expression grows thoughtful. “I would have preferred to see it first hand.”
“You know what you need to do,” she reminds.
“No.” If he had his powers she’s certain the shadows would be all but alive. “And nothing you’ve said suggests a down side to this parem.”
“It’s highly addictive,” she says. “Once you’ve had it there’s no going back. You’ll do anything so long as you can have more. In the end it kills you.” She looks him right in the eye. “I’m never giving it to you,” she tells him. “And I’ll stop anyone else who tries.”
She’s not sure she can decipher the feelings that pass over his face at her words. In the end though he shakes his head. “I feel I have the right to decide for myself. What if…”
“No,” she says, voice low and dangerous. Around them sunlight twists and flares. “You don’t get to have that choice, Sasha. You gave up that right when you became my monster.” It’s perhaps rare that she lets herself be so possessive of him, but it’s the truth.
He stills, expression conflicted. Like always when she claims him as hers, when she calls herself his equal. It’s what he’d claimed he’s wanted, yet when it happens there is apparently something displeasing about it. Not that she’s here to coddle his ego, far from it. Eventually they will wear him down, him fighting it only makes it more...interesting.
A commotion sounds from the main doors, and a few seconds later she hears familiar footsteps striding towards them, Nikolai appearing from the plants. There’s a grin on his face and a sparkle in his eye. It warms some long-cold part of her, but there’s also an old, if fond, flare of annoyance. “Alina, my munificent queen.”
She rolls her eyes, but tilts her head up so he can more easily kiss her. On her other side Aleksander makes an annoyed sound. “You’re going then?”
“Yes.” Nikolai throws himself into his seat, beginning to serve himself from their now very late lunch. “Zoya’s not happy, but we’re all in agreement.” His grin turns into a smile. “You could still come too,” he offers.
It’s sweet that he does, but she shakes her head. “You know I’ve got no head for it. Anyways one of has to stay behind and run the country.” She gives a haughty sniff. “Maybe while you’re gone I’ll just overthrow you, make myself empress or something.”
“An excellent idea,” Aleksander murmurs next to her. Absently she flicks her wrist and her powers reveal him, it’s gotten easier the more practice she has.
Nikolai tilts his head in greeting, but his eyes are only for Alina. He sets his fork down and moves around the table. Alina feels her heart begin to race. “Sol Koroleva in true?” He teases. “You’d hate the endless meetings before they were even over.”
“Sasha agrees with me,” she jibes back playfully.
“I’m sure he does,” Nikolai agrees as he kneels. Taking one of her hands he kisses the palm. “I’m certain though you’d need at least one person to complain to.”
Alina arches an eyebrow. “I take it you’re offering yourself for the position? I guess I could be persuaded to take you on as a consort. You are quite handsome.”
“And an excellent listener,” he gives a fox’s grin. “I am sorry about leaving you here. I certainly will worry every second I’m away from you. But this is necessary.” He’s right of course, this might be their one chance to get ahead of everyone else with parem, perhaps even give them the chance to destroy it completely.
“I know,” she agrees. That doesn’t mean she also wishes there were another way.
Nikolai kisses her palm again. “If you’d like I could scour Ketterdam, find the gaudiest bauble I can as an apology.”
She gives that the laugh it deserves. “As amusing as it might be to see you do it, I think not. I have my fill of jewelry.” Collar, fetter, the Lantsov emerald; far more than she’d ever thought she’d have in her life.
A hum of agreement from Nikolai. “Then perhaps something else…” His expression grows thoughtful, than mischievous.
Before she can say anything he’s managed to throw her skirt over his head, the feel of his clothes against her bare skin something of a shock. “Nikolai,” she hisses. Having a good idea what he has planned.
He presses a kiss on her inner thigh, the sensation making her shiver. “Relax, darling.” His hands smooth along her skin, reaching her underwear he shifts it aside and…
She only just manages to stifle her yelp at the first brush of his tongue. “Nikolai…” it comes out more a low moan. Next to her Aleksander is deathly still, pupils dilating. From where he stands he can see as much as she can, but she knows should anyone else come across her Nikolai would be well hidden by the table and her dress.
Alina finds herself desperately hoping that doesn’t happen. She’s not sure she’d be able to manage a conversation, let alone convince someone that nothing was happening. The gossips would never run out of things to talk about.
Nikolai works at his ‘apology’ with the same vigor he does most everything in his life. Meaning she’s soon trembling, knuckles white from the grip she has on her chair, biting her lip as hard as she dares to muffle her sounds—she has never be one for being quite it turns out. Even above her own muffled noises of pleasure she can hear Nikolai, which he’s doing for her benefit she’s sure.
Well not just hers.
Aleksander’s breathing has gone somewhat ragged. He’s done his best, but over the years he’s grown less adept at hiding his reactions. It doesn’t hurt that when she focuses—something a little beyond her at this point—she can feel his emotions.
Before his desire for her both intrigued and frightened, he wouldn’t love her as a normal person would. His age alone making that impossible. Now she does her best to use it. Aleksander knows he can have her, so long as Nikolai agrees. Nikolai won’t agree however until Aleksander kneels. That is their offer.
Alina tosses her head back, the brief pain of it hitting the back of her chair lost in the pleasure rushing through her. “Nikolai…” It’s stifled, but a desperate plea nonetheless.
She can feel him smile against her, before pushing ever onwards. Focused on his goal.
Without thinking her hands fly out, grasp at Aleksander, feels him shiver as the world becomes more real to him. She pulls him down towards her, he goes more because he’s not expecting the action. He only just manages to catch himself from falling on her and Nikolai.
The way he’s braced himself against the chair, however, has him perfectly positioned for her.
Her head tilts up and opening her mouth she buries her teeth into his throat. He is not real, but she still swears she tastes his blood on her mouth. Only a few seconds later she’s driven into her orgasm, her scream muffled by Aleksander.
It would only be more perfect if he were here in the flesh instead of in the prison below them.
Nikolai gives her one final, lingering lick before pulling away. When he emerges from her skirts he looks exactly like a man who’d just made a woman orgasm in public: golden hair a mess, lips and chin shiny with her slick, eyes bright with fond pride. “Am I forgiven?” He asks innocently. Licking his lips clean.
Alina releases Aleksander, unsurprised when he staggers back. In the illusion of him his neck bleeds sluggishly, but she knows in reality he’s uninjured—more’s the pity that. Her whole body trembles as the pleasure begins to fade, she still feels she manages a decent glare. “When it comes time for Genya to Tailor you into Sturmhond, I think I can help with the nose.” Panting perhaps ruins the threat, but it’s all she’s capable of at the moment.
He laughs. “I do always strive for authenticity.”
“You’ve never told a more bald-faced lie in your life,” she responds with a smile.
-
It is a few hours later, Nikolai still riding high somewhat from the satisfaction of everything that’s happened so far, that he descends the stairs towards Aleksander’s cell.
Alina makes the trip more than he does, but she’s far better bait; a fact they both agree on.
When he comes to a stop in front of the man’s cell, he’s not surprised Aleksander barely glances at him. It’s become ritual at this point: Aleksander ignores him until Nikolai manages to strike a nerve of some sort, usually about Alina. Perhaps a better man wouldn’t use his wife to taunt another, but there’s a bigger picture to be seen.
“I expect to hear good things from Alina when I return.” While Nikolai agreed to it, and very much wants the end product, this whole endeavor is Alina’s. “Although it shouldn’t be more than a week.”
“And I shall hope that some stray bullet or knife catches you.” Eyes sharp as stones attempt to pin him in place. “Perhaps then Alina will begin to see reason, after she’s mourned.”
Nikolai will not say he’s had that exact thought, but similar enough. He has the decency never to speak them however—even after two years, things between him and Alina are still too fragile. Her heart too tender after Mal’s death for her to risk it fully. If Aleksander is Alina’s war, then she is Nikolai’s.
Granted, in Nikolai’s case time will do most of the work; he just has to be his usual charming and caring self.
Aleksander, however, has yet to earn either of those things. “And here I was going to offer you a gift.” Nikolai leans against the far wall.
It earns him a raised eyebrow. “The chance to kill you myself? No. I do believe I shall leave that one to someone else. I’ve suffered enough of Alina’s ‘blame.’” He sneers. “Far better for her grief and anger to be pointed at someone who deserves it.”
There’s truth to that, one even Nikolai and Alina have spoken of. If more about what might happen should someone manage to slip Alina parem. “Point me towards our enemies, Nikolai. And pray.”
She’d once asked him how far he was willing to go to claim Ravka for his own. Now that he has it, he guesses the question becomes how far will he go to keep it? Perhaps not as far as Aleksander would, but further than Alina might be comfortable with.
Yet never so far as to put Alina in that position.
He shakes his head, both in answer to Aleksander and to focus himself. “No, sadly. As fun as it might be to fight you myself, I’ve gotten into the habit of not fighting battles I’m not likely to win.” Self-preservation is more important now that he’s king. “My gift was going to be physical in an altogether...different way.”
“And I know you won’t leave me in peace until you’ve had the chance to gloat. So spit it out, sobachka.”
Nikolai grins. It doesn’t bother him that Aleksander knows his type so well. Because the trick is working that to your advantage, and Nikolai’s become very adept at that. He pushes off from the wall and approaches the cell, the bars digging into him as he leans closer. “A kiss,” he says. “It’s been a few hours, but…” He licks his lips. “I can still taste her.”
Aleksander stills. The man might be the oldest living thing in Ravka, but Nikolai can see him warring with himself so very easily. That desire to have Alina all to himself fighting against his pride.
Yes, Nikolai knows how to use every ounce of himself to his advantage.
Nikolai sees Aleksander’s bound hands curl into fists, pointlessly attempting to summon? Or perhaps he’s debating on whether to punch Nikolai. The latter of which would likely earn him a lower cell again.
A fact Aleksander recalls if the way his fingers uncurl is anything to go by.
“I’ll admit, I’m feeling magnanimous.” Not even close to the truth. “You don’t even have to ask. Just come here and I’ll kiss you.” A clear challenge.
One that Aleksander’s pride will likely make him refuse, but Nikolai can hope. He starts to pull away. “Perhaps I should go refresh myself first,” he gives a sharp grin. “Make sure I’m really going to deliver what I’m promising.” Alina would understand, and he’d make it worth her while. Two or three orgasms would certainly help her relax.
It gets a response at least, anger flaring in Aleksander’s eyes at the thought. Old, yes, but he did make it quite easy sometimes.
Aleksander gets something of the last laugh however. Storming up to Nikolai he grabs his shirt tightly and yanks him lower, their lips crashing together.
Nikolai grins as his own hands move, one wrapping around Aleksander’s waist to keep him close, the other in the man’s hair. Aleksander tries to fight it, but in the end Nikolai tilts his head a little further back, giving Nikolai more control.
The kiss is a war in and of itself. Nikolai might have a bit more control over it now, but Aleksander fights back with his teeth and tongue. Blood is drawn, but Nikolai doesn’t let that deter him, the pain fleeting in the face of triumph.
His grip becomes harder, tilting Aleksander’s head back further, barring his neck. A fact Nikolai takes advantage of quickly. Tearing his mouth away he moves lower, intent on mauling Aleksander the same way he’s grown to enjoy mauling Alina.
Aleksander attempts to resist, but even if his hands were unbound their position makes it impossible for him to summon. Nikolai does however find himself wishing the bars were gone, it would make this far easier. Not that he’s going to let that stop him. Only, grinding against metal is far less comfortable than flesh.
Reaching the base of Aleksander’s neck he sinks his teeth deep.
It earns him a snarl and a shudder. Yet Aleksander says nothing. A victory in and of itself.
Content that he’s left a good wound, Nikolai finally releases Aleksander. Licking his lips as he watches the other man stumble, hate still obvious in his gaze.
Nikolai’s born worse. “I’ll let the guards know to let you have a nice hot bath tonight.” Even begrudging submission deserves a reward. “I’ll see you again soon, Sasha.”
Returning to the palace above Nikolai seeks out Alina. They have much to discuss.
-
Nikolai’s request that Alina not call up Aleksander that night, nor go to see him until after Nikolai’d left, had been easy enough to agree to. Although Alina’s curiosity desperately wanted to know why. Something Nikolai knew full well, yet still didn’t answer.
He’d only grinned and told her it would be worth the wait.
As much as Alina would like to rush down the moment Nikolai and the others leave she makes herself do the work she’s supposed to. Meetings to attend, both as queen and leader of the Grisha, people to make nice with—she’d rather have more meetings—decisions to make.
It’s not until late in the day that she has a few hours to herself.
No one guarding the door to the prison even blinks anymore when she passes them—absently she wonders what they think she and Nikolai do. Her descent doesn’t take as long as it used to and it seems like only a moment before she’s at Aleksander’s cell.
“Oh,” it rushes out of her. Eyes roving over him, before returning to his bruised and bitten neck.
Shame and anger thrum down the bond, but it doesn’t detract from the growing heat inside her. “Sit on the bed,” she tells him. Reaching into a pocket of her kefta she pulls out the key to his cell.
His eyes narrow at her, but he still says nothing as he moves. Sitting as she unlocks the cell and steps in. Closing the door behind her she sets the key on the desk he has before approaching him. A hand weaves into his hair and tilts his head to the side.
“Alina…” She cuts him a sharp glance at the warning note in his voice.
“If I want to see my husband’s work, Sasha, I will.” And oh, what work it is. She wishes she could have seen it done, instead of only the aftermath. Perhaps next time.
She moves closer, until she can feel the heat of him. “So handsome,” she murmurs. Leaning down she brushes her lips across his own. Grip tightening when he tries to make it a true kiss. “Lift you arms up.” She lets go of his hair to make it easier.
He lifts his arms, and she moves to straddle one of his thighs, guiding his arms so that they rest on her shoulders, the chain resting against her back. “You move and I’ll stop, understand?”
“Yes.” Curiosity trickles from him. Arousal of his own too, to have her so close in the flesh.
He’s about to get quite a lot more.
Slowly she unbuttons her kefta, letting it fall apart. Easy enough to make her skin glow slightly, making the white shirt underneath seem transparent. His eyes are glued to her and she smiles. One of her hands returns to his hair. The other comes to rest on her breast for a moment, thumb lazily toying with her nipple, before it begins to slide lower, his gaze following.
Getting her hand into her pants is not the most graceful thing, but it does the job. It certainly doesn’t seem to detract from Aleksander’s experience, his pupils dilating and she can feel him growing harder against her knee.
Her first gasp has him shuddering, and she can feel him strain not to move, even moreso when her body slumps against the chain, forcing him to hold more of her weight. All of that falls to the wayside as she fingers herself. She’s merciless, driving herself higher, making herself moan and gasp. Only to pull back and slow down, knowing it will make Aleksander’s struggle worse.
Yet he doesn’t move.
“Good, Sasha,” she gasps. Hips rolling as she twists her fingers up, a whimper following as she brushes against that spot in her. Her hand in his hair tightens, relishing the thick feel of it in her hand.
The strain begins to show in him, the tightening of his shoulders, the slashes of pink on his cheeks. “Alina…” It’s almost begging and she shivers.
It’s a struggle to compose herself enough to reply, wants fighting against each other until she makes one win out. “No,” she pants. “Don’t you dare.” She wants the orgasm and if he moves now she’ll move him down to a lower cell herself.
His hands curl into fists behind her and she stills. “Sasha,” even her brief moan can’t overcome the warning in her voice.
Aleksander closes his eyes and lets out a slow hissing breath. “You try me, Alina.” But even so he stills himself.
“Yes,” it’s both agreement and relief. She grinds down on her own hand and throwing her head back screams as her orgasm finally arrives. Thankfully they’re low enough that no one should hear the sound and come running.
Turning her head she kisses the taut skin of his arm, right below his shackles. “Good,” she repeats. He shudders and she can feel anger and shame begin to return.
Before they can grow too much however she extracts her hand, holding it up to his mouth. “Open.”
He does it without even thinking and she smiles like the sun. Pleased sigh falling from her lips as he begins to lick her fingers clean. The hand she has tangled in his hair slips out, moving down to his neck, absently petting Nikolai’s handiwork. “Let us be generous to you, Sasha. We’d give you so much, if only you’d let us.”
Gray eyes darken, but his tongue—so clever and she finds herself eager to know what it would feel like against other parts of her—keeps up it’s work. And when she tries to pull her fingers free his head follows for a few seconds.
He realizes this only a second after she does and he freezes, her fingers slide free and she lets both hands fall to her sides. Leaning towards him she gives him another brushing kiss. “Good night, Sasha.”
“Alina…” his voice is a tangle. She slips out from under his arms and stands, buttoning up her kefta as she walks to his desk. “Why are you doing this?”
Picking up the key she goes to the door and opens it. “I love you, Aleksander,” she answers.
Shock races down the bond and across his face. She continues before he can try to speak. “After a fashion. It is certainly not the sort of love others wish for, but it’s true.” It’s strange to admit that to him, when she hasn’t even said it to Nikolai. It might be different from her love for Aleksander, but she has begun to love him too. “I love you, but I know I cannot have you if you don’t bend, if you don’t let go of that pride you’ve clung to for so long.” She closes the door and locks it.
“I…” He stares at her, longing clear through their bond, even if it never shows on his face.
“I know,” she replies. He’s afraid of wanting, of being weak, of changing when he’s been the same for so long. “That’s why we do it, because it’s the only way.”
-
When she reaches the Little Palace dinner is just starting, for a change she joins them. The company of her Grisha helping to ease some of her loneliness.
“Moi , moi soverenyi,” a woman’s voice pulls her away from a conversation with Feydor. Turning in her seat she sees Kostya’s nurse, the boy in question in her arms. “You said you wanted to spend some time with him…” The nurse, Katya, Alina thinks her name might be, drifts off. Seemingly uncomfortable with the Grisha around her.
Alina stands. “Sorry, Feydor.”
It earns her a laugh. “No apologies needed. I’d say a child is far more interesting than lesson plans.” He’s only half right.
Taking Kostya she nestles him in her arms. “You can go,” she tells Katya. “I’ll bring him back to the Palace later.” A soft pang thrums in her when she feels him nestle closer. The woman curtsies before scurrying off. Letting out a small sigh Alina looks down at her son, an altogether different sort of pang going through her.
Kostya’s golden hair glimmers in the light, and even though they’re closed in sleep she knows his eyes are an arresting blue—Nikolai claims they’re the color of the True Sea, but she thinks he’s just being overly fond. It’s not a true resemblance, but there’s no denying in her mind that his looks painfully like Mal.
She does love him, but she’s also grateful she’s expected to hand over taking care and raising him over to others. Perhaps when he’s older he’ll be less of a reminder of the love she’s lost, but for now she tries not to be around him too much.
Letting out another sigh she shakes her head, it hurts, but she also does want to keep him with her. “Tolya,” she calls out across the hall.
From the looks of the students around her they’re grateful for the interruption. Likely he’d been reciting poetry, an acquired taste she knows. He dutifully stands though and comes to her side. Kefta are no longer the uniform of the Second Army—not that there’s one of those anymore either—but here at the Little Palace they’re still the default, making his lack of one more obvious.
“And where are we wandering to today, moi soverenyi?” He gives a little bow.
She huffs. “We’ll see,” she answers tartly. “I don’t think it will be a long one however.” Last week still has everyone on edge, and even if she can take care of herself, she also doesn’t like her people worrying about her overly much.
Together they walk out of the dining hall and onto the grounds of the Little Palace. She finds herself heading towards the lake. The evening air is warm, Belyanoch will be soon, and the anniversary of their victory—nevermind Nikolai’s birthday—and she breathes it in deep. In her arms Kostya stirs, when she glances down she sees those blue eyes of his blinking. One of his arms emerging out of his swaddling to rub at them.
“Hello,” she murmurs to him. Shifting her hold slightly she offers him a finger, a wan smile crossing her face as he grabs on, his grip impossibly light.
Reaching the lake she walks out onto the dock, eyes looking over the two ships moored there—practice ones for the Squallers so they know how flying works—before staring out across the water towards the island in the middle.
Tolya doesn’t try to talk, letting her have this moment of quiet.
Kostya fusses some and she hums and rocks him to sooth him. “As greedy for attention as your father,” she muses. For her that might be a good thing, although it might make him a terror with whomever’s tasked with watching him.
Turning around she leaves the lake and heads further out, towards the woods. She avoids Baghra’s hut for the woods themselves, towards something she’s not sure even the students know about.
As graves go it’s nothing elaborate or overbearing. Only a plain headstone simply decorated: the constellation of the Hunter stretching across the whole stone, the stars done in gold, and a few words across the top. Malyen Oretsev, there is no end to our story.
Letting out a shuddering gasp, Alina lets her heart break all over again.
Perhaps it would have been better to have him buried at Keramzin, perhaps even in their field, but Alina had felt selfish. Not quite willing to let him go, even in death.
She rarely visits now, her duties keeping her busy, but she does try to make time. A good reminder of what she’s lost, what she’s sacrificed. That one could have good intentions but still fail. Alina tries to live with that fact as best she can.
As always when she visits there’s an old stirring in her chest. A restless urge to find. Since Mal’s death she’s had no real desire to try and seek out the firebird, to claim that final amplifier for her own. He might have hated what she was becoming because of them, but it ironically seems as if he’d been part of the driving force to find them. These hints of it returning whenever she visits him.
“What do you think?” She looks down at her son. “Would the third amplifier make me able to deal with parem once and for all?” In terms of strength she’d say herself and someone on parem were equal, but conversely they could do so much more. She’s barely begun to scratch the surface.
He makes a nonsense sound, his whole body wiggling.
“Is that so?” A smile tugs at her lips as she shakes her head. “Exactly like your father, I’m afraid.”
Kostya seems unimpressed by this fact, fussing even more. Alina sighs. “I see how it is, you want to be mooned over.” Her Grisha would be more than obliging she’s sure. “Or perhaps I’ll have Tolya recite to you, would that calm you down?”
“My voice is soothing,” Tolya butts in.
She rolls her eyes at Kostya. “Then you can hold him and recite all you like on the way back,” she responds.
-
Nikolai sits in the crow’s nest, watching Os Kervo grow closer and closer, glad to be back even after all the fun he’d had. All he can really hope is that what all went down will make more good than bad for Ravka, and that nothing too awful will come back to bite him in the ass.
With a fond shake of his head he makes his way down, unsurprised to find Genya waiting for him. “Time for a king to miraculously reappear?”
“Unless you’d like for it to get out that the two of you are one and the same,” she replies with a roll of her eye.
“I do believe you and Zoya have been spending too much time together.” He leads the way to his cabin. Letting go of Sturmhond is always a little sad these days, but she’s right that it’s for the best. Although he’s not sure how much longer he can keep Sturmhond for himself, not that he’s getting old, but being a king takes up quite a lot of one’s time.
Perhaps in a few years Ghafa would like to have the title for herself.
“I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d argue there’s no such thing.” Her Tailoring kit is already waiting for them. Although at least when Genya does it it’s not as uncomfortable as when Tolya had.
He snorts as he sits. “I’d like to meet them,” he knows Zoya has a whole cadre of lovers. But none of them are ones she’s sought out for partnership.
The conversation dries up as she works, which Nikolai is fine with. And an hour later he’s back to his old self. “Thank you,” that she’d chosen to come on this trip at all was telling enough.
Genya only nods in return before gathering up her things and leaving. Sighing, Nikolai stands and changes into more suitable clothes for a king. The change with the crew is immediate when he steps onto the ship. Far more bowing and ‘moi soverenyi ’s, which Nikolai accepts with his usual flare.
Beneath him the ship rattles as it pulls into it’s berth. There’s a crowd gathering, it’s only a minor blow to his ego that they’re not waiting for him. Their murmurs and focus on Alina and her guards as she waits for them. He doesn’t bother to wait for the gangplank, instead swinging out on a loose line. It draws surprised noises from the crowd, but Alina only rolls her eyes.
“Welcome home,” she says as he approaches.
He gathers her into a hug, that quickly turns into a kiss. “I’m glad to be home. Traveling without you just isn’t the same anymore.”
Another eyeroll. “There’s a flying ship waiting for us on the Sokol,” she only sounds mildly annoyed by the prospect. Even after all this time flying is still not her favorite thing. Nikolai knows how to make her feel better on the other hand.
Twining their arms together he starts heading for the carriage waiting for them. “I do hope you’re ready for quite the adventure, it was marvelous.”
“I’m sure it was.” Dare he say there’s affection in her voice?
There’s a brief flurry behind them, when he spares it a glance it’s to see Zoya and Genya catching up. “And here I’d hoped we’d have the carriage to ourselves.” Granted they wouldn’t have had much time, but that would just be a good incentive.
“I see you missed me quite a lot,” Alina teases. He can’t help but return her smile with one of his own. “Don’t worry, I think once we get to Os Alta I’ll drag you into some dark corner and have my wicked way with you.”
“I can’t wait,” he kisses her cheek.
At least Zoya and Genya seem fine with sitting next to each other. Alina speaking once the carriage is in motion. “How did it go?”
They launch into the story, interrupting each other as needed. Perhaps not the most fluid way of telling it all, but Alina gets the whole of it.
“A standing invitation,” Zoya grouses. “I’d advise not wearing anything too eye catching if Brekker decides to ever leave Ketterdam, Alina, he might think you something he can steal.”
Nikolai huffs. “He wouldn’t,” he assures. Unless Brekker thought it might get him something. “Anyways it’d be great fun to see him terrify the court.” Which is, if Nikolai’s honest, about half the reason he gave the invitation.
“For you perhaps,” Zoya says. “But he’s not setting foot in the Little Palace, or the Bog.”
“Oh Saints,” always amusing when Alina gets blasphemous. “There are two of you?” She looks at him with an almost hurt expression.
Thankfully Nikolai’s not the only one who laughs. Raising up her hand he kisses the back of it. “Perish the thought, Brekker isn’t half as charming as I.” Perhaps twice as devious however. Hmmm...best to try and supervise—forbidding it would only make Brekker want to do it more—any interactions he might have with Aleksander. Them meeting would be a delightful terror however.
“Anyways, I’ve brought you a wonderful gift to make up for everything. How does twenty odd Grisha sound?” A delightful little coup if Nikolai’s honest, although the Merch council would say otherwise—thankfully they don’t know where their Grisha went.
“You already apologized,” Alina replied brazenly. “But I accept anyways.”
He laughs again. Yes, it’s good to be home.
iv.
It’s been five years now, the time almost feeling like nothing at all.
Parem was still a threat, although slightly less of one than it had been—not that that’s much comfort to Alina. It’s existence did mean that the ranks of Ravka’s Grisha managed to grow, desperate refugees seeking what might only be their only safe haven. Though the khergurd certainly do their best to thin those ranks.
Alina does her best to make sure that they truly are safe. Many of the newer adult Grisha, and unfortunately all of the students, have taking to calling her Madrya because of it. Perhaps worse is that her council and Nikolai encourage it. The traitors. She just hopes it doesn’t become a title like the Darkling had once been.
The man himself has changed in fits and starts. They were letting him have trips outside of his cell now, although he still remained bound—perhaps soon she and Nikolai could trust that he would summon to help them not harm them. She knew her friends disproved—Zoya most vocally of all—but they also know without his help the roads through the Fold wouldn’t now exist.
It had been one of the most difficult things Alina had ever done, working her powers in that way, tempering them with the merzost needed to truly affect the Fold—she’d gladly paid the cost of her brown hair again. Aleksander had done nothing more than walk her through it, tell her what needed to be done. Yet even that had been more than she’d asked for.
It wasn’t as if Alina was about to give him back his rooms at the Little Palace—these ones would be hers now, no matter what—or reinstate him as head of the Grisha. They were just reminding him what his continued obedience would gain him.
Not that Aleksander had given the true submission they’d asked of him, not completely, but she and Nikolai had patience yet.
-
Alina wakes, muzzily wondering what it was that woke her, before outside she hears a crash of thunder again. She’s grown too used to the thick walls of the Little and Grand Palaces, the Gilded Bog too different.
Nikolai sleeps soundly next to her, barely even stirring when she draws up a faint light. Not feeling sleepy in the least anymore she watches him for a few moments. She still misses Mal, but it’s as faded and worn as the scar on her palm now. Her feelings for Nikolai easily rushing over the aches and tenderness.
He moves slightly, the sheets around him shifting, and Alina finds all her tender thoughts begin to fade.
She doesn’t act on them just yet however, the upside to this visit of theirs just a door away.
The hall is empty when she steps into it—although she can hear people from a distance—and she goes to Aleksander’s door, opening it and walking in. She doesn’t bother trying to hide her presence, she’s learned Aleksander is a light enough sleeper that the door opening likely woke him.
He feigns sleep though when she reaches the bed. It brings a smile to her face as she takes a seat on the bed, making her light grow a little brighter. “Come on, Sasha.” She gives him a brief shake. “Or would you rather listen again?” It’s somewhere between a tease and a jab—sometimes she and Nikolai are selfish enough that they want it to be just the two of them.
There’s a brief rattling of chains, then Aleksander’s hand snatches up her wrist. “Perhaps I want to sleep.”
It earns him a snort. “I know full well you’ve slept enough.” Using his hold on her wrist she gives a tug. “I know you’ll enjoy yourself, but you’ll have to be quiet.”
Her words finally make his eyes open. They’ve played this game before after all—although it’s more often Nikolai doing instead of her. Perhaps if she opened the bond she could sense his debate, but she lets him have that privacy. Instead freeing her wrist and petting his chest absently.
That he sits upright is answer enough.
Standing Alina begins the walk back to her and Nikolai’s room, knowing Aleksander will follow. Her naked body lure enough. His eyes feel like brands against her shoulders, and it makes her smile.
When she steps into the room she lets her light dim again, and when Aleksander closes the door behind him, her heart kicks up. Her arousal returns as she glides to the bed. Nikolai’s moved again since she left, laying on his side now, arm sprawled out where she once was.
Oh so gently she moves him back onto his back, letting the sheets slide lower around him as she works. Behind her she hears Aleksander sit, his gaze egging her on. Despite wanting to she doesn’t pull the sheets past Nikolai’s hips just yet, instead climbing into bed and curling up against him, letting her drift down to stroke his cock through the sheet.
She keeps her touch gentle, but it’s more than enough after a while. As he begins to swell she shifts down, letting her body take the rest of the sheet with as she moves. When she reaches his cock she doesn’t hesitate before taking it into her mouth, moaning softly as it grows harder. Nikolai’s body shifts and even in sleep a sound of pleasure leaves him. Carefully Alina continues her work, wanting him hard but also not wanting to wake him.
Aleksander groans and she smiles. Pulling herself away from Nikolai she turns to him. “Shhh,” she chides. His eye roll making her laugh softly.
Instead of putting her mouth on Nikolai again she moves to straddle him. He really is a whole different person in sleep, soft and relaxed, the faint lines of tension melted away. One might dare call him beautiful.
And he’s all for her.
The thought makes her clench and draws a low sound from her. Almost grateful that the part of her that used to say she didn’t deserve this vanished long ago. She deserves what she wants, and that’s Nikolai. The only thing that would make it better was if Aleksander joined them, but he hasn’t earned that yet.
Impatience thrums through her and reaching down she takes Nikolai in hand and guides him inside, relishing the full feeling that accompanies it. So good, even after all this time.
She takes her time sinking down, enjoying the slow crawl of it. Neither of them usually have the desire to do it like this, and she wants to savor it. Even in sleep though it seems Nikolai’s body has other ideas, thrusting up slightly. Her breath hitches as she tries to bite back her gasp at the sensation.
“Lisitsa,” she mutters with no heat. Behind her Aleksander gives a low chuckle, which is cut off by a low curse when she tosses her white hair back and rolls her hips.
Alina does it again, relishing the muffled sounds from Aleksander, and the way Nikolai’s breathing picks up. She hears the sound of cloth moving and peers over her shoulder to see Aleksander’s shoved his trousers down enough to wrap a hand around his cock. She meets his gaze and gives a curl of a smile. “Slow,” she tells him, she wants to savor all of it.
He bares his teeth at the command, but his hand does slow. And when she matches her own movements to the stroke of his hand he shudders. It might not be perfect, but it’s glorious in it’s own right.
It’s no surprise Nikolai comes first, body stiffening as he moans. She makes a soft moan of her own as he fills her. Alina stays there for a few moments, letting him twitch inside her as she lets herself recover some.
Eventually she pulls herself off. Nikolai makes a sleepy murmur and he shifts, as if seeking her out. A fond smile crosses her face as she pulls the sheets back over him, kissing his cheek softly. She herself goes to the edge of the bed, using a bedpost to help her keep upright as she turns her full attention to Aleksander.
He still hasn’t come yet and that fills her with a low heat all on it’s own. Bracing herself more fully against the bedpost she lets her other hand skim down her belly. Aleksander’s gaze growing more intent as she begins to finger herself. “Sasha,” it comes out a breathy sigh. “Come for me.”
Again he shudders, hand beginning to move more sharply. Her own movements stay lazy, but she licks her lips, eager to have the taste of him.
He’s just as beautiful as her husband when he comes, the unmarked line of his throat making her lick her lips again for an altogether different reason. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince Nikolai to claim that throat again.
The thought tips her over the edge and the sharp sound that leaves her echoes in the silence that follows.
Her legs shake some as she stands, but it doesn’t stop her from walking over to Aleksander. He opens his mouth without thought and it makes something warm settle in her chest. He licks her fingers with the same diligence he always has, not seeming to care it’s not just her juices he consumes.
When she does remove her fingers he no longer chases after them, nor does he resist when she lifts up his own hand. She licks it clean, savoring the taste as she always does. Finishing she lets his hand drop, settling in his lap. Tension thrums though him, but he doesn’t move. Despite his efforts the years alone have trained him well, he won’t touch her unless she says he can.
She nuzzles at his throat, mouthing at his skin. Not hard enough to bruise though, Nikolai would notice right away in the morning and it would give the game away too soon. “You did well,” she whispers against his throat, knowing he loves and hates the praise. “I wish you could see yourself.” Hmmm, mirrors perhaps? “You want it, so why not let yourself have it?”
Aleksander stills in a different way. “Because there’s a reason you’re offering it.”
“It doesn’t have to be a bad reason,” she responds. “It’s not failure to let someone else be in control.” She pulls away to look at his face. “As I recall you wanted to do the same to me.”
“I did,” he agrees. “But that’s not what I…”
“It is,” she cuts him off. “You just won’t admit it. Too used to being the only one to care about you.” She stands, letting her hand trail down his cheek before her fingers pressed lightly into the underside of his chin, making him tilt it up. “In the morning, while we have breakfast, you’re going to tell Nikolai what happened. Every last detail. Understand?”
A thousand years old, yet her instructions still manage to make him flush. Most of it because of shame, even now. Yet she also knows he’ll do exactly as she asked, the consequences if he doesn’t ones he’d rather not face. “...yes...moi soverenyi.”
It shocks through her and she can feel his thrum of satisfaction. She lets him have it. He might have done it to try and prove he still had some control over her, but that he said it at all is telling enough to her. Slowly, ever so slowly.
“Good night, Sasha.” She gives him a feather-light kiss.
As he leaves, she settles herself back under the sheets, curling against Nikolai once more. Closing her eyes she slips into dreamless sleep.
-
Even before they settle in for a private breakfast—Kirigin’s other guests had no idea the three of them were there after all—Nikolai’s mind is buzzing with ideas. Eager to return to the labs below and share them.
Alina likely picks up on that from the occasional eye roll she gives during their conversation as they eat. They are the fondest of eye rolls however, full of love and affection as only Alina can do.
Aleksander is more taciturn, although that’s not untypical, even before his capture. Nikolai recalling easily how disinterested the Darkling had been in making conversation the times he’d been forced to make court appearances. His focus is wholly on them, and that’s what matters.
It’s been something of a relief to have their test go so well—not that there won’t be more tests later, but this was a important first one. Although he’ll be interested to see how well the other one went back in Os Alta when they returned this evening.
Perhaps it means Nikolai can start planning for a well deserved break. Go somewhere nice and out of the way where, hopefully, they could go and not worry about anything more important than what they were going to eat. He even knows just the place, although it will take a lot more planning he knows before it can become a reality.
“You know, Lantsov,” Aleksander’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “You’re almost tolerable when you sleep.”
“Is that so?” Nikolai arches an eyebrow and leans back in his chair. “I beg to differ, but I’m curious to know how you came to such a conclusion?” Although from the way Alina’s face has gone carefully blank—thanks to her powers—he’s got an inkling of an idea.
Aleksander’s shrug is casual, but Nikolai wonders if the man knows his eyes are darkening. “You know how it is when Alina gets impatient. I don’t think it even entered her mind to wake you up.”
Nikolai can feel himself beginning to harden, letting a smile curl across his face. It’s not something they’ve done often, but like many things Nikolai’s always enjoyed himself. “Do tell.” Reaching out he takes Alina’s hand, it’s warm to the touch—as if he needed more proof that she’s using her powers.
The recounting is almost overly detailed, not that Nikolai minds one bit.
By the end of it he’s got only one thought in mind, and feels a little bad for the servants that will have to clean it all up.
Standing, he easily scoops Alina up. She gives a shrieking laugh, the illusion on her face breaking, revealing pink cheeks and dark eyes. He grins as he sets her down on the table, dishes clattering as he shoves her back enough that her knees hit the edge—and thank the Saints she’s wearing a dress today. “Is our dear Sasha telling the truth, love?”
Another laugh. “What if he is?” She means for it to be a challenge, but it doesn’t quite work when she’s still glittering with humor. Or perhaps it works just as it should.
“Well,” he steps between her knees, pushing them apart. “I think I should perhaps show you why it’s much better when I’m an active participant.” Not waiting for her to respond he dips down and kisses her.
They’re both smiling when they pull apart. “Well? I’m still not quite convinced,” this time she really does sound like she’s challenging him.
While there’s a familiar dark surge, he’s also delighted. “Just you wait, dear Alina.” He has the decency to reach and shove whatever dishes are behind her to the side, before pushing her down. “Sasha,” his eyes flick to the man himself. Who as always seems glued to his chair, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s really seeing. “Do be helpful and hold her arms down.”
It takes a moment to get a response out of him, but it’s worth it. Breath leaving in a rush and his eyes turning into a thin ring of gray. Slowly Aleksander stands, bound hands reaching out to grab Alina’s own, pulling them to the other edge of the table.
She struggles playfully, which only makes Aleksander’s hold tighten.
Nikolai draws her attention back to him by tugging down the bodice of her dress, just enough for her nipples to peek out. “Play nice, Alina.” As if attempting to prove his point he grinds against her. Pleased when she gasps, her whole body arching.
“I don’t see why I should,” it comes out shaky.
A fake sigh leaves him. “I guess I didn’t ask nicely, did I? Perhaps this will convince you.” He shoves her skirt up around her waist and pushing her underwear aside he slides his fingers in. A shudder racing through him when he meets no resistance. It’s no surprise he’s finding it hard to get his own pants down when Alina’s being so delightful, but he does manage.
Fingers digging into her hips he pulls her closer, then shoves himself in. “Shit,” he doesn’t mean for it to slip out.
Alina laughs, although it turns into a shriek when he shifts his hand just enough to thumb her clit.
Knowing he’s not going to last long, Nikolai doesn’t bother going slow. Not that Alina seems to mind, from the litany of sounds leaving her. His gaze travels up from her to find that Aleksander is watching him, a flush of his own on his cheeks.
Nikolai lets himself be tempted, reaching out he curls a hand around the back of Aleksander’s neck and pulls him close. The kiss starts easy enough, Aleksander not having expected it. But soon enough he struggles against it, if not as hard as he once did.
Feeling magnanimous, Nikolai lets him go, pleased when Aleksander doesn’t draw away completely.
Bending down he kisses Alina. “I find I wish I could bite you.” The rest of his words are lost as he orgasms, a groan leaving him.
Not that he’s loud enough to cover up the sound Aleksander makes at the admission. There’s a sort of wonderful irony to the fact that, for all his insistence that Alina is his alone, Aleksander seems to quite like it when Nikolai’s just as possessive of her.
He does have the sense of mind to brace himself before he falls completely on Alina at least. Although he almost does when she speaks up. “Bite Sasha then,” she pants.
Looking up again he sees Aleksander’s expression, so delightfully conflicted. “My second favorite person to bite,” he agrees. Which isn’t quite true. In a way Aleksander’s more fun to bite because he fights how much he wants it.
“Do it,” Alina hisses. Nikolai can feel one of her hands join his own on her clit, clearly intending to get herself off.
Being a good husband, Nikolai helps her along, he also obeys her command. It’s perhaps a bit of a strain on his body, but he’s up to the challenge. It helps that, despite his conflict, Aleksander moves closer. Barring his neck to Nikolai without prompting. Below them Alina gives a brief gasp as he twitches inside her.
Gently Nikolai traces his way down Aleksander’s neck. Laying a brief kiss on the wild pulse he finds, before moving lower still. At the crook of his neck Nikolai stops, tongue darting out to lick. The taste of sweat and skin fill his mouth as Aleksander shivers. “Tell her to come,” Nikolai murmurs.
Aleksander groans and moves closer, a faint thump the only proof that he’d managed to catch himself before he fell. “Alina.” Nikolai smiles against Aleksander, so easy to destroy him when he got caught up in the moment.
“Alina, come, please,” Aleksander begs. Nikolai snarls and sets his teeth gently into Aleksander’s skin, but doesn’t bite, not yet.
She shudders beneath them for a few seconds and Nikolai can feel her hand moving recklessly. Nikolai gives a brief thrust at the same time she presses. When she screams from her orgasm Nikolai bites down.
From the way Aleksander shudders and whimpers Nikolai guesses the man came too.
Disentangling himself from the both of them is agonizing in a way. Nikolai makes himself do it anyways. As much as he’d like to spend the rest of the day with them, there’s work to be done. His country needs him, perhaps even more than Aleksander needs to be worn down.
Nikolai lets himself have a few more seconds though, slumped in his chair again, and feeling wholly decadent as he watches Alina tidy herself up as best she can. Aleksander meanwhile leans heavily against the table, breathing ragged as he attempts to recover himself. His neck bleeds sluggishly and Nikolai licks his lips. Alright, he’ll allow himself one more indulgence.
“Sasha,” the man’s head shoots up at Nikolai’s voice. He crooks a finger. “Come here.”
It’s a delight to see annoyance flash across Aleksanders face, yet watch him approach anyways. It’s not obedience without question, but it’s a start.
Digging one hand into Aleksander’s shirt Nikolai tugs him down enough that he can lick his bite clean, his other hand snakes its way into Aleksander’s pants, the man shuddering as fingers encounter the sticky mess inside.
He lets Aleksander go. Although he knows both him and Alina watch as he licks his hand clean.
All throughout the day the taste of blood and semen lingers in the crannies of his mouth.
-
It might have been nice to not have to think about being king for a day, but Nikolai’s also glad they’re back in Os Alta again. He and Alina watch Aleksander returned to his cell. Then he meets briefly with Isaak, it’s quite strange to see his own face on someone else—Genya’s work almost a bit too uncanny—mostly to confirm that everything worked as it should. Isaak’s clearly relieved he’s back—even with a list of what Nikolai wanted, meetings were never fun for anyone.
Now he and Alina sit together in his sitting room, the both of them quiet. Nikolai enjoys talking, but this silence with Alina is lovely in its own way.
A silence broken by a shout a few minutes later. “Mama! Papa!”
Nikolai turns his head to see Kostya rushing towards them, blue eyes excited. Alina’s expression mirrors his own tired, but happy smile. Behind Kostya, Raya toddles along, walking still too new to her to run as her brother did. Their nurse follows after, the poor woman looking a little ragged around the edges. He dismisses her with a nod, and she gives a deep curtsy before leaving them alone.
Kostya himself all but runs into Nikolai’s legs, before managing to haul himself up onto Nikolai’s lap. Without any prompting he launches into an excited babble, his words almost running together as he talks about his day. “...kitties soft and…”
“Up,” Raya’s quiet and serious voice—which is how you know she’s Alina’s daughter, though the brown eyes didn’t hurt—breaks through Kostya’s chatter.
With a fond shake of his head Nikolai hoists up Kostya. “Go say hello to your madrya,” he says as he puts the boy back down on the floor. Kostya rushes over as Nikolai picks up Raya, who settles into his lap with ease, eyes seeming to take in everything.
“Mama kitties, please?” Kostya all but bats his eyelashes.
Alina laughs and kisses his nose. “You would have had better luck asking your father,” she teases. “No kitties yet for you, perhaps when you’re both a little older.” Which really is for the best, a three and two year old were not ready to take care of anything. “Meanwhile there will be plenty of kittens for you to pet in the kitchen I’m sure.”
Nikolai feels contentment flowing through him, yet even as he takes enjoyment out of this he can feel the ragged edges of it. Of how there could be more.
Soon. Hopefully soon.
-
Alina knows Nikolai is planning something, granted as far as she can tell he’s been planning ‘something’ for the past year or so. She’s learned to ignore it. If it were anything important he’d tell her when he was ready. It wasn’t as if she could spend all her time indulging his wild ideas.
It’s a rare morning that Nikolai manages to wake before her, but this time he managed it. When she steps into the sitting room it’s to find him fully dressed and eating breakfast, nothing unusual there. What does catch her eye is the long strip of fabric laying next to him.
“Good morning.” She doesn’t take her seat warily, but certainly with more care than usual.
He gives her his most charming smile. “Good morning. When you’re done eating you’ll need to dress warm,” she frowns slightly at that. It’s early summer, why would she need to dress warm? “And quickly. I’m half afraid if we linger too long everyone will find some way to make us stay, instead of letting us have a week to ourselves.”
There’s still a sliver or wariness, but the rest of it’s vanished at the promise of a week alone. She wouldn’t stop being queen for anything, but a chance at some well deserved solitude will not go unappreciated.
“And where are we going?” It must be close by, if he’s planned out a week.
The charming smile turns a little sly. “That, my dear, is a surprise.” He lifts up the cloth and gives it a little shake. Ah, a blindfold. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to wear it long.”
The only response to that is a roll of her eyes, if she really wanted to she could likely look right through it. She’ll indulge him for now. Turning her attention to breakfast she eats. Perhaps she goes a little slower than she should, enjoying the way impatience grows on Nikolai’s face.
It takes him a while to realize what she’s doing, but when he does he narrows his eyes. “I see how it is,” his voice is full of mock hurt. Standing he puts the blindfold next to her. “In that case how about I pick out your clothes?” He doesn’t wait for a response before turning and marching to her rooms.
“I’ll make it up to you,” she calls to his back.
“Oh, I know you will.” He responds, a delightful promise there.
Smiling she finishes up her meal. When she finally follows him she finds her plainest winter kefta waiting next to Nikolai. “Should I be worried?” She arches an eyebrow as she dresses.
Nikolai’s attention is cursory at best. “No, no war zones if that’s what you’re afraid of. But it will be cold.” He leans down and kisses her cheek. “I’ll meet you in the other room.”
She’s not surprised that she finishes before he does, picking up the blindfold she looks at it for a few seconds before sighing and putting it on. She hears Nikolai approach a few moments later, and his familiar rough hands take her own.
This might not be the strangest thing they’ve ever done, but there is something odd about being led like this. Stairs certainly become more unsettling.
Eventually though they make it outside and even without looking she knows the sound of the path to the Little Palace well. “I do hope you’re not just going to lock us in my rooms.”
Nikolai laughs. “As fun as that might be, no.” She believes him a little while later when they take the right branch of the path, the one that will take them to the lake.
“We’re traveling by ship aren’t we?” There’s only the briefest hint of resignation.
“Go and spoil half my surprise why don’t you?” Nikolai doesn’t sound all that put out however. He does however loosen the blindfold. Her eyes adjust without her having to blink, and she soon sees the dock, with one of the transport airships waiting.
So she won’t feel sick to her stomach when they lift off at least. They take the gangplank, and she lets Nikolai pull her to an out of the way cranny, where they could watch the crew work furiously. “No one to see us off?”
“No, Safin’s still working on Isaak and Masha, and this trip is supposed to be something of a secret.” He winks.
To hide her smile she buries her face in his chest.
Barely a half an hour later the captain calls for the Squallers to ready themselves. Taking a deep breath Alina braces herself, staring up at the sky that will soon be much closer. Even knowing what’s going to happen, takeoff still catches her by surprise. Her heart sinking into her stomach as the craft surges upwards.
Thankfully the surge dies away soon after, and as she watches the craft begins a stately turn to the north. The crew relaxes some and Alina finally pulls herself away from Nikolai, daring to go to the railing of the ship.
Ravka sprawls out beneath her. Ryevost beacons to the west, but they don’t turn towards it, soon passing it by.
Behind her she can hear a door open, and she turns her head enough to see Aleksander stepping out from belowdecks. It shouldn’t surprise her that he’s joining them, but it does. Perhaps this week will be the tipping point.
Around him the crew barely pay him any attention, more focused on their own work. Alina takes it as a good sign, that her Grisha don’t see him as someone to fear. Just another Grisha like the rest of them.
He joins her at the railing. Once again she finds herself struck with how out of place he looks amongst all this, as if he truly was from another era than this one.
Neither of them say anything, content to be silent for a change. Lazily Alina lets her hand drag through the air, the sunlight filling it shimmering and shifting at her nudge. For a moment it shapes itself into a copy of the ship in miniature, before it dissolves with a flick of her wrist. Her skills are improving, but she knows there’s more yet for her to learn.
Below them the world begins to turn from the first blush of summer to the icy chill of early spring as they reach Tsibeya. No wonder Nikolai wanted her to dress warm. What sort of place were they going? “Do you know what Nikolai’s planned?”
“No,” Aleksander snorts. “You know he doesn’t tell me much.”
She rolls her eyes. “He tells you plenty, you just don’t listen well,” she chides. If they weren’t in public she’d move closer—perhaps sometime in the future she wouldn’t have to worry about such things—instead she focuses again. This time a small herd of stag galavant through the air.
Aleksander doesn’t smile, but she can tell he wants to. “Shall we argue again? Perhaps I’ll make some ominous pronouncement?” It speaks well that he can poke fun at himself now.
Like the boat she’d made the stags disappear. “No, I much prefer the way things are now to the way they were.”
“Even without your Tracker?”
Mal is no longer a vise around her heart, but he still squeezes tight at his mention. She sends a burst of sunlight at Aleksander’s hand, he hisses and jerks it away. A spot of red appearing. “Don’t push me, Sasha,” she keeps her voice low. “I don’t think you want to know how cruel I can be.”
He looks like he might respond, but his mouth closes when footsteps approach. A warm arm wraps itself around her waist. “Keeping yourself entertained?” Dry amusement seeps from Nikolai’s voice.
“Enough,” she replies tartly, settling herself against him. “How far north are you planning on taking us?”
“It’s a surprise,” he mock whispers.
She rolls her eyes again, and jabs him with her elbow. “I think I would have much preferred the coast.” Perhaps she doesn’t love the ocean as much as Nikolai does, but she enjoys beaches. Walking through warm sand as the water came and went. Or sitting cozy in some home while a storm whipped the water into a frenzy.
Nikolai kisses the top of her head. “I promise you’ll quite like the place.”
She finds herself grateful for his extra warmth as they continued heading north. “Into Fjerda?” They have to be by now. “Is this where you tell me it’s all been a ruse? Or are you taking the Princess and the Barbarian too far?” Next to her Aleksander gives a bark of laughter, the sound sparking something warm and buoyant in her chest.
“No ruses, and you know how I strive for the authentic. I do recall throwing you over my shoulder once or twice, in public even.” Her cheeks heated at the reminder.
“Lisitsa.” She elbows him again. The ship shifts as they finally began turning east, towards the Elbjen. Alina inhales and finds the air burns her lungs from the cold as they rise up. What possible comforts could be had in such a barren place?
Nikolai’s other arm rests on her shoulder as he pointed to one of the snow covered peaks. “Pay attention now.”
“Is this some magician’s trick then?” Aleksander’s voice is sharp, but Alina can see his eyes focusing on the mountain as well. As it grows closer a frown crosses his face. “Stairs?”
Throwing out an arm, Alina bends the light, bringing the mountain into far sharper focus. He’s right, there are indeed stairs. “Who would live out here?”
Aleksander’s face turns to them. “Monks,” he answers before Nikolai can offer some non-answer. “Only you would find a monastery romantic, Lanstov.” It’s not exactly an unhappy expression that crosses his face, but Alina’s certain her own mirrors it.
“The both of you.” Alina doesn’t need to see Nikolai’s face to know he’s pouting. “No appreciation for surprises. Anyways, it hasn’t been a monastery for quite some time.” Nikolai points again and she realizes that not all the glittering on the mountain is ice. “Was an observatory, but it hasn’t been even that for quite some time. For the next week it’s our little hideaway.”
“As long as I’m not expected to heat everything,” Alina sniffs.
Nikolai shifts, and she finds herself pushing back a little when she feels his half-hard cock against her ass. “Just a bed or two, mmm, perhaps a bath, or a table…”
Alina laughs.
The ship drifts easily into the hanger, and when they finally land the crew bursts into activity. The hatches in the deck being opened and boxes being lifted out. Alina recognizes her own traveling trunks among them—no doubt filled with more of her winter wear.
It seems to take no time at all to unload everything and squirrel it away wherever—they must already know this place if Nikolai doesn’t have to direct them. Nikolai himself has one more conversation with the captain, then a few minutes later the ship is gently rising up, the Squallers skilled enough to manage a turn, even in the smaller space of the hanger.
“They’ll be back from Chernast in a week,” Nikolai wraps an arm around her again. “Unless something major happens.” Alina finds herself hoping that nothing does.
Aleksander watches them warily, as if he’s not sure what’s going to happen next. Nikolai’s grip on her tightens a little. “Shall we, Alina?” It’s something they’ve talked about now, and she supposes if they’re going to risk it, here is better than most other places.
“Yes,” she answers.
Pulling away from her Nikolai goes to Aleksander, pulling a key out of his coat. “Your wrists, if you please, Sasha.”
The request seems to catch Aleksander off guard, but he does lift them. Nikolai’s key fits perfectly into the lock, and as the shackles fall away Alina braces herself. She has faith that this hasn’t been some elaborate ruse, but in case Aleksander decides to turn on them she needs to be ready.
For a few seconds all he does is curl and uncurl his fingers, the shadows around them moving in time, his gaze locked on his wrists. The skin there shiny and slightly scarred from six years of being bound. “When we get back to Os Alta a healer could take a look at them,” Alina offers. Although she’s not sure how much a healer could do after so long.
“No,” Aleksander finally speaks, shaking his head in emphasis. His answer shocks both her and Nikolai, if the look they share is any indication. “I...want the reminder.” The words set off a low thrum inside her.
Nikolai turns his attention back to Aleksander. “I see how it is, always wanting to be the person who gives the surprise, not receives.” His tone is easy, but she can tell Nikolai’s as relieved as she is. “Now that that’s out of the way shall we try something else?” He takes a small step away from Aleksander. “Kneel.” Despite the setting and his clothes, Nikolai looks every inch a king and it sends a thrum of a different sort through her.
Both twine within her, eager to see what Aleksander does. It’s smart for Nikolai to do it here, where it’s only the three of them. Later they can give him the choice before others.
Aleksander’s gray eyes flash, and for a moment Alina thinks he’ll refuse. But then his gaze meets hers and her heart leaps into her throat as he gets down on his knees. Oh, Saints.
“Good,” Nikolai’s voice is full of satisfaction. He runs a hand through Aleksander’s hair, then takes another step, offering that same hand. “Now, I do believe I owe you both a tour.” He grins.
-
They only make it a hundred steps up the main stairwell—perhaps later he’ll let them experience the lift—and honestly Nikolai should be surprised Aleksander managed to wait that long.
Behind him Alina makes a shrieking gasp that’s quickly muffled, and Nikolai hears the sound of bodies hitting a wall. Turning he sees Aleksander’s pinned her, kissing her with fervor. The sight makes a low heat curl in Nikolai’s belly.
Aleksander’s hands fumble seemingly everywhere. Nikolai could help, but he finds he’s not feeling so charitable. So he leans against the opposite wall, content to watch for now.
Despite his fumbling Aleksander does eventually manage to get both their pants down, enough at least to thrust inside Alina, if her sharp moan and the way the stairwell fills with light is any indication. Aleksander’s breathing is harsh as he thrusts, his actual thrusts the same. Nikolai doesn’t begrudge him that, the man’s been waiting six, almost seven years for this after all.
Alina seems to be enjoying herself, moving her hips as best she can, and wrapping her arms around Aleksander, fingers digging deep into the thickness of his coat. “Sasha!” She throws her head back. When it sinks back down her eyes meet Nikolai’s own, their depths luring him in.
He doesn’t let himself be drawn in just yet, waiting a few more minutes. Pleasantly surprised that Aleksander’s managed to last this long.
Eventually though he does push himself off the wall and stalk towards them. Aleksander stiffens when Nikolai presses against his back, arms bracketing the two of them, trapping the man between himself and Alina. Nikolai grinds against him, showing off just how much he’s enjoying this. “Don’t stop on my account,” he murmurs. Reaching up he pulls aside Aleksander’s hair, leaning down enough to nuzzle the nape of Aleksander’s neck.
If Nikolai’s words aren’t enough to egg him on, Alina’s next ones certainly do the trick. “Sasha,” she hisses. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Aleksander shudders, and his movements become even more erratic, trapped as he is. Nikolai mouths at the pale skin, teasing. In response Aleksander nearly whimpers, the sound making Nikolai thrust. Oh, he can’t wait for his turn to claim this man. “Lanstov,” Aleksander sounds ragged, almost broken.
Nikolai smiles. “Anything for you, Sasha,” which is perhaps a little cruel, but Nikolai doesn’t quite care. He presses harder against Aleksander, limiting the man’s movements even more. Beneath the both of them Alina lets out a litany of sharp little ‘ah’s, the sounds enchanting in their own right.
Even knowing what Aleksander wants Nikolai waits a little longer. Waits until he can feel Aleksander begin to shudder and lets out a low gasp.
Only then does Nikolai sink his teeth in.
A cry leaves Aleksander and his forehead falls onto Alina’s shoulder, Nikolai feeling the muscles move and slide under his teeth. Alina’s pale fingers weave through Aleksander’s hair, her voice a stream of praise that makes Aleksander tremble.
Keeping his teeth in Nikolai surges closer, trapping them further, his hips rutting against Aleksander and soon he’s spilling in his pants like he’s fifteen again. Not that Nikolai much cares. When the high of orgasm begins to slip away he releases Aleksander’s neck, his cock gives a half-hearted twitch at the sight of the wound he’s left. Once more he bends down, this time to place a soft kiss in the ring of the bite.
“It’s a start,” Alina’s voice is shaky with laughter.
Nikolai makes an answering sound as he pulls away from the both of them. At least all of them look a mess. “I was going to give quite the tour, but I guess I can show you the baths now.” He certainly would like a nice long soak.
Alina laughs again, while Aleksander gives a haughty sniff.
Despite all that they’re suitably awed when he leads them to the main atrium, granted even the sight of it leaves him a little awed. Perhaps one night they’ll drag a mattress out here and sleep beneath the stars. For now he tugs them onwards, intent on the baths.
They’re not as nice as the ones in the Grand Palace, or even the Little Palace’s banya. But they’ll get the job done. There’s even a big tub, although it seems content to take it’s sweet time filling up when Nikolai turns on the taps.
For now he and Alina are content to pass the time undressing themselves and Aleksander, taking the time to truly start learning his body. He’s been a part of their bedplay for so long now, yet in a way they don’t know him at all. Nikolai starts at the head, Alina at the shoulder, following the traceries of scars all over him they both work their way down, intent on wringing every last bit of pleasure out of Aleksander that they can.
Nikolai is dragging his teeth against a lean hip when he feels fingers that are not his wife’s weave into his hair. “Please,” Aleksander’s voice is ragged.
Tilting his head just slightly Nikolai can see Alina, dragging her nails up and down Aleksander’s inner thigh. Her expression almost saintly, Nikolai lets himself have a brief laugh at that thought. “Please what, Sasha?”
He turns his attention from her up to Aleksander, pulling away enough to meet his eyes. “Unless you’d like us to guess?” He gives a sly grin. “I’m sure Alina could be persuaded to teach me to get you off with my mouth. Or perhaps you’d like that bath? The tub’s full enough. Maybe when we were done cleaning you I could bend you over the side of the tub and fuck you, mess you up all over again.” Nikolai can feel his own cock swelling at the idea, he doesn’t need to look far to see what Aleksander’s body thinks of the idea.
“Do you ever run out of ideas?” Alina teases.
Nikolai presses his grin against Aleksander’s hip. “Of course not, love.”
Aleksander’s tortured groan draws their attention back to him. “...hate you...both.”
Both Nikolai and Alina give him warning nips. “But you're ours just the same,” Alina replies tartly.
“Now,” Nikolai kisses Aleksander’s reddened skin. “Get in that tub, darling.”
Aleksander gets in the tub.
-
As the week goes on Alina finds herself happier than she’s been in quite some time. Even as she knows that everything soon will end. When they get back to Os Alta things will be different of course, but they don’t have the same freedom there that they do here. Not yet at least.
Today’s the day they return. Alina sighs, her breath fogging in front of her. For a few days there’d been a massive blizzard, and she’d found herself hoping they might be stuck there for awhile yet. But sometime in the night it’d finally cleared up, and everything on the balcony before her is pristine white. It matches her hair.
A huff of laughter leaves her at the thought and she shakes her head, she’s turning into Genya—a fact she knows her friend won’t forgive.
Footsteps crunch the snow behind her and a few seconds later arms wrap around her. “You’re cold,” Aleksander murmurs, leaning in to kiss a spot behind her ear. His breath against her is almost a brand.
“Come to warm me up?” She manages to twist in his hold, smiling as she looks up at him. “I think you’ll be hard pressed to do it as well as I do.” She gathers heat around them with ease—brushing off a long ago memory of a different winter landscape and a different man.
“That I would, solnishka.” Her lips twitch at the pet name. Here she’ll allow it, so long as he remembers the way things work. “Your husband wanted you to finish packing.”
Her lips twitch again. “Nikolai,” she corrects sharply. “No more distance.” Reaching up she drags her thumb across Aleksander’s lips. “You serve at his pleasure after all.” A different sort of heat filled her as she recalled all the various ways that had come to pass this week.
Aleksander shivers, perhaps recalling as she did. “Yes, moi soverenyi. ”
“Good.” Rising up onto her toes she kisses him. “Now let’s finish packing and go home.” It will be good to see her children again, to return to her Grisha, to rule her country. She takes his hands and leads him back inside.
After another hour the flying ship is there, and the crew are unloading the boxes from that horrid lift—Nikolai hadn’t stopped laughing after that first trip, even when she’d punched him. It’s strange to be around people again, even after a week.
There are a few surprised looks from the crew as Aleksander steps onto the ship, hands unbound. The crew also says nothing, seeming content to follow her and Nikolai’s lead. After everything she doubts Aleksander’s hands will be bound again, unless he asks.
Nikolai offers her his own arm and she takes it, letting him lead her up onto the ship. She’s sad it’s over, but there’s hope that there will be more times like this too.
She barely even feels the ship push off.
The trip back to Os Alta feels shorter than the one to the Spinning Wheel, Alina knows it’s not, but that doesn’t stop a flicker of surprise pass through her when Os Alta first appears. A glittering gem of a city in the warm summer light. She drinks it in and has to resist the urge to use her powers, not many know she’d left the city after all.
Unlike when they left there’s a small crowd waiting for them as the ship lands in the lake and pulls up to the dock.
Zoya and Genya stand like soldiers, their faces as grim as ones too. It doesn’t dry up the last of her good mood, but it certainly doesn’t hang around much longer. “What happened?” She asks as they descend the gangplank.
Genya steps forward, her good eye worried. “Something...happened while you were gone.” The words make Alina tense.
“What?” Nikolai asks before she does. His hand finds hers and she can feel the faint tension in them.
“It would be best to show you,” Zoya answers. Alina can see her eyes flick to Aleksander, sees the way they narrow when she notices he’s unbound. That she says nothing about it is the most worrying thing of all. Zoya turns on her heel and marches towards the Little Palace.
They all follow, she and Nikolai sharing a look. Did it have something to do with their children? Had someone finally managed to get parem into the Little Palace? On her other side Aleksander walks, his expression calm, but she can feel the worry seeping through their bond. Even after all this time he still thinks of the Grisha as his, and anything happening to them would be unacceptable to him.
In this, at least, they’re in agreement.
Inside the Little Palace Alina’s eyes dart everywhere, seeking some sign that things are different. Nothing looks out of place, but the students eating their lunches are quiet, as are the adults in residence. Whatever happened has shaken everyone.
Deeper into the Little Palace they go, towards the healing hall. Before they reach it the moans and cries reach them.
They’re broken aching sounds and Alina’s heart twists as they grow louder. She imagines them, plus whatever might be making said noises, will haunt her nightmares for a while yet.
At the doors Genya stops, turning to them. “It’s...bad. Just...they’re better than they were when they got here.” Which isn’t exactly reassuring. Genya’s trying though, and Alina can tell whatever this is weighs on her. So it does have something to do with parem then. Even after all this time she hasn’t been able to find a true cure after all, a fact Alina knows Genya blames herself for, at least a little.
It’s Zoya who pushes the doors open, expression hardened into stone.
The hall is full. Alina’s mind refuses to understand what she’s seeing at first, but she makes herself do it. She is the queen of Ravka and leader of the Grisha, she won’t allow herself to shy away from this.
The patients are almost all women, comes first, women and babies. The women are gaunt, parem addiction clear in those too sharp bodies. Alina finds herself becoming utterly still.
“What happened?” Her voice is a cold as winter sunlight.
“Leoni!” Genya calls out. In the corner of her eye she can see Nikolai frowning at the name. It deepens when the woman in question approaches, expression exhausted.
Alina understands his concern, Leoni’s supposed to be in Fjerda with Nina and Adrik after all. What is she doing back here in Os Alta? With a least two dozen sick women and children likely in tow?
She bows when she reaches them. “Moi Tsar, Madrya…” She drifts off when she sees the Darkling, clearly not knowing how to address him, so in the end she doesn’t. “It began when we heard rumors of girls going missing around the town of Kejerut…”
The tale does not make what Alina sees before her any better. If the Fjerdans will let such a place exist once, what’s to say there aren’t a dozen other towns where Grisha girls go missing? Where they’re turned into addicts and raped.
Around them sunlight and shadows flicker and tremble, the only true signs that things are not well.
“Where is Zenik now?” Alina’s never been more grateful for Nikolai. She knows this horrifies him as much as it does her, but he can set it aside in a way she can’t. Later he will be just as horrified as her, but for now he is every inch a king.
Leoni’s shoulder slump. “Still in Fjerda, when we last saw her she was traveling with Brum and his daughter.”
Alina’s never taken heat from a room before, but that’s what it feels like now. The air around her feeling as cold as the air this morning had.
“And why was she doing that?” Nikolai’s voice is full of dangerous ease.
“She’s the one who got all these women out,” Leoni snaps, eyes flashing. “Without Nina we wouldn’t have ever found out about this, she’s not a traitor.” That Leoni jumps to Nina’s defense is reassuring, although having met the woman Alina knows it’s easy to love Nina. “She went with them to...she said something about blowing a hole in the wall?”
Out of everything the laugh Nikolai gives in response to that is the most jarring of all, it’s too bright and amused for such a tragic place. “You can take the woman out of Ketterdam…”
Alina’s relieved to roll her eyes, to let herself be mildly annoyed by her husband with everything around them.
“What will you do?” Aleksander’s voice makes her start. It’s the first time he’s spoken since they landed, and when she turns to him his expression is calm, but intent. Distantly she’s glad he remembers who leads the Grisha now, that it’s her call.
Which doesn’t change the question.
Straightening Alina takes a deep breath, around her the sunlight stills as she looks over the women and children, the Grisha, Fjerda tried to twist to their own use. Alina doesn’t know how many of them will survive, but she knows that she’ll bring the deaths of every one of them to Fjerda’s door.
If Nina’s going to blow a hole in the wall, then it seems rude to let it go to waste. Alina finds herself wishing the other woman all the best. As for Alina...
The Drüskille and Fjerdans thought Grisha inhuman monsters?
She’d show them there was something far worse than monsters in the world.
She’d show them a Saint.
v.
It ends a decade after it began, with Aleksander cutting through the milling crowd in the throne room.
His gold and black kefta draws attention to him, although he’s sure the line of attendants carrying what appeared to be a long rug behind him doesn’t hurt either. Next to him Zenik and Brum—the daughter not the father—both seem ill at ease, if for different reasons. Zenik seems to not know what to make of the red kefta with pale green stitching she’d been given, while Brum seems to be clinging to her Fjerdan pride by her ragged fingernails.
The murmurs of the crowd pull Aleksander’s attention away, not that they say anything he doesn’t already know—he might have been away for three months, but he has his spies. For the most part he can tell who is whom by what they call him: for the most part he’s still the Darkling—he’s relieved in a way that Nikolai and Alina gladly keep the secret of his name, now that Baghra has disappeared from the Little Palace they are perhaps the only two that know it. But there are new names too.
Uzhas, is the most commonly spoken, by otkazat'sya at least. But it’s only right that they are terrified of him and what he can do.
Those who serve in the military, even the generals here, call him Bezvezdny, it’s the one he’s most tolerant of. He is the darkness to Alina’s sunlight after all, starless is an apt description. One he carries with what little pride he has left.
Few, who likely hope no one around is truly listening, call him Lyubimets. Pet. Despite that they speak it in derisive undertones, attempting to insult him, it doesn’t work. There are far worse things to be than the darkness Alina the Mother tamed and brought to heel—there are icons of it even, though they are hardly close to the truth.
All such thoughts flee him as he reaches the foot of the dais.
Aleksander kneels with grace, though he does not bow his head. “Moi soverenye.”
Nikolai lounges in his seat, arrogance and disdain seeming to fill his every line—he wears it far better than any of his non-forefathers ever did—yet if one looks enough you’d see the cunning glint that belied the appearance of a foppish king.
In contrast Alina’s every inch appears proper, from the lines of her golden gown, to her perfectly styled white hair with it’s sunburst crown. Even the illusion of serene indifference on her face seems perfectly right. Her three amplifiers make her even more remote, a thing of pure power and not a woman. All that brings a touch of humanity to the picture she presents is the child swaddled in black in her arms.
Aleksander wishes he could have been there at the birth, instead of hearing of it by letter, but with Alina having quit the field of battle, he was the only one he trusted to see the siege of Djerholm to it’s conclusion.
None of it changes the fact that Alina holds his daughter.
“Darkling,” Nikolai’s voice brings him back to himself. “We are glad for your return. And with a gift?” He arches his eyebrow slightly, both questioning and challenging.
Finally, Aleksander bows his head. “For the queen, moi tsar.” There are gifts for the children too—he’s glad to see Kostya and Raya both here, they must have been rushed over from the Little Palace since they’re both in their kefta—but those will keep for later. Alina will likely yell at him for bringing isenulf pups as ‘gifts,’ but Aleksander wasn’t going to pass up that chance.
Alina stands. “Rise, Darkling.” As she begins to descend the stairs he ascends them, meeting her in the middle. He offers her his arm and she takes it. The bone on her wrist feels cold, like it somehow always manages to. As if they hold some spark of life from their former owner, hatred extending even beyond death. “You look unwell,” she murmurs.
“Merzost,” he admits.
“No more for three months,” she commands softly. He inclines his head in agreement as she continues. “I decided to name her Stanislava.” A good name for their daughter. “And what have you brought me, Darkling?” She raises her voice for the whole court to hear.
He gives a nod to the attendants and they begin to unroll the gift spreading out as it grew and grew, pushing back the crowd around them. Perhaps hundreds of thousands of red, blue, and purple scraps woven together to create the Drüskille’s gruesome trophy, although Aleksander doubts it’s the true tally of their crimes.
The conversations, especially among the Grisha, fall quiet, as people realize what it is.
“A fine gift,” Alina’s voice rings clear. “We thank you, Darkling.” She slips her arm out of his, and turns slightly, offering him their daughter.
Aleksander takes a deep breath to steady himself, then takes the girl, settling her against his chest.
Alina begins her slow descent to the banner. Aleksander himself continues upwards, until he reaches Nikolai’s throne. Moving to the left he kneels again, arranging himself until he’s comfortable before resting his head against Nikolai’s thigh.
Stasya’s hair is dark, but Aleksander can’t quite make out if it’s black like his or brown like Alina’s. He almost wishes she weren’t sleeping so that he could see her eyes also. That can wait for later, for now he’s lost a little in the rush of holding her for the first time. So small and fragile. Another person he will be weak for.
Nikolai’s rough fingers run through Aleksander’s hair, tugging it lose from it’s ribbon and letting it fall around Aleksander’s shoulders. The action is soothing is always, even as absent minded a gesture it is. Those fingers gain more purpose however as they graze down the back of Aleksander’s neck, lingering on the bite at the base; after three months it’s begun to even heal, although Aleksander’s sure sometime tonight Nikolai will pull him into some hidden corner and ‘refresh’ it.
The thought makes him shiver, eager for it. “All in good time, Sasha,” Nikolai murmurs. The words make him shiver again.
Below them Alina has Zenik and Brum stand, embracing Zenik before shaking hands with Brum. She has a brief conversation with them before moving towards the banner, Brum looks a little sun struck.
Fingers move from his neck to drift across the line of Aleksander’s shoulder briefly, before settling against the back of it. Pressing into the scar there deliberately. Aleksander bites the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound.
Harder to do when the memory of how he gained that scar washes over him.
Nikolai’s teeth in his neck as the other man thrust into him, as merciless as always. Alina sits before them, naked, her legs spread enough that he can see the dripping wetness of her. His fingers curl around her ankle, the only touch he is allowed for now, eyes glued to her slit.
At least until Nikolai snarls, pressing deep and spilling inside. The world going white for Aleksander as pleasure overwhelms him.
When he becomes aware again he’s sprawled on the bed, cock still aching for release. Nikolai is pressed against his side, fingers trailing lazily over his back. The thought comes to Aleksander in a flash, enough to make him shudder, hips jerking.
“What is it you want darling Sasha?” Nikolai’s voice is rough and saited. They know him so well.
It takes him a few moments to compose himself enough to speak. “Mark me...please.” Nikolai’s fingers still.
“Again?” Nikolai’s voice is light. “One bite not enough, although I find myself up to the task.” Yes, Aleksander can tell too.
But he shakes his head. “Not a bite…” His throat closes, not sure he can truly describe what he wants. He takes a deep breath, he needs to try. “More. A mark...like a…” he makes a frustrated sound, hating that he can’t describe it better. A thousand years old and words are failing him.
“Brand?” Alina’s voice is soft, but it has that dark note to it that he loves desperately. “A mark of ownership? I guess that bite of yours could seem from anyone couldn’t it?” She sounds so understanding, and there is a sliver of Aleksander that still hates it. “But a brand could only be seen as one person’s mark couldn’t it?”
“Yes,” Aleksander gasps. “That, please.”
Nikolai moves, his hand spreading wide, the warmth of it unescapable. “Yes, well I don’t quite have your talent for that, Alina my love. I do think there’s a knife somewhere in the bedside table, although I can’t say how adapt I might be at carving flesh.”
Aleksander squeezes his eyes shut, tries to keep his body still. “Don’t care, want it.” It will hurt, but Aleksander wants the pain, eager for the crystalline rush of it.
“As you say, darling.” Nikolai’ kisses a spot on his right shoulder before climbing over him and off the bed.
When Alina tugs her ankle, Aleksander relinquishes it. “Hands and knees.”
Alina’s voice is still soft, but Aleksander obeys without question. Watches as she slides herself underneath him. Goes when she pulls him down. Cries out when she slides herself onto him. And again when he orgasms, he shouldn’t have but all of this is pushing him past what limits he’s grown accustomed to. Weak, he falls onto Alina. She doesn't complain though, wrapping her arms and legs around him, holding him tight.
“I’ve got you, Sasha,” she murmurs against his cheek. He feels her move her arms, one up so that she can run her fingers through his hair, the other down a little, leaving his right shoulder fully open. “Just be here, and all will be as it should.” Yes, he knows.
Cold steel presses against his skin and Aleksander shivers. It’s about all he can do, although if he tried hard enough he’s sure he could escape Alina’s hold. Although why he would want to is beyond him.
“So then.” Nikolai taps the blade against his shoulder a few times. “What shall it be?”
Aleksander’s not looking at Alina’s face, but he knows she rolls her eyes. “Don’t dither, Nikolai. You’re just drawing it out.”
The blade glides gently across his skin, and Aleksander has to resist the urge to push up into it, to let it pierce his skin. “I’d say I have the right to dither, this is quite an important decision. After all, there are plenty of things that could be considered ‘my’ symbol.”
Twisting his head slightly Aleksander meets Alina’s gaze, sees the fondness in how she rolls her eyes. “Just pick. Some of us have other things we’d like to do tonight.”
“As my queen commands,” Nikolai’s sigh is highly exaggerated. “Hold still darling, wouldn’t want to mess this up, yes?”
Aleksander gives a nod. Taking a steadying breath he does his best to hold onto Alina, knowing she won’t let him falter. Not when it’s something he wants this much.
Fingers briefly sketch against his shoulder, once Nikolai seems satisfied with the idea he presses the blade against his shoulder once more. He presses harder and it sinks in like a lover.
It had taken Nikolai an hour to carve that dog into Aleksander’s shoulder, and he’d orgasmed three more times during the process. When it was finally over they’d bandaged him up and curled themselves around him, fingers stroking and petting. Murmuring praise and thanks.
“Did you bring me anything?” Nikolai’s voice pulls Aleksander from the memory. “Granted I’m not sure you’d be able to top this little presentation.”
Below them Alina’s managed to set fire to the banner, the attendants quickly dropping it to the ground and backing away. No one at least rushes to put out the fire. Aleksander smiles. “Gold,” he answers. “Some books that the library doesn’t have, a chance to argue with Alina. Practical things.” Which is part of the joke as it were.
He can just feel Nikolai’s thumb rub against the fabric of his kefta. “One of these days you’re going to get it right. And what is the topic of argument this time?” They’re never serious arguments of course. But Alina and Nikolai do so enjoy bickering.
“What constitutes proper gifts for children,” he answers. He’d brought a pup for Stasya too, although she certainly is far too young to care for it herself. But if her older siblings won’t look after it than Aleksander will.
He doesn’t need to look at Nikolai’s face to know the man’s raising his eyebrows. “And what are the gifts you’ve brought? Just so I can properly prepare my points for.”
Turning his head slightly Aleksander presses a smile against Nikolai’s pants. “Now why would I ruin the surprise?” It’s not quite toeing the line, he’s allowed small secrets. But he’s also doing it because he knows it will annoy Nikolai into something delightfully rash.
Nikolai’s thumb presses sharply into him. “Pert,” but there’s a grin in his voice. “Keep this up and I might just have to throw you over the arm of this throne and fuck you dry.”
Aleksander presses his face harder into Nikolai’s thigh, muffling his needy sound. Nikolai's content to wait for a response. After a few agonizing heartbeats Aleksander is certain he can speak again. “Perhaps best to wait until after the children have been taken away.” Which is the only true protest he has. Not that he’s sure he’ll be able to give Stasya away to whichever nurse comes to claim her.
“And here Nazyalensky was saying you were out of good ideas.” Nikolai’s hand drifts back up to pet Aleksander’s neck. “Now I believe we both should hush, I think our munificent queen is about to speak.”
Indeed, Alina is turning herself slightly, better positioning for all the assembled crowd to hear what she has to say.
“Today has brought us a great victory, but while we might now have peace with the Fjerdans, the war is not over, not truly. Yet for tonight, let us celebrate our might and power! Tomorrow we shall begin the harder work, they have seen how fierce a warrior I am, now it is time for them to see how kind a mother I can be.”
A brief silence follows, broken by a voice crying out. “Madrya Sol!”
“Madrya Grisha!” The voice sounds almost like Safin’s, which is hardly a surprise.
Both titles are taken up in chant, others joining them. “Koroleva Sankta,” quickly overwhelming them all.
Aleksander is in the wonderful position of being able to see the Apparat flinch when that particular title is called out. The man has no one to blame but himself though, he’s the one who decided to push Alina as a Saint. It’s only logical that the people that loved her would see Alina as the Queen of Saints, given all that she’s done.
With all the queenly grace she can muster, Alina curtsies before turning and climbing back up the steps. She’s soon rushed by Kostya and Raya—a nearby nurse tries to stop the both of them, but they outpace her easily—who envelope her in hugs and chatter.
She returns the hugs, then pulls herself away. She smiles at him and Nikolai, warmth and love achingly clear on her face, as she returns to her own throne. Her serene mask slipping back over her face as she takes a seat.
The chanting begins to die down, servants making their way through the crowds with champagne for the sudden celebration. Aleksander watches with lazy interest, lulled as he is by being with his lovers again, nevermind holding his own child.
Soon he’s sure his king and queen will pull him back into the all-consuming ocean that is their love, and Aleksander can feel the anticipation of it creeping through him.
For now though there is only contentment, and peace.