Work Text:
Growing up an orphan in Keramzin, Alina was told that little girls weren’t supposed to be interested in trains.
Alina ignored them.
During a bout of childhood illness, she’d found a dusty old coffee-table book in the orphanage library, all about the trains that had run through Ravka nearly a century ago. Alina had instantly been captivated by the gleaming wood, shining brass and inviting velvets and brocades that had made up the beautiful interiors, and ever since, she’d thought of the inside of the old trains as her personal definition of luxury. Especially the legendary Grisha Express, running from Os Kervo to the heart of Novyi Zem and beyond
Even when she’d left the orphanage and moved to Os Alta, regularly seeing the modern-day interiors of the homes of the rich and famous thanks to her reality TV obsessed room-mate, Alina never wavered. Even after the romance of the Grisha Express and her ilk were replaced by sleek steel, super-fast magnetic tracks, and seats with fold-out tables with USB ports and cup holders. The old trains were the image of wealth and comfort that rumbled through her dreams.
But Alina never really thought she’d ever achieve it.
Not until her room-mate’s spiky friend Zoya made a sarcastic remark about the dilemma her definitely-not-my-boyfriend’s godfather was in. Not until Genya turned to look at Alina, and slowly answered, “Actually, that’s not a bad idea...”
Alina’s first reaction was delight at seeing Zoya completely and utterly discombobulated, for probably the first time in her life. Alina’s second reaction was curiosity. Her third reaction led her to this moment, carrying her brand new designer brand weekend bag aboard the Grisha Scenic train.
“I can take that, if you’d like,” her husband of three hours suggested.
“Oh no, it’s fine. All my heavy stuff’s in the checked luggage,” Alina smiled back.
Her checked luggage wasn’t a set of designer brand suitcases that matched the weekend bag. It was a real travelling trunk, crafted to look like a vintage steamer trunk on the outside but on the inside made with all modern materials to be nearly as secure as a safe. It had been Aleksander’s real engagement present to her, a little over a month ago; it had arrived a week after she’d signed the legal papers that would guarantee the next level of Aleksander’s trust fund would be released to him, guarantee a dowry of two million dollars for her, and Aleksander had handed over an heirloom diamond and onyx ring that she only wore for social media releases, because it was so heavy – and so tackily ostentatious – that otherwise Alina wore it on a chain around her neck.
Despite the fact that Alina would gain so much more from this arrangement than him, Aleksander had been nothing but friendly and accommodating to her. When she’d worried about the prospect of a high society church wedding filled with strangers looking down their noses at her, Aleksander had offered a civil ceremony in the lovely rooftop garden of the apartment building he owned, officiated by his friend Fedyor, who happened to be a celebrant as well as a lawyer. When he’d asked her about her ideal vacation for the honeymoon, Alina had confided in him her old dreams of the now-defunct Grisha Trans-Continental Express. Aleksander gave her the trunk, and tickets on the Grisha Scenic: made up of fully restored carriages from the old Grisha Railway Company, it meandered down to the Valley of the Sun, the main passage to Shu Han, then turned to follow the mountains along the border to the sea, where it turned again and followed the coast up to Os Kervo.
Thanks to their wedding breakfast earlier that morning turning into a hours-long brunch, they’d only just managed to board before disembarking. The train rumbled thrillingly under her feet as they pulled out of the station, built on the very outskirts of Os Alta in order to avoid traffic
Alina took in a deep breath, eyes darting everywhere as she followed Aleksander down the narrow corridor, already wishing she could take out the brand new digital camera that had been David’s wedding present. She’d memorized the instruction booklet days ago, knowing she would take several memory cards worth of photos to use for artistic inspiration and resources for her classes at art school next autumn.
Alina giggled, prompting Aleksander to smile at her over his shoulder, almost thrown off balance by the swaying of the carriage. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m just relishing the atmosphere. I feel like I’m in one of my favourite movies from the Frostbite War era, just waiting for a mysterious stranger with a fedora to stagger into view, begging me to take his microfilm to the Kerch Embassy as he dies from an exotic poison.”
“Not poison. A Yemeni dagger sticking out his shoulder,” Aleksander nodded wisely.
Alina relaxed a little more at Aleksander’s willingness to play along with her. She’d only met Aleksander a handful of times before their wedding ceremony this morning, and knew that one of the benefits of their slow trip was the chance for them to properly get to know each other on their own terms. After all, they’d be living together for two years.
“Here we are, cabin A3,” Aleksander opened the door, and then stood aside to let Alina enter first.
It was small, but Alina had expected that. She was pretty sure Aleksander had a closet in his penthouse bigger than this – in the smallest guest room. She peeked through the pocket door to her left to see the tiny bathroom, with just the toilet and a showerhead with a corner sink. Good thing she was small and skinny, although Aleksander might find it a challenge with his height and broad shoulders. The rest of the room had just enough clear floor space to stand up to change clothes, or rummage through a bag; a comfortable armchair next to the window, a small table that could be folded against the wall, and a couch with luggage racks underneath, that Alina knew would be turned into the bottom bunk.
“Which bunk did you want?” she asked, turning back to let Aleksander follow her in.
As he slid the door shut, he asked, “Any preferences?”
Alina bit her lip and admitted shyly, “I always wanted to try the top bunk in the dorms at the orphanage, but never got one.”
“All yours this time, then. Honestly, I’d rather take the bottom anyway. I know these things are secure, but I can’t shake the feeling it’s going to collapse and I’ll smother you,” Aleksander admitted sheepishly.
The sun coming through the window hit him just right, making his marble-pale skin tint golden, highlighting those killer cheekbones and making bronze lowlights bloom in his hair, and Alina sucked in her breath from the sheer beauty of the man before her.
“Aleksander... I’m going to be financially secure and debt-free the rest of my life. What are you getting out of this?”
It wasn’t the first time she’d asked this question.
Aleksander patiently repeated, “Under the terms of my great-grandfather’s will, I don’t get the major part of my trust fund until I marry, and stay married for at least two years. This will give me the seed money for my own firm, which I’ll be able to run as I see fit, aided by my own people who I trust. I’ll never be subject to my mother’s rages or dependent on Pyotr Lantsov’s whims again.”
“But you have reputation, position – you’re gorgeous enough to be a movie star and you’re not an asshole. You could have snapped your fingers and had a line of prospective brides around the block. Why me?” Alina burst out.
It was the first time she’d had the nerve to ask this question.
Aleksander regarded her thoughtfully. “I didn’t want some spoiled society princess, who would see the dowry as a year’s spending money, who would cuckold me with men and women I meet on a regular basis because her family’s money has isolated her from the concept of consequences her entire life. I wanted someone who would really be helped by the dowry. I wanted someone who understands what it means to make a bargain and keep their end of it. And yes, I wanted someone I could be friends with, who I could safely and happily share a home with for the next two years – or longer, depending on how well we get along. Someone I’d be glad to see years after the marriage ended.” Aleksander gave a wicked grin. “The fact that your background and ethnicity will give my mother fits is a nice bonus, I’ll admit.”
Alina grinned back. “Zoya told me all about your mother. She may look at me like I’m a UFO, but she still believes I deserved to truly understand what I was getting into. You think we can goad your mother into foaming at the mouth by our first anniversary?”
“Manage that, and I’ll take you to every art museum you want to visit in this hemisphere as an anniversary present.”
That particular smile did some very lewd things to her body. Alina’s intensely sexual response to her new husband was a bit disconcerting, actually. At nineteen years old, she wasn’t a virgin, but she wasn’t exactly experienced, either. The fumbling trysts she’d shared with Mal when she was sixteen hadn’t left her with much in the way of sexual self-possession. The most important lesson she’d learned that summer – which she had thought was the first stage of forever, but Mal had thought was just two best friends helping each other past the most awkward hurdle to adulthood – had been the importance of communication in relationships.
Alina agreed with Aleksander that they should wait to consummate their relationship, but maybe they should have a conversation about just when they should do that?
Alina put her bag on the couch, trying to work up the nerve to broach the topic, when she heard a noise that no one expected on a train – outside Frostbite War era movies.
“Was that a gunshot?” she asked in alarm.
“Revolver, not pistol,” Aleksander said absently. “Pretty sure it was two shots in very close succession.”
“Should we see if we can help?” asked Alina.
Aleksander looked at her with wide eyes. “What if it’s not some kind of accident? I don’t want you anywhere near flying bullets.”
“I appreciate the consideration, but none of the doors lock, remember? I’m pretty sure I’m safest with you.”
Aleksander evidently saw her point. As he reached for the door to the corridor, he instructed her, “Stay behind me and if I tell you to do something in the next few minutes, do it. The shot was from the rear end of our carriage.”
As Aleksander slid open the cabin door, neither had any idea they were about to embark on their first investigation together; one of so many murders that fate would throw into their path that it would take less than a year for their friends to start making ‘Messenger of Death’ jokes. A joint passion and cause that would kick-start and nurture their love and desire for each other for a lifetime.
Alina and Aleksander were about to discover a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘til death do us part’....