This fic will, in part, be delving into some of Mirnatius's trauma, including trauma relating to non-consensual sex (i.e., Chernobog possessing him and using his body to drain people during sex). I will do my best to warn for things as they come up, but if anyone thinks any additional warnings are necessary, please tell me and I'll add them. If this sort of content may be triggering to you, please take care of yourself and be aware of what you're getting into.

The titles comes from a line from the song "Fool" by Handsome Ghost; the full line is: "If it's foolish love that we're both guilty of / Then call me a fool."


The ever-present coil of heat in my stomach was gone.

I hadn't realized before that it hurt. I'd always thought the constant burning ache was just part of being human. I thought everyone felt it. I didn't know, although it seemed foolish to admit it, that it was a consequence of having a demon made of fire nestling amongst my innards. But now Chernobog was gone, and so was the burning.

This was how I could have felt my whole life, if my mother hadn't sold me off to a demon before I was even born.

I didn't realize I was crying, not at first. Nor did I realize that I was still clinging to Irina's hands. Her ring was a cool band around my finger. Next to us, her nurse was sniveling, and a scullery-maid was trembling, but I only had eyes for Irina, the woman who had saved me, the woman who-

The woman who probably still wanted me dead, even if I didn't have a demon inside of me anymore. There was no reason to think her plans had changed. The knife was still coming. I wasn't foolish enough to believe otherwise.

I pulled my hands away. "Do we still have to fear the Staryk?"

"I don't know," Irina said. At least she was practical and able to focus on what was important. She wasn't just crying, like her useless nurse.

"Then you just got rid of our best weapon against him before we knew if we still needed it," I said acidly.

"I saved you," Irina shot back. "I saved our kingdom. Don't you dare-"

"I am still tsar," I said, making my voice cloyingly sweet. "Do not think to tell me what I can and cannot dare to do."

Irina stared at me, clearly furious, then she swallowed down her anger and clenched her jaw. "I think we all ought to rest," she said. "The past few days have been very long."

I nodded in agreement and tried to walk to the bed, but my legs gave out under me as soon as I tried to move them. Quick as a flash, Irina ducked under me to catch me before I fell, but I pulled away from her.

"I can walk."

Irina looked cooly disbelieving, but she let me struggle and turned to her nurse and the scullery-maid. "Both of you should get some rest," she said. "Magreta, can you help…" She looked at the scullery-maid for a moment. "What's your name?"

"Maria, Your Majesty," the scullery-maid whispered. "Your Majesty, what…"

"Magreta, can you tend to Maria?" Irina asked. "I'm sure she'll need someone to help calm her."

"Of course," Magreta said. She still looked terrified, to an extent that I found ridiculous. The danger was over, and she had hardly been in danger anyway. If anyone ought to be frightened, it would be me. I was the one who had been stripped of my only power and protection, and I was the one who was married to a woman who had proved she would do anything if she thought it was in the best interests of the people.

And I was the one who was going to be left alone with her.

Magreta and Maria left the room, leaving me and Irina alone. I'd nearly made it to the bed by this point, but I paused and turned back around to face her.

"Are you going to kill me now?" I asked. "Finish what Chernobog couldn't do?"

Irina didn't look offended at the question, nor did she immediately respond with a protest. I appreciated her honesty. I was too tired to play around tonight.

"I'm not going to kill you," Irina said. "You should sleep."

"And will you sleep with me, wife?"

Irina didn't even flinch. "Goodnight, husband," she said, and then she was gone, and for the first time in my life, I was truly alone.


I woke up the next morning, and I was cold.

I had never really been cold before. Chernobog had always kept me warm. I knew that the Staryks had frozen the world, but that had never really affected me, not like it affected everyone else.

But there was no fire demon in my gut anymore, and sometime over the course of the night, the embers in the fireplace had gone from dying to dead. My bed had never had too many blankets on it, a fact which had mystified my servants, because in the past all they'd ever done was make me overheated. Now, though, I wished I had some of those furs I'd refused in the past.

I was curling up under the few covers I had, contemplating the wisdom of getting up to find more blankets, when Irina entered the room. "Are you awake?" she asked, looking to the bed.

"No," I muttered, completely unrepentant in my petulance.

"You need to get up," Irina commanded. She was good at commanding people, and most people seemed content to do what she wanted. I, however, didn't fall into that category, so I didn't move.

"We still have wedding festivities to attend," Irina continued. "Marrying Vassilia off to your cousin instead of you was insult enough already. If we skip the celebrations-"

"Didn't we celebrate enough yesterday?" I groaned, dragging myself into a sitting position. I was still sore, and I was cold, and I had no desire to perform for the court today. I still wasn't quite sure how such a performance would go. My mother's contract with Chernobog had secured my position as tsar, but now that Chernobog was gone, I had no such safety. No one liked me, I knew that. How long would they accept me as tsar? How long before I was overthrown?

And if I were overthrown, which side would my wife be on?

The winning side, I knew that immediately. Irina would look over both sides and decide which one seemed more likely to come out victorious, and she would throw her lot over with them. Not too openly, I would guess, so she could change sides again if she had to, but I trusted that she would make a good choice in the first place. I just couldn't trust that the winning side would be mine.

"We need to be there for the celebrations," Irina said firmly. Then something softened in her face slightly. It was an expression I had never seen before, not directed at me. Irina always looked at me with disdain, and this… This was strange.

"Are you still unwell?" she asked, sounding tentative for perhaps the first time since I'd met her. "From… what happened last night."

"When you traded Chernobog's ownership of me over to yourself?" I asked, hoping it would cut.

Irina flushed a little, and I knew it had. "I don't own you, husband."

"Then call me by my name."

Irina blinked. "What?"

"You always refer to me by what I am to you," I said. "Your lord, your husband. If you don't own me, call me by my name."

Irina seemed to take a moment to think about that, then she set her shoulders and said, firmly, "Mirnatius, get up and come downstairs for your cousin's wedding celebration."

I didn't think it was the first time I'd heard her name on my lips, although I was hard-pressed to recall when the last time had been. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not.

"Very well, wife-"

"Irina."

I raised an eyebrow.

"If I am to call you by your name," Irina continued, clearly still a little flustered, "then you should call me by mine."

I inclined my head a little, conceding the point. I'd do my best to make her regret it, but I'd concede for now.

"Very well, Irina. Give me a chance to dress, and I'll go downstairs for the stupid wedding celebrations."

Irina's lips were a thin line, and I had the definite feeling that she didn't appreciate me calling the wedding celebrations "stupid" - although they most certainly were, it wasn't like anyone was really happy about Vassilia and Ilias's marriage - but she inclined her head slightly and left the room. I looked around and groaned. The prospect of getting out of bed seemed an exhausting one, but the prospect of Irina coming back into my room and harassing me about it again was even worse, so I got up and staggered over to the wardrobe. I passed a scorch mark on the floor that I didn't let myself look at too closely, then I threw the wardrobe doors open.

A few servants entered the room as I looked through my clothes, obviously sent by Irina. "I want to wear something warm," I declared.

The servants looked at each other. "Warm, Your Majesty?" one of them repeated after a moment. He sounded confused. I supposed that made sense; I never dressed particularly warmly, and today was fairly temperate. Still, what cold there was felt bitter to me, given that I had never felt it before. Heat had always been my bane, not the Staryk's chill. I was still getting used to having that switched.

"Warm," I stated. "Now."

The servants scurried around like headless chickens for a few moments, trying frantically to find something that fit my qualifications, then they finally came out with clothes made of a thicker material than most of my clothes. They were warm enough to block out the chill, but not so warm that I felt hot. I didn't want to feel hot ever again.

"I'll need more blankets for my bed as well," I declared. "Have them brought up before tonight."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

I waved a hand, and the servants scurried off. As they left the room, Irina reentered. She wore her Staryk crown, but not her necklace. Her ring, I realized, was still around my finger.

"Why do you want blankets?" she asked. The curiosity in her voice sounded innocent enough, but I had learned better than to think my wife innocent.

"It turns out that removing a fire demon from one's body leaves one rather cold," I said bitterly. "I'll need new winter clothes made."

"You need to start rewearing your clothing," Irina said.

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Do I?"

"The treasury can bear the strain, barely, but it shouldn't have to," Irina continued. "I don't know why you refuse to wear the same clothes more than once, but it's ridiculous. And now that you're married, you have the perfect reason to change your habits."

"So the world can think I let my wife rule me?"

"No, so the world can think that you've finally found some sense," Irina retorted. "New clothes every day are an outrageous expense."

As much as I hated to admit it, there wasn't really any reason I couldn't do as she was asking. I'd never worn my clothing more than once so no one would expect me to, and thus no one would be confused when certain pieces of clothing disappeared. Confusion would lead to curiosity, and that could lead to someone discovering the fiery death that so many of my clothes faced. Now, however, Chernobog couldn't burn my clothes anymore. I could wear them more than once.

But I wasn't about to just give in to Irina that easily.

"I'm the tsar," I said, my voice languid and lazy. "I can bear an outrageous expense."

"Are you really secure enough in your position to think that?" Irina countered.

Ah, here it was. "Should I have reason to believe otherwise?" I asked, keeping my voice as innocent as I could manage. "Is there something you know that I don't?"

"All I know are things that anyone with eyes should know," Irina said sharply. "You have angered half of your nobility, and the other half doesn't have much loyalty to you either. How do you expect to stay in power if you don't have anyone backing you?"

"And what happened to my most stalwart supporter?" I countered silkily. "I had protection, wife, until you decided your claim was stronger than any other's. Chernobog may have been many things, but he was no oathbreaker, and as long as he lived, I would have remained on the throne."

"You cannot be upset that I freed you from him," Irina said, sounding half shocked and half irritated. "I saw how Chernobog beat you. I saw what he did to you. You cannot be upset-"

"I can be whatever I wish, Irina," I replied. "I am the tsar. If you wish to try to depose me, be my guest, but until then, do not think to control me."

Irina pressed her lips together. The shock on her face had given way to the irritation. "Come downstairs," she said. "It's time for breakfast. And do try to be pleasant."

"I will be as pleasant as I always am," I replied.

I had the feeling Irina was only barely able to keep from rolling her eyes.

When we got downstairs, we were both immediately swept up into the wedding celebrations. Ilias and Vassilia looked as pleased as they could be, given the circumstances. A large breakfast spread had been laid out, and now that Irina and I had arrived, people were able to begin eating. I took a lazy bite of oatmeal only to nearly spit it back out. I'd never realized that food could be so hot. Nothing had ever been hot to me before, nothing but Chernobog. For the first time, I understood why people blew on certain foods before eating them.

Irina, of course, made pleasant conversation with the people around her and promptly charmed everyone in sight. Even Prince Ulrich seemed unable to hate her, and she had stolen what he no doubt saw as his daughter's rightful place as tsarina. That lack of anger didn't seem to extend to me, but I was fairly certain that no one would be able to make a successful move against me until Irina wished it, so I had no fear of him. Irina was the one with all the power, and I was certain she knew it. Half the table probably did too; I'd never been much of a ruler, and my sudden, forced interest in ruling could easily be traced back to the moment she and I wedded. I thought back to my complaints earlier and supposed there wasn't much of a point in trying to keep up appearances that I was the one in charge in this relationship. If I allowed it to appear as if my clothing habits had changed because of her influence, I doubted anyone would be surprised.

"Husband," Irina said at my side, with an irritated inflection that made me think this wasn't the first time she'd tried to get my attention, "what on earth can you be thinking of that distracts you so?"

"Oh, what any man in my situation would think of," I replied easily, casting a lewd look in Irina's direction. There were a few titters from the people sitting around us, but Irina didn't seem particularly amused. I was probably the only person close enough to her to see how the muscles on either side of her mouth tightened. Well, it was of little matter to me; if she wanted to drag me out among the nobility, I would go, but I had made no promises to behave.

"My father is asking how long we intend to stay here," Irina said. "I'm certain you wish to return to the capital with haste, don't you?"

"Oh, with great haste," I replied, although in truth, it was all the same to me. I doubted being deposed by my own wife would be any more or less pleasant in the capital than here. I knew why Irina wanted to leave, though. Entertaining the tsar and his guests couldn't be cheap for her father, and Irina was always so concerned about money. I found it incredibly boring, but I was certain my financial advisors would love to speak with someone who actually gave a damn what they had to say.

"Perhaps tomorrow, then?" Irina asked. "Unless you have any other business to attend to here?"

"You know full well I do not," I replied. I hated playing these games for the court. We'd done what we came here to do. Vassilia and Ilias were married, and our affair with the Staryk king was over, for better or for worse. There was no reason we had to stay any longer, and Irina knew it as well as I did.

"If you don't mind, I might take along a few servants from my father's household," Irina said. "I could use a few to attend me. I'm certain you have plenty in the capital, but I would like a few I know."

I wasn't so foolish as to be unable to see what she was talking about. She'd need to keep that scullery-maid close, to make sure she didn't tell anyone about what she saw. I imagined Irina didn't want news getting out that the tsar had been possessed by a demon, not until she'd popped out a few children and cemented her place as ruler.

Chernobog would have drank the maid dry and left me to dispose of the body. I had to say, while Irina's methods were riskier, I much preferred them.

"Take whatever servants you like," I told Irina dismissively. "It's nothing to me."

Irina didn't look thrilled with that answer, but she accepted it. Perhaps I'd been too dismissive towards the servants for her liking. Irina would be the sort to care deeply about that sort of thing. I'd never let myself get attached to anyone working in my household. If I showed any attachment to anyone, no matter how slight, Chernobog would jump on the opportunity to select that person as his newest victim. Ignoring the servants altogether was the safest option for them. I supposed I could change that now that Chernobog was gone, but I was certain Irina would care about the servants enough for the both of us.

Irina didn't try to provoke any more conversation with me throughout breakfast, which I was very grateful for. It wasn't that I disliked talking to her, it was just that I disliked talking to her in public. After all, everyone assumed I'd married her out of love, and it was probably in my best interests to let people keep thinking that. Which was fine - everyone found her astonishingly beautiful, so at least they thought I had good taste - but that meant that I had to be nice to her, at least when other people were around.

When breakfast finally finished, I planned to go back upstairs and sequester myself in my room, my duties be damned, but Irina had other plans. Of course she did. I could hardly breathe without my darling wife finding fault in it. "Mirnatius," she said quietly, "I thought you could ride with Ilias, and I could spend some time with Vassilia."

I looked at Irina in shock. "You want me to go out with Ilias? Do you really think that's going to improve their marriage?"

"If Ilias is unfaithful, he'll hardly be the first husband to be," Irina replied. "But I don't expect you'll encourage him there."

No, Irina just wanted me to use the fact that Ilias desperately wanted me as a way to control him. If I ever met anyone who tried to convince me that women were the fairer, more delicate, romantic sex, I would only need to introduce them to my wife to prove that they were entirely wrong.

"Fine," I huffed. "Ilias!"

It was pathetic, how quickly Ilias whirled around at the sound of my voice. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Come ride with me," I said, doing my best to ignore how Ilias's face lit up at the words. "I would speak with you on our recent marriages."

Even the reminder that Ilias had gotten married yesterday wasn't enough to dull the excitement on his face. "I would be honored, Your Majesty."

Irina had been speaking softly with Vassilia, and the two of them stood and left the table. I gestured to Ilias, who came to my side immediately.

"Do you like my coat?" Ilias asked, apparently too eager for my praise to let it happen naturally. "I had it made in your usual style. I thought you would approve of it."

I studied the coat in question. It looked like something I would wear, which had been Ilias's goal all along. "A handsome coat," I pronounced, watching Ilias beam at me in pleasure.

"I hoped you would like it."

"Is it suitable for riding?" I asked, striding towards the stables.

Ilias almost tripped over himself in his attempt to catch up. "It is, Your Majesty."

"Then let us ride."

"I would be honored to ride with you," Ilias said, with a bit too much emphasis on his words.

"I believe our wives are speaking together," I said, because it was probably prudent to remind Ilias that we were both, in fact, married. "I wonder what sort of discussions they could be having." Hopefully not treasonous ones, but with Irina, I never knew.

"I wouldn't know what goes on in a woman's mind," Ilias said, clearly eager to drop that topic as soon as possible.

"No, I suppose not," I allowed as we reached the stables. Upon seeing us, a stablehand scrambled to his feet, bowing deeply. "Saddle our horses," I told him dismissively before turning back to Ilias.

"And is your wife to your liking?"

Ilias blinked. It was clear he hadn't expected this question, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond to it. He'd have to figure that out before too long. I wouldn't be the only person to ask him about his new wife, and if Ilias didn't want to offend her father as I had done, he'd have to make sure people thought that he at least cared for her, if not loved her.

"My wife is… lovely," Ilias said, although the words sounded almost more like a question than a statement. "She is very beautiful."

"She is," I replied. "You are a lucky man."

A tortured look flickered across Ilias's face, but he wrestled it down. Keeping his emotions from showing up on his face had never been something Ilias was good at, but it appeared he'd been trying to learn.

"I am," he said, although he sounded like he was forcing the words out.

Our horses were led forward to us, and I swung up onto mine. Behind me, Ilias did the same, then he followed me out of the stable and into the field behind it. I didn't think it was a good idea to enter the forest that lurked on the edge of the field, but there was plenty of space for us to ride before that would be a problem.

We'd only been riding for a minute before Ilias looked at me and burst out, "Mirnatius, I know you're married, and I am too, but-" He looked so desperate I thought he might cry. "You must know what my feelings are."

For the first time, it occurred to me that now, I could take Ilias up on his eternal offer. Chernobog had always made it impossible before - there would be far too much drama if my cousin were the one who went missing after finding his way into the tsar's bed - but now Chernobog was gone. The lack of burning heat in my stomach was proof enough of that. There was no danger to it, not now.

Except for the fact that Irina would be furious.

"It is as you say," I said, and for a moment, Ilias's face lit up, until I continued with, "we are both married."

Now I was almost certain Ilias would cry, but he ducked his head quickly, so if any tears did fall, I couldn't see them. We rode in silence for a few minutes, during which time I thought a whole manner of insulting thoughts about my sweet, delightful, darling Irina. The chances that I would have ever taken Ilias up on his offer were slim, but as horrible as his poetry was, I didn't dislike him. I wouldn't have accepted his offer, but I wouldn't have thrown it back in his face either. I still didn't like doing it, but Irina had arranged matters so I had no other option. She was a ruthless woman. If that ruthlessness hadn't been aimed against me, perhaps I would have appreciated it, but as it was…

"Do you love her?" Ilias asked suddenly. He looked up at me with reddened eyes. "If you don't want- At least tell me you love her."

No, I wanted to say, I am not so foolish as to fall in love with my would-be executioner- But of course, I could not.

"Yes," I said, and I pretended the word didn't stick in my throat.