Alina & Nikolai

4: The Privateer

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If you've been following this little series of mine, then thank you for the support! I think you're definitely going to enjoy this short story. I own none of the characters. Reviews are appreciated.

Hope you like it! :)

Nikolai

The Heron was a work of art. It was a massive, sleek airship, powered by wind, complete with a dark wooden deck and railing for a close-up view during flying. And by close-up, I mean if you jumped the railing, you were most likely going to end up as a part of the ground itself. It was a daring piece of machinery, but that was why I loved it so much.

Today was going to be its first real flight over the kingdom. All of the workers involved in building it with me had insisted that I wait.

I had every intention of getting on that airship.

And I was taking Alina with me.

"Moi tsar, I have to speak my concerns about this—this outing you have planned on The Heron." Maxwell was a short, dark-haired man with glasses and pale brown eyes, and the most impressive mustache I had ever seen. He was one of my chief workers at the Grand Palace. He knew what he was doing when it came to building and inventing. He was very easily flustered however, and always anxious about something.

"Maxwell, my friend, you've been speaking your concerns for the past two weeks," I replied cheerfully, as we strode down the gleaming hall together toward the stairway to the upper floors. "Nothing you've said has changed my mind so far."

"But, moi tsar—"

"We're all equals in the workroom, so please, call me Nikolai."

"Nikolai!" he blurted out. "This is a serious matter!" He was plucking nervously at the white shirt all workers wore in the palace workrooms. It was short-sleeved and smeared with black soot. I wore the same one, except both sleeves had been ripped off during an unfortunate propeller incident, and was covered in twice as much soot.

"Oh, please," I scoffed, just to get on his nerves. "I'm never serious."

"It may be...life-threatening! What if something goes wrong? What if the propellers don't work? What if—?"

"What if everything goes exactly the way it's supposed to, due to the fact that it was designed by yours truly?" I cut him off.

Maxwell ran his fingers back through his short hair and shoved his glasses farther up on his nose. Both sure signs that I was succeeding at irritating the hell out of him. "I didn't say that things will do badly, I'm just saying we should be prepared," he explained, making hand gestures to emphasize his words. "We should have a few Grisha onboard with us."

"Agreed," I conceded. We were passing rows of doors now, the servants' quarters of the palace. Soon we would be passing through the great entry chamber to the stairs.

Maxwell went on, brow furrowed in thought. "Some Squallers, in case the propellers fail."

"Of course."

"Maybe a couple Healers."

"Always."

"Some of the workers too, to fix any problems."

"Absolutely."

"And your wife should not come with you."

"That's where you're wrong, Maxwell," I replied, and tossed him a casual smile. "My wife is most definitely coming."

He gaped at me like I'd suggested we pitch her over the side once we got up in the air. "But, moi tsar—"

"Nikolai."

"Nikolai," he corrected through gritted teeth. "She is—is the Queen of Ravka!"

"And I am the King," I reminded him pointedly.

"Yes, well, there's no stopping you, once you've put your mind to something," he muttered. You could tell just by the way he said it that this fact had caused him a mountain of problems in the past. "But there's no reason to put her in any danger, no reason for her to come."

"Actually, there is plenty of reason for her to come," I argued pleasantly. Though I didn't explain my reasoning to him. It involved something I'd said to her a while ago. You're my friend and nothing else.

He gave me a disbelieving look. "May I ask what that reason is?"

"No, you may not," I answered. We had reached the white-and-blue soaring walls of the entry chamber. The grand staircase gleamed like silver, snaking up to the upper floors of the palace. This was where Maxwell would leave me; workers tried to avoid the pristine flawlessness of the upstairs levels.

"This is impossible," Maxwell growled under his breath. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs as I started on my way up. His arms were crossed and his eyes were sharp, flitting from thought to thought, assessing this problem.

I paused and grinned down at him, already eager to step foot on my invention. "Not impossible, my friend," I corrected him, and saw him roll his eyes. "Just improbable."

-o-o-o-

My wife was standing in front of a full-length mirror in our room when I stepped through the door. She was once again looking irritated with the fact that the servants had dressed her in another one of the many dresses that Queens were required to wear by some unwritten law. This one was at least simpler than the others, a flowing sheet of silk that hugged her slim waist and spread out like tumbling water at her hips. It was strapless, lacked any diamonds, and colored softest emerald. Her hair was down today, a fall of shining snow down her back. She screwed her face up in a grimace, struggling to clasp her necklace by herself.

"Having trouble, Alina?" I asked, both to announce my presence to her and to tease her, as I tended to do on a daily basis. I leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and watched her spin toward me with my arms folded over my chest.

"I... No," she answered unconvincingly. Her dark eyes were stubborn; she wanted to do this on her own. "I'm not having any trouble at all."

"You're lying," I told her.

"How do you know?"

"You look like you're trying to strangle yourself with that necklace."

She shot me an annoyed glare at that and I flashed her a smirk in return. The way her eyes lingered on my mouth made something twist in my stomach. I watched her as she went back to battling with the necklace, glowering at herself in the mirror. I took a breath and spoke in my most casual voice. "The Heron is taking its first flight over Ravka today."

She didn't glance away from her task. "That's good. You've been wanting to do that for a while, haven't you?"

"I have," I replied. "It's going to be something to see, the kingdom from the air."

"Mm-hm," she mumbled, concentrating half on me.

"We're taking it out soon," I went on, still in the same casual tone.

"Have fun," she advised. "Don't die."

I studied her, and for one second, I let my eyes run over the smooth sweep of her neck and the soft bare skin of her shoulders. "Come with me," I said simply.

She blinked at me, the necklace forgotten. Her eyebrows rose. "What?"

"Come with me. On The Heron. Today." I smiled an easy, confident smile at her.

"I don't think so," she replied. She sounded uneasy, as though the thought of an airship meant certain death.

"You'll be fine," I assured her. "I built it, after all. It's a result of utter brilliance and stunning intelligence."

She snorted. "More like stunning arrogance." A hiss of annoyance escaped her as she tried for the twentieth time to clasp her necklace.

I pushed off from the doorframe and crossed the room to her. She glanced questioningly up at me until I held out my hand. "Let me," I said, gesturing to the golden necklace. "Before you hurt yourself."

She huffed indignantly, but grudgingly handed it over. I stepped behind her. "Lift your hair." Sliding her fingers under the ivory softness of her hair, she pushed it up, exposing her back to me. My gaze couldn't stop wandering to the lines of her shoulder blades and the stretch of soft skin her dress showed. I carefully looped the necklace around her throat. As I fastened the clasp, my fingers brushed the nape of her neck. I thought I heard her quiet intake of breath.

As she dropped her hair again, my hands replaced hers, running the strands between my fingers. She froze. I gently pushed her hair aside and held it there, off one of her shoulders. Her gaze burned into me from the mirror. My fingertips lightly traced down the side of her neck and down her arm. I bent my head and touched a kiss to the curve between her shoulder and neck, nothing more than a brush of my lips over her skin. She drew in a breath and her eyes slid shut.

"Come with me," I said quietly.

"Nikolai..." she trailed off with a shake of her head.

I kissed her shoulder again and let my mouth linger. "Are you afraid?" I asked, lips brushing her skin.

She shivered. "Of flying?"

No. Of falling... "Yes," I answered, pulling back. ...for me.

She nodded.

She came anyway.

Alina

The Heron was a slow-moving airship, meant for travel or sightseeing, not war. It glided lazily through the warm afternoon air, its propellers a constant steady hum in the background. I had changed into a white blouse, pants, and boots for the trip, not knowing exact why I had agreed to come in the first place. Flying scared me. I stood on the wooden deck and gripped the railing so hard, I was sure it would snap in two. It only came up to my waist and I was terrified that I would lean over it too far.

I swallowed down my fear and looked out over the rolling hills and valleys of Ravka again. It was beautiful, almost beautiful enough for me to forget about my worries. The breeze tugged my hair back from my face. Below, green grass rippled in the wind and mountains rose up in the distance. Forests were whispering and lush, and rivers were bright glittering snakes. Above, the sky was cloudless and endlessly open. It was the most incredible shade of orange I'd ever seen, lit by the sunset. This lovely world was all around me now and I wanted nothing more than to stay in it. But I knew that it wouldn't last. I'd have to go back to being Queen the next day, back to what my life was now.

I dreaded it.

Just then, a rattlesnake-smooth voice spoke from behind me. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

I glanced heavenward as Nikolai strolled confidently along the deck to stop beside me. He rested his elbows on the railing and let it support his weight. The sunlight smoldered on his dark golden hair, making it look like waves of honey. "You're standing at the edge of an airship's deck," he informed me helpfully. "And you haven't died yet."

"I'm thinking about jumping off right now," I replied flatly. I sent him a sideways glance. "Or possibly pushing you over."

His sharp hazel eyes glimmered in amusement. "It would be a good story, I'll admit that," he said. "Queen of Ravka shoves her incredibly handsome husband off his own glorious invention."

"You're so full yourself I'm surprised there's room for any other thought in your head."

"Someone in this marriage has to recognize my overall greatness once in a while."

I shook my head in mock hopelessness. "I give up," I told him. "You're impossible."

His mouth curved into his fox's smirk. "And yet, you're married to me."

I just looked at him. The setting sun cast simmering light over his features. He still wore the white shirt from earlier, soot-dusted and careless. It showed the bare curve of his shoulders, the strength of his arms, and the dark, snaking scars on his fingertips. He looked like he belonged here in a place like this, hair wind-ruffled and eyes alight with the idea of adventure and unknown places. It reminded me of when he'd been a captain on the Volkvony. He was a privateer on his ship again, claiming the skies and the sea.

I flicked my eyes to the ground below, a lump in my throat. How can you not be proud of him? How can you not love seeing this side of him, every day? It was impossible. There were many things to love about Nikolai, many things that I'd been pushing down. I thought about the nights when he stayed up to an obscenely late hour, always working, and then somehow found the strength to wake up before me the next day. The days when he claimed I was ill because I couldn't stand the war councils anymore. The times when he'd make me laugh without even trying, when he'd listen to me cry over Mal.

The awful moments when he thought I wasn't looking, when he'd stare at the scars on his hands with a horrible blankness in his eyes.

There is so much he's done for you. How can you push him away?

I took a breath. "Nikolai?"

"Hm?" His gaze was on the horizon, half-lidded, dreaming of a privateer's escape into the unknown.

"Thank you," I said, very quietly.

He glanced over at me, clever and handsome and kind. "For what?"

"Everything."

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

Before I realized what everything truly meant, we were kissing.

It was not like the other kisses I'd had with him. Those had been brief, intense things, nothing but wildness. This was so much softer and gentle, as though we were both afraid of breaking each other. Slowly, he turned toward me and cupped the backs of my elbows in his hands, shifting me so that my back was against the railing. He guided my hands up around his neck and then his were skimming down my back, wrapping around my waist. I was leaning backward, the railing pressed into the small of my back, but I wasn't afraid of falling with him holding me.

When we broke apart, our foreheads touching, I knew somehow that thiswas it. This was the thing that had snuck up on me over the years. This was the thing that I had never really known until now. I wanted to say it, but I was afraid. I was always afraid. I'm in love with you, Nikolai. I shivered and started to pull my hands from his neck.

His arms tightened around me. "Stay," he murmured. His lashes were half-lowered, the hazel of his eyes darkened by something.

"I can't," I whispered brokenly.

"Why not?"

"I'm scared," I confessed. My voice was very small.

He looked into my eyes. "Of what?"

I didn't want to admit it. But he was holding me so close to him, as though this was all he'd ever needed, and I was aching with it. "Everyone who was close to me was taken away in the end," I said shakily. Mal. Aleksander. A tremble ran through me. "It can't happen again."

"I'm right here," he murmured. He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and cupped my face in his hand. His thumb stroked over my cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

"What if you're wrong?" I asked weakly. "What if something happens and you leave, and you don't come back?"

"Alina." He tipped my chin up so that I'd look him in the eye. His expression held none of his usual arrogance. "There's nothing that could take me away from you. I've always been here."

I was still scared. Scared to let him in and scared to admit that I wanted to. "I can't lose you," I breathed. It wasn't I love you, but it was close.

"I've waited so long for you to see me, Alina," he said quietly. The barest trace of his half-smile tugged at his lips. "And now that you do, I have no intention of letting you go." His hands glided soothingly up and down my back, and when he spoke again, it was with the very tiny edge of a plea. "Just don't go. Don't leave me again because you're afraid, okay?"

I gazed up at him, into those too-clever eyes I knew so well. There had never been a time like this, when Nikolai had been less than absolutely sure of what he was doing. I could see the uncertainty in his face, hoping that I would say yes. I was still afraid of my future and of what this would mean. But maybe I could find a way to be happy again. To be happy with him.

I didn't answer him. I slipped my fingers up into the soft hair at the nape of his neck and rested my head on his shoulder. His breath tickled my neck, his shoulders strong with my arms around them, his body warm and solid against mine. I held him and he held me, both of us supporting the other. His arms around me were a question; mine around him was the answer.

Stay.