I seem to have very little patience for my own endings. I put off editing this, thinking I could add more letters or make the end less cheesy. Then again, from the feedback I get, everyone here seems to like cheese.

I don't say this nearly enough, so: I'm so grateful that you're reading this story! Thank you for all of your reviews, your favorites, your alerts, and your overwhelming enthusiasm about a random thought I had a year ago. You guys are the reason I keep posting stuff I write instead of keeping it forever in my Dropbox, and the superb fandom experience I have here wouldn't be possible without you.

(Tl;dr: my cheeks always ache from smiling whenever I see you guys reviewed/favorited/even looked at stuff I write.)

This site doesn't let me do strikethrough for some reason?

"A letter for you, Master Braginski."

"Oh? Ah, thank you, Eduard." Ivan smiles absently to the butler, who nods and leaves as quickly as possible.

Ivan watches him march down the corridor with a sigh. It appears he still intimidates all but a select few.

Ivan is the only Braginski sibling in the manor. Natalia has been staying with Yekaterina for the past four months, and she shows no sign of returning. Ivan wishes he could do likewise. He wonders how his sisters are doing.

Oh, who is he kidding. He wonders how Alfred is doing. They haven't spoken since Alfred has announced he was taking up accounting. That was six months ago. Ivan was certain Alfred would contact him after he had cooled down, but he didn't. Then Ivan worried himself into thinking Alfred wanted to be left alone.

To his own surprise, Ivan has stalled his staging process as much as he can. He implored Feliciano to take another two months on duplicating his portrait, and Feliciano happily complied, pointing out tiny flaws and shoddy paints and winking to Ivan the entire time. Ivan wishes he had reason to celebrate. Waiting for Alfred—let alone waiting to summon the nerve to reach out to Alfred—occupied his days.

At the end of the second month, Lord Braginski lost patience. Feliciano was chastised after his fifth portrait, despite that said portrait apparently "does not flatter Master Braginski's nose at all, my lord". Feliciano took two weeks to quietly finish the rest, at which point Lord Braginski sent them to the list of eligible stagees he'd compiled through rumor and his vast network.

How long is he supposed to wait for Alfred? Ivan wonders. These days and especially at night, he kicks himself repeatedly. He thought he could put Alfred on hold while he thinks about staging. Now he has all the thinking time he wants.

The envelope he holds has his sister's handwriting on it. He receives letters from her every so often, brief ones talking about their sister or his brother-in-law. He can't ask about Alfred without seeming suspicious, so his replies remain brief. For his brevity, he gives the excuse of preparing for staging.

He's prepared for another letter in similar fashion, so when he opens it and sees large, ill-formed letters, he stops.

He rolls up his sleeve. His words formed a month after his argument with Alfred. The words are blockish. It's okay—a hero can fix anything! So much more optimistic than the last words he heard Alfred say.

He looks back to the letter he's received. The writing is the same.

He unfolds the letter with sharp movements and reads.

July 22
Dear Ivan,

Ludwig taught me how to write in formal letter style, but I'm not going to do that. It's already taking me a long time to double-check my spelling.

I left a few weeks ago to complete an apprenticeship with Lord Karpusi, a day's sailing from home. I'm working for one of his charities which teaches commoners to read. I like it a lot. It makes me feel like a hero. [He draws a small smile after this. Ivan understands the lengths to which Alfred is going not to be formal.]

I have some new friends here. One of them is the guy who tried to stage with your sister. He and his soulmate talk to me about how they met, since they ran away instead of letting him stage. I was trying to make you run away too. I'm sorry. I wasn't listening very well. I'm sorry I gave you words, too. I just wanted to read and write so we could be more equal, and so I could have work to do. I know why you didn't want the words, though. I should have talked to you about it.

I'm trying to figure things out, but I miss you. I keep thinking of everyone back home and how they can't be with their soulmates, and it makes me upset. But even if we're not very lucky, we could have things a lot worse.

[He crosses out "Love", "Your soulmate", and "Yours"]
Alfred

He doodled a rudimentary sunflower beside his name.

Ivan finishes the letter with a breath he didn't know he was holding in. He looks back at the envelope. Alfred must have sent the letter to the Williams manor, so that Yekaterina could disguise it with her own writing. This must mean that at this point, his older sister knows about their relationship.

The thought should frighten Ivan more than it does. His sister will answer any question his father asks, up to and including questions about any suspicious letters. But, two years ago at her marriage, his sister also would be too frightened to smuggle letters for anyone. Perhaps marriage has changed her.

And besides. All of Ivan's thoughts turn quiet at the thought that, if Alfred had obeyed Ivan's pleas, Ivan would not be holding this letter in his hand.

He sets it down, pulls out another piece of parchment, and begins to write.

July 29
Dearest Alfred,

Your apologies are accepted, and I hope you will accept my own. Because of my own affairs, I was unable to imagine your boredom and your frustration for lack of literacy. It is an immense relief to me that we may write to each other now. While I remain nervous that my words will be discovered, I have forgotten this benefit.

I am curious as to why you have left our city to complete your accounting studies. Ludwig could certainly have found you work, and if nothing else, I could have given you a position. But then, my family's charities are restricted to caring for orphans, and only through my mother. In such a case, I would enjoy learning more of the work you do, and of what you think of Lord Karpusi. My father dislikes him for his lethargy, but you are not my father.

I am furthermore interested in hearing the story of your new friends. If this is the intended I am thinking of, a small stir has arisen in the noble community as his brother has been announced as heir.

Yours,
Ivan [He crosses out "Braginski"]

August 14
Dear Ivan,

Today Mathias's friends Berwald and Tino moved here. Berwald is huge! But it turns out he's very nice, just quiet. Tino was Lukas's servant, and…we don't know if he and Berwald are soulmates, but they act like they are. I got him work with Lord Karpusi. Apparently Tino is good at taking care of cats.

He and Berwald are both commoners, so neither of them have words, but their story is really nice all the same. Tino went to the market to get food, and Berwald would go to the market so often to look at him that he finally got a job there. Then he would get so nervous that he couldn't speak to Tino, but then Tino stood at his stall and refused to get help from anyone else!

I thought you would like that because I don't know if you've heard any commoner soulmate stories. I asked Mathias how they were sure they were soulmates, and Mathias said Berwald was sure the minute he saw him.

How many people have you heard back from, since you last wrote me? I hope it was just the Cech family who was interested. Beata may need staging, but her brother Stefan would really miss her, so he would probably pitch a fit.

Alfred

August 29
Dearest Alfred,

I have enclosed a gift. My father continues to hire researchers to find my writing on another's arm, at my insistence. One researcher in particular is highly disorganized and one day he brought a considerably old stack of papers copied from the main archives. Many of the cases were closed—the soulmates were found.

I have stolen the paper containing the words your father said to your mother. I imagine you already know your father's handwriting, but because the case is closed, the document also contains information about the Williams' deal with her to remain quiet. They have even recorded details of your mother and her statements. I did not know your grandfather was ill.

Your father was not very imaginative. "Are you Sarah Jones?" is much less interesting than the words you spoke to me.

Kindly inform me of your days at work. You send letters every week, but you speak little of them.

Yours,
Ivan

September 30
Dear Ivan,

Isn't your father getting suspicious by now? He must have looked through all the handwriting records at least twice. He might actually find me, you know. (He probably won't—my dad wanted to hide me, so he couldn't register me. Are lords even allowed to not register their kids? Are you registered?)

I forgot how warm it is to live by a port. Lord Karpusi really likes it, though. Sometimes I come to a meeting and find him moving his chair next to the window, as quietly as possible so he doesn't wake his cat who's asleep in a sunbeam. Sometimes I think he is a cat. I tell Kiku about it sometimes, and he just shakes his head. But he smiles, which is a rare Kiku thing. More on that as I learn about it.

Nothing special is happening at work. My handwriting is getting better (does that show up on your arm?), and I don't have to check my spelling as often. It's good because I take a lot of notes when I go talk to people. It's amazing how patient people are. They love to watch me write, even if I can't write like a noble. I think it gives them hope. Maybe I am a hero?

Alfred

October 13
Dearest Alfred,

Peter is an interesting young man. It sounds as if he likes you. This does not surprise me, as I expect you would get along very well with children. That being said, how is the care of orphans in your city? This is one topic I can speak on with at least some authority. It would be a shame to sacrifice Peter's basic care for his literacy.

Natalia refuses to come home, which distresses my father. I fear that he will try to stage me sooner so as to focus his efforts on her, but my mother assures him that Natalia is only nearing marrying age, and that I too am at the early part of bachelorhood. I wish I could understand her charity. I wonder if she regrets staging with my father, but I do not know how to ask. The topic seems more something she would tell Katyusha.

No, I do not cover my words with paste. I find it irritates my skin, and I do not know how to obtain it without causing suspicion. As you may imagine, I am grateful for the cooler weather; my long sleeves itch to be rolled up in summer.

Yours,
Ivan

November 5
Dear Ivan,

Have I ever told you that you're a genius? The minute I read your last letter—well, Lukas thought I was having a seizure or something from how excited I got. But he thought it was a good idea too, and he was a noble, so it's definitely good.

I explained things to Lord Karpusi, and it turns out he's a really good friend of Romeo Vargas. Apparently they both love wine and looking at women, so they talk a lot at parties. Lord Karpusi thinks he can convince Lord Vargas to lend Feliciano, but he says I'm going to have to make up the project. I was thinking Feliciano could train some new art teachers for the school we're setting up. That would take a whole year, wouldn't it? At least a few months.

I also asked about taking on Ludwig. Lord Karpusi was less excited about a second accountant because he already has me, but I convinced him he'd need somebody after I was gone. I don't even think Lord Karpusi remembers I still have eight months to go. He just said yes.

I'm just really glad Ludwig and Feliciano can spend more time together this way. And I'm really glad you had the idea. You've already sent the letter to Ludwig's accounting firm, right? They're obviously going to take your request over mine, and I can't make Lord Karpusi do everything.

Alfred

November 30
Dearest Alfred,

I have seen Katyusha for the first time since she began relaying your letters. She promises she is not reading them, but I find myself uncomfortable with the way she looks at me. It feels as though she can see my future, though of course she cannot. Not even I can see my future these days.

You would be interested to hear that Master Lars Van der Lee arrived at the Williams manor a few nights ago. He appeared to have been invited, and Katyusha appeared not to want to mention it. It slipped her tongue. I wonder why—is she embarrassed? I feel some embarrassment for her. I have faith in your brother, but I cannot help but wonder.

I did not see Natalia, which is disconcerting. I do not know how she is spending her time at the Williams manor. What did she do with you?

To address your (rather unprecedented) question from your last letter: I suppose I have not considered myself a future father. I assumed I would become one, but (please take no offense) I also assumed I would have a soulmate, so I thought very little about both beforehand. I imagine that, as when I met you, when I become a father I will suddenly panic and feel poorly prepared. Hopefully I will be more graceful with my future child; you can grant me second chances, but children cannot.

Have you had a chance to use Lord Karpusi's library? I suspect that you have not had much chance to read fiction. I can recommend some science fiction, if you happen to be interested. Or else fairy tales; I find them to be very comforting.

Yours,
Ivan

December 10
Dear Ivan,

It took me a week and a lot of lost sleep, but I just finished a volume of fairy tales. It was the only book from Lord Karpusi's library, so I guess I have to move on to mythology, which he has more of. I knew some of the stories from my mom, but others were new to me. I never heard of Puss in Boots—does he remind you of anyone you know? (Kidding…)

Since you asked, I work mostly with Ludwig, but Feliciano is coming on our outings a lot more often. Ludwig and Feliciano do everything together. I think a lot of that is Feliciano's doing, because he's always dragging Ludwig to one place or another. Then again, it might be an excuse to feel Ludwig's arms as he goes. Seriously, he's an accountant—how is he so built?

They're also doing a lot of things with Kiku, which is surprising. Feliciano really likes him and Ludwig likes that he gets work done, so whenever we're at the manor, they drag Kiku along with us to get food or make plans for our next outing. Sometimes I feel like they have a trio, but then I remember that Kiku lets me work in his office with him sometimes, and sometimes he shares the food he made that reminds him of home, and I have Mathias and Lukas and Berwald and Tino outside of work.

I tried to show Mathias the constellations last night. Lord Karpusi's library doesn't have many books on astronomy, but I bought a few recent ones, and now I'm learning even more about constellations. Mathias thought it was interesting, but it wasn't the same as when you and I went stargazing. He was probably too cold to care. Lukas glared at me today because apparently Mathias slept with his cold feet on Lukas's legs.

Maybe I'll try taking out Tino and Berwald tomorrow. Neither of them mind the cold as much as Mathias does, and at least Tino will like the stories I'm learning. Or at least, I hope.

Alfred

December 23
Dearest Alfred,

Forgive me for delaying my response to your last letter. I find myself unfortunately morose this week, and would not contribute well to any particular topic.

Natalia made a very brief appearance at the Christmas gala before she went to her chambers. Katyusha says she is not feeling well, but when I spoke to her, she seemed well. When she spoke to our parents, though, she pretended to have a delicate stomach. Her acting abilities leave something to be desired, but I am interested to see how long Father will allow her to continue staying with Katyusha. I admire her determination to stay away from staging. I wonder if the appearance of her words last year fueled it.

I find myself missing you. Orion rises higher each night, and I know only you will care. I have glimpsed Sirius many times, but it still appears to be only one star. Still, the literature published indicates that there are two. (Sometimes I entertain the absurd thought that soulmates are a similar way. We believe the pair is a single entity, but it can be separated. In such a case, I would rather Sirius remain whole.)

I wish you a good Christmas celebration with your friends. It pleases me to hear they take such good care of you.

Yours,
Ivan

January 13
Dear Ivan,

You'll never guess what. (I probably shouldn't be writing this in a letter, or gossiping about my boss, but I have to tell someone and you don't live in the same city as him.) Lord Karpusi and Kiku are soulmates! They've known each other for years, apparently, and that's why Kiku never went home to his family in the east after he finished studying here. Lord Karpusi met him at a course he sponsored, and once Kiku was finished, he hired him.

(Please don't think I'm trying to hint at anything here, because I just thought it was really interesting. And I'm also surprised because Lord Karpusi is usually so open about things. Apparently he really can keep secrets?)

I have to admit that it's a little weird being around all of these couples. At least they're happy couples, even if it's temporary like for Ludwig and Feliciano. On the bright side, I met Lukas's little brother, Emil, and he's single too. He came for a belated Christmas celebration, but only for a day so Lord Bondevik wouldn't realize he was missing a meeting with some other nobles in town. He's a cute kid (well, teenager anyway), and he hasn't met his soulmate yet. I don't think he wants to. He sounded really interested in the charity work I'm doing for Lord Karpusi. Maybe I can work with him later?

I need to ask because Natalia almost staged last March, and we're getting closer to March. Is there a season for stagings? I thought maybe you didn't tell me anything about them lately because they don't happen during winter. But then, most nobles have their weddings in summer, so you'd have to stage soon, right?

Alfred

February 1
Dearest Alfred,

Impatience is growing high in my household. Most of the nobles looking to stage at this time are men, or women of too low rank for my father to consider. He has cut ties with Lord Van der Lee, whose son was a collector of commoner handwriting and words, when Lars stole back his collection from his father. My father now lacks many of the resources he has relied on to find the worded who have evaded the records, including some new records with which he has threatened Natalia.

My staging time may be delayed. My mother reminds my father that this is normal, that noble families will wait as long as possible before suggesting staging because of the shame it brings. My father counters that women must seek husbands sooner than men must seek wives, so more women should be available than there are. Still, those women who do need staging will likely be revealed in time.

I find it harder to face my father. He has not seen my words, but I grow more concerned that he will. Warm weather will come again, and with it the chance for him to see my words through my loosened sleeves.

Please do not be upset by my concerns. I'm grateful to exchange letters with you, and I could never wish you had not learned to write. I am only tired of waiting to learn what my future holds.

I am pleased to know that your work is active and your friends are well. You must be satisfied to finally have something to do.

Yours,
Ivan

February 15
Dear Ivan,

I'm barely halfway towards the end of my apprenticeship, but Mattie is writing me now, and it's really weird to get three letters at once (you, him, and Katyusha). He's asking what I think of my work, whether I want to continue it, whether I could do it at home, etc. He doesn't really talk about what's going on at home. He hasn't mentioned Lars. Do you know anything more about that?

I watch Mathias and Lukas talk, and they get each other's permission for things. They haven't had as many big decisions to make since they decided to elope, but Mathias still asks Lukas before asking for a raise at work, and Lukas asks Mathias for advice when he's dealing with a rude employee. I want to try that with you, because I didn't before. So: what do you think about me continuing charity work back home?

Here's what I think. A lot of children near the ports aren't getting enough of anything. So I could work with your family's charity on food and clothing, and then anything I do with literacy I could fund through Mattie, so your father won't be angry. All I know is that I want to give commoners as much as I can without getting arrested. That would be hard at home because people could see our words match up, and they would get suspicious. Here, people just say I must have a very lucky soulmate, and I tell them he's in another city.

Anyway, let me know what you think.

Alfred

February 22
Dearest Alfred,

While you know that, in its essence, I support your cause, I wonder at its message. My family's charities focus on promoting feeding the populace, with only a few side projects to provide anything else. Adding a literacy component sends a signal that the Braginskis do not support the current laws to restrict literacy to the upper class. We cannot afford that message. We are not your city, Alfred.

That being said, I wish this city to be better. I wish only to go slower in providing one service after another. We have a history of employing orphan servants, and while certain scandals have occurred—for instance, my father has fired servants for developing words—we could become more generous in our hiring. If we were to gradually provide literacy training for the purpose of employment, rather than for literacy's sake, then we may gain more support from other noble families who wish to avoid sending the same signal, but who still wish to help. We would have to integrate the program into larger ones providing clothing and medicine, but it could be done.

On a brief side note: your accounting training is doing you well. Your brother says your letters to him sound as how you spoke when you were younger. I notice some of the same traits. I hope that returning home will not break your determination. Let me know what more I can do to help you, whether as an heir or as myself.

Yours,
Ivan

March 13
Dear Ivan,

I know you have to get married. I know your family needs an heir. I get that. I probably get it even better now that you can write everything out and I can't interrupt you.

Now it's my turn. Yeah, you probably will need a wife if you and I are going to interact in public without causing suspicion. But we'd have to tell her what's going on with us, and let's be honest, she'd have to say your words. (Unless you can make her say something else to you, so she doesn't?)

But, if you find this person, this could work. Our families are already combined because of Mattie and Katyusha, so I'd just be a family friend, and we'd work together. Maybe when you become Lord Braginski we can focus more on the things I'm doing. I would be alright with that.

Don't worry about this, but recently I've been having trouble falling asleep sometimes. Then I look out the window and see Sirius, and your comments about it around Christmas still make me sad. It helps me to remind myself, so I'm reminding you: Sirius wouldn't shine half as bright without two stars making it up.

Alfred

Ivan is completing another letter to Alfred when he's summoned.

"Lord Braginski requests your presence in the parlor immediately," says Eduard. He all but sprints off before Ivan can ask for clarification.

Ivan's blood chills. Has his father finally, after a year, seen his words? The weather has been steadily warming for months, but he has taken care to wear cooling but still restrictive sleeves. Is Ivan being revealed? Punished?

Ivan stands and makes his way out of his room, trying to steady himself. If his father was truly summoning him for his words, he would likely have Eduard accompany him. Eduard was in too much of a hurry. It must be another matter. And even if this meeting were about his words, Ivan would—what? He wouldn't tell the truth—Alfred is doing well, too well for Ivan to want to risk his arrest for not being registered. Maybe Ivan would run away. Now that he knows Lukas Bondevik had done it successfully, he finds more faith in the idea.

All he knows is that he has to keep Alfred safe and happy.

But how? What long-term arrangement can they make for themselves? So far even Feliciano and Ludwig are doing better than they, and though Ivan tries to offer help and suggestions to Alfred's ideas of charity, they're like bandages on a gaping wound. In the long term, Ivan needs to keep the Braginski name in good standing. He needs an heir, and he needs to obey the laws of the land. He can't entangle himself in teaching literacy to commoners, not unless he finds a way to change the laws themselves. Not even Alfred is above the law.

But even if he can find a way to make Alfred happy with his grandiose plans, he cannot be happy himself. The letters—a small drawing of a sunflower etched on every envelope, copied by his sister to mark a letter from Alfred enclosed—brighten the dimness of his days as he recognizes fewer of the servants, speaks less with his parents, sees less of his sisters. Ivan is lonely. And even marrying another person, he suspects, won't fill the Alfred-shaped hole that aches every time an envelope is placed into his hands.

Ivan steps into the parlor, ushered in by his mother who is in a much greater hurry with Eduard at her back. Ivan sits on a sofa at the opposite end from his mother, while his father sits in his armchair, looking for all the world like he is going to murder the person on the other side of this door.

Eduard inspects the family and attempts to compose himself. He then opens the door leading from the parlor to the main hall, where they receive guests.

Natalia walks in, her face carefully composed to look neutral.

Ivan blinks.

Which is the bigger shock, he wonders absently? Toris, the family's runaway kitchen servant, standing beside her? Or the linen-wrapped, baby-sized bundle in Natalia's arms?

"So," Lord Braginski says, "this was the reason you requested to visit Yekaterina."

A year, thinks Ivan as the conversation continues. A year has passed since Natalia almost staged, moved to the Williams manor, and kept out of sight. She wasn't simply visiting, he realizes. She wasn't avoiding going home for fear of staging.

Ivan tunes back in for the key explanation.

"I'm Natalia's soulmate," says Toris. He stares down Lord Braginski in an uncharacteristically stoic manner. Toris seems to dare Lord Braginski to remember hiring him, years ago when Toris was an unemployed orphan and Lord Braginski was losing face for his apathy in charity.

As Toris and Lord Braginski engage in a contest of wills, Ivan examines the situation. His eyes flicker from Toris, to Natalia, to the baby in their arms.

A baby. A bastard baby, born by a noble to a commoner. But Ivan knows plenty about bastards—indeed, the one he knows best would make a better lord than would Ivan—and he no longer cares about wedlock. Instead, he cares about Braginski blood. Blood that perhaps he won't have to pass on.

No heir to sire means no need for a wife. Some of the most renowned lords have remained bachelors; Ivan will not face the same shame as would either of his sisters, for going unmarried. No need for a wife means…

Alfred.

He's growing so giddy that he speaks out of turn.

"And Father, what is so bad about this?"

He's unprepared for the tension of the room to wrap around him. He can't divulge his current train of thought. He scrambles, but this new revelation—no staging, no marriage, no need for an heir, no reason to keep away Alfred—cushions his nerves.

"Even an illegitimate heir is better than none," he concludes. That at least is true. "And Sister has at least done us the service of staying at Katyusha's manor. Nobody knows. We can tell the others what they expect to hear."

He will make sure of it, he silently vows. He will speak in low tones to fellow nobles of his sister's small marriage. Small enough to befit the least important child, so small that the family kept it private. Such a shame Natalia's husband lives so far away, he'll say.

As he outlines his thoughts, he trains his eyes on his sister. She, in turn, trains her eyes on the baby. For being his sister's baby, it seems quite fussy in her arms. And Natalia seems unsure of what to do about it.

The baby begins crying, and Ivan nearly breathes a sigh of relief. Between Natalia's treachery and this new commotion, his father is becoming too upset to fight the situation much further.

"Get these headaches out of my parlor," says Lord Braginski, and he rubs his temples as if he actually is developing one. Natalia and Toris see themselves out. Lord Braginski turns to his wife. "Our daughter is a traitor," he says.

"We are fortunate, then, that we need only a son," says Lady Braginski mildly.

Ivan tries to look the part of the loyal heir. "I would never forsake our family, Father."

And he won't. Though he now knows more about commoner life—their needs, their hopes, their frustrations—than he ever thought he'd learn in two years, in his heart he knows he's a noble.

The stress pulling apart his heart falls away. His heart calls to remain noble, but also to love Alfred. The duties of one required sacrificing another. But in the screaming bundle in Natalia's arms, he sees hope for a balance.

"I must think," says Lord Braginski. He shoos away his wife and son. Ivan's mother leaves the way she came. Ivan follows his sister out into the foyer.

"May I hold the baby?" he asks when Toris and Natalia turn around.

Without comment, Natalia hands him the baby. The baby stills in his arms. He wonders if his happiness is contagious. He hopes so. He feels that it is.

He examines the baby, subconsciously bouncing it as he does. "Do I have a niece, or a nephew?" he asks. A boy would be better, but he could make do with a girl.

"A niece," says Toris. He sounds so different from when he worked in the kitchens. Prouder. Surer. Ivan looks up at him. He doesn't quite understand until now that this is the man who has given his sister the words she was once proud to lack.

"And what is my niece's name?" Ivan asks. He looks down back at the baby. She has brown hair, like Toris, and green eyes as well. But as she gazes back up at Ivan, he sees something amiss.

"Alexandra—"

"Kotryna—"

Natalia and Toris stare at each other. Ivan smiles. His suspicion is proven right.

"It is alright," he says. "She has a dimple. Now, Sister is beautiful, but Sister has no dimple. Nor Toris." It appears his sister—or perhaps this new border Toris—has a plan of her own to escape her fate.

"Maybe try for a son next time, da?" he requests. In his joy he's feeling playful, and it shows in the old tic he used as a child. Even if this isn't Toris's and Natalia's actual child, he can work with this. He's depending on this.

"Maybe one day," says Toris, "if Natalia—"

"Maybe one day," says Natalia. She shuts down the topic, but Ivan suspects Natalia could be won over eventually. She's already abandoning her family to be with a former kitchen servant.

"I hope for soon," says Ivan. "Sister, you haven't heard, but I think maybe it will be you to provide the heir."

He gives the baby to Toris and unrolls his sleeve. For the solution she's unwittingly providing him, his sister deserves the truth.

He sees Alfred's blockish writing every few days, when he sends letters about everything from daily anecdotes to grandiose plans to veiled questions about their future. But with these words etched on his arm, he sees a true beginning.

It's okay—a hero can fix anything!

"It's maybe time I became a hero too," says Ivan. He rolls up his sleeve. "But it appears my soulmate is not a heroine."

With this conclusion and a few kind words exchanged with his sister and…well, whoever Toris now is to him, Ivan sees them out and returns to his bedroom.

He stares at the letter on his desk, full of the uncertainties that lingered at the time of writing. He's trying to rein back his Alfred-style enthusiasm to realism. To be fair, in terms of charities they do have to go slow. But now Ivan suspects that, in another respect, they can afford to go faster.

Several months later, Ivan sits sweltering in the musty heat of the Williams parlor. He's been informed that the velvet armchair he sits in is where the late Lord Williams preferred to take his tea. Ivan only chose it for the view of the courtyard.

It's August, and Alfred's apprenticeship ended a few days ago. Today he returns, after giving himself a few days to say goodbye to his friends. He will be a full-time accountant for the Williams manor, depositing money into various charities and slowly converging his causes with those of the Braginski charities. The rest remains to be seen, but Ivan has faith in whatever possibilities Alfred dreams up.

Ivan watches birds flitter across the tree branches. Katyusha has left him in the parlor, knowing that he may lose focus with company. So he waits alone, and listens.

He's only been in this parlor once before. Shortly after Natalia's disownment, he visited his sister and brother-in-law to ask for information. Matthew and Yekaterina, it turns out, helped Toris and Natalia fake the pregnancy. The baby they borrowed from a couple Toris knew: Elizabeta, another former cook at the Braginski household, and a commoner named Gilbert. But Matthew was the one to contact Lars, whose father was selling Lord Braginski records of Toris's handwriting, the factor that would throw Toris into jail if Lord Braginski couldn't make his daughter cooperate.

"Al never told me Lars had come to the wedding," Matthew confided to Ivan over tea. "I kept turning it over in my head, wondering why he'd come and what he meant by it. And then Natalia and Toris needed our help, and Lars was the only contact I had to fix it. It was like a sign."

"Sister said he visited one night," said Ivan carefully. "What did you do?"

Matthew smiled. "I asked him nicely."

Using this information, Ivan told Alfred about his sister's disownment and the steps he'd taken to keep their father from retaliating further. Alfred sent back a letter oozing with joy, partially for Natalia but also, strangely, for Toris. According to Alfred, he and Toris had seen each other once after Ivan intercepted them. Alfred reiterated throughout the letter that Toris deserved to be happy.

In his ravings, Ivan suspected Alfred failed to see the bigger picture. He fixated on the individual happiness of Toris and Natalia. The Alfred of a year ago might have tried to turn it to their advantage.

Now it's Ivan's turn to fight for them. But only if Alfred wants. Alfred is loved by more people than Ivan is, has seen things that Ivan hasn't, and the thought looms over Ivan that perhaps Alfred has outgrown his faith in soulmates. Alfred has talked only of what he plans to do for work, and only consulted Ivan about the same. And Ivan hasn't had the nerve to mention what he plans to say in person.

Finally, Ivan hears the crunching gravel marking the arrival of the carriage.

Servants rush to the front to remove Alfred's two trunks from the outside of the carriage. The side door opens, and Alfred—tanner, broader, smiling as widely as the day he and Ivan met—leaps out to help. He chatters around the carriage to Matthew, who emerges with more grace and watches with amusement. Matthew's eyes flicker to the window and make contact with Ivan's. He smiles slightly and turns to Alfred.

Matthew told Ivan that he would only mention to Alfred that they're dropping off his things and picking up Katyusha. After that, they have a wedding to attend. All of this is true. Matthew is just missing a fourth person.

The main door opens, and Ivan hears Alfred's voice echoing down the halls.

"—And Ivan mentioned they'd known each other for years beforehand, so I guess it's no surprise, but the last time I saw Toris he thought she didn't know he existed. Doesn't that seem weird for your soulmate to think?"

"Yeah," says Matthew. He sounds as if he's standing in the foyer, whereas Alfred is trying to march forward.

"But then again, you've been getting some one-on-one time too, haven't you?" says Alfred coyly. He can't mention Lars directly—Lars is supposed to be something of a secret in the household—but he knows the same story that Matthew and later Ivan passed on to him.

"If you want me to thank you again, it's not going to happen," says Matthew. He sounds as if he's smiling.

"I probably owe you some thanks too," agrees Alfred. He pauses. "So where's Katyusha?"

"She'll be down in a minute," says Matthew. Now that he has Alfred's attention, his footsteps tell Ivan the two are walking to the parlor door attached to the foyer. Ivan clenches his hands against the armrests. "I just wanted you to see someone else first."

"…Mattie, you—"

Matthew opens the door, pushes his brother inside, and closes it behind him.

Ivan thought he was going to remain seated, but his chair feels like it's on fire. He leaps up the minute the door is closed, and he stares at Alfred.

Alfred gapes back.

Ivan takes him in. Even beyond his appearance, he thinks of all the ways he knows Alfred has changed. He remembers their correspondence. He recalls the way they trade information about the stars, favorite books, gossip about the nobles. Stories. Hopes. Fears.

Alfred may not be the right station, but he's the right man.

"Marry me," says Ivan.

"Huh?"

Too quiet, Ivan supposes. But it's either that or shout it. "Marry me," he says, his voice a little stronger. He takes several steps forward until he's standing barely a foot away from Alfred. "I am asking you to marry me."

"We…" Alfred clears his throat wetly. His spectacles catch the light of the sun through the window. "I thought you needed to stage."

"I no longer want to. Knowing you like I do, I fear I can't." He takes Alfred's hand. "I cannot run. I am not that man. But…with Natalia marrying Toris, with my father thinking she has children, I do not need an heir. So what need do I have for a wife?" He squeezes Alfred's hand. It evokes some choked noise in Alfred's throat. "I can wait to become lord. I can postpone my father's will. I can pretend to be a lifelong bachelor, if I know you are mine in some way."

"And…what changed?" asks Alfred. His voice is breaking, and despite himself, he's smiling, beaming. "I've always been your soulmate. I was already waiting for you."

"And now I am no longer afraid to take you. Not now that I know who you are, and who I am."

"Who am I, then?"

"You are Alfred. And I am the man who loves you."

"…Well then come here, big guy."

Alfred holds his arms apart, and Ivan slips into them. Ivan is still a good half a foot taller than Alfred, and he looks down at his soulmate's hair, drinking in how he feels pressed against his chest. They haven't been pressed this close together in years. Neither of them has cried in even longer.

Ivan realizes belatedly that his own vision is growing a little blurry.

"You are making me cry," he says. "That's hardly fair."

"Serves us both right," says Alfred, and he leans up to press his lips against Ivan's.

He misses the exact center of Ivan's lips, and he tastes dehydrated after his long trip. It's perfect. Ivan wraps his arms around Alfred to support him, to deepen the kiss.

When they break apart, he kisses Alfred's cheeks for good measure. Alfred laughs, still sounding slightly choked.

"Wanna know the best part?" he asks.

"What is it?"

"We're gonna go to Toris's and Natalia's wedding. Toris is going to have all his friends, and Natalia will have you and me and Mattie and Katyusha." Alfred leans in conspiratorially, until his lips are brushing against Ivan's chin. "And we're gonna kiss in front of all of them."

Ivan usually gives vacant smiles to the servants, and to the nobles, and to his family. He can't remember the last time his cheeks have ached enough to burst, and his heart along with it.

"I look forward to it."