Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy and its characters – it belongs to Leigh Bardugo. I do not own the Shadow & Bone TV series, which was developed by Eric Heisserer for Netflix and based on Leigh Bardugo's books. Any recognisable dialogue is from the books or TV show – some lines may be included verbatim, others in an amended form.
This is a modern AU. It is from an outside POV. Warnings for implied older man/younger woman, implied grooming, implied sexual activity and implied uneven power dynamics. Everything is implied and nothing is proven - basically, it's iffy vibes. Alina is 17 and Aleksander is 34.
This is the first of my fics where I've tried to use the proper gendered surnames – sorry for any mistakes. I'm not sure how much I'll use the proper gendered surnames for future fics but this version of Aleksander seemed like the sort to demand it.
Leonid Stepanov is ashamed to say he knows very little about the teenage girl sitting in front of him.
He's one of the school counsellors, after all – he's supposed to know all the students, especially the ones with more troubled backgrounds.
He glances down at the file in front of him. Orphaned at five. In and out of group and foster homes, never allowed to settle. Then finally moves to live with Elizaveta Nikolayeva six years ago in what appears to be a permanent placement.
There have never been any problems with Alina Starkova, though. Until now she has been a model student.
She's still a model student, actually. Top grades, good behaviour, a number of extracurricular activities to help her stand out when she applies for university.
It's only, her teachers are concerned.
She's spending less and less time with her school friends and broke up with her boyfriend about six weeks previously. Some of his colleagues have caught sight of some odd marks on her neck and arms, though they've never got a close look. She's also been wearing a few pieces of very expensive jewellery that she keeps quiet about whenever anyone asks where they came from. Signs of an older boyfriend, a possibly controlling or abusive relationship, they think.
Alina doesn't seem nervous or scared, though, only a little bored and confused as to why she has been summoned to see a counsellor.
He imagines this session will be short, simply checking in. Ticking a box to reassure his colleagues that there are no problems.
"Why am I here, Mr Stepanov?" she asks, "I'm missing my Art class."
"Well," he starts, "some of your teachers are –"
He stops abruptly when there is a short, sharp knock at the door. Without even waiting for an answer, the door swings open and a tall, intimidatingly good-looking man steps into the room.
Leonid recognises him immediately as Aleksander Morozov, one of the school's most successful, wealthy alumni, as well as a prominent donor.
"Mr Morozov," he says, slightly flustered, "I wasn't expecting you."
Morozov isn't looking at him, though, but at the student in front of him, "I do hope you're not in trouble, Alinochka."
Suddenly, Leonid recalls a few of the admin staff gossiping about six or seven months ago that Morozov had a new girlfriend, one whose foster daughter was a scholarship student. Morozov had apparently taken over paying the steep tuition fees himself, freeing up the scholarship for an extra student and giving the two women ample reason to gush over the man's generosity.
"I don't know why I'm here," Alina says sullenly, "no one's told me anything."
Morozov tsks softly, "don't be rude, Alina, apologise."
"Sorry, sir," the girl murmurs, but for some reason Leonid thinks she's talking to Morozov rather than to him.
He feels the first stirrings of uneasiness, a sense that there is something going on here that he doesn't understand.
He tries to work out how to ask Morozov to leave. Whether or not the man is dating Alina's foster mother, it still isn't really appropriate for him to sit in on the session. After all, how can he expect the girl to be honest with Morozov's assessing gaze fixed firmly on her.
"Elizaveta is travelling for work at the moment," Morozov answers a question Leonid hasn't even had time to ask, "she did sign some paperwork for the school, authorising them to speak to me if Alina had any problems."
"Oh, no problems," he hurries to reassure Morozov, finding himself uncomfortable under the man's penetrating stare, "just a general chat to see how Miss Starkova is doing."
"Wonderful," Morozov swings himself into the chair next to Alina, lounging there as if it is a throne, "then I'm sure you won't mind me sitting in."
It's easy to see how Aleksander Morozov is such a successful businessman. He takes control of a meeting as if its as easy as breathing, even one he's not even supposed to be part of. After all, this really should be a confidential session. Unfortunately, Leonid honestly has no idea how to get the man to leave.
"I hope you don't mind that I messaged Aleksander when I got the note to come and see you," Alina says, "I just didn't know if I'd be late out of school and he would have been concerned if I wasn't back on time. I didn't realise he was at a meeting close enough to stop by."
She sounds entirely sincere. It is a perfectly plausible explanation. However, he thinks there is something just a little mocking in her polite smile.
"You're happy for Mr Morozov to remain in the room while we chat?"
"Of course," Alina is wide-eyed and innocent now, like she is baffled he even has to ask such a question, "I have nothing to hide."
"Alright then. Some of the teachers are a little concerned about your jewellery, Miss Starkova," Leonid says, "a sun pendant that I believe has real diamonds. And then the two items you are wearing today."
They are both beautiful pieces. The bracelet is made up of shimmering blue, green and turquoise stones, reminding him of the tropical fish he'd seen once when on holiday. The necklace is an odd thing – solid gold and shaped like antlers that jut outwards across Alina's collarbone before fastening at the back of her neck.
"It's just," he adds, "we weren't sure from where, or whom, you got them. And there was some concern it might make you a target for mugging if you were out alone."
"Well, of course," Morozov says, sounding almost insulted, "I'd never dream of allowing Alina out alone wearing such things. I assure you, however, that my driver brings her to and from school. He's ex-secret service and quite capable of ensuring nothing untoward happens on the journey."
"And I can claim responsibility for the jewellery," Morozov continues, "the sun pendant you mentioned was a birthday present. And the other two were just little rewards – Alina did so well in her recent Shu exam, you know, and one of her paintings won a national award."
He sounds rightly proud and Leonid understands why, although he does baulk a little at the idea that a bracelet and necklace probably worth $20,000 each are Morozov's idea of 'little rewards'.
"An extravagance, I know," the man in question says with a careless little shrug, "but they do look very well on my little Alina."
He reaches out and runs his fingers over the gold antlers, pausing on Alina's neck just long enough that it begins to make Leonid uncomfortable for reasons he can't quite explain.
"Well, is that all?" Morozov asks coolly a few seconds later, his hand away from Alina's neck and …
Well, now it's on her bare knee.
And that … that's fine. There's nothing technically wrong with that. Alina doesn't seem concerned or embarrassed or upset.
It's only …
"Mr Stepanov," Morozov's voice cuts sharply through Leonid's musings, "is there anything else?"
"Err, right," he stutters out, turning to Alina, "Miss Starkova, your teachers say you've seemed a little isolated recently. I believe you and Mr Oretsev broke up a while ago?"
Alina shrugs, unconcerned, "he was being an immature fuc-"
She cuts herself off from finishing what would have probably been something very rude, considering the wary side-eye she gives Morozov, "we just weren't working anymore."
"I have no concerns about Alina's break-up," Morozov adds, "she's far more mature than the boys in her class and Malyen Oretsev is, to be frank, an idiot."
"He's your cousin," Alina says slyly.
Morozov gives her a look, his hand reaching up to tug a lock of her hair, as if in warning, "behave, milaya."
Then, his hand finds its way back to Alina's leg, a little higher up than before, fingers inching under her skirt.
Nothing for Leonid to worry about, not at all.
Morozov turns back to Leonid, "Mr Oretsev is a distant cousin, a few times removed."
He says this as if he wants to be clear that he isn't closely related to the unfortunately maligned Mr Oretsev, as if the boy's undeniable talent on the football field but difficulties when it comes to academics are somehow catching.
"And your school friends, Alina?" Leonid prompts, very deliberately not looking at where Morozov's hand is.
If he looks then he has to think about it, has to process all the possibilities.
This was supposed to be a straightforward meeting.
"I've been so busy with AP classes and my Art project. And then," she shoots Morozov a grateful smile, "Aleksander introduced me to a few people at The Little Palace, so I've been talking with them and attending some events on their campus over the weekends."
Of course, it makes sense that Alina Starkova, one of the contenders for valedictorian, is applying to the country's most elite university. Most of their students go to Os Alta University, an extremely respectable institution, but The Little Palace beats them in the rankings every year. It is, naturally, Morozov's alma mater.
"So, you've made friends with a few of the students at The Little Palace?"
This is good, he thinks, evidence that she's still socialising, just with different people than before.
Alina nods, giving some more details without the need for much encouragement. There is Genya, who is majoring in fashion, and David in physics. Then there are Zoya and Nina, both studying political science.
Morozov nods approvingly, "they're all very responsible young people. Zoya's father is a good friend of mine, and Nina interned with us over the summer."
Leonid frowns slightly, wonders if Genya and David are also somehow connected to Morozov. He thinks it wouldn't surprise him if that turned out to be the case.
There is nothing left for him to ask.
The mystery of the jewellery has been solved; a reason given for why Alina has moved away from her old friends.
That both of these things seem to be connected to Aleksander Morozov is not something Leonid particularly wants to dwell on.
He can try and push Alina, get her to open up a little more beyond the superficial. He has no doubt, though, that Morozov will shut him down quickly and efficiently.
There is certainly something off here, something "rotten in the state of Denmark," as the school's Shakespeare-obsessed English teacher would say.
Parents, relatives, friends. They might all pat a teenager on the leg. A brief, comforting touch. It shouldn't linger, though, not the way Morozov's hand lingers, fingertips grazing bare skin.
And yet … what is there to do, really?
Morozov's name is on the school's state-of-the-art library and computer centre. There is a new art studio almost completed thanks to his donation. He is single-handedly responsible for six senators deciding to send their children to the school this year.
No one at the school will hear a word against their favourite alumnus.
Besides, what proof is there? What has he even seen?
Only someone who is affectionate with his girlfriend's foster daughter. A wealthy man who gives expensive presents. A guardian concerned about his temporary ward's wellbeing.
Alina Starkova certainly isn't about to make any complaints. She seems entirely at ease with the situation, whatever it might be.
When Leonid brings the meeting to an end, Morozov's handshake is a little too tight, just enough pressure to be uncomfortable.
Leonid wonders how easy it might be for the other man to break his hand. He doesn't think it would take much.
Alina thanks him for his concern, promises to come and see him if there is anything at all she'd like to talk about.
(she won't ever come, he thinks, not voluntarily).
When the two of them walk out, Morozov's hand is low on Alina's back, a possessive gesture that will read to less suspicious minds as simply kind and friendly.
Later, after a shot of the good vodka he keeps hidden in his desk, Leonid writes up his notes
They are brief and succinct, barely half a page.
Nothing to be concerned about. No need for the school to investigate further. Alina Starkova is absolutely fine and certainly not being taken advantage of.
In the back of his mind, Leonid wonders if anything he's written is even remotely true.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.