Oh and the angst continues, my finger keeps slipping. (promises of future family fluff and smut between mom and dad)
Mila twirls a lock of black her idly between her fingers, finding it more fascinating at the moment than the droning of her teacher.
Her brother, to be more specific.
Of course she loves Adrik, but she really does not love history lessons. She finds learning to use her powers much more engaging, as well as exercising her body and fighting skills. Maybe if Adirk focused more on Grisha history and not so much everything else, he'd hold her interest more. Papa had smiled at this particular complaint, showing in that non-verbal way of his he agreed, but then pointed out she was the Princess of Ravka, it was important for her to be educated as much as possible.
"Remember," Adrik suddenly says a bit more loudly. Mila blinks her way back into the classroom, and sees that he is giving her that look. "Your paper is due next week. Please continue to work on it and not leave it to the last moment. Class dismissed."
Everyone begins to leave, but Mila stays put, knowing Adrik was not dismissing her. She waves at her friends who hover at the doorway, and then with a sigh begins to gather her own books.
"Mila-"
"I'm sorry, I didn't get a good sleep last night. That's why I wasn't focusing." The lie comes easily, and without any prior preparation in her head.
Adrik crosses his arms over his chest. "You're very good at lying, mladshaya sestra, but it's pointless when it comes to our family."
A very unfortunate truth. The Morozovas could charm the whole country into believing any falsehood, but when it came to each other it was blunt honesty or nothing. Mila huffs. "So, what? Am I in trouble?"
Adrik's eyes narrow. "Maybe if this was the first time but you're always giving the bare minimum amount of effort in this class. You don't do the assignments, you openly mock the class in general."
"It's just boring history-"
"It's important," He interrupts. "If you ever want to rule on day you have to know our world's story and learn from it. To not repeat mistakes of the past."
A humorless laugh bursts from Mila's lips. "That's funny. You know I'm never going to sit on that throne."
Adrik resists the urge to pinch his nose. At fourteen, Mila is the pure definition of a bratty teenager. Being a princess just adds to that attitude. She always did as she wished, and didn't care who it offended. Even with their parents she was beginning to toe the line a bit too much. But with him, she had forgone all sense of discretion. They were at odds with each other way too much, not even over her studies. It could be about decorum at public events, the way she talked down to other people, or how she too liberally used her Summoning.
(Adrik is always aware of her Summoning. Always).
Even now he could see a faint shine on his sister's fingers.
"Calm down," He says with a tone that nearly mirrors their father. He looks pointedly at her hands.
But Mila is not to be perturbed. If anything, her hands grow even brighter at the command.
She may be a prodigy when it came to her Summoning, but Mila was still a child. And Adirk has both years and experience on her. His fingers do the quickest twitch before shadows swallow her hands and extinguish the light there with a meaningful show of force. He pushes down on them, to the point where Mila's body even lurches forward.
"Adrik!" She gasps, both in surprise and indignation.
But he doesn't show her any repentance. "Do not threaten me in that way. Ever." Adirk isn't like this. He knows he's not. This cold, authoritative figure is his father, not him. But Mila isn't giving him any choice. Part of him blames their parents. He's seen them use their Summoning on each other an inappropriate amount of times, so something in Mila's head must had deemed it acceptable to do herself. But Alina and Aleksander have a history that Mila isn't exactly privy to yet, and a relationship that is a far cry from "healthy".
Adrik wasn't sure how to make her understand that yet, though.
Feeling his own anger begin to rise, Adrik turns his back to the fuming girl and takes in a shuddering breath. "Go on to your next class. We can talk about this later."
What left there was to talk about, he isn't sure. Mila was either going to try or she wasn't. And he was sure this little battle of power between them would make her all the more difficult.
Aleksander flicks through papers on the latest yields in the eastern fields when Alina enters their chambers.
Her face is tight, and her eyes looking at him in a way that already has a headache forming in under his temples.
"Yes, love?" He inquires, pausing his reading. She'd only get all the more angry if he gave her half of his attention.
"Your daughter," Alina unhelpfully supplies.
His daughter, of course, whenever Mila did something troublesome. Which she seems to be doing at increasingly alarming rate now a days. Aleksander has to admit, he is finding himself at a loss of how to handle her. He's never raised a child before, never expected to, so it's a skill he never bothered giving any care to. Even the Grisha children in the Little Palace received minimal interaction with him, just the very in frequent visit during lessons or a Grisha empowered speech now and then. Any unruliness was dealt with by their instructors.
Aleksander could command soldiers, but his daughter was something else entirely.
"Alina, we've talked about this. I can't keep her on a leash every day to keep her out of trouble."
"It's because you're so hands off that she's acting like this," Alina argues. "She knows she can get away this nonsense."
"Admitting you have no control over her, then?" Aleksander shoots back, knowing the comment to be wholly unhelpful.
Alina seethes but dutifully chooses to not go down that route with him. "She skipped her classes today to go into town with her friends."
Aleksander pauses at that. Of course, Mila shouldn't be skipping lessons, but to do that and make it worse by risking her safety in town? That was another level of idiotic and unacceptable.
And he most certainly has a headache now.
"I'll talk to her."
"It has to be more than that."
"Then what do you suggest, Alina? Should we reconsider the leash idea? If you recall your first days here, I wasn't too adept at keeping you under my thumb either."
The admission just embroils the conversation. "Yes, how is it that you manipulating and lying to me didn't work? Such a mystery after all these years."
Aleksander flings the papers in his hand onto the table and falls back in his seat. "If you're just here to argue with me, could we schedule it for another time where I can properly give you my attention?"
"I'm here to discuss our daughter who is going down a very reckless path."
"She's a child, a teenager, they all act out."
"She is a Princess of Ravka and our daughter. She is not just any child."
Alina has a point there, and Aleksander's silence only verifies it.
"Adrik is concerned as well," Alina continues, her voice going lower with the weight of the conversation. "He says things have grown tense between them."
"Because Adrik is weary of her and she senses it," Aleksander states. "You don't do too well of hiding it from time to time, either."
Alina balks at that. "I'm not weary of her…I'm concerned."
"I'm sure there is little difference between the two in her eyes. Ever since that day, you've all treated her as if she could explode at any moment."
"Your daughter did the Cut at five years old, Aleksander. She doesn't even remember doing it. She doesn't remember beheading someone."
"Something you should be thankful for, then. Better she forgets then have to relive it in her mind for the years to come."
She throws up her hands in exasperation. "This is never going to get easier if we're not on the same page."
"Perhaps you need to be more compromising," Aleksander suggests with a shrug. "You got greedy raising Adrik all on your own, and now you have to deal with my say when it comes to Mila."
"And what is your say, moi tsar? A talk every time she steps out of line? That's your show of great parenting?"
Alina doesn't wait for a response. She turns and stomps out of the room, her white hair the last thing he sees before the door slams shut. And Aleskander always thought Alina would be the only one that could ever be a true thorn in his side.
He had never hated his immortality so often since becoming a father.
The dinner table is understandably very quiet that night.
The royal family silently stews in their own frustrations, and let nothing but the scrapes of their utensil fill the void.
Adrik heard what Mila had done today, though it hadn't been him to inform the Queen of her daughter's disappearance. Adrik tried to never include his parents when it came to squabbles between he and his sister, but this situation had been unavoidable. Even if no one approached Alina with Mila's offense, Adrik would have.
Now all there is to wait for is her punishment. By the looks on both their parents' faces, Adrik knew it was going to be bad. But hopefully it would finally knock some sense into Mila, and stop her from continuing this stupidity.
"The trip is Os Kervo is set for next Thursday," Aleskander announces as their plates begin to thin with food. "Construction on their new port finally ended and they'd be honored by the presence of the royal family to give their blessing to it. It's been sometime since we have been there as well, they are due to be reminded what their rules look like."
Alina dabs a napkin at the corner of her mouth. "We all will be going?"
"No," Aleksander answer promptly. "Just Adrik and I."
The first strike then.
Adrik glances at Mila to see the fork has paused midway to her mouth. Out of the whole family, Mila loves Os Kervo. She enjoys the sea, the ships, the bustling market, and the generally more pleasant weather it has compared to East Ravka. Whenever a trip was made there, Mila was always brought along. Always.
She lowers her fork slowly, then chances a look at her father.
The Darkling is already staring at her, waiting for some kind of response.
"Is that my punishment, then?" She asks after a beat. Her tone is low, but not as contrite as it should be.
"Punishment for what, moya doch?"
It seems Aleksander is in a mood tonight. He is going to make this difficult for Mila, and not just by simply taking a trip from her. Adrik glances to his mother but she sits there as stone cold as her husband.
Mila hesitates. "I'm sure you know what I did-"
"I asked you a question," Aleksander interrupts.
Mila's mouth snaps shut. She breathes in and out of her nose, willing herself to be calm. She could argue with Adrik all she wanted, even her mother to a certain degree, but she knew better then to test her father's fury. "I didn't go to my lessons."
Aleksander continues to stare at her.
"And…I went to town."
"And was this a smart decision for you to make?"
Saints, she hates when he talks down to her like this. She was young, but not a child, and obviously, she knew what she had done had been wrong. But what choice did she have? How would it have looked to her friends had she told them no, she couldn't go because it would upset her parents. Obviously, it would upset anyone's parents, she shouldn't act special. There were enough jokes at Mila's expense of being the Princess and gracious allowances she's given.
Mila should just help this end as soon as possible and yet, as everyone starred at her, she felt the need to defend herself. "It was perfectly safe. We're all Grisha. And…I've never gone to town with my friends! Whenever I leave this place its only with one of you. How do you think that looks?"
"If you think I'm interested in the opinion of your friends, you are sorely mistaken," Aleksander warns. "There are rules for a reason, Mila. You're not just any Grisha. You are the Princess and a Sun Summoner. There are bounties on your heard in every single country."
"I don't want to be treated differently-"
"But you are different," Alina choose this moment to interject, her voice a shade lighter than her husband's. Adrik knows why, though. After learning the truth of who he was, Alina had told him everything of her past. Of how alone and different she felt most her life, both as an orphan and then as the lone Sun Summoner. In this way, she offers her daughter some sympathy. But only in this way. "I understand your need to fit in, Mila, and in some instances, you will, but in others you will not. You cannot."
The scrap of kindness falls on Mila's deaf ears. "I should be able to make those decisions myself, not you all."
"Perhaps if you didn't act like a spoiled brat, we would consider that."
Even Adrik flinches at Alesksander's jab. He so infrequently scolds his daughter that when the occasion does arise, it's uncomfortable to witness.
It hurts Mila deeper than she cares to admit hearing her father call her that. The rational thing to do would be to should shut up and apologize, before it got worse, but now not only is she hurt, but embarrassed. "You'd never let me do what I want no matter how I acted!" She exclaims hotly. "You control everyone and everything!"
"Mila," Alina warns.
"You know he does! He even controls you! And you-you let him get away with it!"
Adrik notices the shadows of the room begin to blacken and crawl towards the ceiling. Even the floor begins to grow into a black pool. "That's enough, Mila," He hisses, and goes to reach for her hand now trembling with paleness as it grips the edge of the table.
But she's too far gone now to be reined in. "I can take care of myself," She continues. "Someone did grab me in town, you know! Right in the marketplace and tried to drag me into some alley. And I took care of it. I protected myself. I am capable-"
The room explodes with shadows. So many, so quickly, that it's like a tornado that flings everything off the table and onto the floor. Glass shatters, food and liquid audibly splatter, and even the chairs squeak with movement. Adrik instinctively calls upon his own Summoning to ground himself down, and almost reaches out to do the same for Mila when a force stronger than his own blocks him.
Just as quickly as it begins, it ends. The storm of darkness recedes into nothingness, leaving in it's a wake a destroyed dining room and a family cursed with too much power.
Mila looks irrevocably stricken, clinging to the arms of her chair with her eyes squeezed shut. Adrik isn't sure what he looks like, surprised, maybe, that his father went so far but also a part of him knowing that of course Aleksander is capable of this. This and much, much worse.
Alina looks sadly at her daughter's trembling form. She feels the heat of Aleksander's rage next to her, knows that display of power he just showed may have been on the side of unnecessary, but she had wanted him to do more. She supposes at this point in life she should know Aleksander would appease her but only in his way.
But that right now is not important.
"What do you mean you handled it?" Alina asks very quietly.
Mila is still trembling but opens her eyes. Grey, like her father, but Alina has never seen such fear there. "W-What?"
"You heard your mother," Aleksander snarls.
Mila flinches into her seat. "I-I Summoned and made him let me go."
"How did you Summon?"
Mila looks between her parents, and then to Adrik as if he somehow could save her from the awful mess she has created. But now there is fear on his face as well. Not of what just happened. But of her.
But she can't see the horrid memories replaying in his head. Of another time when a man grabbed Mila. Of when instinct, not rational, kicked in, and awful mistakes were made. Adrik failed his sister then, and he can't help but feel he's done the same now.
"I used the Cut."
Again, there's Dimitri's body falling to the floor.
Again, there the unexpected show of light.
The suspended moment in time when it slid across the man's neck, as smooth as water.
Alina wants to be as broken as Adirk in this moment, but she can't. She has to be a mother now. She has to handle this. "Did you kill him, Mila?"
The younger girl looks confused at the question. Of what exactly, Alina is not sure. When she doesn't answer right away, she practically feels Aleksander about to unleash another verbal lashing. "Mila, did you kill him?" Alina prompts again before he gets the chance to.
"I…I don't know. I did it and ran."
And yet again, Mila comes out the situation with little recognition of what's she done.
Adrik wonders if a dead body will turn up soon from the streets of their kingdom.
Alina closes her eyes, as if that would make this all go away.
"You're not to leave the castle," Aleksander begins. No arguments. No explanations. The time has passed for that. "You will take your lessons privately here. You, who have been blessed with so much, to squander it so. You want to be in charge of your life and yet you use your power so carelessly and don't even know if you killed a man or not. Is that what Ravka will say of their Princess? That she is a fool who murders without thought?"
She doesn't even know, Adrik thinks miserably. She doesn't even know she's already become that.
"You will embarrass this family no more. If you step out of line one more time, I will ship you to the Winter Palace and leave you there till you learn your place. And do not that as an idle threat. Me not seeing your face for the next fifty years means as little to me as if it was a mere day."
A tear leaks out of Mila's eyes at his words. At the truth her father has revealed and struck at her like a slap in the face.
"Now get out."
Adrik fiddles with the pocket watch his father had gifted him for his 21st birthday. The first gift he ever received from the man. It wasn't new, but instead an antique that had been owned by some old King of Ravka.
(Adrik has been simultaneously pleased and resentful that Aleksander somehow knew he'd prefer this piece of history than a fancy new one).
The carriage jolts as it passes over a bump, making Adrik start. He looks across him to see Aleksander starring at the window, hands folded neatly on his lap.
They've been riding for a couple hours now, heading to Os Kervo.
It's been a week since that disaster of a dinner. A week of Mila being a ghost, only appearing for dinners which her mother would not relent on her being absent for. But she only spoke when asked a question, and kept her eyes on her plate or lap. Adrik had seen her more, as per her private lessons, and her mother had attempted some one-on-one conversations.
Aleksander hadn't sought her out once.
"How is Mila doing?" He asks, as if sensing where his mind has wandered to.
"Fine," Adrik answers honestly. It's the only word to describe her really. Despite her silence, Mila hasn't shown any concerning behavior. She's paying attention to her lessons, which is an improvement, and hasn't unleashed any of her usual attitude.
"Did you believe I was harsh on her?"
Adrik is surprised by the question. Their relationship has certainly improved over the years, but there were still some lines drawn in the sand between them. One being that his father never usually asked him his opinion on decisions he's made. The Darkling was not one to be questioned, let alone invite criticism. No, if this ever happened, it was surely a test of some sort. This might very well be one, for all Adrik knew.
"I think something had to be done," He answers carefully, wondering was going on in the King's head. His gaze still remained pointed out the window.
"And what I did?"
Adrik has went over the dinner many times in his head this past week. What went wrong, where it could have been stopped. How out of control everything became with those choice words. It wasn't so much the punishment Adrik disagreed with. Confined to the castle was the least that could have been done considering what Mila is guilty of. What he had only ever questioned was how it happened that night, the words and actions taken to come to that conclusion. And the way Aleksander had broken a part of Mila's heart with his other very real threat.
He wonders if Alina said something to prompt this. He wonders if he should even continue it. But then he remembers his sister's face, can't help but feel-know-that Mila is not an evil being. She's just a young girl, confused over who she is and her place in this world. "You forget we are not as old as you and Mama," Adrik begins calmly. No need for Aleksander to misunderstand him when they were going on a trip alone together for the foreseeable future. "That we're still….more human, than immortal. Mila deserved to be punished but for you to tell her not seeing her for fifty years means little to nothing to you and that you would actually send her away for that time, it was cruel."
Aleksander processes this with silence. Then he angles his head towards his son, considering him.
"You grew up not knowing what you are. She did. She can't be afforded the time or patience you were."
"He's usually always insufferably right," Alina had told him once of his father. "But where he lacks is the humanity that tells him even though something is true, doesn't not mean it is good."
Adrik is a grown man now, not the child that had been both afraid and hateful of the man who gave him life. A part of him hesitates to be honest with him, old habits and all, but if Aleksander wanted his opinion then he would give it. "She is a fourteen-year-old girl whose father told her his love for her is conditional. There are other ways to teach her of immortality."
Aleksander again grows quiet.
"And…" Adrik licks at his lips. "She grew up with your love, I did not. You hurt her in a way you couldn't do to me. I was prepared for your coldness, she wasn't."
A shadow flickers in an on the floor between them. A shadow of a passing tree? A Summoned one?
"You believe my love for her is conditional?"
Adrik flexes his fingers. He really doesn't want to engage in this line of questioning. He did not want to guess his father's feelings, on whether they existed or were genuine. He didn't want to examine his and Mila's relationship when his own was so pitiful in comparison. Adrik believed for so long he didn't need his father's affection. But not that he's had a taste for it, that unfair resentment the never seemed to shake towards Mila's dug a little deeper.
Feeling again like the lonely teenage boy brought to the palace as a prince who did not have the king's love, he answers noncommittally. "I don't know. You certainly care for her."
"It is hard, at my age, to truly love things. Knowing they will not last."
"But she will," Adrik points out.
"Perhaps I have to grow used to her, the way I did you."
That shocks Adrik into silence. It's not exactly a "I love you" but its damn well close in his opinion. Who knew if Aleksander would ever gift him with anything fonder. "And are you? Used to me?" He can't help but ask. He needs to be sure. He would not get begrudgingly pleased over a game.
Though he doesn't smile, Aleksander looks amused at the question. "As a horse is to a fly."
Oh, well…
Was that a joke?
"He hates me," Mila whispers into her pillow.
Alina hears her all the same and smooths her hair down her back. "He doesn't."
"You hate me," She continues to mumble.
"I don't."
Mila lifts her head up a fraction, if only to look at her mother as if she had three heads. "How can you say that with what happened?"
"Mila, you made mistakes, some larger than others, and lashed out as us. It was not going to be a pleasant conversation no matter what happened."
"He said he'd send me away."
"I would never let him."
"But that doesn't change the fact he would do it if he could."
Alina blew out a puff of exasperated air. Mila dropped her head back into the pillow, the child she truly was simmering to the surface. Alina tried to recall the time she had been her age. If she had ever been so…lost. But her past is now only made of landmark events in her life, with the little things in between lost to eternity. There was Mal, then the Light, and then Aleksander. So much Aleksander. She had been 17 when she first met him, three years older the Mila now. How mature she had thought she had been. How foolish.
"Your father is going to be the most difficult man you'll ever meet in your life. He is far from perfect, none of us are. He does not react the way he should sometimes. I should know. He and on were not on the same page as we are now."
Mila slightly shifts her head, and peeks up at her mother under a curtain of hair. "What do you mean?"
"He hurt me too," Alina beings carefully. Very carefully. It was her decision to not tell Mila of she and Aleksander's past till she was older and mature enough to try and understand all the complicated and dark parts of it. Alina only felt more confident in the decision considering Mila's volatile nature as of late. Aleskadner didn't seem to mind, not caring if Alina chose to even reveal it at all. "When I was younger, close to your age in fact, he hurt me very deeply, Mila."
"But…" Mila presses up on her elbows, looking very confused. "Papa loves you more than anything."
"He does," Alina agrees, and reaches forward to swipe the hair from her face. "But he didn't in the beginning. He didn't for quite some time, actually. And I the same."
Sometimes she still wonders. Sometimes.
Mila shakes her head. "I don't understand."
"I promise, darling, I will tell you the whole story one day. But for now, just know, he may be old but that doesn't make him always right. Immortality is a very hard burden to bear, especially when you've been alone for as long as your father has. It makes him forget how to treat others. Even those he loves."
Alina can't help but hope it is enough. What more can she say without explaining the rest of it? It would do no one any good, least of all Mila, to reveal Aleksander's villainous past now. If anything, it might make this newly formed chasm between she and him worse.
"Mila," Alina opts to change the course of the conversation before she can dwell on it any further. "What you did to that man, it can't happen again."
Her grey eyes blink widely at the switch of topic. "I-he was going to hurt me, Mama."
"And you must of course defend yourself. But the Cut must be a last resort. It is a technique that's too powerful, and only meant to kill. That is why our family are the only ones able to do it. There are other ways to protect yourself. Others ways to not kill."
Mila slowly lowers herself back onto her stomach, but at least does not hide her face this time. "I didn't mean to…kill him. I just-I got scared. I only ran because I was so afraid, Mama. I didn't even go back to my friends. I came right back here. I promise."
Oh, how differently the conversation could have gone the other day had Mila not been so full of pride and hurt. And how much of a relief it is to hear Mila's pained confession. She'd been consumed all week with dark thoughts that Mila was becoming callous with her skills and drunk off the power of her immortality and Sun Summoning. That she was a child given gifts no child should know how to deal with at that age. But no, thank the Saints, Mila was just that. A child who got scared and made a mistake. And all those years ago with Dimitiri, it must have been a mistake. She had been too young, too innocent. She had been hurt and afraid then as well, and saw her brother attacked to top it off.
Mila is being ruled by her emotions and that, Alina can work with.
In truth, Aleksander didn't quite like traveling far from home for such ridiculous frivolities as blessing a new port. Pompous, in his opinion. Unnecessary.
But people, bored with their short lives, needed such reprieves. To celebrate innate things as to fill their days with some reason to be happy. To drink, and dance, and enjoy what time they had left.
And the people do need to be reminded who is their ruler every now and then.
Another truth, Aleksander needed the space frim his wife and daughter. How odd, in this whole annoyingly unnecessary mess, Adrik would be his confidant. He'd been the only one not to resent him for his behavior at dinner or feel the need to give him the cold shoulder. Alina had wanted him to act, so he did. It was not his fault if she didn't like how he did it.
Though Adrik had been honest that day in the carriage, he didn't use his words like weapons. Not like he or Alina would. No, he had been patient and simply wanted Aleksander to just hear what he had to say. No ulterior motives or desire to harm. It was charming, in a way. He is an adult, technically, but still a child in Aleksander's eyes. A child who still has delusions of being honest and good.
Despite all that, what Adrik said did hold some weight. Mila didn't understand yet the burden of who they were yet, and Aleksander…well, perhaps he didn't know how to properly handle her. The whole mess was reminding him all too much of his past with Alina. How much he failed at trying to connect with her and make her see what their power and immorality meant. Like mother, like daughter indeed.
As the carriage made its way into the courtyard of the Grand Palace, Aleksander twirled around the gift in his hand. A wooden box, thin and long with a necklace of sea glass and pearls inside. It wasn't a gift, as punished children should not receive gifts, but an olive branch. Not a frivolous purchase but an acquisition that had purpose behind it.
It took years for he and Alina to finally come to peace with each other. He wasn't in the mindset to allow the same to happen between he and Mila.
Adrik hid a smile as he eyed the gift one last time before hopping out of the carriage. He extended many olive branches with his son this trip as well. Let him closer than Aleksander had originally planned, and gave him kernels of "fatherly" attention much more liberally than either of them were used to.
Perhaps he was feeling lonely without Alina. More disturbed than he'd admit over Mila. Maybe more accepting of the fact Adrik was his son every passing day.
Maybe he was just bored. Who truly knows.
Alina is pulling away from a hug with Adirk when he sees her. White hair long and braided, face still holding onto the youth and beauty well past her true age. She takes his breath away every time he sees her. Every damn time. It's been almost two weeks, and their goodbye had been less than pleasant. But she turns to him without any ire in her gaze now, and actually smiles.
"My Queen," He greets, stopping before her.
"My King," She dutifully replies. They stare at each other, devouring the other's images with roaming eyes.
Adrik scoffs at the not so subtle standoff, and makes his way into the castle.
Alina dips her head to his hands. "A present for me?"
"Sorry, love, no. But if you are in the mood for one, I'm sure I could find something for you in my luggage. I believe it's being brought up to our rooms as we speak."
"Hm," Alina takes a calculated step forward, brushing a hand against the lapels of his kefta. "Perhaps I could be swayed to go and retrieve it with you. But should I be jealous?"
"Not at all," he grins, dipping his head down. "But I believe I should take care of this first. Then I shall shower you with gifts all night."
A smile breaks across her face and she kills the last bit of distance between them with a deep kiss. Aleksander groans against the plunge of Alina's tongue, and resists slamming her against the side of the carriage and taking her right then and there.
He is very happy two weeks seems to be the time to quell his wife's anger.
Alina is pulling away all too quickly, and takes swift step backwards as Aleksander reaches to pull her back. "Go attend to your business, my King. I'll be waiting."
"Perhaps you'll actually be there when I come back this time." A very old, and very bad joke.
Alina rolls her eyes and turns toward the doors. She pauses one last moment, though, and looks at him over her shoulder. "I know what it feels like to have to have a heart broken by you, Aleksander. Please take care with her."
Aleksander give two quick raps to the door of Mila's quarters.
He knows she will answer, not because she wants to but because duty demands it. He is her father and King, and no doors will ever remain shut to him.
But no, he had to banish such grandiose thoughts right now. He simply needed to be a father, intent on mending a break between he and his daughter. Simple enough.
The door creaked open and Mila peeked her head out, looking as if she had just woken up. Her eyes widen slightly seeing him, and she fumbles to open the door all the way while simultaneously straightening her back.
"I-uh, good morning," She breathes, patting down her hair and drawing her robe tighter to herself. Perhaps not just waking up then, but getting ready for a bath. "I mean, welcome back."
Aleksander nods his head in return. "May I come in?"
The request visibly rattles her, as her eyes widen and her teeth bite into her lower lip. She nods jerkily, regardless, and backs into her room. It's immaculately kept, as usual, as opposed to her brother's much messier quarters. It's the reminiscent of the room Alina had first occupied in the Little Palace. Sophisticated furniture fit for a Queen and décor bathed in bright and soft colors. Her pale pink curtains are swaying softly in with the morning breeze, every window wide open to let in the sun.
Mila is attempting to be calm and collected, but her fingers keep fiddling with her robe's belt and her body bouncing on the heels of her feet. Nervous compulsions that had plagued her when she had been younger. Not at fourteen. Not in front of her father.
And here she was.
Aleksander is leisurely walking around her room, as if he hadn't been in it for some time. She supposes he hasn't, even before he had stopped talking to her. During that whole…mess, she had become very private with her space and belongings, and more often than not locked her door then let it hang open.
When he stops to examine the belongings on her vanity, Mila can bear the silence no more. "Was it a good trip?" The question, riddled by her nerves, comes out as a squeak.
Aleksander absently picks up a hair brush. "It served its purpose."
"Oh," She doesn't like this side of her father. Had seen it enough times aimed at member of court, a soldier, even the rare occasion of someone in her family (those interactions always ended bad). When he makes you feel so small, so off kilter, as he saunters around without a care in the world. Like he doesn't care about you.
The thought makes Mila more sad than nervous now, and the conversation she had with her mother a couple days ago comes back to her. Alina assured her that Aleksander still loved her, that the fault with his emotions lied with him, not her, but it was still hard to believe. As a fourteen-year-old, she shouldn't have to be the one that sort that out.
She didn't want to. She just wanted her father to show her he loved her.
"Your lessons?" Aleksander turns toward her, and eyebrows raised.
Mila holds back a frown and even worse, a couple tears, and she looks over his shoulder to a picture of painted flowers, a rose bush with tangled vines crawling up a tree. "Going well. Attending them all and keeping up with my grades."
He nods his head. "Good to hear."
Mila keeps starring at the flowers, feeling her cheeks grow hotter and hotter. Oh Saints, she is going to cry. She is. She can't stand this treatment anymore. Not this cruel casualness. The still ugly truth that he loved her so little that he would send her away.
Why was he here? What did he want? To further rub salt in the wound? She had purposefully not gone to greet him and Adirk upon their return because she figured Aleksander wouldn't want to see her. He made that plainly clear the week before he left. Why was he torturing her so?
"Oh, moya solnishka," Fingers tenderly swipe over her cheeks, now sticky with wetness. Mila bleaks blurrily against the tears to look up into her father's suddenly very close face. His grey eyes are not cold, but soft, simmering with the affection he had always shown her. "No need to cry."
"I'm sorry, Papa," Mila sobs and jerks forward, burying her face in his chest. Keftas aren't exactly known for their comfort, but it smells like her Papa, and it's warm, so it's perfect right now. She rubs against the material till it scratches her skin, but she doesn't care, because Aleksander's arms are enveloping her in a hug, and his chin comes to rest comfortably atop her head.
"Shh," He continues to soothe over and over as she cries and cries. His hand beings to rub circles into her back, and for some reason that brings on a new wave of tears. She was wrong, he does care. Of course, he cares. He had been angry, is all, and so had she. They were going to be fine, they were going to be great, it was-oh! Suddenly, a ball of warmth so strong blossoms in her stomach, and unfurls with such a force it takes Mila's breath away. She feels the heat coming out of every pour in her body, and pulls away enough to see she's glowing, light pouring out from her skin and cascading the room in striking brightness.
It would blind any other normal human being, but the Darkling gazes at her without the slightest wince.
"There she is," Aleksander murmurs with a smile. The first smile he's graced her with one in so long.
Mila can't help but smile back, feeling so…alive.
But then Aleksander pulls back and her light slowly dims till it is nothing but her bare skin again.
He reaches out to reveal a box in his hand, thin and wooden with simple decorations carved on it. "For you, love."
Had he not just embraced her, or smiled at her, Mila would have assumed the offering was a trick. A test, of some sort, as her father was so often fond of doing. Starring at the box, Mila knows that if this isn't just an innocent gesture, she was undoubtedly going to fail. Still, she reaches forward and takes it tentatively form her hands, then undoes the metal clasp with a delicate touch.
Inside is a beautiful necklace, a long, sparkling braided silver chain with pearls and pieces of sea glass interwoven throughout it. It shines at with her every movement and continues to glimmer even as she keeps it completely still. "It's…beautiful," Mila whispers, feeling a bit awed by it. She is the Princess of Ravka, she has seen and even worn the most glamorous and beautiful pieces of jewels the world could produce. But this, in her hands, seems the most precious of all. Because it is hers, and no one else's, not an antique passed down by Queens before. And because her father had given it, had thought of her when he bought it, and delivered it with his own hands.
Another lone tear sneaks down her face.
With his long, elegant fingers, Aleksander plucks the necklace from its cerulean colored cushioning. "As you are, moya doch." He steps behind her and with a gentle swipe of her hair, begins to clasp it around her neck.
Mila feels the whispers of that powerful light again, but it recedes when her father again steps away.
"I am sorry, Papa-"
"I know. We'll talk of it no longer. Continue up with your studies here for the month, and then we can discuss you returning to classes."
There is nothing to do but beam and nod her head enthusiastically in agreement.
"No more leaving the castle grounds, Mila. No more trouble or this rebellious nature anymore. You will act as you were born to be. Princess of Ravka and the daughter of the Shadow and Sun Summoner."
Darkling and Sankta. Two equals, yet opposite. Constantly pulling towards each other and inevitable pushing away.
What inkling of normalcy did a product of that bond hope to have?
"Yes, Papa, I promise. I'll be perfect." Even as the word passes her lips, Alina's own voice echo's in her ears: "He is far from perfect, none of us are." Perhaps she wasn't, Mila mused, but she would try to be. She would spend the rest of her immortality trying. "And," She continues, knowing it would be best to completely clear the air out now between them. "About that man. In the marketplace. I am sorry about it, Papa. Really I am. I was talking to Mama about it and…I know it was wrong. I do. I was afraid and didn't react right. I will not use the Cut again, ever. I promise."
Mila's heart drops when Aleksander's lip tug downward. But why? How had that been the wrong this to say? It had made her mother happy, it had even made her forgive her! Had she forgotten something? Not said sorry enough times?
"Do not make that promise, Mila," Aleksander states with the finality of his station. "The Cut is our gift, and we do not hide our power from the world."
"But…but Mama said-"
"Your mother," He interjects smoothly, "Has some different ideas on the subject, I am aware. What you need to understand, is that your mother has always had a kind heart, and has always wanted to believe in the good in people. Most importantly, herself. And now, her children."
Though she is following along, Mila can't help but feel this conversation is too big for her understanding. That her father is trying to tell her something without actually saying. That it's going against Alina had said, and is making her afraid.
Aleksander cups the bottom of Mila's chin and angles it up to face him. "She wants many things, your mother. But remember Mila, the problem with wanting is that it makes us weak. And we are not weak, are we?"
Mila stares uncertainly into her father's eyes, and answers as she knows she should, "No, we are not."
"That man put his hands on you," He continues, his gaze never wavering. "You do not apologize for defending yourself."
But she had killed him, Mila wants to protest. Or at least, maybe she did. Either way, was that not a good thing? Alina had told her there are others way to protect herself. It didn't have to be the Cut-
Aleksander tuts her chin. "What you need to learn, love, is patience. Precision. The control of your power and having it bend to you, not the other way around. That, we have all the time in the world to learn."
Mila nods her head, willing to do anything her father wanted of her.