Romance has it ups and many downs
WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: orgasm denial and BRIEF mentions of the presence of blood during sex. If you'd like to skip, the scene where Alina and Aleksander are alone in their bedroom is what to avoid (Check end notes to what their conversation essentially is)
"What are you looking at?"
Adrik is old enough to not be taken by surprise by his little sister anymore, but considering what exactly has grabbed his attention, he turns a little too swiftly towards her.
Or rather, who had been grabbing his attention.
Mila grins mischievously.
"Nothing," He huffs and makes a good show of returning back to the open book on the table beside his half-eaten lunch. "Shouldn't you be in class?"
Mila was seventeen now, which meant one more year of school. At eighteen, all Grisha were expected to obtain permanent, and most importantly more productive, roles in society. Being the Princess of Ravka allowed Mila not to worry too much about that all important day.
"Shouldn't you be?" Mila echoes back, and does a little skip to take the empty spot on the bench next to him, her hair pooling over her shoulder. She had an infinity for braids now, elaborate and beautiful designs that a tailor would focus on for at least an hour at the beginning of every morning. Right now she sported a more tamed up do, one that braided the top layer of her hair into a simple crown and let the bottom one hang freely. "It's my lunch time, thank you very much."
"Well, mine too."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I believe I did."
"Okay then, you didn't truthfully answer my question."
"Mila-"
"Come on, I'm your sister! Your best friend! Who else are you going to tell if not me?"
Well, there was Alina, who had been his best friend for whole of his life. Probably even still now, if he truly thought about it. But admitting to that would certainly not get Mila off his back. And didn't make him feel too great about his lack of a social life either.
The book snaps shut as tightly as Adrik's frustration. "There is nothing to tell, Mila. Now if you'll excuse me-"
As he goes to stand Mila reaches out for his wrist, her tiny hand barely able to envelop the whole of it. But she vibrates with a comforting warmth that immediately soothes Adirk, enough he stops collecting his things to leave. "Okay, no more teasing," She says very seriously, keeping her hold on him. It the stern but comforting face of their mother, disrupted only by the grey eyes of their father. "I know you like her, so you should talk to her. This pining from afar thing is just going to constantly make you depressed."
Heat that's isn't Mila's summoning washes up Adrik's neck, evident with the embarrassing shade of red only his pale skin could so perfectly pronounce. "I don't know what you mean."
Mila rolls her eyes. "Come on, you aren't exactly subtle about it. You only started taking lunch here, inside which you hate, when her lunch time started to coincide with yours."
"How the Saints would you notice-"
"And when Papa visits the Little Palace to see the students, you actually show up and sit with the rest of the teachers. You actually clap when she demonstrates what she's been teaching."
"That's not-I clap for everyone!"
With another roll of her eyes, Mila mimics a pitiful flap of her hands bumping into each other, so low on her lap it looks like they may have not actually have moved. "If that's what you mean by you clap for everyone."
Adrik's eyes unconsciously dart to across the room, too far for the woman in question to hear them, but beads of sweat dot at the back of his neck nonetheless. It's nothing really. Maybe he's…. interested. In the most general of terms. She's a fascinating person, very good at her job, and has such a pleasant demeanor that all the other Grisha like her. That's all. "It's nothing, Mila."
"It could be something if you just talk to Inessa."
Adrik's blush deepens at her name and he again can't help but glance over. Inessa looks quite nice today in her Etherealki kefta, with her soft blonde hair pulled back in a bun that has her bangs escaping. She talking along with the other teachers, who usually take their lunch together, and throws her head back to laugh when another Inferni like her says something.
It would be pointless to do anything about it.
"I have to go," Adrik says, now quite defeated rather than embarrassed.
"But, Adrik-"
"Enjoy your lunch, Mila."
"Mama, when did you start liking boys?"
Alina pauses only for a second, before she resumes brushing her daughter's hair. It's had a soothing effect for her ever since Mila was a child, and has become something of bonding session for them in times when Mila's lessons and Alina's ruling keeps them busy and separated.
"Why ask?" She looks into the mirror to see her daughter picking at her nails, trying much too hard to look uninterested in the topic.
Mila just shrugs, supplying no answer.
It's not really a complicated answer to give, Alina supposes, only the context around it. She still hasn't told Mila much of her past, but she was seventeen now, the same age Alina had been when first discovering she was a Grisha and that her life would forever change.
Perhaps she's thinking too much on it and it's not that complicated. Maybe Mila has finally discovered a boy of her own. Her father sheltered her far too much growing up, distracting her from desiring the attention of any other male (save Adrik, of course). But the romantic curiosities of a teenage girl couldn't be put off forever.
"Your age, I suppose," Alina answers eventually. It was then she finally realized what it was she felt for Mal, and then that she completely fell into that toxic passion with Aleksander. And not too long after was her flirtatious what-if with Nikolai.
Hm, she really did have the pick of the litter, didn't she?
"Really?" Mila asks, excited curiosity escaping with the word.
Alina can't help but smile. "Really."
"Was it Papa?"
Oh, and this is where the smile melts off. Alina composes herself quickly enough, making her instinctive grimace into a thin line of indifference, but nothing escapes her daughter's watchful eyes. "It…wasn't?"
Was Mila more sheltered than Alina supposed? She still went to lessons, and had her friends. Much more of a social life that Adrik ever had. "Mila, love, the first person you grow feelings for doesn't always mean that will be the person you marry. You have to learn each other, and see if you're a good match. Sometimes people get along in the beginning but find out down the line they're really not that compatible."
Sometimes you fall in love with a boy who you are doomed to outlive.
The younger girl nods her head in understanding, not looking too confused at her mother's words. Still troubled, though, for some reason.
Oh. Alina realizes quickly what's the purpose for this adorable frown. Mila isn't upset at the prospect of multiple partners, but rather that her own parents might have had them. She supposes she and Aleksander certainly are…different. Made for each other, if you asked his opinion. One he had never been afraid sharing with their children. His affinity for trying to mold their immortal mentality had never ceased to astound her.
Alina smiles and leans forward to place the brush on the vanity. "Mila," She says with a quick kiss to her cheek before sliding her arms around her shoulders. "You know I love your father."
Most of the time, at least.
Yet, Mila continues to pout. "But you loved someone else too, right?"
"You're seventeen yourself, you can't be that surprised."
"No, I know-I just…" She scrambles for her words. "I understand you don't meet the love of your life and that's it. I know that's not how it works. But I thought that's not how it works for everyone else, not….us."
Oh.
"Mila," Alina breathes, but every other word fails her. The lavish room of the Princess of Ravka melts into dark colors of wood and must, and the pleasant heat of a summer afternoon turns into a cold and frigid night in winter. Mila is gone and it is just Alina, no longer standing but huddled on the cold, dirty floor buried under layers of quilts. It is her small cabin form so long ago, her and Adrik's, fit for only the two of them but it was all they needed. It was where they had been happy. Except, at least, that one night every year, when Alina's wisps of mortality pinched her heart and she sobbed her eyes out. Adrik had been twelve, that particular night, and had gone to bed hours ago. She thought she had been alone, and that it was fine to muffle her misery over the anniversary of Mal's death into the thickness of her quilt.
But she hadn't been alone. Not from her son. Not from her husband.
"Mama?" Adrik whispers from the dark doorway of his bedroom.
Alina tries to stifle herself but once she begins, it is hard to stop. She manages to control her moans, but tears still fall down her cheeks and her breathing remains ragged. "Honey, go to bed," she manages to whimper out. But Adrik doesn't do as told. He stands there, starring, wanting to help his mother but unsure how.
"Tell him why his mother is on her knees crying," a dark, cruel voice whispers from the opposite corner.
Alina wants to curse his existence to hell but Adrik is still there. She could close the bond, quite easily. But to feel his presence, even with his wicked mouth, is a comfort she is desperate to have in this weak moment.
Adrik ventures farther into the room, approaching her as if she was an hurt animal. "Why are you crying?"
"I….I…."
I used to be human.
I used to love someone.
He is gone now.
I'm not.
"I'm remembering someone who died," She settles on saying, straightening her position on the floor. "He was someone I cared for very much."
This seems to settle Adrik, who at least now can form some logic around this whole situation. He comes closer and bends down, reaching out to place his small hand on her shoulder hidden under bundles of fabric. "I'm sorry."
There is a sharp intake of breath and Alina realizes too late why. Adrik has touched her with the bond still open, meaning Aleksander can see all of his son now. It is a view she hasn't allowed him since Adrik had been a child small enough to hold in her arms, and her husband had caught her in an unsuspecting moment.
That was six years ago.
Adrik remains clueless. "Was the man…was he my…"
It's all too much, suddenly, for Alina to process everything going on but somehow the fact Aleksander hasn't moved or spoken sticks with her. He just watches, quiet as the shadows around him.
"What, Adrik?"
"The man who died, was he my Papa?"
Alina bites back a wave of fresh tears. So little she told Adrik of Aleksander, so much so she sees the burden she's placed upon his shoulders. Of denying him this truth and having him have to deal with those consequences.
The small child already whispered about enough because shadows seem to follow him.
Who lives alone with his mother who never ventures into town, and doesn't care to speak to anyone else.
Who sometimes hears a voice in his head, a faded one not strong enough to take full shape, and goes away when his mother engulfs him in her embrace.
So much she has made Adrik endure. Alina did it all to protect him, of course, but now she wonders if she has somehow become the villain. Maybe it's this thought that prompts Alina to do what she's about to. Maybe it's the guilt. Maybe it her weakness of this moment, of missing Mal, missing and hating Aleksander, and loving her son and just desperately want to do right by him.
Maybe Alina is just so, so tired.
So, she speaks. "No, Adrik. He is not your father. This man was my friend, my family, the first person I ever loved. And I lost him because…because he was different. From me and from you."
Adrik looks at her so helplessly, that he doesn't need to say he doesn't understand. She's knows, and she will tell him everything. She will try.
Alina speaks again, but this time she can only hear Aleksander's voice. "There are no others like us, and there never will be."
Later in the night, much later after so many words and so many more tears, as Adrik lays in a fitful slumber next to his mother on the floor, haunted by the truth she has unleased, she hears Aleksander's words again.
"Come home, Alina, and bring the boy with you."
"Mama?"
Alina jerks and she is back in the palace, in the daylight, with her daughter in her arms now not her son. But it's the same ledge. The same decision lays before her whether to reveal the awful truth that there will be no one else like them. No one for Mila to love and keep.
She had damned Adrik to a life of loneliness that night, telling a 12-year-old boy he'd outlive anything he could ever possibly love, and that if he chose to try, only misery would follow the decision.
Alina has regretted it. She doesn't know what the alternative was, and that had she chose differently it would be only prolonging the inevitable. But…what came of it….how much Adirk took the words to heart that he let it shape any possible relationship he could have had since then….
"Mila," Alina says with a conviction she's not sure is right or wrong, "Enjoy your life. Enjoy friends, and boys, and girls, if you wish. Do not let who we are stop that."
"But, we are-"
Infinite, Alexander's voice whispers in her head. She feels him suddenly, the bond opening up with initial curiosity that turns to outrage in seconds. And though he tugs sharply on his end for Alina to stop, she does not.
"You can't deny yourself pleasure because it will end. Things are precious because they have endings. It makes you appreciate them more. Makes you love them."
And then she continues to brush her daughter's hair as she puts up a stone wall between she and her husband.
"Oh Adrik, I'm so happy you're here."
He nearly drops all his books to the floor as that voice hits his ears, and all he can think of is why is she here? What does she want? She's never spoken to him before, nothing outside a pleasantry or casual hello. Was there an event coming up? Something with the students?
"Adrik?"
"Um," He coughs and turns on his heel. The smile he gives feels phony on his face, and that thought makes his hands begin to sweat. "Yes, ah, Inessa, hello. H-how can I help?"
Her hair is down today, the blonde curling slightly down her back and over her chest. She smiles brilliantly at him, blue eyes twinkling. "Your sister said you might be able to help me."
Oh, if Mila was involved this wasn't good. Not good at all.
"You see," Inessa continues, coming farther into the room while tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Adrik wants to do it for her. "In class, we've been talking about how difficult it is for a Etherealki to make their science take a solid enough form for their Grisha to wield. And then your sister was so kind to explain, even demonstrate, her Cut."
Adrik frowns. Of course, Mila was more than willing. Though he doesn't hold the same concerns he had for her years ago, especially in regards to the Cut, Mila's desire for attention hasn't diminished with age. Still, he's sure this isn't the part of the story that's going to ruin his day.
"She was brilliant, of course. So, after class I asked her if she wouldn't mind training with me, teaching me how she makes that form so that I could possibly do the same."
It's not a terrible idea. Logical, at the very least. But if his father's words were to be taken to heart, which who would dare do otherwise, it was a skill only his family was capable of. Mila knew this as well. Why would she ever agree-
"But she told me you were the one who taught her, and that it would be much better if you trained with me."
There it is.
Adrik swallows thickly, the image of him and Inessa alone causing his brain to stop working for a second. Not even alone, but in close quarters, going over techniques, possibly even touching-no, absolutely not, that could never happen.
Adrik is shaking his head before he even gets the chance to say this.
Still silent, he watches Inessa's face fall, her luminous eyes darken with disappointment, and her body move back toward the door. He hates himself for all of it. For every single second he doesn't say a damn word and just shakes his head like a fool.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean any offense. I'm sure you're busy or-"
"You can't," He blurts out, his shame deepening further. "Someone like you can't learn it."
Perhaps the situation had been awkward, or uncomfortable, maybe even odd at best. But now, when his words make their blow, visible offense, possibly even some hurt, wash over Inessa's features. It occurs to Adrik he's never seen her angry before. Never seen those lovely features tighten with the foreign emotion, or how it makes him feel so cold and impossibly more alone to be on its receiving end.
"Someone like me?" Inessa spits, all sweetness and politeness forgone. "I understand. Forgive me for wasting your time, moy prints."
As the door slams behind her, the first row of desks crash into the wall in a wave of black.
Mila hasn't disobeyed the rules in quite a long time.
Right now, she continues not to. Well, technically, she continues not to. But she's sure if her father knew what she was doing, he would not be happy. At all. So, she clings onto the fact that yes, technically, she is not breaking any rules.
She is still in the Little Palace, for one. Well, the Little Palace gardens, to be exact. But the gardens that were quite literally a few feet from one of the many entrances, that any old Grisha could come out and meet them should danger arise any moment. And that is the next point: the older Grisha are allowing them to be out here this late at night. It is a privilege that is offered to all seventeen and eighteen-year-old students, to have some social time in a place not barred by walls or under the watchful eyes of instructors. Of course, there are restrictions, such as not wandering past the border of the garden or getting involved in any fights. No liquor, of course.
Alina, apparently, had argued for the privilege after having examined the lack of freedom students their age had. Aleksander had always sneered at it whenever he could, but never openly said Mila could never go to it. Maybe he assumed she wouldn't but, technically, he never said.
And a boy had invited Mila to it tonight. How could she say no?
The boy, Victor, sidles up to her now, handing over a glass of clear water.
Pushing down any giddiness bubbling in her stomach, she accepts it with a smile and brings it to her lips for a small sip.
And promptly coughs.
"It's not water," Victor whispers conspiratorially in her ear. He's a Tidemaker with black shaggy hair, and eyes that are a stonish kind of blue. Charming, as for a Mila could tell, as most girls gossiped about him and he was always seen with a lot of friends. They shared some lessons together and it was only today he had so casually slid up next to her during lunch and asked if he would see her here tonight.
A clear invitation, her friends had informed her with giggles after he had walked away.
So here Mila was, wearing what she hoped was one of her simpler dresses made of dark green fabric and her hair not even done in any fancy braids. It wasn't so much that she wanted to be here, but was curious, and her insides did warm whenever Victor smiled at her.
Yet now there was a cup of liquor in her hands and this is most definitely against the rules.
So, Mila takes another sip, endures the burn with a smile, and then brings the cup to rest against her thigh (where it will hopefully stay without anyone's notice).
Swiping some hair from his eyes, Victor sends her one of those warming smiles. "So, I've never seen you here before."
"Oh, well," Mila shrugs. "Just wasn't really part of my schedule."
"Ah, the Princess even gets told where to go after school is over?"
Indignation squares her shoulder. "Of course not, but sometimes I have duties-"
"Every single night?" Victor continues to prod.
"Well, no, but-" Mila grits her teeth. This wasn't flirting, was it? It was far too annoying. He had to be doing something wrong. Or was she? Mila unconsciously takes another sip of her drink contemplating this, and the burn isn't so bad this time.
"I'm just teasing," Victor laughs when Mila doesn't say more. He angles a little closer to her, bumping their shoulders. "I'm sure being Princess and a student and a Sun Summoner takes up a lot of time."
Some of her ire deflates, and Mila just nods her head. "Yea, and my father can be…" She trails off at this, equally horrified to bring up the King at all as well as not wanting to discuss what her father was like with people outside her family. "Never mind."
This, however, seems to greatly intrigue Victor. He completely turns towards her now, even leaning in so much she can feel some of his breath on her face. "No, what is he like? He's seems so…so…" He waves his hand in the air as if Mila can decipher whatever he is getting at.
Well, she supposes her father is hard to define with just mere words.
But Mila doesn't want to talk about him. Not while standing in the garden, with a boy, and a cup of liquor in her hand. "I'd rather not talk about it."
"Oh, well…" Victor leans back with some dismay, making Mila's stomach drop. That was the wrong move, then. She is about to say something, anything, about Aleksander when Victor looks over his shoulder and grins. "Hey, come here."
Then his hand is on her wrist, pulling her deeper into the gardens away from the larger crowd of students. He twists her this way and that, the foliage becoming more dense and making the sky seem more black, before they stop at the gate that will lead them the outer yards of the Little Palace.
"Oh, but we can't-"
"Leave, I know, I know. Some kind of Fabricator made mechanism that detects anyone opening the door. But none of the chaperones come this far during their annual check ins. And I made sure no one would bother us." He tugs her again, bringing them both behind a plump trunk of a tree whose branches cascade so thickly off its branches they seem like a waterfall.
"Bother us?" Mila asks when he finally let's go. It's much darker here, making her dress look black.
Victor grins, swipes his hair again, and walks toward her till she feels the trunk of the tree against her back. "Yea, so we could be alone." His eyes, which really never fascinated her too much before, travel down the length of her body.
Oh.
Mila sighs. She isn't afraid with this newfound situation, but she is very annoyed again. "Oh, is that what tonight was for?" Of course. She's heard enough from her friends what goes on in dark corners when no one is looking. Victor had never really paid her much attention before, and maybe this was all he had in mind when inviting her. Oh well. She promptly drops the cup to the grass, not caring a bit when Victor cries out about the loss of liquor. "I think I'll leave now."
"What? What are you talking about?"
She sidesteps him, eyeing the bottom of her dress for any stains. That is certainly more troublesome then the aroused boy before her. "I'm not interested in this."
The rejection falls easily from her lips, and without much care, which she belatedly thinks her father would be proud of. Victor, though, huffs in offense. He charges backwards to stop her so abruptly he practically stumbles on his ass. Mila bites back a chuckle. "Are you serious? What, you don't know how to have fun? Can't get out from under papa's thumb once in a while?"
Oh, if only Aleksander heard such a taunt. Mila muses won't respond much better, but at least this boy won't be left screaming with her. "I'm sure it's none of your concern. I'm leaving now."
"Now just wait one minute," Victor's hand is again on her wrist, now bending with such a grip that Mila would have winced had she not felt worse in her training.
Well. No one puts their hands on the Princess of Ravka.
Mila blows out a breath, then her free hand closes into a fist before flexing completely open and unleashes a quick snap of blinding light.
Immediately, Victor cries out and falls to his knees, pawing at his eyes.
Mila rolls her own at the embarrassment. The move is a defensive one, not really meant to inflict damage but disarm an opponent long enough for you to get away (as Mama had advised), or deal a final blow (as Papa advised).
"Poshyel k chyertu," Victor spits, pitifully opening a fraction of his eyes to glare at her. Not very intimidating with all the tears blurring the edges, though.
The boy just does not know when to quit. "That wasn't very nice." With a twist of her wrist, an orb of light flicks through the air and pierces Victor in the shoulder. The boy again yelps in pain, collapsing into the ground and letting out a very unnecessary howl. There is meant to be some pain dealt with that particular move, but something akin to a hot poker pressed against your skin for a mere second.
She could have made it much, much worse.
"Mila."
She pauses outside the open door of her parent's chamber, mentally counting to three before entering.
Aleksander is sitting at his desk, dressed in his night robe and not looking at all interested in the papers splayed before them. There is a half empty cup of kvas in his left hand, while his right taps absently against the table.
"Hello, Papa."
His head tilts to the side. "Nice night?"
This is the point, Mila knows all too well, where she decides the path this conversation is going to take. Knowing her father, he was already three steps ahead of whatever choice she could possibly make, even ones she is not aware of. And she knows well enough that she has no chance of out strategizing him.
"It was, then it wasn't."
Still, the assessing look. "Care to elaborate?"
Mila straightens her back. Well, here it goes. "I went out to the gardens with the other students. And," Sucking in some fortifying breath here. "A boy had asked me to be there. I was…curious. But then he gave me liquor and it wasn't quite what I expected, so I left."
Admitting to drinking, she hopes, earns her some points for his good graces.
Aleksander processes his daughter's words carefully, as well as the demeanor she says them, then raises his drink to his lips. He downs the whole glass with one swig. There's a lot of ways he can end this conversation, some more blood thirsty than others, but Mila is trying to put on a show of strength and maturity in front him, and his more indulgent side is willing to humor her. At least for the moment.
He rises from his seat to go and refill his drink. "It wasn't what you expected?" He asks, as his back is turned toward her.
Aleksander can practically hear her fidget with the reprieve of being away from his gaze. "A boy has never asked after me before, Papa. I was curious."
Of course, Aleksander thinks bitterly. Alina was to blame for this nonsense. Her and the critical conversation she decided to have with their daughter without consulting him. He had opened up their bond because he was missing his wife's warmth after particularly dull meeting. He hadn't expected to intrude on a private conversation, or not, as he soon found out. No, alone, Alina had decided to make a decision that would deeply impact Mila's mentality on their situation in life.
And now his daughter was accepting innate proposals from foolhardy boys out of damn curiosity.
Aleksander turns around, and breathing in slowly. "Of course you were, love. You are young. Romance I'm sure is what all your friends can think about."
It pained, to literally utter those words.
Mila simply nods.
"Curiosity is natural as well, Mila. But only if you approach it carefully. Did you do that tonight?"
Now, her head bobs with eagerness. "Once I knew what he wanted, I left."
A puddle of shadows bubble up underneath Aleksander's feet. He contains them with a power only years of his control can achieve, imprisoning them to blacken the ground like a pit of gooey ilk. "What…he wanted?"
Mila eyes the ground for a second, but still grasps onto the confidence she had walked in here with and meets his gaze. "Me, alone. I didn't want that, though, so I left. And he tried to stop me. That didn't work."
Aleksander prompts her further with a raised eyebrow.
"I Summoned. No Cuts, but enough to knock him down."
"So he's….?" He's rather hoping this isn't going to be the third occurrence he's going to go have to clean up in the wee hours of the night. His time can be much better spent. Like furthering to punish his troublesome wife laying naked in his bedroom just a few feet away.
Mila, thankfully, shrugs. "Fine, maybe a spot of red on his shoulder. I think I hurt his pride more."
The puddle of black calms a bit more, but is still giving out small sizzles. "What was his name, Mila?"
"Papa," She gasps. "No."
"No?" Aleksander challenges back.
"You can't! It's fine! I told you, I knocked him down and left. He didn't actually do anything."
"He wanted to, that alone-"
"Sasha," A voice murmurs quietly.
Aleksander spares his wife a scathing glance. She has donned a night robe, and ushered her hair into a messy braid that hangs down her back. To anyone else, it looks as if Alina had just awoken from a very deep slumber. Aleksander knows better. And he also knows she should have done as she was told and stayed in bed to wait for him.
He ignores her. "The name, Mila."
She looks worriedly to her mother.
"Mila-"
"Aleksander," Alina now says more forcefully. "It is late, and I think we're all tired. Let's go to bed."
"After I'm done talking my daughter," He growls, not willing to look at her.
"Mila, go to bed."
"Don't you dare."
Like a poor deer caught by a hunter's mark, Mila remains frozen and trembling, unsure which parent to listen to. The conversation had been going so well too, until her father's more ruthless side reared its ugly head.
"Aleskander," Alina hisses lowly. She lets herself heat with invisible light, radiating it outward to engulf her husband in its grasp. When she is sure every inch of him is incased, she intensifies it, making the temperature near unbearable.
The shadows under Aleksander's feet tremble.
"Bed then," He grits out, turning on his heels and marching into the bedroom. "But this conversation is not over."
Alina knows this night was is from over for her, but at least her daughter was saved from Aleksander's dramatics. She Summons back her power and then gives Mila a smile. "I'm proud of you, Mila, you did well tonight. I-we-appreciate your honesty and how you handled the situation."
The happiness that washes over the younger Sun Summoner's face is so genuine, Alina almost cries.
"Good night, Mama," She whispers gratefully before leaving.
Alina smiles till she's out the room, then braces herself for the angry Shadow Summoner waiting for her in bed.
The door barely closes behind her before Alina is grabbed by rough hands and spun her on her feet. With a brutal force, her whole body slams into Aleksander's chest, knocking the breath from her lungs.
"Is this how it is now? You're the only parent? You make the decisions, Alinochka?"
She blinks rapidly at his sneering face. "When you're being a pompous ass, then yes!"
Aleksander growls and flings her away from him. He goes to their bedroom's decanter, not bothering with a glass as he grips the neck of kvas and pours it down his throat.
"What are you going to do, Darkling? Go kill a teenage Grisha?"
"I don't need to kill him to make him regret his decisions." Another swig.
Feeling particularly vindictive, Alina clutches her hand into a fist and watches as a ball of light forms in the bottle and expands in seconds, bursting the glass into a million pieces. The shards and liquor fall onto the floor and Aleksander with a loud splash.
There is a flash of red, and Alina realizes with some guilt the line of blood running down his hand. "Aleks-"
But he's already on her, grabbing her again but pushing this time, till they're both a tumbling mess on the bed. Someone kisses first, who knows, but then all there is to feel is teeth, and lips, hands roaming all over, and the metallic taste of blood.
Aleksander rips back to assault her neck, sucking his mark all over her delicious skin. Alina in turn claws off his robe from his chest and shoulders, scratching as she goes till more blots of red stretch across his pale skin.
"My little wife, always defying me," He whispers between her breasts before rubbing his beard along her to go left and suck a dusty nipple into his mouth. He bites more than he should, then pulls back with a pop. "How many times do I have to fuck you into submission?"
Alina arches in invitation when she feels his hand skim south down her body. "Always once more, Sasha, always once more."
Aleksander sends her a dark look of promise, and she's about to question it, maybe taunt him more, when-
"Oh Aleks!" She screams when two fingers plunge into her. No preamble, no teasing, he's just there and pumping in and out, and fuck, she is so wet-"Yes, Sasha, please."
"My little Sun Summoner," He taunts, increasing his pace. "So naughty you were today."
He crooks his fingers inside her, turning just deliciously so, that Alina starts tearing and pleading anew.
"There, please, right there-Saints, just a little more-"
He's suddenly gone just as quick as he was there.
Alina cries out in frustration, glaring at him like she might just burn his head off.
"Apolgize, love. Atone for how bad you were."
"Bastard," Alina spits.
"Not the word I'm looking for."
"I will not. You egotistical ass, you can't control everyone-" Alina cries out again when his fingers return, more ruthless than before. Quicker, harder, bordering dangerously on the line between pleasure and pain.
Alina cants her hips up, try to get some rhythm going, but Aleksander won't allow her. He constantly changes the tempo, his movements, that she gets so close to release only to be ripped away from it again.
"Aleksander!" Alina begs, delirious with the need to cum. Her body is one fire, and her cunt leaking with an embarrassing amount of wetness. It's such a mess, she's such amess, and her husband just keeps going.
Until he stops again.
Alina sobs, falling against the mattress like a twitching wreck.
Aleksander reaches down to below his waist where his dick is straining upward, thick and red and wanting to be sheathed into her cunt. "Would you like my cock, moy tarista?" He grips it as rough as he fingered her, starting at the base and stretching upward.
Alina goes dry at the sight of how angry it looks.
"Please," She whimpers out.
"You know what I want, love." Aleksander cants his hips forward, the head of hic cock notching against her entrance. They both moan at the feel, but Aleksander doesn't push in further, and holds Alina down by the thighs when she tries to move.
She squeezes her eyes shut, quite possibly about to die or give into him. "No"
"No?" Aleksander quips, and pushes in a bit deeper. But then he pulls out completely.
"Aleksander!" Alina cries, gripping the sheets. "I won't! Mila deserves-"
"Deserves?" He sneers and fucks into her with one swift pump. Then all semblance of control is lost, his hips snapping backwards and forwards so swiftly that Alina is pushing against the headrest, her head bumping against the wood. He leans his body over her, biting at her earlobe. "What does she deserve?" He whispers harshly. "To love someone who will leave her? To have her heart broken over and over again?"
Alina is incapable of words. All there is, is Aleksander and his cock, driving her to insanity, to salvation, to everything and nothing. His hands palm her ass and squeeze, before sliding up her thighs to hitch them over his shoulders. She screams at the new angle but Aleksander doesn't miss a beat, plunging even deeper than before. The slap of their skin together sounds positively wet and dirty in the empty air of the room.
"How many times do I have to fuck that tracker out of you? How many times till I make you forget him and everyone else and all you know is me and my cock? Tell me, Alina."
She can't. She can't even think.
"Alina," Aleksander warns. He continues to fuck her into incoherency, but knows well enough when she's about to plunge into that final point of ecstasy. He won't allow her to, not until she gives him what he wants. "Tell me, Alina. Fucking tell me right now, or you don't get to cum."
"Aleks, please-"
"No, love. No please. It's not what I want-"
Alina shakes her head, wanting him and hating him with every fiber of her being. "But she won't ever have anyone else, she won't-"
Aleksander silences her with his mouth, groaning into her and making every bone in her body vibrate with it.
She whimpers when he pulls away. "She won't ever have anyone else," Aleksander breathes, looking deeply into her eyes. "She is cursed to be alone for eternity. You have cursed her, Alina. Our children will never have another to share their lives with. This is what you have done."
And then he lets her cum.
Aleksander drives into her and thumbs unforgivingly at her clit, finally pushing her over that all-consuming edge while his words do the same. Alina cries out in both pleasure and shame, her skin on fire and glowing, voice a broken sound so loud the servants must hear. Because he's right. He's a fucking bastard but he's right and it's her fault and she can't breathe under the weight of it all and her own body is sagging with exhaustion and numbing pleasure-
"Oh, Alina," The rough pads of his fingers swipe away her tears, before gently caressing the curve of her cheeks. "Shh, love. Don't cry."
But she can't stop. She's a monster. She's terrified Adrik from finding love and has now pushed Mila towards it. What has she done? What was she supposed to do?
She's cursed them.
Just as Aleksander said.
"I hate you," Alina says breathlessly into the darkening room. Her light has shimmered back into her body with each returning rational-tortured-thought, and Aleksander's shadows have obligingly taken their place. "I hate you."
I hate me, she doesn't say.
I hate me, she can't help but need to say.
Maybe Aleksander already knows this, for he does not rebuff her anymore. Just scoops her small frame into his arms, rubbing away the trembling and tears, with his cool hands and shows. Alina is being swallowed up by his darkness, and her own.
"From now on," He says, as Alina can't help but press her face into the crook of his neck. "We make decisions together. All decisions. Promise me, Alina."
Surprised, she pulls back to gage his expression, but there is nothing but the angles of his jaw, and even the barest gleam of his eyes. It's much too dark now. This, though, is a boon he's offering, a mercy she didn't think he was capable of. All decisions made together meant facing all the consequences together as well.
Both with Adrik and Mila she had been alone….hadn't thought to think of him. Was it because she hadn't trusted him? Feared how he would have responded?
Would things be worse now? Better?
Perhaps that particular question wasn't all too important. It wouldn't have mattered, even, because at least she wouldn't have been alone. So terribly, terribly along and guilty.
"Okay, Aleksander. I promise."
Adrik strides into Aleksander's office the next day with an air of confidence that makes the older man pause.
"Papa," His son begins, squaring his shoulders and clasping his hands behind his back. "I have a request."
Aleksander places down the paper he had been reading, a light throb beginning to vibrate in his temples. It seemed all his family was in a mood this week to show him some teeth. He just hoped Adrik wouldn't be giving him the same headaches the Morozova women had.
"The troop stationed down by the Frejeda border," Adrik continues, "I'd like to go there."
This…is not what Aleksander had expected. Since coming to the little palace, and publicly accepting his title, Adrik had never shown much interest in matters of the army. Of course, Aleksander kept him from most of his princely duties to begin with. Being the relationship that is was. But it was different now, as were they, so the boy had been brought more into the fold of governing a country. But Adrik's interest always lied with education and public relations. Never matters of war and death.
The troop near Frejeda had recently been sent due to some disturbing rumors of a rebel group wanting to go back to the old ways of hating and killing Grisha. Rumors, at this point, but best squash them now before they rooted any deeper. Especially since the Frejedan King claimed ignorance in the whole matter.
The troop was there for a defensive, not offensive stance, as there had been reports of some Grisha going missing in villages and towns stationed not far from the border. After all, Ravka and Frejeda were still publicly allies.
None of it sounds anything like Adrik. "And the reason behind this request?" Aleksander questions, leaning back in his chair.
Adrik fingers fidget for a second, but it's enough.
"Adrik?"
"The Little Palace has become stifling. I need some time away."
"Stifling?" Aleksander repeats with some surprise. This, perhaps, would be a complaint from Mila but not Adrik. He lived and breathed to teach his classes, be near to his mother and sister, and enjoy the peace and tranquility only the Little Palace could offer. The only thing that had ever truly bothered him living here had been Aleksander's own presence.
"And I should become more involved," Adrik plows on. "With our army. I am the Prince after all."
"And why the sudden change of heart?"
"The situation with Frejeda could turn for the worst. Perhaps my presence there will be helpful."
"Or more threatening," Aleksander counters. "They are still our allies and have publicly stated they know nothing of this rebel group. The presence of our soldiers there shows enough that we do not believe or trust them. Sending the Prince of Ravka would just solidify that uneasiness more and push someone to do something reckless."
Adrik's mouth thins with every word.
No, his son did not have a head for military strategy.
"Anywhere then," Adrik all but pleads. "Send me anywhere."
"Has something happened?"
Adrik sighs. He shouldn't be annoyed, really, he knew this wasn't going to be easy. His father wasn't just going to give him something because he simply asked for it. That was not Aleksander Morozova. "Nothing for you to worry about," Adrik looks at him earnestly, hoping the genuineness of the statement rings true. "It's personal. I just need some time away."
"Is your mother aware of this request, then?"
"I…no, she's not. I'll tell her, of course, but I thought I'd speak to you first."
Aleksander quickly corrects him, "You thought you'd get my permission first, and then just inform her of the situation."
Adrik blanches.
"Because it's something you don't want Alina to know about. Because if I sent you away on the grounds of a princely duty, she wouldn't question the situation any further. Isn't that correct?"
Correct. True. Of course, it's all true. Stupid, foolish, Adrik. Stupid, infuriating, Darkling. "If you're just going to talk circles around me, I'm rather not in the mood."
"But I do so enjoy it." Aleksander grins.
"Fine, I asked, you said no, I'll just-"
"Wait," The King unhurriedly raises his hand up. As if he was just swatting away a shadow. "I'll send you wherever you like. Even the Frejedan border if that's what you desire."
"But…you just said-"
"What I said is true. But I could care less for how that unenlightened country perceives your arrival. The King is a fool and liar who thinks he's neither and his time to give up the throne can come sooner rather than later."
"Oh, well, then-"
"I merely need to know why."
"Papa," Adrik groans, the word now a comfortable reoccurrence on his tongue. "I'm a grown man, why can't you just trust what I say?"
Sometimes, more times than he realizes even, Adrik reminds him so much of Alina. Carefree Alina, whose exasperation with him comes from a place fondness and isn't bogged down by years of animosity. Perhaps it was better this way, as with Alina, the beginning had been a lie (well, not completely but don't ask him to delve farther into that) manipulated to the whims of his agenda. There had been no pretense with Adrik. With his son, there had only been animosity and resentment in the beginning. Now there was acceptance, comfortableness, and even fondness when both of them were willing to let their guard down. In some ways, his relationship with Adrik may be one of the most honest ones he's ever had. But that didn't mean the pull to endlessly bother him had vanished. "Where's the fun in that?"
Adrik rolls his eyes, a mirror of Mila, and waves his hand in the air. "I need space."
"From?"
"Would you believe you?"
Aleksander barks out a laugh. "Perhaps any other day, but I don't believe I've provoked your ire as of late."
Adrik sighs. He had thought going this route would had been less painful (yet still, naturally, painful) than appealing to Alina. But, truthfully, he also hadn't gone to his mother in order to spare her the guilt his reasoning might cite in her.
"I…got to close to someone. At least, in my heart I did."
This, oddly, prompts his father into silence. But at the beckoning of his hand, Adrik knows he wants him to explain more. "It was nothing, really, in the end. There had been a girl-a woman, I mean. And I just…I allowed myself to want and hope for things. Like I said, nothing actually happened. But because of my feelings I overreacted over something foolish and I just-I need space. Remind myself of who I am and what I can't have."
Already knowing the answer, Aleksander still asks, "And what can't you have?" However, he doesn't ask it out of malice or to torture Adrik further. He's actually…well, concerned. As he had been with Mila, and now with his son. It seemed, though, his patrons were on opposite ends of romantic inclinations. Mila, tentatively approaching the subject, while Adrik is vehemently trying to run from it.
Perhaps he should call for Alina. They had, just last night, agreed to do things together. But Adrik's predicament is stemming for a decision made in the past, from his mother alone. Perhaps now his intervention could help balm it.
"Someone," Adrik answers quietly. "I can't have someone for myself."
Aleksander rises from his seat, and rounds his desk, coming to stop before it. "You must know there was women before your mother for me."
"I-yes, I assumed."
"Losing them, the ones I allowed to come close, hurt. Some more than others."
"Why are you telling me this?"
Aleksander leans back onto his desk. "As you said, you're a grown man. And your grasp on our immorality has obviously been displayed. So I believe you could enter a relationship, if you so desired, but with acceptance of the fact of where they will all eventually end." As Aleksander explains this, he opens up his bond to Alina, allowing her to hear his words. He couldn't go back on his own promise now, could he? At first, there is a flash surprise the conversation is happening, and then a subtle if not anxious silence.
"What's the point then?" Adrik asks, quiet and a bit helplessly.
Then Alina is there, standing behind her son with her face drawn and eyes shining. She had left early this morning to go into town and speak at a charity event. She must have walked away in order to view this interaction with her emotions so raw on her face.
"I should have told him I didn't regret Mal," She says, words only Aleksander can clearly hear. "I never told him about the love, only the pain."
Not for the last time, Aleksander wonders when he'll never have to hear that name again.
Though their children could never enter the bond their parents held, they were somehow aware of it. As if it was conversation being had down the hall, and they could just make out the sound of voices. Adrik stiffens slightly after Alina speaks, and glances over his shoulder. A feeling, perhaps, that he knows she's there but never a certainty.
"Life, I suppose," Aleksander gives a shrug. "Your mother is still trying to teach me these things."
This wrestles a laugh from Alina.
"Go, if you wish, Adrik. Just think on it."
Adrik nods his head, but by the resolute look on his face, it is obvious his plans have not changed. "Thank you, Papa."
Though he leaves, Alina doesn't disappear. "You're furious with Mila, but tell Adrik to do exactly the same?"
Aleksander pushes off the desk and approaches his wife. "Our children are not the same, Alina. Adrik is much more mature than Mila. He understands more, and can control himself."
"No one can control their own pain, Sasha," She counters despondently. "Not even you."
As he gently grabs her hips, Alina places her hands against his chest. Aleksander hadn't seen her leave this morning, so he takes now to admire her appearance. Her snow white hair knotted at the base of her neck, the rich blue dress made of kefta material with its swirling gold patterns. Beautiful as always. Beautiful for forever.
"There is always time to learn," He whispers against her cheek, placing a kiss there.
"How human of you to say."
"I learn from the best."
"Well, I hope you acknowledge Adrik is mature as he is because of me."
"Of course, moyo solnishko, I never doubted how wonderful a mother you are."
Alina nuzzles against his chest. "I just want them both to be happy," She whispers. "That's all I want. I understand loving someone will only hurt them but…how could they possibly live without either? How is it better?"
"I don't know, love. I have you, I'll never have to know."
SPOILERS FOR SMUT SCENE: Alina breaks a glass that cuts Aleksander's hand and then claws his skin too hard during sex. He in turn denies her orgasm. Their conversation during all of this is that Aleksander is mad she still remembers Mal, has influenced their daughter to pursue romance, and that since Alina wanted children she should accept the fact she has doomed them to a life of never having a immortal significant other. They then decide to make decisions concerning their children together.
Aleksander is his usual asshole self during all this so don't think Alina is all to blame.