Notes: More family good times (with special appearances from grumpy daddy Darkling) and what is that? An actual plot line emerging? Let's see where this goes...
(BRIEF ROW spoiler, If you want to skip it, it is when Nikolai is brought up in convo so just go to the next section of the story- *DONT READ IF YOU DONT WANT TO BE SPOILED- mention of Nikolai and Zoya being together)
Alina loves Demyan.
He makes Adrik smile. Laugh. Melt into a softness she only ever sees rarely now and far and in between since he's been a child. Her heart feels like it is going to burst with the light stored there when he introduces the charming otkazat'sya at their first dinner together as a family in ages.
He dazzles Alina with a smile and kiss to her knuckles, offering the same greeting to Mila who giggles, delighted at the action.
To Aleksander he bows more lowly than necessary, but in the presence of the King and Darkling, she can not fault him. Her husband politely nods his head in turn and takes his seat at the head of the table. No other word offered, though. In hindsight, she supposes it's the best Aleksander can offer in the face of a stranger suddenly in his personal space. A stranger who has most obviously captured their son's heart.
She knows he is disgruntled over this new face, but he has yet to offer Alina much insight to his true thoughts on the subject. She supposes, with a wicked grin, Aleksander's rational has failed to back his frustration for this particular turn of events, and its only his feelings as a father that has him grumpy at the mention of the otkazat'sya's name.
She can't wait to tease him once he finally breaks.
Mila is curious over Demyan.
Sure, he is very good looking and her brother apparently adores him, it's obvious a half hour into dinner. And she is happy for Adrik. Truly. She's never seen him so at ease. And the guilt she felt over him leaving seems to have been forgiven as he had greeted her with a warm and heavy hug. And of course, Demyan.
But she thought, well, she thought Adrik didn't believe he could ever have a true partner. Just like her. That it wouldn't matter since they were immortal and any one they chose to care for would eventually die. But now…
Now there is Demyan. And Adrik, who has reached a level of happiness she didn't think possible, and Mila is, frankly, jealous.
Perhaps she had been hasty with her take on all of this. Maybe there was some stock in attaching oneself to a partner. It would certainly be nice to be held once in a while. Sex was great, but it never lasted much beyond that. Never to the point that she would dare consider bringing someone to their family dinner. And Adrik is the smartest person she knows. Well, perhaps after her parents, but they were her parents they didn't count.
Papa would certainly be happy over the prospect at least, considering his recent behavior to her decisions.
Aleksander dislikes Demyan.
Certainly not him has a person (though he does think he is more charming than he truly is) but all that he represents. First, Aleksander believed it would always been him and his mother. Than the prospect of a Sun Summoner and finally, Alina. It had meant to stop there. But then there was Adrik, and then Mila, and now Alina wants another.
It's more than he's ever expected but he's grown use to the idea of more of them, at least. But certainly not this interloper. What was the point? He could never stay, he'd just leave like the rest, so was Aleksander expected to just bear his presence till then?
He had thought Adirk had been smarter than this. Yes, Mila was certainly causing a headache with her escapades but it never occurred to him to be worried over his other child.
No-not worried. That was not what this was. Alina worried over things, Aleksander planned for the realistic outcomes of things. And this was obviously going to end one way.
His eyebrow twitches as Alina and Mila laugh over something Deyman says, while Adrik gazes at him adoringly.
"What are your new orders then?" He asks, bluntly disrupting whatever conversation they all had been having.
Adrik immediately looks at him wearily but Deyman smiles without hesitation, and promptly answers, "No orders at the moment, moy tsar. I believe I will be spending time here until that changes."
Well, Aleksander could certainly make things change. He could make it that Deyman never sees Os Alta again. He'd certainly cleaned up the matter with Mila's ever changing partners. But this, he knows, would be different. His family certainly would not stand his interference with this particular person.
Aleskander grits his teeth. First, he had to bow to the whims of his wife, and now apparently his children. What has become of his life?
So he simply nods and continues to eat his food, remaining silent for the rest of the meal.
Alina throws a glance at the back of her husband's back.
He's been quiet but obviously stewing for the past hour, refusing to meet her gaze and aggressively trying to fall asleep. But she could see his stiff posture, and knew that he never liked to sleep on his side like that.
"Aleksander," She sighs, closing her book. "Do I need to worry?"
He doesn't answer for a moment, but his body seems to grow even more tense.
"Worry about what?" He finally replies, but not moving an inch.
She rolls her eyes and places the book on her night stand. Then she slides against the sheets of their bed till she can nuzzle her face into the space between his shoulder blades, and throws a leg over his hips. "You know what."
"I don't care to know what you're referring to."
She squeezes his body. "Don't be rude," She tuts. "And don't be so skulkly. People will think you've lost your edge."
His hand grabs her wrist, squeezing it with reassurance. "Never. Though you've made it your mission in life to soften me at every possible turn."
She grins into his back. "Shall I consider tonight a victory for me in that ongoing war then?"
"Alina-"
"I've never seen Adrik this happy. How can you be upset over that?"
"That's not-" He lets out a huff and rolls over, flipping to his other side to face Alina. Immediately he encircles her in his grasp, pulling her body into the warmth of his own. She hums contently, hitching her leg even tighter around him. "This has nothing to do with Adrik's happiness."
"I think it has everything to do with it."
"Well consider the depth of his misery, then, when that captain dies."
"Aleksander," Alina hisses, but fails to build upon the retort. What argument was there to have over that very real fact?
"I thought I didn't have to worry about him," Aleksander continues. "And that he understood the implications of attaching himself to something so limited."
Alina sighs. "Love and happiness are not easy things to bar yourself from. One could even argue it's unhealthy to try. You didn't yourself, for some time."
She's knows of his past. Of the women he allowed himself to get close to and who he dared to care for. Those stories all tragically ended the same, but yet Alina never sensed Aleksander every fully regretted them. That even his cold heart could not deny the pleasure of sharing intimacy with someone.
Aleksander leans forward to press his forehead against hers. "I learned," He admits tiredly. Gives her nose a tender nuzzle. "It became too much. I decided to wait. For you."
"And you found me," Alina whispers, and gives him a light kiss. "Adrik and Mila know that…there's no one to wait for. So let them learn. Let them decide."
It is extremely rare for his emotions to ever get the better of him. But right now he finds he can't help it. He finds himself in a world he never expected to ever exist. Where he can't have as much control as he wants, and that fact makes him feel weaker than he's ever felt in ages. His grey eyes stare deeply into her own as this damning fear grows strong and stronger. "Alina, never leave me. I won't be able to survive it."
Her eyes widen at the naked show of fear and her heart pounds with too many emotions. "Is that something you're worried about after all this time?"
"I will worry about it for eternity."
"Aleksander," Alina breathes before kissing him deeply. Their arms tighten around each other, and all space between them is destroyed with a desperate ferocity. He is already hard, obvious by the hard nudge against her stomach, and she can't stop herself from trying to grind her hips up into it. She can't help want him. She never could.
"I love you," Aleksander proclaims, pulling away from her. His hand slides up to cup her cheek, and he tugs her close, making sure she is listening. Making sure she understands. "The other day, when you asked me if I would leave all of it behind. I didn't answer then, but now, Saints Alina, I would. I swear it. All I want is you. All I need is you. You are absolutely everything."
Her breath trembles on the next exhale, and In lieu of answering Alina surges forward to claim his mouth again. She doesn't know how to respond to that. She's not even sure if Aleksander truly means it. Maybe he wants to mean it, and that should be enough. It feels like it, at least. But there is a sudden deep chasm of sadness created over his proclamation, one that feels as dark as the shadows Aleksander can summon. Even her light doesn't feel powerful enough to brighten it. So she kisses the man she has been blessed and cursed to be with, just as he makes love to the woman he is blessed and cursed to be with.
And that chasm remains, both wanting to breach it but despite years of life and knowledge, they are left utterly unsure how.
"I've gotten better," Mila proclaims with a smirk.
Adrik simply shrugs his shoulders and clasps his hands behind his back. "I would hope so as you're still learning. But that still doesn't mean you've gotten better than me."
"If this is your idea of trash talk," Demyan shouts not too far off to the side. "I'm embarrassed for the both of you!"
It's a bit early for Mila to be awake, but Adrik had knocked on her door with imploring eyes to come spend the day with he and Demyan. She, apparently, was the best choice of the family to spend an extended period of time with. They, apparently, were morning people. So she obliged, because they were siblings who never really ever said no to each other. Unless one was being an ass, which, historically has been her.
That was either here nor there, though.
After a particularly delicious breakfast (probably a subtle message from the kitchens they were happy their prince was back home), Demyan had begged to see her Summoning. Always flattered by such a request, Mila couldn't help but get a little cocky and proclaim she'd give him more a show than Adrik ever could.
Which she really, truly, hadn't mean as a double entendre. But Adrik grew beet red in a second and Demyan nearly chocked on his tea he laughed so hard.
So now they were going to demonstrate a fight, to see who truly could give a good show. Shadow Summoner verse Sun Summoner. Mila distantly wonders if she made a mistake goading her older brother as he seems far too calm and collected across the training field. For a second, he looks like their father.
Mila swallows that thought away.
Raising an eyebrow, Adrik asks simply, "Ready, mladshaya sestra?"
Fluttering her fingers, she nods and waits for Adrik to make the first move. This, however, he seems to have decided to do himself as he doesn't twitch the slightest muscle. They continue to stare, and Mila only slightly starts when Demyan shouts, "I have to say, my expectations are being really let down over here!"
Adrik looks over to him and smiles. "Patience. Mila is trying to remember what our parents have taught her. Give her a moment."
"What? Ass, I remember! How dare you think-" She squeals when two thick ropes wrap around her ankles and pull her right down onto her ass. The ground is hard, and she knows her rump is going to be smart tomorrow. Not even thinking, she alights her body in a quick flash, dispelling the shadows that Adrik had summoned without even the slightest hint.
"Ass!" She hisses again, glaring over at him.
Again, Adrik just smiles but its certainly got a cocky edge to it now. He is certainly putting on a show of being their father this morning. And was doing a wonderful and miserable job of it.
Mila pushes herself back up and quickly swipes her hand, sending a quick Cut his way. A tempered one, of course, that would burn more than bruise. But Adrik sweeps his hand down and swallows it will a pillar of dark, and then has it fall to the ground like water and flow to her like a tidal wave. Mila Summons her own wall of light to burn the shadows before than can touch her and pushes it forward with a lack of finesses but a great show of power.
This time Adrik escapes into a mass of billowing black, hiding his body from her light and shifting around the field like a monster's shadow till it is safe enough for him to reappear.
Mila grits her teeth. She hasn't quite mastered the opposite of his move, using the light to make her disappear completely. In truth, she's focused more on offensive moves than defensive ones in her training. Ways to make her opponent burn and bleed. Adrik, on the other hand, could use his shadows to play with her all day and never truly hurt her.
Adrik steps out of his shadows and then looks at her expectantly. "Really Mila? This is the best you have?"
Mila raises her hands and Summons a ball of light so large, it is like the sun on earth. She lets it brighten and brighten and brighten, and smiles when she sees Adrik raise his hand to cover his eyes. Then she lets its burst, showering the world with light, and uses the opportunity to rush toward her brother and pushes his hands away to place her own there.
"Got you!" She pronounces with a smile. "Concede unless you'd like to go blind."
She really doesn't see it coming.
Adirk twists her wrist that she crumples with a cry, and kicks her straight in the stomach. And again, she is back on her ass.
Adrik checks over Mila quickly, assuring himself he hadn't really done any real harm. But the red in her face is from anger not pain, she glowers at him like she wants to truly Cut him in half. "It's not all about Summoning in a fight," He tuts. "And if you want to win, win, don't make empty threats."
"What, did you actually want me to burn your eyes out?" She snaps.
"Of course not. So that shouldn't have been your plan."
"Adrik, you awful, wretched-"
Adrik feels it before he sees it. Like calls to like, after all. He turns on his heel and Summons so swiftly its almost too late, but he conjures a wall of black to intercept an incoming blast of it. The two explode against each other creating a whirlwind of horrifically beautiful shadows, wildly meshing and dancing together. Mila shouts and covers Adirk and herself with a shield of light when one of the masses overpowers the other and breaches through to consume them.
The two siblings see nothing for a long minute, nothing but the light that protects them and the darkness beyond it. Mila can feel the shadows pressing against her orb, and she trembles to keep it aloft, sweat even gathering at her brow.
"Breathe," Adrik says soothingly beside her.
She does and then she rationalizes. Mila knows the power she is trying to hold back isn't an inkling of what it could truly be. It's another game, another test, and Mila plans to hold out as long as possible and show how much she can take.
"Can you make it larger?" Adrik asks when the storm outside doesn't calm.
"I-" Maybe. Her muscles are aching and now there is sweat everywhere, but Mila can feel there is more left in het to Summon. "Yes, I can. I-" Her eyes widen with a sudden idea. "Adrik, you can help me."
He looks uncertain.
"If I make a small breach, enough for you to Summon through, have your shadows cover my shied. It will make it easier for me to make it larger if you're keeping some of that out there at bay."
Adrik considers it. It isn't a terrible idea, but it would be tricky. They would both have to be quick, not give a single moment of hesitation, and truly put all the power they had into it. "There," Adrik points off to upper left. "In three seconds."
Mila nods and takes in a breath and Adirk counts. "One, two…three!"
It sounds like the crack of a boulder when Mila lets her light fracture open, and the shadows from the outside try to spill in as Adrik forces his own out. It is a mesh of power struggling against each other, a combative force that literally thins the air and deafens the ears.
Mila is panting trying to keep that small spot open until finally Adrik shouts, "Now!"
With a twist of the wrist her shield becomes whole again and she doesn't give herself the time to wait as she thrusts out her arms and pushes. With every fiber of her being she Summons the light and lets it get bigger and bigger. The pressure against it is less now, she can see Adrik swirling his shadows around her light until he too extends his arms and gives a grunt of power. Two shields on top of each other now, expanding with all their might.
Then another crack, and their shields break loose with victory. The sky is back, and the training field around them. Demyan looks like a gapping fish starring off to the side. And there is their father a few feet away, arms crossed behind his back and looking smug.
"Very well done, you two," He commends with a nod of his head.
When she falls on her rump this time, Mila truly doesn't care. She gasps for air and lets her body just sprawl out against the ground. "We…came out here….for fun," She pants.
Adrik doesn't fall but does bend to his knees and take in more controlled breathes. He looks to Demyan first, assuring he's alright, then plants a firm glare on Aleksander. "Was that necessary?"
The older man tips his head to side in mock confusion. "What? That wasn't fun? It was fun for me."
"I wouldn't even begin to fathom your idea of fun." Adrik straightens and extends a hand towards Mila. She takes it weakly and groans as he pulls her up.
"So, we can agree no one won due to this interference?"
He scoffs. "I got you on your ass, I clearly won."
Aleksander walks over to them and tuts his daughter's nose. "He's right, solnishka, never get so close to someone unless you plan to do something about it."
She rolls her eyes at them both. "Well it's not like my light can touch people and not burn them, unlike your shadows."
"Perhaps more training then?" Her mother suggests as she walks briskly across the field to greet them, her modest blue gown swishing regally with her steps. "I have of course bested your father many times without killing or blinding him."
"Many might be too generous a word, darling." Aleksander pretends to look put off by her statement, but smiles indulgently when she kisses his cheek and curls her arm around his. "And you may have succeeded killing me once."
"What?" Mila asks immediately.
"He jokes," Alina assures, only feeling slightly guilty at the lie. She will tell Mila everything, soon. Very soon. But not now, when things were oddly but blessedly peaceful between them all. Jumping to a new topic, she asks primly, "And why was I the only one not invited to this little demonstration today?"
"Neither of you were," Adrik answer dryly but smiles when Demyan comes to join them. "What did you think?"
"That was amazing," The otkazat'sya commends with a wide grin. "Brilliant. I couldn't even conjure up what just happened in a dream."
Mila scoffs. "I didn't even scratch the surface."
"Mila, you were wonderful breaking through your father's shadows," Alina interjects. "You and Adrik doing that together was very clever."
"It looked spectacular," Demyan agrees and gives her shoulder a squeeze.
Aleksander's eyes narrow at the show of familiarity. "Come," He announces and tugs Alina along, with the silent understanding his children will follow. "I've grown an appetite."
"Oh, Papa, let's not eat lunch here. Let's go into town to that parlour I love with the sticky buns!"
"Oh, I haven't had those in a while," Alina gushes. She squeezes his arm and asks with a sweetly sick voice, "So warm and soft, I'm drooling just thinking about it. Can we please, moy tsar?"
Aleksander pretends to consider the request, giving a suffering sigh after a minute. "I suppose if my Queen and Princess demand it."
Mila squeals happily. "Have you ever had them Demyan?"
Aleksander's smile fades.
"Can't say I have. You both make it sound like gifts from the Saints, though."
"They're absolutely delicious!" Alina exclaims. "Even my husband here can't stick to just having one. You're going to love them."
"Just don't watch Mila when she eats them," Adrik warns. "She'll go through ten like a ravenous wolf."
Everyone laughs, save the Darkling still coming to terms with yet another unexpected addition to the family.
"Do you know who Deyman reminds me of?"
Again, with this blasted otkazat'sya. Must everyone continuously fawn over him at every hour of the day? When his wife suggested a late-night stroll through the gardens, Aleksander had assumed it would be pleasant and stress free.
"I don't bother remembering people. The list would be too long."
Alina rolls her eyes and bumps his hip. "Could you not be morbid for a minute?"
"Sorry, afraid I can't. It's one of my specialties."
Alina's arm slips out of the crook of his own, and she pauses on the path to bend down and admire a long stemmed blue flower. Her favorite. Her hand hovers delicately near it till she pets the pedal with a great gentleness, sighing as she does. "Nikolai."
Aleksander does not miss the wistfulness in her whisper, or the way her body tenses for a small moment. Probably preparing for his retort of the bastard prince's mention. Alina does not like to bring up the people from their shared past to him. To Alina, he was not their friends, and he had inflicted enough damage to them to be unforgivable. Aleksander does not care, of course, but now as he gazes down at his wife, still crouched on the ground and petting a flower, he wonders what toll that might have on her. To not be able to speak of people to the one person who was there, knew them, and could understand. They weren't stories, then, but actual lives that existed and mattered.
Aleksander wonders if he has been cruel to not allow her this reprieve.
Though he wants to do anything but, he coaxes her to continue her thought. "How so?"
Alina, the pads of her fingers still smoothing up and down against the skin of the petals, wonders if Aleksander truly wants to continue this conversation. If he's just waiting to make a snide remark or perhaps indulge her only to point out the weakness of letting the past continue to weigh on her. Either way, now that she's uttered the name aloud she feels more words clambering up her throat with the need to be let loose. "Well, they look alike, for one. But I suppose that's too easy. It's the personality, more so. Nikolai always managed to just be so light, and insufferably charming. He could always make things easy, or at least try to, even when he himself was carrying his own worries."
Aleksander doubted Demyan was carrying even an ounce of darkness that Lanstov was cursed with (and he put there), but he knew Alina was just happy to talk of the prince and what she remembered.
"And perhaps the biggest similarity, you cared little for them both." She rises now, and turns to him with a playful smirk. There is vulnerability in her eyes, though, that he might crush this moment for her.
Aleksander smiles at her, reaching forward to reclaim her arm and curl it against his. No, he will not be his usual self-right now. He will let his wife be happy. "Perhaps because both are pups drooling over things that are mine. Look there, another similarity."
Alina laughs in surprise. "Adrik and I are things you own then?"
He huffs with feigned annoyance. "Poor choice of word, my love. You understand my point, regardless."
"Your possessiveness knows no bounds. You know you never needed to worry about him, not in that regard."
Of course. They both knew who was the true cause of worry of having Alina's heart, but that was a name neither would ever speak to each with. There was no mercy in Aleksander's heart to allow him to do so, and no forgiveness Alina could ever grant.
"I had just been a distraction in that instance," Alina continues, coughing a bit to hide her emotion. "He and Zoya were head over heels for each other."
"Of all people, I would not have guessed it would be him Zoya would choose," Aleksander ventures to say. Another name he must treat carefully, lest he spark any ire.
"Me either," Alina nods. "But after seeing it, seeing them, it suddenly made all the sense in the world."
The conversation drifts off here, as Aleksander dare not push anymore to speak of the people Alina once loved, and he once hurt. She seems content as well to not continue it, appeased at what memories that were relived. So, they continue on their stroll in a comfortable silence, enjoying the stars and the solid presence of the other next to them.
"You're terrible at his."
Demyan shoots Mila a glare over his shoulder. There is flour on his face. His hands. His clothes. A sickening amount in his hair. He'd need a bath after this. Thank Saints there was actual heat in the Little Palace for that.
"I didn't ask you here to criticize, you know."
Mila is perched on table, looking almost bored as Demyan has sweat quite literally dripping down his back. She examines her nails with a yawn. "You didn't ask me to help either. I'm just enjoying the show."
"I had thought-"
"I cannot bake," She interrupts swiftly. "As I mentioned several times when you came up with this silly idea."
Demyan huffs and looks down at the bowl in his hands. The batter looks far too lumpy and a bit…too yellow. It's his fourth go, though, and the thought of remaking a whole new concoction has his muscles tensing. Perhaps he shouldn't have asked the cooks to ignore him.
"Why the Saints does he enjoy such an incredibly difficult cake?"
Mila grinned. "Because it's delicious. And we have people to make it for us, obviously."
Demyan snorted out some flour from his nose. Yes, he could have asked the cooks to just make this monstrosity that is apparently Adrik's favorite dessert, but he wanted to do it damn it. It would be special, romantic. All those things that make Adrik blush furiously and kiss him passionately. But this…this was not anything along those lines.
He might make Adrik sick at this point.
Mila hops off the table and approaches him slowly, her nose scrunching up with distaste. "Yea, that looks nauseating. You can't cook that."
Demyan pushes the bowl from with a frustrated sigh. "I'm a fool."
"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself." Mila places a hand on his arm. "It's not like he's going to leave you because you can bake his favorite dessert. Adrik doesn't care about these things."
"I know he doesn't. I just wanted to do something nice for him."
Mila hates everything to do with the kitchen. She can't cook, hates the mess, and has no patience for when it gets too hot and it makes her skin sticky. She had been dying to escape the room the moment Demyan brought her here and let her in on his plan. But the poor man looks so sad now. She's not used to seeing such utter emotional honestly, it's actually making her uncomfortable. So, yes, she hates the kitchen but figures this is a cause worth suffering through.
"His favorite meal is cabbage stew."
Demyan looks up at her confused.
"I know, it's gross. Who actually says cabbage stew is their favorite meal? But apparently it was what my mother made him the most growing up and it's one of his fondest memories. That must be easier than baking this glump, right?"
"I-yes, I suppose."
"And I will give you a bit of my help. Just a bit. It can't be that hard to throw a bunch of ingredients in a pot."
It was for her brother, after all.
Adrik tries not to worry. Tries and fails.
It's not fair that he's actually happy for once in his life and his own mind is trying to sabotage it. That there is a whispering voice, catching him during times of ease, that says this can't last.
Adrik knows, logically, it's wrong. But honestly, he can't help but fear it will somehow come true. Everyone in his family seemed desperate for some form of happiness, and yet it always got muddled one way or another. Even before Mila was here, and himself. Saints, even before Alina existed there was Aleksander and his plights. Perhaps that was the price of immorality. To be given the ability to chase something, but never truly grasp it.
These are thoughts that haunt him deep into the night. These are fears he tries to tell himself is just his anxiety running rampant. But when his mother turns a corner in the palace, coming upon him in the empty hallway, Adrik feels the tiled floor shift beneath his feet. Alina's face is drawn tight and her eyes angry. The Queen of Ravka stands before him now. As she meets Adrik's gaze, and there is a flash of sadness but it returns to its cold demeanor in the blink of an eye.
"Adrik, come with me to the war room. Now."
Those nasty voices roar with triumphant.
No, good things can't last.
In the beginning of her life, the idea of war always sacred Alina. Yes, she had been a mapmaker who generally stayed away from any conflict, but there had been moments her life had been at risk. Then there had been a Fold, a dark cloud of fear that reached into every soldier's and civilian's heart whether you braved to cross it or not. There had been the ever-present fear for Mal, and her other friends.
Then she became a leader, was faced with a foe only she could defeat, and the fear remained but it had morphed into a sad resignation. That her role of Sun Summoner was an unwanted title she had no choice but to play. That she had to face a man who both repulsed and fascinated her. That people looked to her like she was so much more than she ever truly felt. That on some days she didn't even know who she truly was with so much expectation suffocating the air she breathed.
But then she no longer had to deal with war. She retreated into a life and quiet and peace, and though enemies once again knocked on Ravka's doors during that lifetime, her friends had taken up the mantle to defend it.
Yet there can never be peace in Ravka.
War kept coming, and one had brought Aleksander back to her life. Had given them both a throne. Alina isn't sure how she felt during that time. It all seems like a blur, looking back on it. Soldiers had attacked a town she often traveled with to buy specialty foods. She knew the faces and names of the shopkeepers, the children who played in the market. When the foreign invaders attacked, there was no time for fear or anger. Instinct had her burst into light and it was all over before she could process the sweep of her powerful arms.
Aleksander made sure that war didn't last long. Not with the return of a Shadow and Sun Summoner.
It had been, blessedly, good since then. Allies remade, treaties drawn and signed. The skirmish with Frejda at the border should have ended with what they called it, a rogue rebellious group.
It should have just ended there.
But now war has come again, and Alina finds herself, the time, furious. For this time, her children walk in this world. This time, she feels a ferocious need to protect and destroy anyone who would dare touch them.
Adrik stands next to her, only a foot behind to show some deference of their stations. Around the table is their council and heads of military currently residing Os Alta. In the back stands Demyan, his station allowing him entry into the room but not enough to engage in strategy.
"Repeat it to me again," Alina says, deathly calm.
One of their top Grisha, a Inferni, nods, and sweeps a hand to the south. "When the Prince had gone to the border, we had thought he dispelled the traitorous group for good in the last interaction. We of course left a small amount of our forces to monitor the area, should they return, but we didn't expect them to return in the form of a full-frontal attack."
"They sent a small force first at night, effectively killing the surveillance team we left," A human general intercedes. "With them out of the way, a mass of about 100 soldiers marched the border and burnt the nearby villages to ash."
Adrik represses the stutter that wants to rack through his body. He had been to some of those villages. Talked to the people. They were simple traders and farmers, and of no threat to anyone.
"They haven't moved forward yet. They have stationed themselves in the area, and Fredja continues to send more soldiers."
"And what are they thinking," Alina asks, her eyes trained on the map before her. "To kill Grisha? Gain land? What is their motivation?"
"We are not sure yet, my Queen," a colonel answers. "We have sent a group to parlay with whoever is in the charge."
Alina lets out a laugh that sounds more like a snarl. "Because I'm sure that fool of a king has nothing to say now that he can no longer claim innocence. They march under his flag."
"Your orders?" The colonel asks.
Just as Alina is about to reply, the general cuts in. "Perhaps we should wait for the Tsar to return before we move forward?"
The room grows deathly quiet.
Adrik has never had the pleasure, or inclination, to be friendly with the general. His name was Maxim, which sounded as rough as his muscled and broad body that always felt imposing in any room he was in. A look of displeasure always scrunched his weathered face, and curled his greying black beard, but he was good at commanding soldiers. People listened when Maxim spoke, and had no failures on his belt of tasks ever assigned to him.
Alina regards him coolly. "And why is that, general?"
Aleksander and Mila had gone off for a ride when the news broke of the attack. Though a messenger had been sent to bring them back to the castle, depending on where they rode it wouldn't be a return made with a snap of the finger.
"Well," Maxim's lips ground together and his nose sucks up some air nosily. "This is obviously an act of war. What we plan to do next is imperative, and can't be taken lightly-"
"Taken lightly?" Alina cuts off. "And who, may I ask, is taking this matter lightly?"
The general grimaces again.
"Perhaps the general fears that the amount of years since the last time the army had been deployed too great," Adrik answers smoothly. He inwardly relishes how red the general's face grows. His mother could naturally cut this man down with her words in an instant, but Adrik felt some of his own vindictiveness needing to be quelled over this man openly disrespecting her. "War has not come to Ravka in some time."
The general looked ready to spit, he was so angry.
"Is that it?" Alina asks, her voice painted with faux surprise. "General, should you find your soldiers, or yourself even, not up to the task let me know immediately and the proper reinstatements will be made."
"That is not it at all, my Queen!" Maxim argues. "That it would even be suggested-"
Alina's hands fall to the table. Not so much as a slap, but forceful enough to show it a final signal to the end of this matter. "Then you will be silent. Your Tsarista is speaking."
Alina falls heavily into a cushioned seat and angles her face toward the roaring fire. "He's lucky I didn't slice that odious beard off his face."
Aleksander swallows down all the vodka from his glass, then immediately slams it back down onto the table to replenish it. "He serves a purpose, as they all do."
The war room is a mess, figurines and papers scattered about. It had been occupied till about five minutes ago, with masses of people talk and strategizing, running in and out the door. Only the Royal family remains, weary with the day's events.
Mila is starring down at the map, noting what figurines stood where, and the red lines that would indicate movements happening in the next few days. She is, a she parents say, far too young to fight in a war, but the Princess of Ravka should not be ignorant of it either. Today was for her to learn and observe, and now with everyone gone, she truly could pour over the details with more fervor.
"Why there?" She wonders aloud. It was the question of the night. No word had been sent back from the parlay. Why Fredja was doing this, specifically in this area, remains unknown.
"The answer is never worth it," Aleksander comments tiredly, coming over to grab her gently around the shoulders. "Human squabbles are all the same throughout the centuries."
"Aleksander, please," Alina groans.
He shoots her a glare. "Your mother is still a bit too young to realize that yet."
She raised her head up from her seat. "Do not start with me today, Aleksander."
"Papa," Mila interrupts, sensing a brooding cloud forming between her parents. She looks up at her father innocently, titling her head ever so. "May I have one?"
He huffs out an indulgent smile, and nods over to the liquor table. "Just one, zolotse."
She smiles happily and tries not to skip over to her destination. She is still, technically, not allowed to drink but her father, and mother on occasion, allow her a small reprieve on celebratory, or like right now, difficult day.
Adrik is slumped in a chair, his own glass of liquor in his hands, but it still looks as if he just poured it, idly swirling the clear liquid round and round. His eyes look distant, as if he's not actually present in the room.
"Adrik," Alina says softly when she notices. "Are you alright?"
The glaze in his eyes disappears, and he blinks a moment before coming back to himself. "Fine." He pulls his head back to take large swallow of his drink.
Adrik has never been much of a drinker.
"Adrik," Alina continues, sitting up straight with worry. "You did very well today. I was very proud you."
He scoffs and practically spits out, "Proud of what?"
Mila's eyes widen and even Aleksander pauses his perusal of the map in front of him to stare coolly at his son. Alina looks downright shaken, as if he might has well just reached out and slapped her across the face. Out of all them, Adirk is the least to lash out when something was bothering him. He had a cool head, and reasoned through his emotions instead of letting them get the better of him. For that exact reason he was more often than not the peacekeeper between them all when they squabbled.
Yet the most concerning thing of it all, he had lashed out at Alina. His mother.
"Adrik," She whispers with a shaky breath, unsure what to even say next.
Adirk rises to his feet and slams his glass down onto the table. "What did I help do today? Confirm facts everyone already knows? Point out possible travel routes and towns and villages that hold potential to be saved or stationed? I'm not needed for that. Anyone could have done that."
Mila reaches feebly for him. "Adrik-"
But he brushes her away, and takes a step closer to his mother. "I'm the Prince but I'm just an ornament. Easier seen but not heard from. I should have just kept to the back with Mila."
"Hey!" She cries indignantly but her voice is lost under her brother's.
"I don't know war. I didn't grow up in one, I never fought in one. I don't know how. I shouldn't have spoken today. I've only-only ruined things and should not have pretended to be something I'm not and gone down to that border-" He sucks in a shuddering breath and stops moving. His ears are ringing, and blackness hovers at the corners of his eyesight. That village, those people, are haunting his mind. The soldiers he had spent time with and left behind. Their deaths have weighed him down inch by inch all day, until finally they cracked any strength he had left, and the dark abyss swallowed him whole. He doesn't even realize he is trembling till someone gently places their hands on his shoulders.
"Adrik," Alina says softly. She squeezes him assuredly, and he feels warmth seep from her flesh into his. "It's not your fault. Absolutely none of this is your fault."
It sounds like a lie. A pretty lie to soothe a useless prince who is so out of his depth. Adrik shakes his head and all but lurches away from her, his hip painfully connecting with the edge of the table as a result. He grunts and grits his teeth, yet it does nothing to stop the tears, not from that pain, but a deeper one now begging to be released.
"I provoked them," He states shakily. "Maybe they would have just kept to raiding or-or I don't know, something less than this, if I hadn't attacked them. If a Shadow Summoner hadn't put them down."
Alina shakes her head. "You don't know that-"
"What do I know of any of it?" He responds back desperately. "I went there for a foolish reason to begin with. And maybe that's all I am, a fool."
"Enough"
Adrik grows silent as his father's command and doesn't recoil when he places a heavy hand to his shoulder. So rarely, they touch. Perhaps not even ever. Adrik is too frenzied to even try to recall another time. But the pressure of his father's hand doesn't feel oppressive, nor the stoic expression on his face feel indifferent. Because Adrik sees the look in his eyes. The same colored eyes he has. Aleksander is angry, furious even. The greys are consumed by pools of black and they gleam with a hunger for violence.
"You put down mongrels," He states, his voice radiating with tension. Power. Threat. "Dirty heathens who were hurting our people. Just not Ravkans, but Grisha. Though I have lived many lifetimes, the hate for our kind has never vanished. Humans are scared, fragile creatures who will continue to throw rocks at things more powerful than them. Do not regret what you did. Be sorry you couldn't have killed more."
Adrik's breathing evens out ever so slightly.
"Frejda has had its sight set on us for quite some time. This was all inevitable, with or without what you did."
"Even so," Adrik asks, frantically searing for further benediction. "What can I do now?"
"You'll be taught war, and you will through it. Just like I have, and just like your mother has. We do not have the luxury to be ignorant of such things."
"And then," Alina comes toward them, reaching out her hand and beckoning Mila close as well.
They form an imperfect circle, but a close one. Shadow and Sun Summoners. A family. Faced with those would bring them down, and dependent on no one but each other. As it always has, and will be.
Alina palms her son's cheek. "We take care of anyone who threatens us. Threatens this family. Always, no matter what, we have each other and we protect each other."
"Always," Aleksander echoes, sharing a meaningful look with his wife.
Always.