There is the unavoidable truth that, sometimes, the Morozovas can not remain under the same roof together.

There are political functions, charity ones, and even the simple need to get away from Court life. Reasons of war and conflict have been almost nonexistent for as long as the Prince and Princess have been alive. Adrik's brief expedition to the Frejdan border was the closest they have ever gotten, and that pain of separation had been felt enough.

But now it is truly a time of war, as news has come the King was dead, usurped by a military coo, and there was no desire to broker peace with a country littered with witches. There was frustration of having let Ravka become so more powerful, and Fredja so weak. There would be no negotiations. There would only be death.

Aleksander had thrown the childish proclamation into the fire the night he received it, and had ordered for his carriage to be ready the next day.

"Why?" Mila asked quietly as the messenger left to comply with the directive.

Aleksander was hunched over the fireplace, his knuckles growing white with the grip he held on the mantle. The veil of destruction was threatening to overtake him, the promise of blood and death and ruin to the fools who would dare hurt his kind and threaten his country. Even now it was hard to keep the shadows at bay and not break every object in his proximity. One being, which he was chanting to himself over and over again, his daughter. So when he replied, he did so through gritted teeth and not turning around, "Why what?"

The War Room was empty save for them, Alina gone to tally up the Grisha present in the Little Palace while Adrik went to find his Captain.

Mila was perched on the table, looking so small and lost as her father bared nothing but his tense back to her. "Why do you have to go?"

She knew it was a childish question. It sounded even more pathetic than in her head the moment she whispered it. He is the King, the Darkling, and of course he would go to war for his country. But he was also her father, and her heart hadn't stopped beating with madness the moment he had called that servant in.

Aleksander closes his eyes, wills the grey back into them. "Mila," He begins, patience a thin veil he felt he would rip any second. "I must. That is why."

Arguing with him would do no good, Mila knows this. She even knows now it's probably not the best for her to stay in the room while her father is in the state he's in. She's rarely seen him so dark, and dangerous, and knows in times like these it is only the Sun Summoner who can quell the rage of the Shadow Summoner.

Only she's the wrong Sun Summoner.

Inadequacy falls down on Mila hard. She can't help her father, and she can't help in this war either. She's still young, a student even, and there would be no discussion as to her leaving with Aleksander or anyone for that matter. She'd stay here, the Princess in her castle, while others fought and died.

Suddenly, Adrik's outburst from the other day didn't seem so incomprehensible.

Mila bites her lips and slips off her perch. Aleksander still hasn't moved, and her heart drops even further. She's not needed here. He doesn't need her here. And tomorrow he would probably be gone before she even wakes. She should say goodnight, or goodbye-Saints, maybe even good luck though Aleksander never cared for the phrase. All Mila really knows is she needs to leave this room right now because it's all becoming too much and her breathing is turning into gasping and-

"Shh," Her father deep voices soothes as he appears right beside her, as quiet and dark as a shadow. He curls an arm around her back and guides her into his chest, his hand warm and large between her shoulder blades.

Mila shudders out a sob, and realizes with even more embarrassment she's crying. Ugly crying, where she can't seem to breathe right and it has to be snot wetting her nostrils. She is a child. A sad pathetic child who can't even keep it together to walk out of the room with what little dignity she has left.

"Mila," Her father murmurs, kissing the top of her head. "What is it? Why so many tears?"

"I-" She lets out a hiccup. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-I'll just go to bed, just let me-"

The arm around her waist curls tighter, and while the hand above cards into her hair. "Just breathe. Listen to my heartbeat, and breathe."

And she does. This she can at least do to make up for this scene. She breathes and breathes till her lungs need a break, and presses her face so tight against her father's chest until there is nothing to hear but his heartbeat. His fingertips brush at the bare skin of her neck, spiking her with warm bouts of energy that dulls her even more.

Aleksander gives her one final squeeze. "Better?"

Still embarrassed, but infinitely less anxious, she pulls back and nods her head. "I'm sorry."

"Why do you keep apologizing?"

If she has to explain she really might cry again, and there would be nothing to stop her from running out of the room this time. "I don't like what's happening," She settles on saying, and looks down to her feet. "I can't help either, so I feel…useless. And you're leaving tomorrow and all I can think is that I want you stay. But of course you have to go, it's so stupid and unfair for me to want that. I'm being foolish and weak."

Aleksander frowns at his daughter's words. She still hasn't look at him, allowing him the moment to be genuinely perplexed by all this. He had been angry before, but of course not at Mila. He thought he had scared her, had allowed too much of his immortal self to break to the surface. When she all but tried to flee to the room like a scared animal he smothered that lethal being back in its cage with a quick ferocity and drew her back, slipping back into the role she desperately needed. Her father.

But now he sees he's too late. The damage has been done, and by his own hand no less.

Foolish.

Weak.

Words he's planted in his children's heads for years. Warnings so they would not fall victim to the mortal plights he had been cursed with for centuries. It was meant to make them strong. To make them soldiers.

Now all he sees is a young girl ashamed to show emotion over her father going to off to war.

Not for the millionth time, he grouses that Alina is much better with these kinds of things. But this is problem created from his own hand, and he must be the one to fix it.

"Mila," Aleksander says gently, tipping her head up. A scared animal in deed. She looks as if he is going to devour her for this so-called impudence. "I don't want to leave you either."

Her quivering lip settles back to normal. "You don't?"

"No, I don't. I don't want to fight anyone, or leave you and our family. I don't want war, I want to be here, home, with all of you." He says it all because he means it. He's always meant it. His long life was fraught with too much death and conflict. Sometimes he reveled in, perhaps even wished for it. But that person feels like one he hasn't been for some time. It's that beast that lies dormant within in, and tries to escape when Aleksander loses his control.

But sometimes…

It wouldn't be so bad, Aleksander has slowly begun to ponder, since Alina asked him that question that day on the lake. To leave it all. To just be with the woman he loves, and the children he still doesn't believe on some mornings he actually has.

It's a dangerous thought. One that scares and angers him all at once. Naturally Alina would be the one to have put it in his head. He's sure that while she was made to be his equal, she had also been born to torment him for eternity as well. It is a scary and pleasing thought.

But there is always the one thing that stops him from ever letting the treacherous idea from coming to fruition.

Grisha.

His people. The ones he started all this for. The ones he has gone to war for over, and over, and over again. Until they were safe, truly safe, Aleksander could never stop. He could never be sure there would ever be better hands than his own.

It's why he has to go, and always will.

Aleksander leans forward and presses a kiss to Mila's forehead. "But there are things we must do in life, even when we don't want to. That doesn't make us weak, solinshka, it makes us strong."

Mila nods her head solemnly, the picture of understanding, but then there is a crack and another well of tears and she pushes forward, gripping onto him for dear life.

"I love you, Papa."

"And I love you."

Alina hovers before the door of her son's bedroom, biting at her lip.

It's been a long day, and she wishes for nothing more to go to her bedroom and sleep. Well, Aleksander is leaving tomorrow, so perhaps only some of the night would be sent sleeping. Her husband has never been more insatiable on nights on the eve of battle, with knowledge they'd have to separate for some time.

But none of that right now.

Adrik was inside, she knew, having seen him go in an hour ago when she had been too afraid to approach him in the hall. Things between them had been….tense, to say the least, since that fraught discussion in the War Room.

The two rarely have any arguments between them. Not that what had happened had exactly been an argument, but it certainly had been something unpleasant. They've been tiptoeing around each other ever since, polite but weary, and Alina has had enough of it.

With a fortifying breath, she raps two quick knocks against the wood and waits, hands fiddling behind her back.

It takes a moment, and she swears she can hear her son hovering on the other side of the oak just as she is, but it eventually opens, creaking only slightly. Adrik reveals enough of himself to show he has dressed for bed, and the soft flickering light from inside supports as much. But his face doesn't look drawn with sleep yet, so she hadn't at least disturbed that.

Alina smiles and nods behind him. "May I come in?"

His eyes dart somewhere to the side first, and Alina heart almost plunges at the frown on his lips, but then Adrik is silently nodding his head and moving to the side.

It is dark inside, unnaturally so, and she wonders how much of the shadows are real and what are Summoned. She never could quite feel them they way she could with Aleksander. She almost tempted to flick at some playfully with her light but Adrik has still yet to say a word.

So Alina comes to a stop at the foot of his bead, with nothing but the lone candle perched on his night stand to give them illumination.

Alina let's herself study her son, half hidden in shadows. He looks tired, but in a deep way that has his eyes look fathomless and his countenance defeated. He looks far from unkempt, though he was awful at tidying his room that same could not be said for his appearance. No, one would truly have to know Adrik to see just how worn-out he truly was.

"I feel like we haven't talked," Alina begins diplomatically.

A sigh escapes Adrik. "It's late, Mama."

She almost seizes at the title. At his tone. At everything that shouldn't be this dark room.

"Your father is leaving tomorrow," She continues. "And I…." What? Her reconciling with Adrik had little to do with Aleksander's leaving. But she was feeling desperate. Her husband would be physically gone soon, she couldn't bear to have her son being in the same place but be far away from her too. "I don't want us to be like this."

Adrik shifts on his feet, still looking anywhere but her. A shadow moves somewhere near the dead fireplace. "Maybe you should be with him then before he goes."

Alina's throat tightens. "I will, but…Adrik, I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you weren't enough, or if I pressured you into a position without asking-"

There is a whoosh of air, as if a group of shadows have grown frenzied at her words and scatter anxiously around the room. "No," Adrik shouts all too loudly and quickly. The candle even flickers with fright. "Don't-Saints, you're apologizing? You didn't do anything wrong!"

"I, Adrik-"

"This is-it's all been me. I shouted at you. I was rude to you. I let my emotions and insecurities get the best of me I, and I just lashed out like that like-like some child." Abruptly he cuts himself off, and stomps over to the fireplace. With a huff, he drags a hand through his hair while the other one grips the mantle place.

Alina sucks in an air of breathe, the image of Aleksander flashing before her.

"I should be apologizing. I should have, long before this. But you've been busy and I…I've been a coward."

"Never," Alina argues rushing towards him. She places her hands on his shoulders to slowly steer him around, then cups his cheeks when he gives no resistance. "That is not something you are or will ever be Adrik. Trust the one person who has known you your whole life."

"But, what I did-"

"You were upset," Alina smiled. "Understandably so. And I was caught up in my own head and didn't notice it. This-we-are fine. Absolutely fine."

Still uncertain, he meets her gaze.

Alina playfully rolls her eyes. "You think I acted rationally my whole life? Do you know I once Cut a hole into the roof of the Little Palace?"

Adrik blinked a few times. "I-no, I didn't know that."

"And let's not even get into the amount of times your father has acted like a chicken with its head cut off."

"Mama," Adrik sighed. "It wasn't just that. It was also….Demyan."

Of course. Alina suspected as much, though she feared bring it up considering the past couple days. Having given the orders herself, she knew the young Captain was soon to be leaving for the coast, as it was suspected the Frejdans would soon try to expand their holding further along the border. Not even Grisha, making him all the more vulnerable, in Adrik's eyes he must be a fragile thing that someone was waiting to break. No, not a thing. Someone Adrik might love.

With a considering gaze, Alina carefully asked, "Would you like to go with him?"

The question clearly catches him off guard, but he always knew the option was available to him. Being the Prince, he could go where he pleased. Adrik was sourly tempted to accept the offer, it would certainly save him for what was sure to be a number of restless nights and anxious days. But…."No," He said carefully. "That wouldn't be right. I won't abuse my position, or dishonor him and seem like some babysitter. And us together, in battle…I'm sure we wouldn't be in the right mind to handle that."

Battle, Adrik almost laughed. As if he knew the true ins and outs of that. He would not let Demyan suffer for his inadequacies.

"If you're sure. But," Alina regarded him with consideration again. "Would you like to accompany your father?"

Now that Adrik hadn't been expecting, or even thought a possibility. He was well aware his father had plans to leave tomorrow, to get as close to the front as safety permitted before surveying for the most plausible mode of attack. The first major move on Ravka's part, headed by the King no less. It seemed too important for someone so unpracticed as Adrik to be a part of. He had only thought far enough to wake up and wish his father goodbye in the morning. "Is that-are you sure? Does he want this?"

Alina grins and with a graceful wave of her hand, issues a wave of light to flow into the room. It's smooth and fluttery, like a sheet caught in the breeze, and coaxes away his shadows with little fuss. The room is still dark, but the natural light of the stars and moon now find their way in.

"He would have asked you himself, but I wanted to do it. I wanted to mend whatever this was between us. So yes, he does, so don't try to use that as an excuse not to go. Unless, of course, you truly don't want go then of course-"

"Mama," Adrik interrupts her rambling, chuckling softly. "I understand. But I'm not a solider. I don't want to be a problem."

Alina grins widely, a cat with a bird in its mouth. "And this is why this is the most perfect solution. You want to know about this aspect of life? Then you'll learn. And who better to teach you than the man who will certainly not coddle you and bar you in a tent if you are being a problem?"

Well, there was certainly some twisted truth in that. Though it didn't entirely make Adrik feel all the better. Yet...it did seem like a good way for Adrik to overcome these recent hurdles. Even if his father would be the one to help him do it. "He's a harsh teacher," He comments dryly.

It's not a yes, but not a no either, and Alina embraces that as a victory. "Oh, I know. Believe it or not, he has softened."

Adrik scoffs. "Look how far we've come. You terrified of him killing me and now sending me off to war with him with a smile on your face."

"Who knows were me might be in fifty years. Maybe I'll be afraid of you wanting to kill him."

"You are late."

Alina huffs out a laugh as she is pushed face first onto her bed, her husband unoriginally jumping out from the shadows and accosting her with a devious smile on his face.

"I was busy," She answers primly but gasps when Aleksander curls over her back, slotting his hips against her ass. Her grinds into her without preamble, and his hardness is evident even through the layers of their clothing.

Aleksander leans in further, bearing her down deeper into the sheets. "Too busy for your husband the night before he is going to leave you?" He whispers against her ear before licking a hot stripe down it, finishing with an indecent sucking of her lobe.

Alina trembles with a potent need, and feels wetness begin to drip out of her.

A sudden smack to her ass makes her gasp a second time. "Answer me, wife."

"I-I was with Adrik," She replies shakily. "We made up. He's going with you tomorrow."

Aleksander hums as his hands travel tantalizing up her stomach, coming to a stop to cup her breasts. He grinds against her again and squeezes. "All's well then."

Alina is trying very hard to not become a mess right now, not wanting to give into him that easily. But his cock slotted against her, his hands on her breasts, and mouth licking along her neck is making it terribly difficult. "Yes he is-ah-a little, still-oh-unsure about everything but-but-" She cuts off with a whine, Aleksander suddenly ripping the bodice on her back, exposing her skin.

"Alina," He says, warning clear in his tone. "I do not want to talk about our son right now."

Resolve crumbling to nothing, Alina sighs into the sheet pressed against her face. "What do you want then?"

The answer to that is silence, and all his ministrations coming to a halt. Aleksander contemplates how he'd like his little wife tonight, what best way he can make her come undone and have the memory branded in his mind as he leaves her tomorrow. "Get up."

Alina throws him a curious look over her shoulder, but nonetheless raises her body when he backs away from her.

"I want…" He licks his lips, the scene already unfolding in his mind. "You in the other room, on the table. Innocent but feeling bold, sneaking away from the Winter Fete and wanting nothing but to please the man you've been seducing."

It can't be helped, Alina snorts out a laugh. It's been years, even small eternities since that night. It also doesn't conjure the happiest of memories of how that night ended, but for him, she can ignore that. He is right, she had been innocent and bold back then, in so many different ways. "Me, seducing you?" She counters, tilting her head to the side. "I think you're getting our roles mixed up."

Aleksander grins and crowds against her, grabbing her hips and dragging her against him. "I had my own intentions, of course, but come now, Alina. Coming to my room so many times, dressed in nothing but a robe and shift? Your long looks, brushing up against me, kissing me?" He lays each accusation with a kiss to her neck, cheek, collarbone, and finally the faintest brush against her lips.

It's not….entirely wrong. Of course, back then, Alina had been entranced with him. Desperate to please, and preening from his praise and attention. Drunk off the feeling of finally feeling wanted. An innocent girl, indeed. Certainly not the woman she is now, but it seems some things don't change. She is still desperate for his touch, and made delirious from the way he loves her. And Aleksander still can't help but be crazed for her.

"General," She purrs and pushes him away. "This is not part of the schedule." With a sway of the hips, Alina saunters into the study connected to their bedroom. She smirks as she twirls and pushes her back against the large table there.

Aleksander grins dangerously, prowling after her, slow and calculating. "I think everyone else will manage without you."

She shrugs and makes a show of looking around the room. "Probably."

"Probably," He echoes, now close enough to push against her. But only just so. Just enough to feel him and his heat, for him to hover above her face and let his breath fan against her parted lips.

Just as it happened before, the two of them both make the first move, coming together in a clash of lips. The first time, he hadn't been going anywhere the next day. She hadn't been planning to escape. It was only the two of them, and the raw need to tear each other apart. Right now, it was no different. No lack of passion or want, just Alina and Aleksander and the same desire to consume.

Alina gasps as he lifts her up by palming her ass, and plops her down onto the table. Her legs immediately curl around his hips and he pushes her against the wood. There are hands everywhere, keeping her upright. Her broken bodice still leaves her back exposed, but perhaps he forgets this as he continues to squeeze her tits through the front of the fabric.

"This," She whimpers when he begins to mouth at her collarbone. "Is the moment when someone is going to knock on the door."

Aleksander growls against her skin, and rises back up to reclaim her lips. "I'll kill anyone who does, as I should have done the first time."

It's tantalizing to think what would have happened had they not been interrupted. Yet Alina gets lost in another kiss and the feel of his cock rubbing against her, before she continues to go down that road. "Please," She whispers. "I want-"

"What, milaya? Tell me."

"I-you. Please, I want you."

He hums against her neck, giving her the sweetest kiss of the night. "Are you sure?"

Alina nods her head frantically and then they're kissing again, Aleksander claiming her with every swipe of his lips and brush of tongue.

"Has anyone else had you, zolotse?"

Yes, of course. Back then she hadn't been a virgin, and he knows that, but that isn't the game they're playing. Alina feigns some embarrassment, ducking her head. "Yes…but it hadn't been-been like this-"

Aleksander hushes her with a press of lips. "Of course, it hadn't. You were made for me, and I you. Nothing will ever compare to this. But I need a taste first, Alina. Please let me taste you."

She acts confused, the girl back then understanding concept of what he wants but never actually experienced it yet. For good measure, she even lets some red paint her cheeks as she Summons some of her light to hum beneath her skin. Biting her lip, Alina nods demurely and is rewarded a grin he falls to his knees.

Saints, why hasn't he taken her dress off yet?

Hands sliding beneath her skirts, Aleksander asks with dark eyes focused on her hidden cunt, "Now, has anyone else done this to you too?"

Want is making her seem to buzz, for his voice seems far away and there is nothing but the feel of his calloused fingers getting closer and closer to where she needs him most. "W-What?"

Dark eyes lazily roll up to meet her's, and his hands stop their ascent. "Focus, Alinochka. Has anyone else tasted you?"

She shudders at his husky tone. "No, no one."

Aleksander hums, squeezing her inner thighs. "All mine, then. As it should be. This cunt is mine now, Alina. Do you understand?" His thumb presses against the cloth covering her from him.

Alina gasps and nods. "Yes, all yours. Please, I need-"

"I know what you need." Aleksander impossibly removes his hands again, but so that he can grasp the end of her dress and pull the whole thing clear off her body. The night air of the room rushes against Alina's skin and it seems all too much when her undergarment is then torn with a loud rip, and her bare back slams against the table. Then Aleksander is there, sucking in her clit and making her arch and scream.

He releases her with a delicious noise, and moves so that he can tongue at her opening, taking in her wetness like a man who has been desperate for it for centuries. The noises he is making as he laps at her are obscene and all Alina can do is whither, and moan, and take it.

"So sweet," Aleksander rumbles against her pussy. "Want to drink this for hours."

The intrusion of a finger makes Alina scream, and she's already so close she's not sure how she's going to last the night with what her husband has planned for them. Then there is another finger, his tongue warm and swirling her clit, and Alina is coming. Hot, white, and world shattering.

When some semblance of rationality begins to filter back, Alina can only let out a breathy moan. "Sasha."

He hums against her thigh, then gives it a quick nip. "How is my little Sun Summoner?"

"I…" Alina trembles, still in aftershocks. "I don't know."

Aleksander chuckles and looks up to his wife's closed eyes. No, not his wife tonight. His newly found Sun Summoner, young and innocent and all his for the taking. "Is that so? Should we get you to bed then?"

Her eyes snap open with alarm. "No!"

"I don't know, you seem to need rest-"

Grasping him by the shoulders, Alina hauls him up the length of her body so she can bite into his mouth. "I don't want to go the bed," She whispers hotly against his lips. "I want you."

Aleksander kisses her again, because how can he not with her looking so beautiful and debauched? How can he not with how much his love for her threatens to drown him every waking moment of the day? "You have me. Take what you need."

And she does. Alina all but rips the belt around his hips to the floor, and tears off his clothes with the same ferocity. Aleksander is more than willing to oblige her, and after a moment they're both naked and falling into each other.

"Sasha," Alina whines when he knots the tip of his cock inside her. All pretense of the game is gone now, not that either notice or care. She grapples for his shoulders, tugging him impatiently while Aleksander rolls his hips deeper and deeper.

"Yes, Alina," He hisses when she lurches forward and bites his neck. "Fucking mark me."

Alina happily obliges, probably using more teeth than necessary, but pulls back and screams when Aleksander pounds all the way home. All is lost as he thrusts like a man possessed, making the table shake and different items fall to the floor. Alina arches and surrenders completely, gasping and moaning with each slap of skin.

"Yes, Sasha, yes-please, more, more-"

"Alina, Saints-always so tight and perfect for me. My beautiful wife-fuck, touch yourself. Alina fucking touch yourself."

Her hand shakes as she lifts it up, and seems confused at first what to do with it. Aleksander growls in reprimand and the sound immediately gets through her haze. Alina gasps as she slips her hand right where she needs it, rubbing the ache away. She's going to cum again. It's right there, so close, she only needs a little more-

Aleksander is nearing his own end, the slap of his hips getting lazy in form but nonetheless brutal with passion. When Alina lets out a tell-tale whine, he grabs at her throat, needing some purchase and to touch her everywhere.

Then he shouts out her name, a deep husky, "Alina" and is sending his spend inside.

Alina explodes with that final utterance, her mouth opening in a noiseless O and her body growing taut with release.

Sated, boneless, with a mess of sweat and cum between them, the two just simply stay where they are on the table, and catch their breath.

"Alina," Aleksander whispers reverently this time, kissing her gently on the neck. "I don't want to leave you."

The sentiment is sweet, and make her smiles, but Alina has been through this before. While her dear husband may mean every word, it was never enough to actually make him stay. Ravka, Grisha, needed a protector and who better than he and she? Who better to make a world safe for their children?

A sweet nothing, as they called it, and Alina took it for what it is.

"Come, Sasha. Bring me to bed, the night isn't over yet."

"Rise and shine."

Mila groans into her pillow and stubbornly refuses to move an inch. There isn't even the slightest glimpse of sun through her window, it is entirely too early to be awake right now. There was no one in all of Ravka who could muster her to lift a muscle.

"Mila,"

Unless, apparently, it was her brother.

She shifts her face slightly, just so she can aim one narrowed but bleary eye at him. "What is it, Adrik?"

He looks unfairly too put together at this hour, hair combed and outfit pristine. And smug. Too damned smug. "Get up and get dressed, mladshaya sestra. We have things to do."

"Adrik, no."

"Mila, yes."

She huffs and burrows her face back into the pillow. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait a couple hours."

Sleep brushes against her consciousness when silence follows her remark, and Mila sighs happily when she feels that she's about to drop back into the oblivion.

But then she is ripped from it with a brutal hand.

"I'm leaving today, Mila. With Papa."

Mila pushes her body up and whips her head around so fast, the remnants of sleep clash terribly with the sudden-awful-rationalization. Adrik is still standing there, looking perfect, but the smug curl of his lips has softened to something else. Something sad, apologetic.

Her mouth opens once or twice, before she utters dangerously, "No, you're not."

Her father's tone, mimicked perfectly.

Adrik's gaze softens now too, and he shrugs his shoulder. "Afraid I am."

"No," Mila snaps and puts on a show of absurdity as she scrambles and flings herself off the bed. The sheets are still twisted around her ankles when she grips on the lapels of Adrik's kefta and tugs him hard. "Absolutely not. I'll tell him no myself."

His much larger hands fall atop her's, and squeeze reassuringly. "Mila, he's not ordering me. I'm going because I want to."

"Why?" She almost screams.

"I'm the Prince of Ravka," Adrik explains pateintly. "I can't expect others to fight for my country when I won't. I need to learn, to be apart of it. For Ravka."

"The hell with Ravka! Ravka can be dead and gone in years but we'll still be here. We're what's important, Adirk, not Ravka."

Adrik lets out a sigh. "Mila, don't talk like that. This is your country, your home and people. They're your responsibility too."

Blinking back tears, she furiously shakes her head. "Nothing compares to you. Or Mama and Papa. Nothing. Please don't go." But she knew her brother. Knew he would not give this to her, no matter how much she begged. Apart of her knew he was right to do so, but she was in no mood to be rational or patient. She wanted to be selfish, damn it. She didn't want her family to leave her alone and afriad. She would never be able to bear such a fate.

"Mila," Adrik brushes a few traitorous tears from her cheeks. "You act as if my death sentence has been signed already. Not the best goodbye you could give me, to be honest."

Mila coughs out a laugh and shake sher head again. "No, Papa will not let you die. That I'm sure of."

"Okay now I am offended. You do know I am a Shadow Summoner myself, right?"

"I do. So Adrik, please, remember to protect yourself. The hell with mercy or kindness or whatever thought would make you hesitate. If someone wants to do you harm, you protect yourself. Promise me."

They are too harsh of words to be coming out of such a young and innocent voice. Adirk forgets, sometimes, the vicious monster that his little sister keeps hidden under her skin. Little Mila, who is funny and witty and charming. Whose hands have been bloody since far to young an age. Who could melt your heart with a smile, and just as easily burn it to ashes with the clench of a fist.

She would be a better soldier than him, with that kind of ferocity.

The thought scares him enough to push it to the back of his mind and keep it there. He's the one to leave for battle, not her. He doesn't want to feed the monster hiding beneath. Hopes he will never have to.

For she is Mila. Beautiful, young, alive, and his sister. Not a soldier, not a killer. Just Mila.

"I promise. Now come on, I didn't wake you up early for nothing."

Mila laughs. "Why in Ravka did you wake me up then?"

Grasping her hand and giving a tug, Adrik shoots her a grin over his shoulder. "The best goodbye breakfast you're ever going to have in your life."

Aleksander straightens his back as he pulls his black kefta over his shoulders. Hair is already combed, boots laced, face washed. It's the last step in his routine. The last piece before he emerges from his bedroom not only as the Tsar of Ravka, but the infamous Darkling.

Because it is that black beast that is needed in times of war, more than anyone else.

"Aleksander,"

Snapping into place the last button, he turns to his wife with a smile, eyes softening at the sight of her sleepy and peaceful in bed. Their bed. The black quilt is hanging haphazardly off the side while a white sheet tangles Alina's lower half. The sight of her tan, nude back has Aleksander's brain stall for a moment, and it near completely shuts down when she raises herself on her elbows and gives him a teasing view of her chest.

"It's too early," She complains petulantly, even yawning for good measure. "Come back to bed. You don't have to go yet."

"I wish I could, zolotese," He walks over to her so he can lean down and capture her lips in a kiss. It's too quick, not enough, and has his heart clamoring for more. But he pulls back before he falls prey to it, and his beautiful wife. "But you know I have to oversee some matters before I go."

Alina huffs and flops back onto her chest, nuzzling her face back into the pillow. "I should be the only matter you have to attend."

"I attended to you all night, wife. How you so easily forget."

Alina grins up at him. "Not forget, just wish to continue."

"Alina," Aleksander warns, but is smiling right back at her. "I'll try to make things quick. Besides, I'm sure you'd like to have a moment with Adrik as well."

That successfully-thankfully-sobers her up. A needy Alina was always a problem for him to deny, especially when he his own neediness clamored up to match it. But she just nods her head thoughtfully, and rises up once more so she too can start getting ready for the day. Pulling her hair into a quick ponytail, but still infuriatingly nude, she begins to rifle through her amour.

"You'll take care of him," She says in an authoritative tone, not pausing to see if he listening.

She knows he is.

"Yes,"

"And you will not push him."

"Alina-"

"No, Aleksander, there is no debate or compromise on this. You will not push Adrik into anything he does not want to do or is not ready for. You won't play your games, or teach a lesson in some roundabout, atrocious way."

He glowers at her back, the desire he had been feeling slowly ebbing away into something sour. "You still think so little of me." A statement, not question.

Alina twirls around to face him after shucking on a tunic, a pair of trousers still grasped in her tense hand. She looks as dangerous as he feels. So quickly, they both often forget, they can fall into these at odds roles. "I think you are you and old habits die hard. Don't misunderstand me, I think you have become the father I've always wanted you to be. At the very least as close as you can get, but that doesn't erase the other parts of yourself. Especially when you're thrown into a fight. Especially when you feel threatened and want to win."

"I am not threatened by Fredja-"

"You are threatened by anything that stands in the way of you and power. Anything that wants to take it away or lessen it."

"Watch your words, Alina," Aleksander states deathly calm. "I rather thought you and I have gotten past these tiresome conversations."

She meets his stare defiantly. "Not as long as they're still true."

He thinks of yesterday in the room with Mila. Hear tears, and his failure to keep himself in check. He thinks of last night with Alina, promising her she was his world. Where they delusions that he's fallen prey to? Did he actually mean what he said or he had simply wanted to mean it? Or is he still guilty of what his wife believes? That his mind can't stop acting and scheming and manipulating. He cannot reconcile the man he's been and the man he's becoming, if there is even anything legitimately there to reconcile at all. And he hates-loathes-and wants to kill the confusion away because this, at least, is someone he's never been. He despises himself for it now and hates even Alina a little for forcing him to face it. "And what, pray tell, is the reason for pointing out the darker parts of myself on this morning of all mornings? For the sake of Adrik? You still think I'm a threat to him? You agreed to this little plan, Alina, lest you forget."

"I know, and I'm not regretting it or changing my mind. And no, I don't think you're a threat to Adrik the way you're implying. Not to him physically, but emotionally-"

He coughs out a bitter, harsh laugh. "Spare me your thoughts on morality, Sankta. I've had enough of them over the years."

"You'll hear them for all eternity then!" She snaps back. "You used me to win a war once, I'll not have you do the same to him!"

Again, the digging up of their past. Again, the hurt Alina never seem to fully let go of. Aleksander does not know what else to do to rid that filthy layer of mistakes between them. Alina has obviously dubbed it an impossible task and he's tired of trying and failing to change her mind. It at this thought that all the fight seems to drain out of him. "I've had enough of this," He says wearily, backing away from her. "If this is how you want to part ways, so be it."

Off to war. Off to apparently, the only thing he is good at.

This, at least, seems to blow past her sudden fury. Alina watches his retreat with wide, fearful eyes before moving forward herself. She matches his steps and stops him from going out the door, wrapping her arms around his waist and pushing her face against his chest. "It's not," She mumbles into his kefta. "It's not how I wanted this morning to go at all."

He's a statue underneath her, not returning the embrace but at least not pushing her away.

"I'm sorry I do this when I get scared. It's not fair, I know it's not. But he's my son, my first born, and I'm terrified of losing him. And you're going too and I just-Saints, you know I can be a unruly brat when I want."

His hands, almost weightless, skim the skin of her hips. "I'm well aware."

"And it's-this is going to sound terrible but-it's easy to just dig up everything between us. To hide behind it because I'm afraid and don't know what else to do and it's just-just easy."

Easy.

The word shouldn't hurt Aleksander as much as it should. But it does, oh it does. Alina, soft and seemingly innocent clutching to his body, just pushed a dagger into his ribs. Easy. Just told him that to bring up his mistakes, to bring up a time in their lives when they truly hated each other, a time when she had actually murdered him was easy. Fucking easy. He'd bleed out, if the word had actually been a blade. He'd probably let himself die at her feet and not be able to focus on anything other than that.

Easy.

"Aleksander?"

Alina knows she has made a mistake. A terrible, awful mistake that won't be fixed in the short amount of time they have left together. She won't be able to apologize and kiss it away. Won't be able to reach him in the only way she knows how. Because Alina sees now she said the wrong thing and explained her emotions in a completely callous way. Aleksander lets his feeling s get hurt by few in this world, possibly even no one, but she will always be the top of that list. Ever since she stumbled into his life that day outside the Fold, it's been her. And she knows what it looks like to break Aleksander Morozova's heart. She's done it before, and she's again done it just now.

Words, from a lifetime ago, echoe in her head.

Fine, make me your villain.

"Aleksander," Alina utters out again. "Please, I didn't-"

But he's not there anymore. His eyes glaze over with coldness, his posture goes as tight as a rope. He pulls away from without much effort and Alina is too paralyzed to bring him back. She just stands and stares helplessly as he walks to their bedroom door and opens it. Her knees tremble when he turns his back on her, and tears well at the bottom of her eyes when she sees him pause.

"I'll see you in the courtyard before I depart. We can say our goodbyes then."

Then he's gone.

And Alina is left to wonder what damage she's done.

"Too many hot buns," Mila moans, falling down onto a love chair. "So many hot buns."

Adrik grins and takes a seat at the piano, idly pressing some keys as he watches his sister quite literally have a food hangover. She hadn't even bothered to wipe the white sugar from her mouth as she lays there like a dead body. Well, it was quite brilliant on his part to have gone to the shop yesterday and request the baker come to the castle early in the morning. And to make a pile of hot buns that should have lasted Mila long into the week. After everything was said and done, it's safe to say Mila shaved off two days of that timeline.

"Noisy," Milla huffs when Adrik begins to absently play the chords to a song. "Still too early for noise."

He rolls his eyes but draws his hand back. "You complain far too much for a Princess."

"I can complain so much because I am a Princess."

"A spoiled Princess, then."

"You're a boring Prince, then."

Adrik snorts. With a sudden urge of playfulness, he flicks his hands and sends a shadow skittering along her sides. "I will miss these riveting back and forths."

Mila can't help but giggle, curling into a ball to ward away the streak of black, but her laughter fades away at those words. She tips her head back on the cushion, and gazes up at Adrik with those eyes that have swayed him far too many times in this life. "You say that like you don't plan on coming back."

"I-you're right. I apologize. That's the farthest thing I'm trying to imply right now."

"But there is a chance, if we're being honest with ourselves here. Right?"

Adrik frowns. "Mila, don't talk that way."

Her gaze goes somewhere else, somewhere distant, and her body seems to curl deeper into itself. "I'm sorry, you're right. I didn't mean it." But her voice is despondent, a puppet echoing words it knows are right to say in such a situation.

Well, there was no time for this right now. Adrik rises to cross the room and fall to his knees beside her, cupping her face and tilting it towards him. Forcing her to look, to be present, and understand his next words carefully. "I will come back, Mila. Nothing is taking me from you or Mama. Trust me when I say this."

Her gaze flickers all over his face, taking in every detail, ever unique imperfection. Taking in him, her older brother. "And Papa. You and Papa will come back."

"Of course," He replies smoothly. Honestly, too, for that matter. Whatever faith lay between Adrik and Aleksander, he knew without a doubt this is a situation he did not waver on. "You think after all these years he's going to let himself die? By Frejda no less? And he knows if he doesn't bring me back with him that you two will never forgive him. A win, win situation I believe, don't you?"

The court yard is eerily silent as everyone comes together to say farewell to their Tsar and Prince.

Alina arrives last, her reluctance to say goodbye to both her husband and son bearing down hard on her heart and making her feet drag. A silly thing for her to do, really, as if prolonging her arrival would stop form them going. She wishes she could come as well, with every fiber of her being. But Mila was here and could not be left alone with their enemies out there hungry for blood. Besides, both she and Aleksander had agreed ages ago in times of battle, the two of them should not be stationed in the same location. It was too dangerous to place all their strength in one spot, too tantalizing a target as well as leaving the rest of their country open to attack. The powers of the Sun and Shadow Summoner should be divided, lest catastrophe follow.

Alina has downed a heavy cloak for the occasion, lined with fur that warms her neck and shields the rest of her body from the morning cold. Black, this time, with the stitching just as dark that it's almost impossible to see. But she wanted to show the union of their family and country. The union between she and Aleksander.

She wants him to know she is still his partner. Still loves him.

He is waiting a few feet from the steps before his black carriage, Adrik and Mila standing dutifully beside him. It seems they all had the same idea. The entire royal family is dressed in their black keftas.

Mila looks incredibly tired, Alina notes first as she begins her flight down the stairs. Or maybe it's sadness dragging her eyes. So preoccupied with Aleks and Adrik, she had let the welfare of her daughter go to the wayside. They'd spend the day together, then, to assure Mila she is safe and loved and the men in their family would be alright. When Alina gets close enough she cups her daughter's chin, lightly stroking the skin beneath her eye.

Next is Adrik, standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back. He offers her a small smile and a bow of his head in reverence. He she embraces in a hug, holding onto him tight. "Be safe," Alina whispers into his shoulder. "I love you."

Adrik presses a hand between her shoulder blades, and breathes into the skin of her neck. "Yes, Mama."

When they let go, there is only Aleksander left to say goodbye too.

There is the tension from the bedroom between them, still present, that makes this harder than it should be. Alina has too much to say and no time to do it. She had been careless this morning, and too much of a coward after it to go and immediately find him. But here they were now, their eyes drawn to each other like magnets.

"Aleksander," She whispers but doesn't know how to continue. She will not break in this courtyard, not in front of their children and bands of soldiers waiting to leave. No, she will not do that but knows that is something Aleksander will not fault for her for. Rulers must keep up their appearances, after all.

He merely nods his head. "Be careful with your letters, as always, Alina."

The words are like a punch to the gut.

Letters? Spies? That's the last words he wants to say to her? Saints, they hadn't written each other letters in their whole lives. Their connection made it unnecessary.

Why was he doing this?

Her bottom lip quivers, the only tell she fails to reign in.

Aleksander notes it with a quick glance, but offers no comfort. All he does instead is reach forward and grab her hand, bending down to place a kiss to it. "Be well, moy tsarista." Then it's over. He releases her and climbs into the carriage, not looking back once.

Alina might as well have been any faceless courtier for all the warmth that goodbye gave.

The soldiers know well enough to not react to the sometimes odd behavior of their rulers, but there is clear alarm on Adrik and Mila's expressions. This was not their parents. Even in the midst of a fight, this was not their parents. They loved each other with fierceness that bordered on unhealthy, and no amount of ire between them should account for this.

Alina is staring blankly inside the carriage, but can see nothing but her husband's legs due to the way he positioned himself.

The awkwardness of what has happened is growing too heavy to politely ignore anymore, not with the Queen just standing there, so Adrik lets out a cough and goes to follow his father. "Good bye, Mama," He says one last time and kisses her on the cheek.

The door of the carriage closes behind them, and the driver immediately slaps the reigns to go.

And go they do, leaving the Queen and Princess alone in a small cloud of dust.

"Come, Mama," Mila whispers, taking the hand Aleksander had kissed. It feels frozen. "Let's go inside."

Alina allows herself to be guided back up the steps, back into the Palace whose warmth she does not feel. And when she reaches out in a last stitch attempt to be with her husband and let him feel what she could not voice, she finds the door to his mind and soul firmly closed shut.