Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy and its characters – it belongs to Leigh Bardugo. I do not own the Shadow & Bone TV series, which was developed by Eric Heisserer for Netflix and based on Leigh Bardugo's books.
Regency Vampire AU.
Picking and choosing bits of vampire lore. Alina, Aleksandr, Ivan and Fedyor are the oldest and original vampires (at least 3,000 years old), basically impossible to kill and, like the Originals in TVD, they can walk in the sun just fine. They are the only ones able to sire other vampires and all the vampires they sire are more like traditional vampires (harmed by stakes and holy water, sleep during the day and vulnerable to the sun). All vampires survive solely on blood.
Miss Genya Safin is a practical sort, and she knows that fairytales do not exist.
Still, she has allowed herself one silly little dream about a baron's son who is shy and a little oblivious.
Perhaps her parents would have relented – her father is only a baron too, and the Kostyk estate is comfortable, but she has found herself with a far grander suitor in the form of a foreign Duke with immense wealth.
Aleksandr Morozov is handsome, intelligent and wealthy. He seems uninterested in marriage, though, politely charming but with no obvious deeper feelings for her. Even when they are engaged, he does not seek to take liberties or pre-empt their vows as so many men would.
In fact, he arranges the ceremony in record time and visits only once between his requesting her hand and their wedding day, citing a great deal of business that must be completed before they leave for his castle abroad.
Even stranger is the service. All in a foreign language too old even for her cousin – who has studied ancient languages and civilisations – to understand. And it is not in a church, which her family think most improper but will not argue with (having Genya as a Duchess seems, in their eyes, to excuse any manner of sins).
Her mama, kissing her goodbye and helping her swap her beautiful silk gown for a travelling dress, gives her a few words of advice for her wedding night.
It will hurt, but she must bear it without complaint, and she should not expect to find pleasure in the act like a common whore might, although she must do whatever her husband asks so that he will finish inside her and give her his seed.
"A child will cement your position," her mama emphasises, "a son is best, but any living child soon after a wedding is a good sign."
All the advice is for naught, however.
When they stop for the night at a respectable inn in Portsmouth, where they will rest for the night before they begin their sea voyage the next day, the Duke bids her goodnight and then retires to his own room without giving any indication that he intends for them to consummate their marriage.
Genya is aware that she is beautiful. She has no fear on that score. She also knows she is accomplished, relatively good-tempered and in all respects a model young lady. She is therefore quite surprised to find her husband seems to have no inclination to exercise his marital rights.
Perhaps, she thinks, he wishes to wait until they are onboard the ship, or reach the castle that will be their primary home. Worse, he might be one of the men society whispers about, those who prefer the company of other gentleman. Surely, however, if it is the latter, then he will still have to share her bed on occasion to ensure that there is an heir, and at least then she will have a child to brighten her life.
"You should stay in your cabin," her new husband tells her when they go aboard the ship, "there are always unsavoury characters to be found on these voyages. I will come and escort you to each meal, and Ivan or Fedyor," he gestures to the two men who have accompanied them (she cannot figure out if they are friends or servants, for they defer to Aleksandr and follow any orders he gives, yet they go where they please and dine with them every evening), "will take you up onto the deck twice a day for some air when the weather permits."
It is a dull journey indeed. Aleksandr's conversation at meals is perfunctory and he never seems to eat much himself. He has employed a maid to assist her on the journey, but the girl is a skittish thing, scared of her own shadow and prone to repeating ghost stories. She seems to lose what wits she has entirely when the passengers begin to whisper about people going missing (seven in total over the course of the voyage – three women and four men, of varying ages and stations in life).
Aleksandr insists she has nothing to worry about.
"They will not get anywhere near our cabins – I have security measures in place – and I can assure you that no such person will be able to harm you if you are with myself, Ivan or Fedyor."
She rather believes him. There is something dangerous about all three men, in the way they hold themselves and watch a room.
To begin, Genya hopes the long journey will give her a chance to learn more about the virtual stranger she has married. Unfortunately, he remains a total mystery.
He refers to her always as Genya or Madame, never my wife. She learns quickly enough to call him Aleksandr in turn – whenever she says husband, his lip curls into a snarl and he looks momentarily like he could rip her throat out.
It makes no sense to her. He clearly desired a wife, had come to England with that specific goal in mind, and yet now he has her it seems as if he could not care less.
Genya wishes he would just tell her what he wanted from her. She can't live in this state of confused limbo forever.
The journey from the port to Aleksandr's castle is just as lonely as the sea voyage.
Genya travels inside a carriage, luxurious and comfortable, totally alone, while Aleksandr, Ivan and Fedyor ride horses.
She understands many men like to go about on horseback, but she has not met any wishing to undertake such an arduous journey without any rest in a carriage. They never seem to tire, though, these men, do not show any signs of fatigue or muscle soreness when they stop at inns at night.
Morozov Castle is in the middle of nowhere, the nearest village almost three miles away.
Genya has spent her whole life surrounded by people. In her family's townhouse in busy London, or in their country home, where they always had visitors or house guests. She's not sure how she will manage in this huge castle with potentially no one but her distant husband for company.
As it turns out, though, the castle isn't quite as empty as she'd feared it might be.
"Sasha!"
The cry rings out across the courtyard as Genya climbs out of the carriage, and she sees a dark-haired girl sprint across the cobblestones and throw herself bodily into Aleksandr's arms.
It is the first time Genya has ever seen Aleksandr smile.
"My Alinochka," he murmurs, fond and warm in a way he never has been with Genya, "come and meet Genya."
The pair link arms and walk over to Genya, who tries not to look as shy and nervous as she feels.
"Genya," Aleksandr says, "this is my ward Alina."
"Pleased to meet you, my lady," Genya gives the younger girl a small smile.
Her mama would scold her. She has always considered wards to be suspicious things – "likely a bastard passed off as the child of a family friend," her mama had muttered once, "you look for similar features and do whatever you must to ensure they do not threaten your own children's rights" – and would have advised Genya to be cool and aloof with Alina.
However, it is very clear that Aleksandr adores his ward, and surely it can only help Genya's position if she does her best to make friends. Besides, there is something about Alina that draws Genya in, makes her want to know the girl better.
"What a lovely thing you are," Alina appraises her carefully, looking her up and down with far more interest than Aleksandr has ever shown.
The younger woman reaches out to pet her hair, "you are so lucky, Genya, to have hair of such a magnificent colour. I've not seen anything like it in some time."
Genya finds herself blushing at Alina's admiration. Her husband's ward is entrancing, almost ethereal, and when she looks at Genya it feels like she is truly seeing her.
"What fun we'll have together," Alina trills as she links arms with Genya and leads her into the castle, "I have so been looking forward to your arrival."
As she smiles, Genya fancies that Alina's teeth – gleaming white – are sharper than they should be.
It's probably just a trick of the light, though.
-x-x-x-
A maid – pale and quiet, with something of a dazed look in her eyes – shows Genya to her new room, a lavish suite decorated in cream and gold.
"Where are the Duke's rooms?" she asks.
She knows couples keep separate chambers, but they are usually adjoining or at least close together. The marriage will have to be consummated at some point, after all.
"On the other side of the castle."
"Oh," Genya tries not to frown, "then who do the other rooms in this wing belong to?"
She had counted at least four other doors and wonders if this is where Alina's rooms are. Perhaps the Duke thinks she will be more comfortable in the same wing as someone close to her age.
"I am not at liberty to give that information."
Part of Genya wants to demand it. She is the Duchess, after all. But these orders must come from the Duke and she knows his word is worth more, especially with servants who have only just met her.
"Dinner will be served in one hour," the maid adds, "and I will come back soon to help you dress."
"Thank you," Genya says, quiet and subdued.
When she is alone, she sits on the bed and tries not to cry.
In a new home. In a new country. With a new husband who does not seem to want her.
It will get better, she tells herself, this is only an adjustment period.
She only hopes that is true.
-x-x-x-
Dinner is better in some ways.
Alina is cheerful and lively, asking Genya countless questions about London and her life there. She doesn't talk much about herself in return – all Genya finds out is that Alina has lived at the castle for a long time – "it feels like centuries sometimes, doesn't it, Sasha?" – and that she has a deep interest in cartography, particularly fascinated with old maps and how they compare to new understandings of the shape of the world and continents.
The food is delicious, although Genya finds herself feeling rather self-conscious as she is the only one eating.
Ivan and Fedyor are apparently going through papers in the library, Aleksandr insists he isn't hungry and Alina says she ate before their arrival.
Genya, therefore, dines on five delicious courses while Aleksandr and Alina drink wine from golden goblets. Alina watches like Genya like the sight of her eating is extremely enthralling, while Aleksandr … well, he only watches Alina.
Uneasy, Genya thinks of her mama's other warning about wards, that there could well be another, more depraved reason that a gentleman might have a young, female ward. She does not understand, though, because surely if Aleksandr desires Alina in such a way, then he could have simply married her, for even if the girl has no dowry, it is very clear that he has no need of extra funds.
It doesn't add up, this situation. Aleksandr had been very insistent on having Genya as his bride, but he had then refused to either consummate their marriage or treat her as if she were his wife. Instead, he seems entirely focused on his young ward, a girl who is open and affectionate with him but who displays no signs of jealousy over Genya's presence.
Baffling. It really is all quite strange.
They move to the drawing room after dinner.
Aleksandr and Alina sit together, heads bent as they whisper together.
Genya is across from the room, playing the piano as Fedyor sings a jolly tune and Ivan scribbles figures onto ledgers nearby.
She enjoys music, and Fedyor is a very amiable companion, but Genya cannot help but feel she should be over with her husband. Oddly, no one else seems to expect it or find anything strange about how the evening is playing out.
When the clock strikes eleven, everyone moves to retire.
Fedyor and Ivan wander off together. Alina hugs Genya, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and is then escorted away by Aleksandr. Genya, left alone, wonders what she is supposed to do, thankful when the same maid who had helped her dress comes to lead her back to her room (this castle is huge and she doesn't trust herself not to get lost).
She goes to sleep for the first night in her new home, in a grand bedroom with expensive sheets made cosy by warming pans.
Her husband, however, is still nowhere to be found.
This is not an auspicious start to her new role as wife.
Genya startles awake after some very strange dreams to find that she is not in her warm bed, but somewhere else entirely.
Sprawled out on a cold stone floor in just her nightgown, not even a robe or slippers.
"What –"
Suddenly, Alina is in front of her, dressed in a nightgown too, although hers is a sheer, lacy thing that does not seem proper at all.
"My apologies for this, but you looked so sweet asleep that I didn't want to wake you until I had to."
"I … I don't understand."
"We've been a little dishonest with you, I'm afraid," Alina makes an attempt at a sheepish smile, although she can't quite manage the necessary repentance for it.
We? She senses movement in the dark corner of the room and turns to see Aleksandr standing there, expression impassive as he watches.
What is this, some kind of horror story? Is she going to die here, shivering in her nightgown, clueless as to the reason?
"Sasha was not in London to find a wife," Alina continues.
"But … we were married."
"Not legally," Aleksandr tells her, still looking at Alina even as he speaks to Genya, "our language is not recognisable by any who still live. I'm afraid all we recited was a list of book titles."
"You brought me here under false pretenses," she cries, furious and terrified at the same time, "to a country not my own and for no true marriage. I am ruined."
"That is hardly a concern here, darling," Alina grins at her, teeth flashing in the candlelight, "and while it is true that you are not married to Aleksandr, you are here for a reason."
"What reason?" she asks, willing her voice not to tremble with all the awful possibilities.
"You are here, Genya," her grin widens as she licks her lips, "for me."
"I don't … what … what do you mean?"
"We'll get to that soon enough, darling, but first, we need to make sure you're not quite so … breakable."
Genya does not have the chance to ask another question.
Before she can even blink, Alina is hovering over her, delicate hands holding her down with surprising strength.
"This will hurt, darling," she murmurs, pressing her lips to Genya's neck, "but feel free to scream if it makes you feel better."
When sharp teeth slice through her skin like butter, Genya does indeed scream.
-x-x-x-
Genya jerks back into awareness with a shout.
Alina is cross-legged on the floor next to her, idly trailing her fingers over Genya's collarbone. Her mouth is painted crimson with blood – Genya's blood – and yet she still smiles like there is nothing at all wrong.
She tries to scramble away from the other girl (and is she really a girl, or is she a demon playing at being human?), but Alina holds her still, showcasing her unnatural strength once more.
"Relax, darling," Alina's smile widens, showing sharp teeth still covered in blood, "I know it's overwhelming, but I promise you'll feel better soon."
"You … you killed me."
Alina shrugs unrepentantly, "but I brought you back, sweet Genya, so where is the harm, really?"
Brought her back. Somehow, she thinks this is less like Christ rising from the dead and more an unnatural monster rising from the grave.
"I … I'm a monster."
"You are a vampire," Alina corrects, "I have given you power beyond most mortal's imaginings."
"I didn't ask for this," Genya whispers, "why … why?"
Alina frowns, "why not? Sasha has so much dull business he must take care of, and I get bored sometimes. He is kind enough to bring me pretty things to entertain me when he is not available."
A toy. Is that what she is? A sham marriage to spirit her away from any family or friends who could have helped her, a castle in the middle of nowhere filled with monsters, a lovely girl who is not what she seems, and a gilded cage Genya has no say in.
It is only now, as she looks around the room, subconsciously searching for an escape she knows she won't find, that she realises Aleksandr has gone. In his place are two scantily-clad young women, leaning against the wall, watching the proceedings with interest.
Even more unnerving, though, is the slumped form of a man just across from her, wrapped in chains.
And suddenly, Genya is thirsty.
Desperate and ravenous, overwhelmed by the scent of the man in front of her, enraptured by the vein in his neck and the sound of blood pumping through his body.
She grasps at her throat, trying to understand the burning there, "I need water, please."
"Oh, darling, water will not help you now. Only blood will."
Vampire. That is what Alina had said. She remembers reading the term in a book one of her friends had given her, a text her parents certainly would not have approved of. It spoke of vampires as bloodsucking creatures, entirely soulless. Of course, it also considered them entirely fictional, the product of overactive imaginations.
"I … I cannot," she protests.
No matter what manner of monster she is now, she cannot kill in cold blood.
"Of course you can, darling," Alina flits over, takes her hand and pulls her closer to the chained, unconscious man, "we've made it so easy for your first time – you don't even need to catch him."
She shakes her head, even though her mouth waters and her throat burns.
The haughty, dark-haired girl standing over to the side rolls her eyes, "just take a bite."
"Gently, Zoya," Alina chides, "poor Genya is just overwhelmed," she turns to Genya then, "shall I warm you up, darling?"
Delicate fingers brush across the thin nightgown that covers her breasts.
Wrong, her mind says, a sin.
It does not feel like a sin, however, when Alina grins and pinches one of Genya's nipples (rather meanly) through the fabric. No, it feels closer to heaven than hell.
Lips cover hers, insistent and greedy. Genya's fingers tangle in Alina's long hair as she sighs softly. The only kiss she'd ever had before arriving here is the brief, chaste one Aleksandr had bestowed on her when they were married. This is something else entirely, the kind of experience she'd dreamt about as a child, although she'd always imagined it with a man.
Maybe it is better. Soft lips and smooth skin, rather than a rough beard or stubble. A light touch, not heavy-handed or clumsy.
"There now," Alina says when they break apart and Genya's mind is a little hazy, "nice and relaxed for your first proper feed."
She guides Genya down, murmuring instructions. In the end, however, instinct does much of the work for her.
Genya's new fangs slice into the man's neck like a knife through butter and then it is just glorious blood, thick and rich on her tongue, like nothing she has ever tasted before.
For a while, she gets lost, no longer Genya but simply a creature living only for blood and the sensations it evokes.
She is a mess when she comes back to herself, hands sticky and stained red, nightgown no longer fit to be worn. The room is almost empty now – just her, Alina and a rapidly-cooling corpse.
"Hush now," Alina coos as Genya begins to panic, the reality of what she has done crashing down on her, "you had to eat, darling, and he wasn't a good man, you know – we have an agreement with the local prisons, almost a public service, if you think about it."
Genya doesn't know if she can really trust Alina's word – whatever sinfully delightful things she has found here, this is still a monster's lair, a horror story come to life.
Worst of all is that Genya wants more. That she wishes the man were still alive so she could drink and drink and drink from him.
But then Alina's lips are on hers once more, licking at the blood she finds there.
It seems only natural for Genya's hands to land on the other girl's waist, simply for want of a place to put them, her touch delicate, almost tentative.
It seems Alina is having none of that. She climbs almost into Genya's lap, rubbing their bodies together, skin separated only by thin layers of silk and lace.
Brushing her hand across one of Alina's barely-clothed breasts is an accident, but the sweet moan she lets out is almost addictive. Genya thinks the blood must have gone completely to her head, for she is behaving so wantonly that her mama would weep and call her a harlot.
When Alina tugs down her nightgown, revealing ample breasts to Genya's wide-eyed gaze, she lets out a little squeak of surprise.
Alina laughs, "they are nothing new, sweet Genya, for you have your own – and such lovely ones at that."
"Can … can I touch them?" she asks, almost entranced, head swimming.
"Oh, you can do much more than that, darling," Alina tells her with a wicked gleam in her eyes, "there are so many things I can show you. For now, though …"
She takes Genya's hands, shows her how she likes to be touched. A warm burst of pride fills her when she draws lewd moans out of Alina.
"A quick study, indeed," Alina looks pleased and Genya flushes at the praise.
"One more thing," the other girl says, "before you must retire for the day. And if you please me then I shall give you pleasure you have never felt before."
Genya gapes as Alina lies back, spreading her legs wide, brazenly revealing the hidden place her mama has always told her is only for her husband.
"Come closer, darling," Alina's voice is almost sing-song, "put your head between my legs and listen closely to this very important lesson."
There is no denying the dark-haired temptress in front of her. All her mama's warnings, all the church's teachings, all her usual sensibilities, go entirely out of the window as Alina instructs her on what to do with her mouth and fingers.
She never knew a woman could take such pleasure, has always assumed that this was something that must just be endured rather than enjoyed. The sounds Alina makes are delightful things, and it fills Genya with a sense of purpose and pride to have given such pleasure.
And, as it turns out, Alina is as good as her word. Genya has pleased her and so she is pleased in return, left a writhing, boneless mess on the stone floor she had only recently believed would be her tomb.
"Sweet Genya," Alina sighs as they lie entwined together, "Sasha certainly made an excellent choice."
After that first kill, and her time with Alina afterwards, Genya is shown to a new room.
It is as beautiful as the one she had been placed in previously, near identical in fact, save for it being below the ground, with no windows at all.
"Light will burn us," explains Nina, one of the two other women-turned-vampires who live at the castle for Alina's entertainment and pleasure, "and you should keep away from holy water and crosses. We sleep down here during the daylight hours and venture upstairs or outside when it is dark."
Genya frowns, "Aleksandr visited me in the daylight when we were in London – how did he manage this?"
"Aleksandr and Alina are not like us. The two of them, and Ivan and Fedyor, are originals, the very first vampires. We do not know how old they are, but they speak of involvement in battles that occurred over three millennia ago, and of civilisations that have long since turned to dust. They are eternal and we are simply footnotes."
"But are we not vampires too?" Genya asks, "does that not grant us immortality?"
"Perhaps," the other girl says, "but we are not like them. They do not need to fear the sun, stakes and holy water like we do."
"And Aleksandr?" she asks, "he is Alina's husband."
Nina nods, "they are devoted to one another."
"Then why does he allow her to have us? He never showed any interest in me during our courtship or journey here, and he does not even appear jealous and over our presence."
It is mad enough to find a woman allowed to cavort with other women, and even stranger that Aleksandr does not appear to show the desire to have any of them but Alina. It all seems totally contrary to everything her mama and London acquaintances have ever told her of the ways of men.
"Alina and Aleksandr will be together until this world ends and nothing can change that. They are each other's first priority, will never choose another person or thing over each other. He is secure enough in her affection that it does not bother him that she likes to play with others, although he insists on choosing them himself. She would offer him the same courtesy, but he does not wish to take up that offer – I often suspect he simply does not feel desire for anyone but her."
It is romantic, really, in a disturbing sort of way.
"Nina," she whispers, almost nervously, "what happens when Alina does not want us anymore? Does she kill us?"
The mistress of the castle has not been cruel so far, the painful manner of her turning aside, but her demeanour suggests a person unused to being denied, and quick to discard a toy when she no longer wishes to play with it.
(what exactly discarded might mean is something she has been trying hard not to think about).
"I will not deny that Alina, like Aleksandr, Ivan and Fedyor, has a great capacity for violence. No matter how delicate and innocent she may look, she is ancient and powerful and so very dangerous. Still, plenty have left in the past."
"They … they'll let us leave?"
Nina laughs, "oh, darling, it's not quite as easy as it sounds. Of course, she might let us go, if we fall in love or desire to travel the world, but only on her terms, only if Alina feels like allowing us to go. And then you have to survive long enough so that you are no longer an exciting new amusement but are controlled enough that it is safe to release you into the world."
"It sounds dangerous," Genya murmurs.
Like walking a tightrope, or playing a game where the rules aren't clear, or pointing a gun at yourself and hoping it isn't loaded when you pull the trigger.
"Mmm," Nina agrees, "Alina dotes on us, of course, and we have so many beautiful things, all the blood we could possibly want, and access to what is probably the world's finest library. Still, do not ever mistake her care for any suggestion that we are her equals, or that she feels more for us than fondness – that way lies danger … and madness."
Genya shivers. It sounds awfully like the brunette is speaking from experience.
"Nina?" she asks, "how … how many of us have there been?"
"I cannot tell you. Apart from Zoya, the only ones I know personally are Inej and Nadia. Inej was here for five hundred years, and Nadia for almost three hundred – they both fell in love with visitors to the castle – Kaz and Tamar – who are vampires Ivan and Fedoyr sired centuries ago, and they were permitted to leave with them."
"Does anyone leave for any other reason?"
Nina grimaces, "well … you spoke of jealousy. And it is true that Aleksandr does not mind this arrangement – it is his to control, really, for he is the one who selects us and brings us here – but, on occasion, one of the brides – that is what we call ourselves, even if it is not truly the case for any of us – becomes, shall we say, deluded."
"In … in what way, exactly?"
"I only have the stories," Nina shrugs, "the two best known are Luda and Malya. Luda was the very first bride, a gift from Aleksandr to Alina when she expressed an interest in women – things that are taboo to humans, you see, are rarely left unexplored by vampires. It worked well enough, to begin with, but Luda looked at Aleksandr with stars in her eyes, and he apparently had something of a soft spot for her – not love, since he and Alina have never loved anyone but each other and we are all nearly positive that Aleksandr has never shared his bed with anyone but Alina – and Alina did not like it, not at all."
"She banished Luda?"
"Silly girl," Nina shakes her head, "you must know better, even after this brief time. No, she built a pyre and burned Luda alive. It took days, I'm told – we are far heartier than humans, but that just made the end more painful and lingering."
"And Aleksandr didn't try and stop her?"
"Aleksandr is not our friend, Genya," Nina warns her seriously, "he tolerates us for Alina's sake, and might occasionally find some amusement in watching us with her, but we mean nothing to him next to Alina. No, Aleksandr would not have lifted a finger for Luda."
"What about Malya?" Genya asks, although now she isn't sure she wants to know.
"Cautionary tale for a bride. Fancied herself in love with Alina and didn't even bother to hide it. Aleksandr staked her, another lingering death, and then he fucked Alina for eight hours straight right in front of Malya while she was dying. Alina commissioned a tapestry of that event – and one of Luda on the pyre – for a gift the next year – they are still displayed in the library by Aleksandr's study."
"That is …"
Disturbing. Insane. Terrifying.
"It is the price we pay for immortality, or something close to it. This home, the chance to learn so many things, and eventually the opportunity to leave."
"There's no need to tremble so," says a voice from the doorway.
She and Nina turn to see Zoya in the doorway, looking distinctly rumpled and very sated, clearly having come from a visit to Alina's rooms.
"You'll do well enough," the dark-haired girl adds, "as long as you keep control and don't look too longingly at either Alina or Aleksandr."
She flashes over, moving with a speed that shocks Genya, even though Nina has explained the basics of her new abilities as a vampire, and reaches out to brush her fingers over Genya's lips.
"A shame you can't blush anymore," Zoya sighs, "for you are still such a little innocent even after your time with Alina. Do not worry, that will not last long."
Genya isn't quite sure what to make of the girl in front of her, with her flirtatious smile and clear admiration for Genya's (admittedly ample) chest. Are they allowed other lovers, or are they simply Alina's? Questions she never thought she would ask herself, but perhaps her transformation has somehow removed her sense of propriety and her moral scruples.
"Alina does not mind if we play," Zoya looks at her coyly, "not with Aleksandr, obviously, although he'd sooner rip off our heads than fuck us, and Ivan and Fedyor are more interested in each other … but us girls, well, it can get awfully lonely when Alina is away or with Aleksandr."
"I …"
"Leave her be," Nina grabs hold of Zoya's arm and tugs her towards the door, "let the poor thing settle in before you ambush her."
Genya shoots Nina a grateful smile as they leave her alone.
She's fine, she thinks to herself as she drops to the thickly-carpeted floor.
A transformation into a supernatural. A sexual encounter with a woman. Her marriage a sham. Living in a castle that every one of her acquaintances would call a den of evil, iniquity and immorality.
Maybe if she goes to sleep then she will wake up and find this has all been a crazy dream.
(somehow she doubts it).
Genya wakes from a deep sleep as the darkness falls.
For a moment, she forgets exactly where she is and the circumstances of her stay.
And then she buries her face in her mountain of pillows to muffle her scream.
Nina bursts through her door a few moments later, "Genya, are you well?"
Right, super-senses. She'd forgotten.
Nina pats her awkwardly on the shoulder, "come on, get dressed and I'll show you the library.
Depressingly satisfied that this whole ordeal is not a nightmare she can wake up from, Genya chooses from one of the dresses in her room (and who, she wonders, had they belonged to before her, for they are all beautiful, but many are made in the fashions that were popular decades previously) and follows Nina.
The door to the main library (there is a smaller one attached to Aleksandr's study, and then a supernatural reference library in another wing) is open and the two of them walk right in on a scene they weren't expecting.
Nina shoots her an apologetic look, "sorry, I forgot they sometimes challenge each other to see who can stay quiet the longest."
Genya is only half listening, mostly entranced by the scene in front of her.
Alina and Aleksandr are half-dressed. She is braced against the ladder leaning against one of the bookshelves and he is thrusting roughly into her, giving no quarter, offering no relief.
Alina's expression is one of agony, although Genya can't tell if it is pain or pleasure or both.
They kiss like they are starving, as if they can never get enough of each other.
It is obscene. It is beautiful.
She can see, now, how Malya fancied herself in love with Alina, and how Luda became enamoured of Aleksandr.
If she had not been warned, Genya thinks she would have been in danger of going the same way.
"Better leave them to it," Nina leads her away, "they like an audience sometimes, but you're probably not ready to see them when they really go at it."
They leave just as Aleksandr's teeth sink into Alina's neck and the two of them let out simultaneous groans.
Genya's skin itches. When she looks at Nina, she thinks how pretty the other girl is, how inviting her full lips are.
Nina lets out a laugh when she spots Genya's expression, "come on," she winks, pulling her into an empty room, "let's have some fun, Genya."
Genya is relieved to discover that she does not have to feed all that often. About once every two weeks, more often only if she has suffered an injury.
Perhaps in a decade or century she might get used to being the cause of a person's death the way the other undead occupants of the castle have, but right now it is only a means to an end, a necessary evil to keep herself fed. They all tell her that her victims are not good people, but Genya has no way of verifying their statement, since she is considered too young to leave the castle grounds.
It is the grounds on which they hunt. It is made into a sport of sort, one that reminds Genya of a hunting party back in England, although this is far wilder and more disturbing than the fox hunts she remembers gentleman at home discussing.
The rest of the group seem to have none of the misgivings that Genya does. They are at ease with their monsters in a way she has not yet learned to be (she honestly doesn't know if she ever will learn it).
In some ways, she has acclimatised to her new life with astonishing quickness.
She has a good handle on her new speed and strength, has not (yet) attacked any of the servants because their blood smelled too tempting, is becoming used to never seeing the sunlight (existing in darkness, with only the light of the moon or a candle or lamp) and is (sinfully, deliciously) enthusiastic about the intimacy she has with Alina, Nina and Zoya.
In other ways, though, Genya is still struggling.
Rarely does a day pass without a moral dilemma relating to the people she kills to sustain herself or her own whorish behaviour (she is not truly married, consorting with other women in contravention of the teachings of both the church and polite society, and enjoying it all far too much).
What can she do, though? While she is not supervised in any obvious sense, she knows full well that if she tried to venture away from the castle then she would be easily caught and probably severely punished. Isn't it wiser to simply make the best of her situation?
After all, there is much to love about the castle.
A library full of books that would have made her mama tut and tell her that too much education ruins a woman. Philosophy and art and poetry and history, interesting scientific and anatomical tomes, books of mythology and legends.
Then there is a piano and a harp. Supplies for needlework and artistic endeavours and designing dresses.
There is even a huge kitchen, although it is usually only used to make simple meals for the servants. Nina, she discovers, spends quite a lot of time there, with containers of blood kept cool with blocks of ice stored below ground, mixing blood and experimenting in a bizarre quest to recreate the taste of waffles – her favourite food as a human.
Yes, there is a great deal to keep her occupied, and a lot to ensure she is content, happy even.
As for the dynamics of the household, it doesn't take long for Genya to get used to how things work.
She, Nina and Zoya are free to do what they like, as long as it doesn't interfere with rest of the castle's occupants. Among themselves, they are technically equal, although Genya tends to defer to the other two as they are older and more knowledgeable about this baffling new world Genya finds herself in.
Ivan and Fedyor exist a little apart from them. Neither tend to try and give Genya, Nina or Zoya orders, and if they do then they are generally obeyed immediately because there must be a good reason (after all, the three of them are considered entirely under Alina's purview for the most part). Fedyor is the friendlier, happy to play a card game or tell her some piece of history about the castle. Ivan, she tries to keep away from, since he intimidates her almost as much as Aleksandr does.
Alina rules the roost. She calls any of her brides whenever she wishes. She gives instructions to Ivan and Fedyor and they obey without question. She decides when they will hunt and when they will gather in the drawing room together for an evening together.
Alina rules the roost, but Aleksandr rules her.
It is an interesting dynamic, really. A delicate balance, for Aleksandr manages to show his total dominion over his wife without ever diminishing her own power over everyone else.
Alina bends for no one … no one but him, at least.
With Aleksandr she can be docile as a newborn lamb, craving his touch and his approval and every other part of him she can get. In turn, he cossets her something dreadful, a firm but usually indulgent hand guiding her.
Genya thinks of it like this.
Alina is fearless, strong, intelligent, powerful, vicious – she is a queen who needs no title or crown, only her makeshift court at Morozov Castle.
Aleksandr is Alina's equal, her balance, her soulmate. Many might say he is the more ruthless and dangerous of the two, but Genya has seen the fire and darkness that hide in Alina's eyes, knows well enough that she can match Aleksandr with ease.
Alina could decimate armies if she wished, could destroy cities or counties, could remake society as she wishes. Perhaps she might do it, if she got bored or irritated enough.
Aleksandr, it seems to Genya, is the restraining hand. He keeps Alina's attention focused on Morozov Castle, ensures the world is left to carry on, for the most part blissfully ignorant of the monsters that lurk in the dark.
She idly wonders if one day something will happen to make Aleksandr loosen his grip, content to let Alina loose on the world, wishing to join her in her chaotic destruction.
For the sake of humanity, Genya hopes that day will never come.
Genya, Nina and Zoya are a tangle of limbs, their garbled moans and whimpers scarcely distinguishable.
She scarcely has the sense left to think, too focused on the hands and mouths drawing pleasure from her eager body.
Her eyelids are fluttering as she lays there, licking and sucking the breasts that hover above her. Someone is busy between her legs, although she can't see them … noting the roughness, the teeth scraping a little too hard against her inner thigh, she thinks it is probably Zoya.
Genya cannot see the bed, but she knows Alina is sprawled out on the rumpled sheets, lazily touching herself as she watches the show they are putting on at her command.
When the door opens abruptly, Aleksandr sweeping in dressed (as usual) all in black, the three of them freeze.
"Out," he barks at them.
They scramble to their feet, grabbing their nightgowns. As usual, Aleksandr does not even bother looking at them, focused as always on Alina.
"Sasha," the girl in question pouts, "I was enjoying that."
Quick as a whip, he's pushed her down so she's face-first on the bed, his hand smacking her rear once, twice, three times in quick succession.
Alina whines. She tries to slip her hand between her legs, but Aleksandr grabs it, "don't even try it, Alinochka. You're going to lie there like a good girl and beg me for your release. And if you're good – very, very good – then I might give it to you."
Genya, Nina and Zoya take this as their cue to leave.
She can see Zoya frowning – it's her room that Alina and Aleksandr have taken over, after all, and they'll inevitably leave it in a mess – but she won't dare complain while Aleksandr could still hear them.
They are in another wing entirely when the three of them hear a loud, drawn-out, entirely filthy cry echoing off the stone walls.
Ivan, sitting across from them, grimaces. Fedyor just rolls his eyes.
Genya sighs. It'll be a long night.
Just an hour previously, as they hunted, Genya had seen Alina tackle a tall, muscled man to the ground with ease, tearing into his throat viciously and leaving him entirely drained of blood in a matter of minutes.
Now, she sits curled up in Aleksandr's lap like a contented cat, licking the blood from her fingers as his hands card gently through her long, dark hair.
She isn't soft with the rest of them. Indulgent, at times, or condescendingly sweet, but never so vulnerable or at ease.
Aleksandr, on his part, shows little emotion towards anyone but his wife. There is a sense of camaraderie and long friendship with Ivan and Fedyor, especially the former, but for Alina there is a true and deep and fierce love, a fire burning inside him for the tiny girl who possesses the whole of whatever heart an ancient being like Aleksandr has.
It all makes Genya rather melancholy sometimes.
She thinks of Mr Kostyk, of what might have been if she hadn't captured Aleksandr's attention, if he had not swept her away from her home, across the sea and into the thrall of his bewitching little wife.
It's not that she doesn't have fun, that her body does not experience pleasures she never dreamed of before.
It is only that she wishes someone could one day look at her with even a fraction of the devotion that Alina and Aleksandr show to each other, with a soft smile like the ones shared between Ivan and Fedyor.
This is her life, but she hopes one day she'll find someone to spend her eternity with.
Seventy-two years later
Alina is in a giddy mood.
A letter from Aleksandr, Genya imagines, with news of his most recent acquisition. It has been a while coming, for Zoya left them nearly a decade ago, hand in hand with a vampire called Nikolai, one of Aleksandr's friends, and Alina has been restless for something new ever since.
They are watching now for the carriage's arrival. Or, rather, Alina is lounging naked on a divan, Genya's lips skimming over her body, and glancing every now and then out of the window.
"Fingers, Gen, and be a darling and be quick about it. They're nearly here and Sasha will make such a fuss if I'm not dressed and downstairs to meet him."
Genya gets to work immediately – Alina tends to get mean when she is denied an orgasm, and her bites can be cruel – and it only takes a minute or two before she is writing under Genya's ministrations (decades of practice come in handy at times like this), gorgeous as she comes around three of Genya's fingers.
Alina is up and out of her seat as soon as she stops trembling from her orgasm, briefly pressing her lips to Genya's in thanks before flashing over to wash up at the sink.
"The black and gold dress, I think, Gen. Sasha always likes me in those colours."
Genya does as she is bid, knowing better than to show any frustration for how frustratingly damp she is between her legs, having had no chance to find her own relief.
It is just the way of their world. Alina can be a spoiled, selfish little thing when it comes to pleasure, but Genya and Nina help each other out, and it really is worth it for the times that Alina will pin them down and use her own tongue and fingers to take them to dizzying heights, wringing intense orgasms out of their bodies that Genya is sure she will never find with anyone else.
Morning is fast approaching. As Alina flits off downstairs, Genya joins Nina down in the crypts, ready to sleep the day away and rise later that night to greet the newest bride.
"She's really worked you up, huh," Nina gives her a sympathetic smile as she takes in Genya's disheveled appearance.
"Excited to have Aleksandr back, I suppose. And a new addition to the castle too – do we know her name?"
"Marie, I think," Nina says, "she's from Paris, so hopefully she'll know all the newest fashions."
Genya perks up. As a connoisseur of fashion, it sometimes frustrates her that they live so far from proper civilisation that it takes a while for the new trends to filter through to them. Alina likes pretty things, but she has lived too long to care much about particular styles, preferring instead to wear classic styles that rarely go out of fashion. That is all well and good, but Genya enjoys looking at the newest designs and it will be a treat to have a girl from one of the fashion centres of the world.
"We'll have other guests soon," Nina adds, "Zoya and Nik are coming for a visit in a few weeks. Then Ivan and Fedyor will be returning from their trip, and apparently they have two new vampires with them, ones they turned during their travels – one is from London, and the other they picked up in Sweden."
"Oh," Genya feels a flutter in her stomach at the idea of new faces, "what are their names?"
"David Kostyk and Matthias Helvar."
Genya smiles, eyes shining with hope.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
You can find me on Twitter under the username Keira_63. At the moment I pretty much just post mini prompt fics.