The Thing About Russia

The thing about Russia was, it was fucking cold.

Weather-wise, now was not the time to travel to Russia, but Kase didn't have much a choice. It wasn't quite winter yet, but it was close enough that a dusting of snow lined the tarmac as the royal jet touched down. Close enough that Kase needed to borrow a thick, fur-lined coat from one of the security guards helping him off the plane.

Russian guards were much less friendly than the ones in Paris, not that any of those men and women had been particularly friendly on his way out. Gen must have paid them to give him the cold shoulder. At least three of the usuals refused to look him in the eye. That was still kinder treatment than the glares from men and women in thick woolen parkas, their piercing stares poking out from furry berets.

Still, they treated Kase like the royalty he was. An armed escort followed his car to the royal residence: a gated palace right outside Saint Petersburg. Russia truly was a beautiful place, snow-capped and glittering with gold-tipped cathedral domes. Made him wish that Angeles got real seasons. Sure, it got cool, but nothing like this. Not snow deep enough to have snowball fights or make snowmen or even catch a flake on the tip of a tongue.

Winters with Drina were spent in the Swiss Alps or some Waverly ski resort. She never brought him home. Perhaps that was for the best. There were no emotions attached to the gleaming green and white stone facade. He could leave this behind easily.

The woman inside...that was a different story.

Cold seeped into Kase's bones as he exited the vehicle and climbed the stairs. It had nothing to do with the cold. The jitters were purely nerves, the anticipation building for whatever he would find behind grand double doors.

He knocked twice to no answer. On the third time, knuckles burning due to lack of gloves, the doors creaked open.

Inside, the palace looked the same as any other: high ceilings and plush red carpets and priceless artwork displayed in gold-gilt frames. Once you'd seen one palace, you'd seen them all. Still, Kase couldn't help the pang of insecurity at the sheer size of the place. The palace at Angeles wasn't exactly vast. For a palace, it was rather small in comparison. In royal circles, Illéa was often mocked for being 'poor'. In comparison to Versailles and now this, Kase felt the disparity acutely.

He shuffled his feet in the empty hall, ridding himself of the snow that had caked around the edges of his boots. He didn't want to upset the staff by muddying the floors. A guard waited for him by the foot of the stairs, gesturing for him to follow. There was a protocol to follow for unexpected guests. First step: introductions with the host. In this case, Drina.

Of course, because this was Kase's life and said life was a nightmare, nothing could ever be easy.

"State your business here, Schreave."

Kase stopped in his tracks, not even out the main foyer. He raised his hands and turned to face the voice, meeting the stonily handsome face of Crown Prince Ivar Anotov Irvaninoff.

Technically, Illéa and Russia were not allies, but they weren't enemies either. In legal terms that meant that Ivar could kill Kase and have two legs to stand over his dead body. Compared to the six foot five and two hundred fifty pound Russian giant, Kase didn't stand a chance in that fight. Diplomatic immunity was a bitch, but Kase was a prince, and despite what the whole world might think, he did have some political sense.

Both hands in the air, Kase chanced a step closer. "I come in peace."

There were no guns aimed at his head, but that meant nothing. Ivar was always packing, or so Drina said. Her brother was a huge hunter and an active member of the Russian Naval Infantry. He knew thirty ways to kill a man with nothing but the clothes on his back, and he was Kase's number one hater. Fair, given what Kase had done to his beloved sister, but bad for Kase's safety.

He'd really hoped that Ivar and his impossibly chiseled jawline would have been out for the day. Or deployed. Instead, he was forced eye to icy blue eye with the most terrifying man in Russia.

Okay, Kase was exaggerating, but the adrenaline had kicked in and he started second guessing coming at all.

That was, until she came into view.

Kase's breath caught.

Drina was even more beautiful than Kase remembered.

Perhaps it was cheesy or overly sentimental, but it had been months since Kase last laid eyes on Princess Alexandrina Romina Irvaninoff. Last they'd met, he'd made her cry. Then, he'd forgotten her birthday and that...that was the final nail in the coffin. Their unofficial breakup. It would have been easy to let their relationship lie, to not poke at its corpse and analyze every angle. He could have kept his silence, lowered his head to the ground as the world and Drina moved on around him.

The coward's way out.

Seeing her standing there with her hair in a messy braid, no makeup, casual clothes was a tad surreal. He'd seen her in a thousand similar outfits and yet...she was perfect. She always was perfect. Even in sweats two sizes too big stained with salicylic acid and baking powder. Everything about her screamed safety and home. But she wasn't his home anymore.

"I wish to request an audience with the princess," Kase said, overly formal. The Russians were a traditional, ornery bunch who liked their rules. It was part of the reason Kase never really got on with Drina's family, why he never even tried, but he wanted to try now. If it meant anything at all.

Drina's eyes skittered to the side, to her brother who wore his face in pinched lines. Like he had stepped into something foul and unexpected. Which, Kase supposed, he had.

"She does not wish to talk to you, Schreave," Ivar said, his voice imperious and final.

Ivar called for guards who came up and took Kase by the arms. Their grip was strong, bruising. They did not care that they handled a prince. They started to drag him away.

"Drina! Drina, wait! Please!"

Ivar pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated. "Just go, Schreave. Do not make this harder than it has to be."

This was it. He had come all this way just to catch a glimpse of the woman he loved, the woman he wronged, the woman he owed everything, only to have her slip through his fingers. Again.

Not this time.

'You were right!" Kase yelled, silencing the room and stopping the guards as Drina finally looked up. Ivar raised his hand, had the guards release Kase. He rubbed at his shoulders, bruises forming under the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't care.

He had Drina's attention. Those big brown eyes were focused on him, her brow furrowing in the most adorable way. He wanted to kiss that furrow. He wanted her to hear what he had to say more.

"What was I right about?" she asked.

"You were right. About me," Kase clarified, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He didn't care if Ivar was staring or if the guards were waiting on orders to take him out, he had to say this. Now. "Everything you said in your exposé. Everything you told the reporters, the magazines, your family, you were right about it all. You were right to move on and find happiness. You were right to break up with me."

Drina was stunned. Ivar was stunned. Hell, even the guards looked stunned. But Kase kept going.

"Because the truth is, I'm a mess. I'm selfish and explosive and can't even have the common decency to remember your birthday. There is so much wrong with me, Drina...I have all this anger inside and it's not your responsibility to fix me. I can't be what you want me to be, and that breaks my heart but it's okay. It's okay because I know one day you're going to find someone who treats you so, so much better, and he's going to be able to give you all the things I couldn't. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and if all I get is to see you happy, then that'll be enough. It's enough for me, Drina."

With each confession, Kase expelled more of the poison. It was like exorcising demons. Every dark thought and broken feeling felt like absolution. Everything he refused to speak about in therapy, every punch he ever threw at a wall wishing he could hurt himself, every self-destructive tendency boiled down to this moment.

It hurt like hell but he meant every word.

"I'm sorry for everything I put you through," he said, too little too late. "I'm sorry I was such a coward that I never said it sooner."

Drina was in front of him now, eyes glassy and wide. Ivar hovered off to the side, watching them both curiously. Kase didn't dare make a move. This all had to be on Drina. The ball was in her court, the decision hers to make. Kase's heart was in her hands, and he accepted his fate.

She reached out and took his hands in hers. They were so small, so soft in comparison to his, her skin so pale and paper-thin.

"We were never going to work," he said softly, his final confession.

"No," Drina replied slowly, sadly, with those big doe eyes sparkling with bittersweet tears. "But we were a very nice dream, weren't we?"

Funny, how he thought he knew what heartbreak felt like. The first time was fire and rage, pain that coursed through every open scratch carved upon his bleeding heart. He had spent hours in his room with music blasting, screaming at nothing and no one while Titus whined and nipped at his ankles, trying to calm Kase down. There were so many holes in the walls those first few days after everything was said and done.

This time, the pain was soft. Like a kiss pressed to a purpled bruise. Like an ache that reached down the marrow, one that would likely never leave no matter how the skin healed. There would always be some broken, throbbing part of himself that fit the shape of her lips and the curve of her hand in his.

Drina waited patiently for Kase to nod. The breath she let out told of a relief she did not let play out on her face, some part of her still pretending everything was fine for his sake. Another piece of his heart broke and twisted in his chest. Just how long would the people in his life continue to walk on eggshells around him?

How could he possibly mend this much damage?

One brick at a time.

Kase freed his hands from Drina's grip and reached into his pocket. It was easy to find what he was searching for. A velvet box had a very unique texture.

"Here. This belongs to you."

Drina's hand shook as he placed the box in the center of her palm.

If she were to open the box, she would find a single diamond affixed to a platinum band. The diamond itself belonged to some Illéa of times since past, the band engraved with the date of their anniversary. Horribly romantic, impossibly sentimental, but Kase never did things by halves whether that be proposals, apologies, breakups, or all three in one.

"I cannot accept this - "

"Yes you can." He pushed the ring back, gently closing her fingers over the box. "Sell it, take the gem out and melt the metal, put it in a drawer and never take it out, I don't care. It's...it's everything you mean to me, Drina. Everything I can't have. And it's not fair of me to ask but I need to let you go."

Perhaps it was the desperation in his request or the way he had shut his eyes that had Drina relenting. He just...he wasn't strong enough to do this alone. As selfish as it was, he needed her to be the one who let go first.

"Please," he whispered, soft as a kiss. She was close enough too, so close he could drown in those crystal blue lakes. He'd go willingly. He'd rip out his still beating heart and let it freeze in her depths. But that would be selfish, and this wasn't about him. "Let me go."

"Alright, Kasey. Alright."

Her voice was just as shaky, lost somewhere between a breath and a gasp. Kase could feel her more than see her, his eyes still half-closed and braced for impact. The first few moments were torture, just standing there across from each other, awkward as hell. Kase could feel his resolve breaking down, crumbling. It would be so easy to fall back into old routines, to pull her close to him and never let go.

Then, there were lips on his cheek, soft as a rose petal in spring. A barest hint of a kiss, the faintest waft of lilac perfume, and then nothing at all. Just the cold emptiness of space.

Kase opened his eyes and Drina was standing by Ivar's side, but she was smiling. It was pained and teary, but it was real, and that was worth more than a thousand lies.

"I let you go."

He matched her smile.

"Thank you."

Silence cemented the end of their relationship. The tolling of the cathedral bell - loud enough to hear even inside castle walls - called the time of death. And yet, Kase felt lighter. Reborn. Sure, the pain in his chest was a visceral thing but he knew that it would mend. They both would, in time.

"It is time for you to leave," Ivar said, stepping forward and clapping a thick hand on Kase's shoulder. His grip was punishing; Kase would be lying to say it didn't hurt.

Perhaps it was time to go. Kase had overstayed his welcome and the hospitality of his frosty host. It was a miracle he had been granted this much.

So, when Ivar steered Kase towards the door, Kase didn't fight him. It also helped the that guards remained hands-off this go round.

"Kasey," Drina called as he was half-way to the door, and he turned around instantly. She smiled a half-smile, and Kase committed every detail to memory. "I hope you find what you're looking for, out there."

"Me too."

Then, she was out the room and down the hall.

There was a time, maybe even a few weeks ago, when he would have chased after her. When he would not have taken no for an answer and forced them to work things out. Because that's the kind of guy he was: the one who clung to the things he should let go, the things that should have been long dead and gone. Cutting Drina out was like excising a tumor. He'd never get that part of him back, that mass of her that had grown between his lungs and around his ribs into the very core of him. But she was killing him. They were killing him.

Surgery was over. The tumor was out. Now, Kase was left to bleed, but damn if it didn't feel like relief.

Ivar was a terrifying presence at Kase's side. They walked side by side to the exit, neither one saying a word. Despite what had just happened, part of Kase thought that Ivar was going to knife him and throw him into the snow for the wolves to eat. When they stopped at the front gates, Ivar held back, letting Kase walk ahead.

Ah, a bullet to the head. Execution style. Much easier. Messier, but easier.

Kase turned around to see Ivar with his hands in his pockets, blue eyes blazing colder than the snow. But there was a warmth there, a bare flicker of amicability that had not been there before.

"I do not like you, Schreave, and I will never like you. But maybe now I respect you…just a little," he said gruffly, jerking his head towards the exit. "Now get out of my country."

Kase stood, stunned, as the front gates slammed in his face.

That was as good as he was gonna get.

Cold air assaulted Kase as he made his way down frosted steps. The car had been kept running - this was a short trip, after all - and Kase was more than grateful for it once he slipped into heated leather interior. Numb fingers tapped against the divided screen, grabbing the attention of the driver.

"Airport, please," Kase requested, and they pulled down the drive back towards the city.

One last stop: home.