Chapter Text
"Alright, you thieves and robbers," Sturmhond bellowed to the skeleton crew on-board. "Two tasks at hand: stock up on supplies and get those minor repairs sorted.” Then he calls back to the rest of his quickly dispersing men hurrying down the gangplank, “I expect everyone back within respectable hours! And no getting lost in taverns, you hear me?"
A chorus of good-natured grumbles and "Aye-ayes, Captain!" fill the air. Sturmhond cracks a smile, joining the remaining crew in cataloguing inventory.
The sun beats down mercilessly, making the salt heavy air seem even thicker. With most of the crew off enjoying a well-deserved afternoon shore pass, it leaves the harbour in a peaceful stillness that gives way to the rare luxury of getting lost inside one’s head.
The past few days had been a blur of whirlwind activities since the Volkvolny sped away from Eames Chin with Ravka's most precious cargo. A final stop at the bustling docks of Weddle before heading straight to the Bone Road to see about a mythical water snake for a Sun Saint of the legends.
Speaking of the Sun Summoner, a tense silence hangs heavy between her and Nikolai now... in best-case scenarios. At worst, it's downright hostile. The slightest shift in the breeze seems to spark petty arguments that fizzle out as quickly as they ignite.
Gritting teeth behind easy smiles, Sturmhond reasons that she must just be having a hard time adjusting to life at sea. Her bad mood, he tells himself, is a symptom of seasickness.
Though Nikolai knows better. Unlike Sturmhond, he can't ignore the feeling there's more to this. The way her shoulders tense whenever he is near, the disdain that flickers in her eyes- charming smiles and witty retorts won't cut it this time.
Then there's the matter of the baby. Their baby, Nikolai corrects himself, mouth going dry every time he's reminded of it. Which is quite often. Almost constantly, while he is being honest.
An uninterrupted conversation regarding the matter is of utmost importance but a logistical nightmare with watchful eyes lurking on every corner of the crammed ship. Further, with Alina's mood as volatile as a storm, bringing it up seems doubly daunting.
He aches to reach out, to bridge that gaping chasm between them, but for reasons unfathomable, the words always get tangled in his throat, choking him each time he tries.
In hindsight, he supposed bitterly that being honest with true feelings has never been on his repertoire. After all, a second prince is rarely granted such luxury, if ever.
All in all, despite being a favored son of the seas, Nikolai finds himself in uncharted territory. This predicament anything but favorable, and he has no map to navigate.
Even though the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, a strange duality simmers beneath the surface- a silver lining peeking through the dark stormy clouds. In the rare moments when they're not at each other's throats, when Nikolai catches a distant glimpse, Alina... shines. Like the sun she commands, radiating a light that was absent within the stifling walls of the Grand Palace. Sure, she laughed and joked back then, but the merriment never quite touched her eyes like it does now. Here, by the sea, it sparkles from within.
Her laughter, too, is a revelation on its own. It's as dazzling as her magic, sometimes so bright it burns, forcing him to look away. Yet, the pull to steal another glance is achingly irresistible.
Others notice it too, Alina's brilliant radiance is impossible to miss. It spreads like a wave- a beacon that draws the attention of the entire crew. As if determined to keep that light shining, they've rallied around her with every available weapon on their arsenal.
Tamar's hardened palms meant for battle axe is exchanged for gentle caring ones of a Healer's.
Natasha's wood splitting Squaller's gale is put away temporarily for lullabies woven with calming acoustics meant to sooth infants.
Tolya’s deadly practiced focus used for crushing hearts is diverted to meticulously crafting each of Alina’s meals to ensure maximum nutrition.
Even Hans, the gruff Otkazat'sya sailor who rarely speaks more than grunts, has been seen regaling Alina with endless tales of his grandchildren- the affair surprisingly animated.
And the Sun Summoner, in turn, receives their support- their offerings with open arms. Offering back her disciples and their loved ones divine blessings from a living Sankta, despite her deep disdain for the mantle. All the while gracing a soft smile and a radiating warmth that seems to touch everyone but Nikolai.
Because when Alina's gaze meets his, that sunshine vanishes like a snuffed candle.
The candle burns bright again when she turns back to the tracker.
Perfect Malyen. Effortlessly natural, earnest in his affections in a way Nikolai feels he can never bring himself to be. Malyen, who seems to walk on water while Nikolai feels like he's drowning with every step.
The westering sun casts long shadows across the deck. Looking up from the papers he's been pretending to examine, Nikolai squints at the horizon, letting out a weary sigh.
"Ah!"
A smack meets the back of his skull and he quickly whirrs around, more alarmed than hurt. Although he had a pretty spot on idea of who on his ship would dare such audacity to the captain.
Tamar comes into view, lips pursed in a way that promises a coming storm.
"As soon as we're on Ravkan soil, I'm passing a decree to keep men from getting violently assaulted on their own ships by vicious women like you and your Sankta."
The Heartrender throws a withering look. "Then you better pass one that prevents them from being tossed overboard to the sharks too, Captain."
Straightening, Nikolai picks at a nonexistent piece of lint on his coat, "You know I appreciate bluntness. But perhaps there's a less dramatic way to phrase it, no? What are you getting at?"
Ignoring his implore for clarity, Tamar continues cryptically, "The nerve of you," she growls. "I should've known. The way you sauntered back from your 'vacation' last fall, practically beaming and couldn't stop raving about your mystery woman..." Her voice trails off meaningfully.
Nikolai's unable to help the wince. He'd suspected Tamar might piece things together... Looking back, his attempt at secrecy was laughable at best. Drunkenly regaling the twins about their beloved Sun Summoner wasn't exactly his brightest moment.
"I was not beaming," he mutters, more to himself than to her.
Tamar scoffs loudly. "Radiant, Captain, that’s what you were. You practically skipped on deck for weeks. Nobody could wipe that stupid smirk off your face. And I won't embarrass you further by bringing up the only other time you uttered the word 'beautiful' is when you're admiring yourself in the mirror."
Nikolai's jaw ticks, not liking where this conversation is headed or enjoying the unsolicited self assessment.
"I still don't see what warrants wanting to push your captain overboard, sailor." Remaining unfazed despite the cold sweat that prickle his skin, he attempts at playing none the wiser.
"Oh, let's make a list. We'll start with the immoral affair you've had with your brother's wife!" Tamar hisses, her voice low. The color drain from Nikolai's face at that and he knows he's made a grave mistake by feigning pretense.
Tamar continues drawing close in low whispers, "Not only did you seduce my Saint, you got her pregnant! Then you put her in jeopardy at court, and now you're dragging her back to a place where she could be hanged if found out."
A flicker of anger sparks in Nikolai's eyes at the accusation. "Hold on," he interjects, his voice sharp. "I have never meant to put Alina in danger. This whole thing – it's her idea, believe it or not. Nobody is dragging her anywhere."
The words tumble out before he can stop them, but the anger in Tamar's eyes doesn't waver. He has a lot of explaining, and convincing to do.
Promising a full explanation later, Nikolai settles for a quick rundown of the mission at hand and their plans beyond. Disapproval evident, Tamar stares daggers for a moment. Then, with a heavy sigh, she speaks in a surprisingly calm tone.
"Look, Captain... If you and Alina are having problems, try not to make it a spectacle," she warns. "Keeping the crew from tattling about a Sun Summoner is one thing, but salacious gossips of their commander mooning over a married woman? A whole other kettle of fish."
The urge to defend himself rises hot in his throat, then fizzles out. Instead, Nikolai stares out at the harbour, bustling once more as new ships moor up.
Tamar was right, of course. The crew need to be kept focused on the mission. This situation could so easily turn into a disaster if left unchecked.
Further, the long journey through the treacherous Bone Road stretches ahead, a long week of close quarters and strained silence. The thought of enduring that with Alina like this is unbearable.
"Saints," he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I really need to talk to her."
-
Alina plays with the light, letting it dance around her fingertips like fireflies on a summer night. But the light fades of its own accord, leaving her frowning.
With a flick of her wrist, she summons a miniature sun this time. It starts to swell, growing brighter and larger by the second. Panic clenches her gut. This isn't right. With effort, she wrestles her power back, forcing the erratically flickering sun to shrink.
Movement in the corner of her eye shatters her focus. Alina jerks in surprise, the sun erupting from her grasp like a startled bird.
A chaotic dance ensues, tiny suns zip and zag across the room. Alina ducks, narrowly avoiding a scorching kiss from a stray beam.
She lets out a yelp as another beam strikes a nearby pitcher, shattering the glass and spraying a dark, woody liquid across the floor.
Alina winces, praying it wasn't something irreplaceable.
A furious blush creeps up her neck as she spots the figure by the door. A stack of papers precariously balanced on his arms, there's Nikolai- jaw hanging slack, taking in the shattered pitcher and, worse, Alina standing in her chemise, hair dripping and clinging to her like a second skin. Thankfully, her skirt remains on.
"What in the Saints name, Nikolai?" she nearly shouts. "Do you ever consider knocking?"
Although more than ready to unleash a full-blown reprimand, Alina turns her back to him, the movement sending a cascade of wet hair down her back. Cursing under her breath, she realizes she's in no position for a fight. Stuck mid-wash in the tiny basin of the stateroom, feeling ridiculously exposed.
Peering through the small mirror hung over the porcelain basin, Alina watches as Nikolai coughs, tearing his gaze from the wreckage and then, just as quickly, from her. Cheeks flushing a shade to rival her own.
“A little louder next time,” He sneers, shuffling towards his desk and depositing the papers with a clatter. "Why not announce my arrival with a town crier? So the entire crew might discover there's another Lantsov stowed away on board.”
“And knocking wouldn't have been high on my list of priorities considering this is my space that you have seen fit to hijack. Though, as a gentleman, I certainly would have exercised some restraint if I'd known you were still here." He adds grudgingly avoiding her gaze, “I thought you’d gone ashore with the tracker."
Alina lets out a derisive scoff, yanking her emerald green bodice back on with a rough jerk. "Like you would've let me leave."
In the mirror's reflection, she catches Nikolai finally glancing up from the papers he fusses over. "You are no prisoner here, Alina. You can move about as you wish."
Seeing her whirl around to face him, Nikolai hastily ducks down, busying himself in paperwork once more.
Alina's blood simmers. She wants him to look at her. Look at the evidence of what they've created, this tiny life growing within. The need for him to acknowledge their child – it's a carnal tug at her sanity, a yearning she refuses to voice. But Alina won't stoop to begging the man who can't even meet her eyes.
Frustration palpable, she slowly breaths. Raking through her wet hair, she summons a twinge of heat to speed up the drying process.
“Alright. What is the extent of your generosity, Sturmhond?” she challenges. “If I said I wanted to take a carriage right back to Shirftport, would you still be so understanding? Aren't you afraid I will run?"
"No," Nikolai says simply, the single word lacking any further explanation.
Alina bristles, a retort forming about her disinterest in saving his beloved Ravka. But before it can spill out, Nikolai cuts her off.
"What was that just now?" His voice is sharp, all businesslike. "Your powers been acting erratic as of late. Care to explain?"
"No," Alina mutters curtly.
Releasing a weary sigh, Nikolai leaves the papers to lean against the desk. "Trust is a tricky needle to thread for both of us but you act like someone who's already been betrayed."
The muscles in his forearms flex as he folds his arms across his chest, the rolled-up sleeves revealing taut lines. Alina realizes she's been staring only when he speaks again.
"Come on," he continues, voice softer now, almost pleading. "Talk to me."
Her shoulders slump as memories flood back - Tamar's concerns. The chaotic surge of power when Alina first became one with the Stag antlers. Lorna's warning- possessing multiple amplifiers breaks all the rulels.
Chewing on her lip, Alina finally shares the words she's been dreading to say out loud. Her voice a mere whisper as she touches her stomach, "I think... I think the baby might be an amplifier."
Maybe it's a reach, a shot in the dark but certainly not far off the realm of possibilities. After all, she's no ordinary Grisha. And Baghra, Aleksander... they weren't ordinary either.
The revelation hangs heavy in the air as neither of them speak for a long moment.
Nikolai lets out a slow, measured breath. "So, the baby is Grisha, then."
"What's that supposed to mean? Are you… disappointed?" she snaps, eyes filled with hurt.
"No, I—" he begins, voice rough. Nikolai runs a frustrated hand through his hair and Alina braces herself, half-expecting him to bolt – his default reaction for the past few days. But Nikolai surprises her by staying his ground, gaze lingering on the hand resting protectively over her abdomen.
"Look at how the world has treated us, Alina. We've both been ostracized, misjudged- all for reasons beyond our control. And the baby…" he trails off. "The whispers will come, you know," he says, voice low. "About their heritage, about who they are."
“And now you're saying they'll be Grisha too... no doubt powerful, as well, but most will only perceive them as something to be feared and misunderstood."
Alina flinches. Nikolai’s grips the edge of the desk, knuckles white.
"I know what I want doesn't change fate, but is it so wrong of me to wish their life to be… easier? Less… burdened?"
The vulnerability in his tone cracks the armor Alina built around her heart. It aches, raw and exposed.
She looks away, unable to meet his eyes. When she speaks, the words come out choked, a whisper barely audible. "Their life is already burdened."
Alina’s eyes sting with unshed tears. That all too familiar guilt and shame rushes back- squeezes at her chest, feels like a physical weight crushing her alive.
"This is all my fault," she whispers, voice thick with emotion.
Nikolai closes the distance between them in a heartbeat, hovering a step away.
“Please don’t cry. I can’t bear to see you like this." His hand reaches out tentatively, but lingers just shy of her cheek.
"Isn't this a bit deja vu?" Nikolai ventures with the hint of a wry smile. But Alina's face pales further at the reminder of the last time they were like this... where this whole mess began.
Seeing her reaction, Nikolai's smile vanishes like smoke, retreating his hovering hand.
"Apologies, Sunshine. I seem to have developed a talent for upsetting you as of late," he mutters the last part, sounding so remorseful that Alina is the one who can't bear it anymore.
This won't do. Sniffling, she reaches out to catch his retreating hand to guide it back to her face, leaning into the warmth. "Don’t forget your special knack for making me angry and completely neurotic as well."
That manages to draw a half-hearted chuckle out of Nikolai, though its a sad sound. "Is that so?" he drawls, a speck of the familiar mischief returning to his eyes.
"What else am I guilty of?" Long fingers lightly passes over her jawline. Alina shivers.
"Disoriented, disgruntled..." she murmurs, "a little breathless even."
"I missed you." Nikolai suddenly blurts out, voice trembling. His shoulders flinch immediately, as if regretting the words.
Alina thinks for a moment he'll flee, but then he surprises her again by pressing on, “The past couple of days I’ve missed you so much it felt like missing you is all I am...”
Her throat hitches. This is a bad idea. But Alina finds herself powerless against the pull as she leans into his touch even further, pressing a kiss to the palm resting on her cheek.
This is a bad idea. As if compelled, her fingers circle his wrist, grazing a soft kiss to the inside of it, lingering a beat longer, letting the heat sink in.
“Alina,” Nikolai breaths, lips parting. He catches the nape of her neck, fingers warm against her skin. "Don't,"
"Don't what?" she whispers, arching her chin up in reaction to the fingers pressing on her neck. If he intends to deescalate the slippery slope they’ve embarked on, this isn't helping. At all.
"Sunshine..." Nikolai mutters, it's a strangled sound, half protest, half plea. His other hand, which moments ago rested lightly on her shoulder, dips down to brush against her hip. All of his actions painstakingly betraying each and every one of the words he speaks.
His pupils are wide, breath coming out in ragged rasps. Alina imagines she isn't much better either. "Is this really okay?" he asks, hesitant then clarifies, "I mean, aren't you and Mal..."
Alina flinches internally, as if the mention of the name jarring her from a trance.
Mal. Her best friend, the one who's held her hand for the past six months. Just recently, with whom she's finally begun to explore the space beyond friendship. Stolen kisses and shy cuddles- one at a time.
But it was all so new, so fragile. And recent events had thrown everything into question.
But Alina knows she'll forgive him eventually. That when the dust settles, she'll return to their safe, idyllic routine. Back to Mal, honorable and dutiful. His touches fragile and light, full of comfort and care.
Mal who doesn't set her pulse racing, doesn't leave a trail of fire across her skin with just a graze of a finger.
Mal, who’s hands are not stained red and who doesn't share her guilt, the shame of recklessly bringing a life into the world for the greater good...
Nikolai's gaze doesn't waver, searching her eyes for a definitive answer. But all Alina can offer is the truth, “I don't know,”
He quirks an amused eyebrow, "That's not an answer, lovely."
Alina avoids his eyes, her own drawn to the tempting curve of his lips. "Does it matter right now?" she murmurs, the question more to herself than to him.
Nikolai's amusem*nt fades, replaced by a hint of frustration, “Should it not?”
A shaky sigh escapes her lips as Alina peels her hands off Nikolai, stepping away in reluctance and breaking the physical contact. "...Yes, it should," she concedes, meeting his gaze.
Nikolai’s jaws clench, her own turmoil mirrored in his eyes. But there's something else there too, a flash of something raw and primal that makes her mouth go dry. He stares at her lips, his own pressed into a thin line as if wrestling with an inner demon- she knows all too well what that felt like.
Saints, did she ever.
Neither dares to blink, waiting- who would be the one to utter the truth both are struggling to deny.
“This is a really really bad idea,” Alina blurts, unsure if it's meant for him or a desperate plea to herself.
Nikolai nods. "It absolutely is," he agrees. But then a slow smile spreads across his lips. "Except..." Trailing off, his gaze drops to linger possessively on the swell of her stomach. "I've always figured anything worth doing always starts as a bad idea."
At his words, something shifts. The carefully constructed mask Nikolai’s been wearing crumbles, and a raw vulnerability washes over him. Letting out a shaky breath, he lets go and so does she.
The line blurs – neither is sure who moves first. One moment Alina stands across from Nikolai, the next she's flush against his chest, the protruding belly creating a barrier that feels both intimate and frustrating. She gasps when he rests his fingers across the slight swell like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Part of her mind screams. This shouldn't affect her so deeply. It was just Nikolai. While the other part cried just as loudly that it was Nikolai- who's haunted her dreams for months, but now a fantasy made real. Now he was here, solid and warm under her fingertips.
Alina’s heart swells, threatening to burst open. She wants to cling to his shirt, bury her face in the curve of his neck & never let go.
But she must leg go for a moment though as her hand flits to the front of her dress, fingers plucking deftly at the buttons she had just fastened moments before. Her gaze stays locked on his, a silent invitation.
Nikolai lets out a ragged breath, eyes glued to her every move. Impatience wars with unsteady hands, and in his haste to close the distance, he rips the last two buttons free, sending them flying. Metal trinkets harshly against the wooden floor, a discordant note in the charged silence.
A surprised gasp escapes Alina's lips, morphing into a peal of laughter that makes a brilliant blush creep up Nikolai's neck.
And just like that, the all-consuming desire that had thrummed between them moments ago dissipates, replaced by something lighter, sweeter.
"So, was this one of the 'worth-the-risk bad ideas' of yours?" she teases, with a playful tilt of head.
Nikolai can't help a sheepish grin, the blush deepening under her amusem*nt. "Maybe," he admits. But her laughter is too infectious, and soon he's chuckling along as well.
Leaning in, he leaves tiny kisses across her cheeks, the grin still lingering on his lips. Dipping his head, Nikolai nuzzles into the crook of her neck, lips brushing against the sensitive skin there. "Consider the dress a collateral damage," he murmurs huskily, and as an afterthought adds, “I’ll see to it that it is repaired,” then he's pulling her into a tight embrace.
Alina melts into him easily, arms instinctively circling his neck. Letting out a contended sigh, she buries her nose against his shoulder.
Every part of him is a memory cherished and missed – the way his lips tug into a smug grin, the glint of mischief in his eyes when he gets his way. Kisses so sinfully gentle like sunshine on warm skin that make her want to cry.
In the quiet of her own mind, Alina knows she'd deny it to anyone who asked, but the thought of losing Nikolai, of never seeing him again, had filled her with a terror far intense than any Volcra she'd ever faced.
Nuzzling deeper into his collar, Alina sharply inhales, taking in the familiar scent of brine and oak.
Suddenly, a piece of the puzzle shifts. The salt-kissed scent that clings to him – why he always carries that hint of the sea with him, here and everywhere else. It finally clicks into place. How could she have missed it?
The realization is a double-edged sword. Relief washes over her – a mystery solved. But alongside it comes a prickle of unease. It wasn't just the ocean clinging to his clothes. It was a constant reminder of a life he hadn't shared, a life full of secrets – and only Saints above knew how many secrets he still held close, even now.
In that moment, Nikolai looks to her like she hangs the stars and the moons. A hesitant smile tugs at Alina's mouth as she reaches up, fingers brushing against the short hair at his nape. He shivers at the contact, eyelids fluttering shut.
Studying his delicate eyelashes, a question surfaces in her mind, a seed of doubt taking root. She wonders whether he’s a fantastic actor or if it’s just who he is, to be whoever anyone needed at a given moment. And Alina needed him to be an enamoured lover right now and how phenomenally he's delivered so far.
Of all the time Nikolai has deluded her into falling into place in his chess game, if this time, Alina is aware what she's getting into, could she not allow this one stolen moment of weakness, even if it was a lie?
Nikolai's voice cuts through. "I can hear those gears turning, lovely. What are you thinking?"
Alina hesitates, chewing on her lip for a moment. Then, with a sudden burst of boldness, she reaches out and snags his arm, tugging coyly.
Slightly bewildered by the sudden shift, Nikolai raises an eyebrow. Confused, he allows her to lead him towards the ornate desk, where with a slight waddle, Alina hops onto the surface.
"Come here, please." she commands softly, her smile turning shy but no less determined. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pull him close to stand between her legs.
Nikolai widens his eyes at the suggestion. "Woman, what is your aversion to comfort?" he asks, exasperated. At least they were indoors this time, a small mercy. But a desk? When there is a perfectly doable bed in the vicinity? Sighing wearily, he places a hand on the small of her back. "I don't want to risk hurting you, Sunshine..."
"Then you'll just have to be extra careful, won't you?" she counters with an irritated huff. Glancing behind, Alina spots the papers strewn across the desk's surface. Reaching back, she starts to swat them away, only for Nikolai to let out a near-shriek.
"Whoa, no!" he exclaims, "Those are important! Just...let me," Releasing her, he dives for the documents, gathering them in a flurry before disappearing into his living quarters.
A few awkward seconds tick by of Alina perched alone on the desk. Legs dangling off the edge, only clad in a wet shift and skewed skirts - a blush creeps up her face.
She’s starting to feel a little silly but the moment is thankfully broken when her lover reappears- with a triumphant grin and a pillow clutched in his hand.
The laughter bubbles up before she can contain it, "What's that for?"
Nikolai raises an eyebrow, feigning offense. "What? I'm being careful," he counters, lips twitching. Diligently placing the pillow behind her, he fluffs it up with exaggerated flourish. Warmth spreads across Alina's chest at the attentiveness.
"There. Now, where were we, my demanding duch*ess?” he declares, returning to her side.
“Hmm... that’s ‘Your Highness' to you, Grand Duke,” she teases, gaze dipping down to his mouth for a beat before flicking back to his eyes again.
"See something you like, Your Highness?" Nikolai grins knowingly, a hot palm brushes against her calf, sending an involuntary spasm through her muscles.
In retaliation, twisting her fingers in his lapel, Alina yanks Nikolai down with surprising force. Caught off guard, he stumbles, catching himself by digging his fingers in her thigh. A spark travels up straight to the delicious ache between her legs.
“Say, I have been thinking...” she murmurs, a hair's breadth from his already parted lips.
“...Yes?” Peering at her through hooded eyes, Nikolai rasps eagerly.
They stay entangled like this, lips hover impossibly close, both panting against the other's heat. It's a strange game, an odd competition. A test of wills they've unwittingly taken part in again and again.
Neither dares to bridge the final gap, need warring with the perverse pleasure of seeing who will break first. Alina almost gives in, mesmerized by the raw desire in his eyes, the way he yields so readily to her touch. But the urge to see him crumble, to be the victor in this silent battle, burns even brighter.
The hunger to crash their mouths together is overwhelming but Alina holds back in the spirit of winning. Instead, she opts in throwing him a wicked smirk.
“I was just thinking that we should even the playing field a bit,” she rasps, reaching out to shove the gaudy teal frockcoat off one shoulder. “This has to go."
Though the task proves a bit more work than anticipated. The coat snags on the holster at his hip, then the leather sash gets tangled. Alina hides a laugh as Nikolai struggles to shed the ensemble. When all of it tumbles to the floor in a heap, with a victorious grin, she twists the fabric at the front of his shirt, impatiently reeling him closer once more.
"Much better," Alina purrs, her breath a warm caress against his ear. "Without that ridiculous getup, you're almost presentable."
Nikolai throws back his head, laughing - the sound rich and inviting. "Presentable? I thought I looked positively dashing!”
His hands teasingly glide up her legs again. In response, Alina buries her fingertips within his golden locks, relishing how lush they feel without the restrictions of stuffy court standard gloves.
"Oh, it's definitely the most repulsive thing I've ever seen," she protests, though it comes out as a dreamy sigh, betraying her indignation and ends up sounding rather fond.
Nikolai's grin widens. "Horrid, horrid lies," he declares, nudging their noses affectionately.
“Perhaps," she concedes with a pout. "But you wouldn't look so...dishevelled kneeling before me, would you?" Alina tilts her head, the implication painfully obvious.
Acknowledging the challenge with a flicker of amusem*nt dancing across his face, Nikolai feigns surrender with a revered bow.
Alina's skirts ride up, pooling behind her on the desk like blossoming petal as Nikolai hitches her up close, then he drops dramatically to his knees with a theatrical sigh.
"If you insist, Your Highness. But only because you make such a charming liar."
-
Later that afternoon, the Volkvolny buzzes with pre-departure energy.
The salty breeze whips Alina's hair around her face as she watches Mal stride up to the deck, deep in conversation with Tolya and Privyet. As he draws closer, she rushes to meet him, catching him off guard with a resounding kiss.
Mal freezes. Then, as if remembering how to breathe again, throws his arms around her and returns the kiss with a sigh of relief.
She pulls back smiling and strokes his cheek with a possessiveness that feels a touch theatrical.
As collective chortles punctuated by low whistles ripples through the crew around them, Alina pretends she doesn’t feel Nikolai's searing gaze boring into the back of her skull.
-
