Chapter Text
He writes to her regularly that first year. Long missives detailing lessons, gun training and the boredom of lacking decent playmates.
Alina writes back about the trouble she’s causing, as promised. He seems to like that.
It’s nice to have a confidant. However distant he may be.
When butter week comes close again Alina writes to ask if he’ll visit.
She gets a short letter in response.
He can’t. He’s been told to remain in Os Alta for the season.
Alina writes back, but she hides the little feeling of irritation.
As with most children who grow up they gradually grow apart as time goes on.
Aleksander’s letters become shorter, more sullen. His mother has not visited for months. His tutors have moved on from teaching him languages to basic military knowledge. A bigger boy has cracked his rib during hand to hand combat training.
Alina finds there’s less and less to write to him about Keramzin. Her world is small and Ana Kyu speaks to her increasingly about life after the orphanage.
So letters become scarce between them. Shorter. Long stretches of time during which Alina finds her attention more and more on Mal.
Two years after their encounter the letters have stopped completely.
Aleksander has been sent to a small, strict finishing school near the Ferdjan border. He has a cunning mind and a swift hand. Like his father he will be a good soldier and an even better leader. His mother doesn’t particularly care that he has a soft heart underneath all his charm and ambition.
Keramzin is no longer enough for Alina. There’s an exam young women can take if they want to qualify for service in Os Alta. She doesn’t share Mal’s desire to go into the army. Education would suit her better.
The week before Alina is due to leave the orphanage on her 18th birthday she finds the old box with Aleksander’s letters.
They’re a bittersweet memory sitting cross-legged on her bed. Of beautiful Aleksander and his night dark eyes.
Miles away Aleksander’s hands shake as he packs for his first real military campaign. He’s under the care of other noble lords and thus stands a better chance of not coming to any real harm, but his fear is real.
The shaking is so bad he knocks over an old case and several of Alina’s letters come spilling out. He almost sobs as he picks them up. He’d give anything to be back in that stable with her.
Time passes.
Seasons change.
Alina loves Mal, but while she’s certain he loves her is not certain that it’s the same sort of love.
Zoya Nazyalenksy smirks discreetly but brazenly at Aleksander from across her father’s dining table on his latest visit to their home and he finds he’s somewhat interested.
They think about one another the way people think of pressed flowers in books. Once living breathing things but ghosts now. Thin and fading.
They don’t see one another again until Alina has settled into her new job as a governess for a Kerch diplomat’s children in Os Alta.
She’s paid well and her Kerch employers care very little for the fact that she’s part Shu. Her relationship with Mal is rocky at best. He spends months away and when he is in town wants to enjoy himself as much as possible.
There’s a winter party the Vissers throw every winter for their Ravkan associates and friends. Her employer's wife insists that Alina attend. She’s not all that interested but it is a welcome distraction from her empty evenings.
It’s far too opulent an evening for Alina. She manages to sneak a tray of appetizers into a drawing room and perches in front of the fire with her prize.
She thinks she’s alone.
She hopes she’s alone.
Until about halfway through the little tray of snacks the wooden doors slide open and Alina turns startled to see that a particularly amorous couple thinks they’ve found a place to be alone.
They’re so wrapped up in each other that they fail to see Alina trying to scramble to her feet before they fling themselves onto the very sofa that she’s trying unsuccessfully to vacate.
It’s the single most mortifying moment of her life.
One minute she’s trying to slink over the arm of the sofa and the next the young man’s head is thunking into her lap with his companion on top of him.
A companion who chooses that moment to finally notice Alina and scream.
Alina shrieks too.
The young man who has dark hair and darker eyes, squints up at her in sudden recognition, “Alina?”
Alina barely hears him, she’s still trying to scramble away but his head and shoulders are surprisingly heavy.
He finally sits up but only when his companion has run away in a panic clutching her loosened clothing to herself.
Alina pushes herself into a corner of the sofa with a hand over her heart.
“Alina Starkov?” He’s staring at her from the other end of the sofa and she finds she’s forced to look into his face.
He doesn’t look familiar exactly. His dark rumpled clothing is expensive and his jaw and throat have the darkening of stubble. But the shape of his mouth is incredibly familiar.
“Aleksander?” she finds herself squinting.
For a minute the two of them gape at one another in silence.
“You- how-” He reaches for her like he wants to touch her and then his hands fall into his lap. “I feel like it’s been ages.”
“It has,” Alina can’t quite believe it either.
“Why are you in Os Alta?” Alina tries to ignore the fact that his shirt is unbuttoned almost all the way to his waist.
“I-I work for the Vissers. I’m Cora and Ella’s governess.”
“A governess?” Aleksander looks amused. “You?”
Alina gives him a dirty look. He looks drunk and dishevelled but he’s still beautiful.
“What are you doing here?” Even as she says it she feels stupid. They both know atleast who he was trying to do.
“The Vissers invited me,” He says, starting to button his shirt. “They think I’m important... politically.”
“Hmm,” Alina pops an appetizer in her mouth. “Are you?”
He looks very serious suddenly. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Did you steal those from the kitchen?” he gestured to the assortment of pates and small finger sandwiches.
“Yes, I don’t think anyone will notice.” she holds it out to him. “Want one?”
Aleksander shakes his head with a little smile. “I appreciate the attempt to buy my silence but I really must go.” He starts to stand. “Do you live with the Vissers?”
“Yes,” Alina says around a mouthful of cheese. “Room and board was included in the advertisement.”
He’s staring at her, nodding slightly but his expression is unreadable. “Alina, would you mind if I came to visit you tomorrow?”
“Oh,” she coughs a little. “I’m working tomorrow. Sunday might be alright.”
“Sunday it is then.” He looks very pleased and Alina wonders if this might be a mistake.
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Wylis Visser is usually out the door every morning before Alina is down for breakfast with his wife Angelie.
“You did not mention that you’re friends with Lieutenant Morozova,” she says over her cup of tea.
For a minute Alina doesn’t know who she’s talking about, “Aleksander?”
Angelie looks delighted, “I caught him when he was attempting to flee last night without saying a proper goodbye. He mentioned you were both from adjoining villages.”
Alina hides her little snort. That’s a very simplistic way of saying that Alina is from a small village and Aleksander owned the next village.
“Yes,” she finds herself saying. “We did play together as children, I suppose.”
Angelie has a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, “He’s very handsome.”
If you like the tall, dark sort. Alina supposes secretly.
(Which she does. Incidentally.)
“He’s been seen with Commander Nazyalensky’s daughter but I don’t think it’s quite so serious. He is a bit of a cad.”
Alina finds herself thinking fondly of the way he’d flirted with her once.
Angelie is the biggest gossip in Os Alta. “That’s hardly any of our business.” Alina tells her.
“No, no of course not.” Angelie says, pursing her lips. “None of our concerns with whom handsome military men are wasting their time.”
That’s the last Alina hears about this for the rest of the week.
Until she comes home from the park with the girls one evening and finds Angelie has invited him to dinner.