Archive of Our Own

1: ODETTE

The Korolevskiy Theater is dark, and every grand jeté Odette lands on the empty stage resounds with a thud that would disrupt normal practice sessions — thus, a reason for late night drills.

Normally, she would be doing these late night drills alone, long after everyone else has gone home for the day, after all the stagehands and assistants have finished cleaning the theater. She doesn’t need the music, or the lights, and certainly not an audience as she relentlessly practices the same movements over and over and over until her legs no longer keep up with her determination.

This is how it’s always been: practicing during rehearsals, then staying late to practice more, and then practicing yet more into the dead of night.

Lately, however, Odette has had company, and she finds them rather enjoyable to have around.

Vodyanitsa is simply content to watch Odette leap and spin around the stage, sometimes seizing the opportunity of an empty theater to practice some pieces herself. If Odette ever asks her for feedback, however, Vodyanitsa always assures her that everything she does is “perfect and beautiful and stunning”, even when Odette knows it’s not true.

That’s where Alyosha comes in: he’s supportive but honest when Odette wants criticism. If she gives him a drawing or photo of what her positions are supposed to look like, he’ll watch attentively from the front row of seats and tell her to straighten her leg, or to lift it higher, or that her arms need to bend more. He doesn’t know all of the technical terms, but he’s been around the theater enough to have picked up almost as much as the most devoted balletomanes.

Tonight, as Odette lands jeté after jeté, Vodyanitsa eventually takes a seat next to Alyosha, leaning heavily against his side and dozing off as his calls of “your arms are a little low” and “your back leg was bent there” turn into more hushed “you’re getting tired, want to rest?” and “it’s really late, are you going to go home at all tonight?”

Odette takes a moment between reps to consider Alyosha’s concerns. She is being destructive to herself, she knows this, and Vodyanitsa looks so relaxed and at peace, sleeping with Alyosha’s arm loosely around her as her head rests on his shoulder. If Odette were to call an end to her self-imposed extra rehearsal, she could join them — Alyosha is warm, Vodyanitsa is soft and affectionate, and they’ve really brought out a gentler side of Odette that she never believed she had the capacity for before. Feeling so much love for not just one, but two people? She hates to think about how her mother would have scolded her for the “distractions”.

They can all retire to her private lounge after another set, Odette decides. She’s been skimping on rehearsals for Fatui missions lately, so another set should help make up the difference.

Odette feels the fall coming before she even leaves the ground: not enough power in her leading leg, her back leg is bent at an odd angle because she overshot the variation just before the jump, her hips aren't aligned properly… this could be catastrophic if she doesn't bail.

Luckily, being a trained professional means Odette also knows how to fall. It's not graceful by any means, but she still manages to tumble out of the jump just as her leading leg leaves the ground, pitching forward and intending to tuck into a roll along the polished wood surface of the stage.

Unfortunately, Odette also has a bad habit that refuses to break: she stops her forward momentum with an outstretched hand just before she lands; she hears the uncomfortable snap, imagining it would’ve hurt just as bad as simply accepting the fall if she could feel pain, but she’d much rather have an injured wrist than any kind of leg injury so soon before a show.

Odette doesn’t even have the time to assess herself before Alyosha and Vodyanitsa are at her side — Vodyanitsa fusses over her, her concern quickly spiraling into scattered panic about the interviews and press regarding the upcoming show, while Alyosha quickly and accurately assesses that Odette simply landed on her wrist a little hard, producing a small roll of bandages from the inner pocket of his coat to wrap it.

“It’s not broken,” Alyosha assures her as he secures the bandage, Odette’s skin tingling with a steady pulse of his electro energy where he touches her, even though she didn’t ask for healing. “Just keep an eye on it tomorrow, to make sure it’s not sprained.”

Alyosha knows better than to advise Odette to take a day off, at least. Vodyanitsa, however-

“Odette! You have to take tomorrow off! Did you forget we have an open dress rehearsal tomorrow? What will your fans think, seeing you injured right before a big show?” She takes Odette’s hand from Alyosha, holding it close to her chest with both of her own.

Alyosha sits back on his heels, the sparks under Odette’s skin leaving with him. “She’ll be fine, it’s really not that bad.”

Odette hums in agreement. She’ll probably take the bandages off and continue business as usual as soon as she gets up in the morning anyway, even if Alyosha were to say she should leave them on longer. She’s done more with worse injuries.

Vodyanitsa doesn’t let up, continuing to fuss, and Odette lets her; there’s really no stopping Vodyanitsa when she gets set off, and it’s nice to be fussed over when it’s nothing serious.

What catches Odette’s attention, though, is how Alyosha seems to be inching away, giving the girls more space. When Vodyanitsa lifts Odette’s hand to press a kiss to her bandaged wrist, Alyosha looks away. He always looks a bit doleful, but Odette can’t help but think he looks somewhat more troubled than usual. He’s never particularly affectionate, so it’s not like Odette expects him to be nearly as clingy as Vodyanitsa, but he doesn’t normally shy away from Vodyanitsa’s affection toward Odette. How odd.

Odette lets Vodyanitsa continue to dote on her for a few minutes as she observes Alyosha out of the corner of her eye: he fidgets with his coat, checks the laces on his boots, anything but looking at the girls directly.

“Let’s get to bed,” Odette declares, as if she weren’t the one refusing to retire just minutes earlier.

Vodyanitsa springs to her feet, helping Odette up (oh, her legs do feel quite weak after all), and Alyosha returns to his abandoned seat to gather up the reference photos Odette had given him earlier that night. Clammy fingers thread between Odette’s, and Vodyanitsa gently swings their joined hands between them, humming a happy little tune as they wait for Alyosha to join them at the entrance to the backstage rooms.

Though it’s not even a full minute, it feels like several as Alyosha climbs back onto the stage and crosses to stage left to meet up with the girls; even when he meets them at the doorway, he keeps a barely-noticeable distance as he trails behind them into the corridor. Vodyanitsa doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong, making up a happy little jingle about a sleepover as they open the door to Odette’s private room.

Vodyanitsa helps herself to reorganizing the pillows on the furniture, still humming her new little song, and Odette helps with fetching blankets from a cabinet in the corner, all while keeping an eye on Alyosha; he stacks the reference photos neatly on top of the table by Odette’s wardrobe and, as if no one would notice, starts for the door.

“Where are you going?” Odette asks.

Alyosha stops, hand on the crystal pane. “The dogs in Sretomorozsk need more food, I just remembered.”

He’s no stranger to lying. Odette knows he tells more lies than truths, but usually not to her. Usually, his lies are believable — he would never forget about the dogs. “It’s the middle of the night, the shops are closed.”

“I’m going to hunt it myself.” He doesn’t turn around to face her.

“The trains aren’t running. Are you planning to leave Snezhnograd and cross the tundra on foot?”

Vodyanitsa reaches for Odette’s hand again, loosening the fist Odette hadn’t realized she made. She pulls her to the sofa made up as a bed and starts carefully removing pins from Odette’s hair.

“You can stay here, you know,” Vodyanitsa offers. “There’s plenty of room for all of us, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Alyosha looks over his shoulder, and his face is just a little too obscured by the unruly fur lining of his hood for Odette to read his expression. “I’ll be back before the show this week,” he says as he pushes the door open, and without waiting for another protest, he’s gone.

“I swear, if I find out he’s sleeping in a VIP box again…!” Vodyanitsa complains as she finally picks the last of the pins from Odette’s hair, running her fingers through it as it cascades in lopsided waves past her shoulders. “What’s so good about the box seats anyway? There’s no way they’re better than staying here with us!”

As Odette and Vodyanitsa dress down to sleep, digging through Odette’s stash of comfier, worn-out civilian clothes that she dragged to the theater when her late night drills became a habit, Odette can’t help but wonder why Alyosha would be in such a hurry — and so adamant — to leave. Not to be conceited, but most people in Snezhnograd would kill to be so close with the Korolevskiy Troupe’s primas, being involved with them in their decidedly not-platonic relationship a complete pipe dream for most.

It’s with a kiss goodnight and Vodyanitsa drifting to sleep in her arms in an old shirt that’s missing a few too many buttons that Odette comes to the only reasonable conclusion:

Alyosha is self-conscious about their relationship. But why?

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

2: ALYOSHA

After a night curled up next to a kristall lamp in Zolnyy, Alyosha really does set out for a hunting trip, though it’s not so much for food as it is for killing time, maybe making some extra cash if he’s lucky. He’d received a non-urgent tip about suspicious activity, likely just small-time smugglers, along the railway to the east of Snezhnograd — which is neither “food for the dogs” nor anywhere near Sretomorozsk.

Alyosha’s work is a lonely affair, but that’s for the best. The only things he needs on a “hunting” mission are his rifle, enough bullets to account for unexpected encounters, and Tugarin. Anything else is extra weight; either literally, for taking up space in his pack, or figuratively, by making his heart soft. Neither are things he can afford when he can’t spare to second-guess any of the shots he has to take.

So it makes very little sense why Alyosha continues to carry a pair of photographs with him. The first of the pair is a group shot of Vodyanitsa, Odette, the traveler and some of the Rankova Zorya locals, posing proudly around the snowman Vodyanitsa had dressed in a scarf that resembles Alyosha’s hood.

The second photo is similar, but clearly meant to be private: the lighting is more golden, suggesting it was taken much later in the evening than the other, and it only features Odette and Vodyanitsa at the same snowman. They’re stood on opposite sides of it, leaning down to kiss its cheeks; Vodyanitsa is slightly blurry, as if she’d ran to get into position after setting a timer on the kamera. The snowman’s wide smile and painted-on blush make it look like it’s reacting to the affection, and Alyosha wonders if Vodyanitsa chose that face for it intentionally, knowing she would be sending him this exact photo.

It’s only when Alyosha is alone in his makeshift camp, huddled with Tugarin in a crevice by the out-of-service train tracks by a kristall lamp for warmth, that he allows himself to indulge in his extra baggage. It always comes with a degree of guilt, though — a reminder that he’s the wedge between Vodyanitsa and Odette’s star-studded secret romance, the one who doesn’t have the means to provide anything for the others. They’re always making exceptions for him, always going out of their way to include him in whatever they’re doing…

The worst part of it all is that Alyosha likes it. He enjoys their company more than anything, and, lately, they’ve been what drives him to finish his hunting jobs quicker. All so he can go back to Snezhnograd and get his stupid little hopes up when the girls invite him to stay after the curtains fall.

But he’s not an idiot. No matter the fluttery little feelings he has for them, he’d be a fool to ruin it by coming between them, for destroying the friendship they have by arbitrarily choosing who his feelings are deeper for, or worse: being greedy enough to think someone like him somehow deserves both of the Korolevskiy stars.

Tugarin paws at Alyosha’s arm, reminding him that he’s irrationally jealous of a snowman and, more importantly, that it’s time for dinner.

The photo doesn’t go back into Alyosha’s pack — it’s kept close to his heart, neatly folded in an inner pocket of his coat.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

3: MITYA?

Mitya has exactly thirty-four minutes before Valeriy catches up to drag him back to his office, which is exactly seven minutes more than average (thanks to a subtle suggestion that he’d be at the theater for an open rehearsal), and just enough time to drop in at Podvorye Restaurant to make a special delivery (and quickly have a drink, with any luck). Why Valeriy continues to conduct retrieval operations when Mitya doesn’t have Project Mistilteinn to tend to is beyond him, but at least continuing this little game of theirs keeps a little bit of a spark in his life, despite being only semi-officially semi-employed.

Pushing the restaurant’s front door open, Mitya hears them before he sees them:

“-rye bread, a Snowball Blooms Atop Snowfields, a stroganina, and three rimecurrant ice creams. And a second smoked sausage set to go, please!”

“Vodyanitsa-”

“I’m paying. But take one of the ice creams off, I won’t eat it.”

“Odette— oh! Hi, Mitya! Keep the third ice cream, please.”

The Volkodlak waiter brushes past Mitya at the alcove’s curtained entrance with a polite nod, repeating the extensive order under their breath in an effort to not forget it before reaching the kitchen. Mitya helps himself to the open seat at the table, greeting Vodyanitsa while Odette and Alyosha have a silent battle over mora — Alyosha stubbornly tries to give Odette a pouch of coins from his pack, but Odette keeps shoving it back into the bag, eventually turning her back on him entirely with her hand firmly holding his pack closed.

“I hope I’m not interrupting a date,” Mitya jokes. He’d been invited by Alyosha with the intent of coordinating the special delivery, so it’s a bit of a surprise (to say the least) that this isn’t just their usual quick and dirty exchange at the bar with the extra time Mitya’s smuggled into his routine escape hour.

Alyosha looks up from his futile attempts to wrest his coin pouch from his pack. “It’s not like that,” he says, but Mitya’s not entirely convinced.

“It is,” Odette retorts, regarding Mitya with an unreadable expression.

“Well, I promise I won’t stay long. I only have twenty-eight minutes until Valeriy arrives, and I’m not about to make a habit of being caught.” Mitya does his best to steer clear of what seems to be a landmine topic, producing a small box from under his cloak: a special order of experimental bullets, by Alyosha’s request the last time he’d returned from a hunting excursion with money to spare. They contain a crushed powder made of stellar-infused electro crystals, powered by his own stellar linchpin — a very welcome experimental commission to distract Mitya from his lack of engaging work as of late. “I do believe you were looking forward to these, Alyosha?”

Alyosha momentarily halts his efforts to reimburse Odette for lunch, accepting the box from Mitya with a subdued excitement Mitya can only compare to a well-trained dog being presented with a particularly delectable treat. He opens it, carefully counting the bullets.

“Did you mean to put extras in here?” Alyosha’s brow furrows as he counts them again.

“I had extra materials. Consider it a baker’s dozen.”

“There’s more than just a few extra…”

Mitya can’t help but notice Odette and Vodyanitsa exchanging meaningful looks, wordlessly gesturing to each other while Alyosha’s distracted. Vodyanitsa pulls a small parcel out of her travel bag and passes it discreetly to Odette, then notices Mitya observing their exchange. She gestures vaguely for him to buy them time, and Mitya simply does what he knows best:

“Oh! Well, that’s because the electro crystal that I sourced from Inazuma actually only comes in bulk, and it’s quite hard to do stellar infusions on such a small scale to fit in a bullet casing, as I found out from- mmph!” His scarf cuts off the almost-mention of Project Mistilteinn (being interrupted is annoying, but breaching the confidentiality clauses of his former contracts would be even more annoying, so it is what it is). Prying the scarf from his mouth, Mitya continues, “From previous work. Anyway, it was actually cheaper to work at a larger scale, in this case. There’s less chance of the crystals spontaneously superconducting in the infusion process if they’re infused as a large chunk and then ground up to fit in the casings. Easier to get into a nice powder this way, too.”

“I only ordered a dozen, though. There’s more than double that here…. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing! That’s what your payment bought, even after paying for my labor.” Alyosha doesn't need to know that Mitya did not, in fact, charge for labor. Mitya watches Odette trying to reach for Alyosha’s pack, left forgotten hanging on the chair behind him. She has a few items in her hands now, two neatly wrapped in butcher paper and a third that appears to be a small box of medical supplies. Mitya makes eye contact with her, and she flicks her gaze to the bar across the restaurant. “If you insist, though, hmm…” Mitya feigns thinking for a moment, stalling long enough for Odette to obscure the parcels with the ruffles of her skirt. “Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even. I’m not picky, just avoid the fire-water since I’m technically on the clock.”

“Deal. Anyone else want anything from the bar?”

Alyosha takes his now-relinquished coin pouch, putting the case of bullets in his pack for safekeeping. Vodyanitsa requests water, Odette refuses the offer, and Alyosha hurries off to get the drinks.

“Hurry, Odette!”

“I know, I know.”

Odette wastes no time in reaching for Alyosha’s bag, taking the box of bullets out to hide the other three parcels beneath it. Her speed and precision in replacing the bag exactly where Alyosha left it is simply astounding, though Mitya figures she’s had a lot of practice with this kind of thing with her work as Lelek.

After a glance over his shoulder to make sure Alyosha’s out of earshot, Mitya just has to ask, “What’s so secretive you can’t just give it to him?”

“It’s not that we can’t,” Odette says, crossing her arms indignantly. “He just refuses help. So we have to force the issue sometimes.”

“He said he had a nasty run-in with a ‘target’ on his last trip, so we replenished his medical supplies since he’s always talking about how expensive they are,” Vodyanitsa explains, glancing toward the bar. Her gaze softens fondly, and some pieces begin to fall into place in Mitya’s mind. “The rest is preserved food. He always feeds Tugarin and Lyumina before himself, so we figured if we sneak extra into his supplies he’s more likely to eat.”

Though unexpected, Mitya’s happy for his acquaintances (friends? After what they collectively went through in the theater, they’re probably friends now, even if Odette once attempted to threaten his life). “Well, I’m glad to see he’s so loved,” Mitya remarks as the waiter returns with a tray practically overflowing with food, followed moments later by Alyosha himself.

He’d love to stay and chat, but seeing as he’s already intruded on their date, Mitya quickly downs the cocktail Alyosha set in front of him, eats about half of the extra rimecurrant ice cream to chase the alcohol, and bids the trio farewell.

Leaving the restaurant, Mitya takes an immediate left turn, all but leaping down the stairs of the alleyway between the restaurant and the bridge to the theater. He’d lied about where he was going, of course, though he hadn’t lied about there being an open rehearsal at the theater — it’s simply not one that Odette or Vodyanitsa are part of, obviously. So, with six minutes to spare on his calculations of Valeriy’s time to capture him (and of course he knows Valeriy’s exact route, it’s necessary to know the precise distance he’ll be traveling, as well as his exact pace of 1.56 meters per second), Valeriy should be exactly halfway across the bridge once Mitya (traveling at just over two meters per second) crosses his path-

Right on the mark, as usual!

“Sarge!” Mitya calls when he’s a socially-acceptable shouting distance away. There are a few small groups of people on the bridge, but Valeriy is alone, as usual — he schedules manpower to arrive if he’s ever late to dragging Mitya back to work, after all, though Mitya wonders sometimes if there’s a secondary reason for Valeriy’s preference to start the retrieval missions solo, especially as he habitually grabs for Valeriy’s exposed sleeve; Valeriy doesn’t pull away. “Sarge, I have incredible news!”

“You had lunch with Miss Vodyanitsa?”

“No- well, yes. But that’s not the news.” Mitya dares to slide a hand down Valeriy’s unarmored arm, fingertips brushing against his palm. Valeriy retreats then — well, it was worth a try. He is on duty right now, Mitya knows not to push his luck too much while they’re on the clock. “Now, I may not have the best social reading, but it seems to me that our good friend Alyosha-” he lowers his voice and leans in a little closer, “-has a couple of very lovely admirers, if you catch my drift.”

“I think you have too much free time nowadays, Mister Mitya.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

4: ALYOSHA

Alyosha can only imagine how exhausting performing is, considering how readily Vodyanitsa all but collapses in the greenroom after a show. She more or less makes it to a couch (most of the time) but it’s not uncommon for Alyosha to help her into a more comfortable position from there — Vodyanitsa’s favorite performance-recovery state is with her head in Alyosha’s lap, with a honey lemon lozenge in her mouth and Alyosha’s fingers carding through her hair.

Odette takes her time getting to the “boneless collapse” state, making sure she gently stretches after her performances. But even when she claims this is what she’s doing, Alyosha thinks that sometimes she’s also just making up a reason to sprawl on the cool floor of the greenroom. Odette just looks more graceful and intentional about it because she sits with her legs stretched into a near-split, then leans forward until her chest meets the floor, and then stays there far longer than is strictly necessary.

Tonight’s performance is particularly successful, and the subsequent collapse is proportionate. With Vodyanitsa half-hanging off the greenroom sofa, absently playing with one of Alyosha’s hands as he carefully removes strings of pearls and ornate clips from her hair with his other one, Alyosha thinks he’s prepared for Odette’s arrival to go similarly.

At first, it does: Odette pushes the door open and lets it shut behind her without a word, takes her shoes off and flexes her ankles carefully, then pads over to the rug in front of the heater, sitting down to assume the “this is definitely a deep stretch, definitely not just an excuse to lie face-down on the floor” position. She doesn’t even spare a greeting for Alyosha, but that’s okay — he doesn’t expect her to have the energy to talk, especially when she’s not one for many words anyway.

The deviation in the routine starts with Vodyanitsa. As soon as Odette starts her cooldown stretching, Vodyanitsa reaches for Alyosha’s face. His instinct is to flinch away — not by any fault of Vodyanitsa’s, it’s just that good things rarely come from things unexpectedly approaching his face — but she anticipates his flinch, playfully poking the tip of his nose with a soft “boop.”

“What’s this about?” he asks, wholly unsure about what he’s supposed to do in response. He’s run out of expensive ornaments to remove from her hair, and his other hand rests stiffly on her abdomen, right where she’d left it. He doesn’t dare move his hand from that spot, nor does he chance looking for a better one; out of the corner of his eye he can tell that Vodyanitsa’s dress has ridden up, exposing the usually-covered opalescent scales on her upper thighs. He doesn’t want to be caught staring, though the glint as they catch the light from the heater tempts him to look.

Vodyanitsa studies his face, drawing invisible lines between his freckles with her fingertip, her gaze lingering on his lips. She does this fairly often, Alyosha’s noticed. He wonders if maybe she’s seeing something that he’s unaware of; the theater staff served the crew soup for dinner, so there’s certainly no food stuck in his teeth, and his lips aren’t chapped this time, so Alyosha’s not sure what it could possibly be.

Her hand wanders to his jaw, then the back of his neck, where her fingers tap out a light rhythm against Alyosha’s skin. She doesn't answer him, instead humming a sweet little melody while looking up at him… expectantly? What’s he supposed to do?

Alyosha tilts his head to the side, wordlessly asking; the pressure on the back of his neck increases, as if she’s trying to pull him down. Does she want to tell him something…?

“What is it?” Alyosha asks, leaning over until the pressure stops.

Vodyanitsa blinks twice, slowly, as if processing Alyosha’s question; with a frustrated sigh, she withdraws her hand from his nape. Instead, she turns over onto her side toward Odette, reaching out toward her with a grabbing motion and a soft “Odeeette” to get her attention.

Odette slowly sits up and shuffles closer, kneeling in front of Alyosha. Of course she’s kneeling, it puts her at eye-level with Vodyanitsa, but she looks up at Alyosha through her long eyelashes and of course he feels some kind of way about it. (She’s a beautiful woman, looking up at him with an unmistakable look of desire in her eyes, even if he knows it’s for the other beautiful woman who happens to be using him as a pillow — he truly can’t help that certain base interests are piqued!) It feels so invasive to look at her like this, to think that kind of thing about her-

Then she leans in close to kiss Vodyanitsa, but Alyosha feels like she maintains eye contact with him for far longer than is justified. Vodyanitsa seems unbothered, just happy to be indulged, nevermind the fact that the “pillow” she’s chosen to settle further into is, in fact, Alyosha’s lap.

He could move them. He’s lifted Vodyanitsa before, the water imp isn’t terribly heavy. But Odette runs her manicured fingers over Vodyanitsa’s body, colliding squarely with Alyosha’s hand at her waist, and instead of pulling away, she threads their fingers together. He could pull away. He probably should.

Alyosha has no clue where to look, what to do with his hands, what to say. What can he say? Odette and Vodyanitsa aren’t in any hurry to move, as Vodyanitsa alternates between lazily kissing Odette’s lips and showering her with praises for her performance tonight; Odette seems to have entered a rare state of relaxation herself, with one hand comfortably intertwined with Alyosha’s and the other resting against his thigh as her fingertips trace tiny figure-eights in the fabric of his pants (did she mistake his leg for the sofa? She must have).

He clears his throat, looking pointedly past Odette like the heater is the most fascinating thing in the room. He knows his face is hot, but if this goes on too much longer they’ll notice that’s not the only way he’s reacting, and Archons he feels so guilty about it-!

“I, uh… should get going.” Alyosha tries to unlink his hand from Odette’s, but she glares at him and holds on tighter. Her other hand on his thigh stills.

Odette and Vodyanitsa share a look, and Alyosha figures this is another silent conversation in that secret language they have that he’ll never understand.

Vodyanitsa adjusts her position again, making herself comfortable while decisively not leaving his lap and showing no signs of anything but smugness about how they’ve made Alyosha feel. In turn, Odette drapes her arms over Vodyanitsa, reinforcing her barricade to letting him leave; she squeezes Alyosha’s hand as she rests her head on Vodyanitsa’s hip, but otherwise makes the silent message clear:

You’re not leaving this time, Alyosha.

Alyosha groans, tipping his head back against the back of the sofa. There are certainly much worse places to be trapped for a night. In fact, there aren’t many places that would be better — he just hates being the reason Odette and Vodyanitsa have a worse night, especially after such a celebration-worthy performance.

Vodyanitsa feels around for Alyosha’s other hand, eventually finding it and returning it to its rightful place, stroking her hair as she hums a quiet melody.

Her hair is as soft as any silk Alyosha can only dream of affording.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

5: VODYANITSA

Vodyanitsa is truly losing her mind. Is it normal for a human man to be so bafflingly, relentlessly dense?

She and Odette had planned everything: they, in no uncertain terms, invited Alyosha on a date. No work, no pretenses, it’s a date. And a full-day, capital-D Date is not so simple for the primas — planning a proper date is always a whole ordeal, involving disguises, code words, and fake names on reservations made weeks in advance. Vodyanitsa doesn’t have to use her Rokot resources very much, seeing as she often uses her status as the Korolevskiy primadonna as her leverage to gather intel, but having access to a fake identity proves to be convenient when booking date reservations in the city. One can never trust that the primadonna’s leisurely affairs are too sacred for someone down on their luck to sell to a drama tabloid for a quick buck.

Vodyanitsa’s efforts start even before reaching Snezhnograd, starting from the moment she meets with “Sasha” in Rankova Zorya.

She’d arrived at the Rankova Zorya station in her disguise, of course. “Marina” wears a navy blue coat-dress and thick, dark tights, with immaculate blonde curls and a tasteful floppy hat. It’s amazing, really, how little effort it takes to not look like Vodyanitsa the Primadonna; so long as her ear fins and crystalline scales are covered, no one is ever the wiser.

Alyosha — rather, “Sasha” — arrives shortly after, and though he hadn’t understood why he had to come disguised, Vodyanitsa’s thrilled to see him playing along. His disguise isn’t perfectly indistinguishable from his usual appearance — his double-breasted wool jacket, too-new emerald green scarf, and newsboy cap over neatly-coifed hair and a pair of thick-framed glasses would fool most people, but not someone used to counting the freckles on the bridge of his nose like Vodyanitsa.

“Sasha, good morning!” she greets him, all but flinging herself into his arms.

He catches her, he always does, and Vodyanitsa savors the warmth that Alyosha radiates as she playfully sways them side to side. “Good morning to you, too, Marina,” he chuckles into her mane of curls.

Vodyanitsa is always conscious of the coercive power of a water imp’s voice — she can’t ask Alyosha to kiss her, no matter how much she wants to. It’s her main weapon in intel-gathering; Vodyanitsa’s requests and suggestions cannot be refused, and even if she’s used this power to get her way in other matters, she will absolutely never use it on a partner.

Besides that, is it too much to ask for him to make the first move? Is she too old-fashioned for wanting that?

So she (im)patiently waits for Alyosha to take the hint. She rests her hands on his shoulders, pushes herself up onto her toes to draw herself up closer to his height, bites her lip while tilting her head…

…and the idiot looks away, his usually-covered ears blazing red. At least he has the decency to hold her hand all the way to Snezhnograd, but Vodyanitsa has half a mind to drown the bastard. Affectionately, and not to death, of course.

Luckily, Odette knows better, and indulges Vodyanitsa’s need for a greeting kiss as soon as her feet hit the platform at Central Station. She’s easy to find, in part because Vodyanitsa helped create her disguise — Odette’s suspension from the Rokot while they retire “Lelek” and craft her a new persona has thrown a bit of an urchin in their planning, but Vodyanitsa simply took it as an opportunity to dress up her beautiful Odette. They’d chosen a deep chestnut wig and a maroon peacoat over simple black pants and a matching turtleneck for “Ludmila”, and it works extraordinarily well for blending into the crowds, except Vodyanitsa would recognize her stunning amethyst eyes even in the dark.

The three board the elevator into the city, and by the late Belyi Tsar, Vodyanitsa tries again. Leaning back against one of the rails, she calls for Alyosha, gesturing with both of her hands that she wants him to come closer. Odette gives her a look that can only be interpreted as “good luck with that”, but Alyosha does, as always, oblige.

He stops at simply taking her hands and swinging them where they hang, though. So much for wanting to be kissed senseless against the wall of an elevator, but Vodyanitsa stays hopeful in the rest of the day bearing pearls.

“Marina” takes care of all of the reservations, and “Ludmila” handles all of the bills — first, a lovely lunch in a private booth at an upscale cafe just outside of the Snezhnograd plaza (where Vodyanitsa succeeds in getting Alyosha to feed her a bite of his food with his own fork, though she doubts he even thinks anything of it). Then a trip to Torchlight Books, where graceful Ludmila buys every book “Sasha” shows even a passing interest in, even if he quickly catches on to what she’s doing and immediately refuses to touch anything else (and Vodyanitsa fails in getting Alyosha to ‘help’ her reach something off a high shelf. He does help, but not by crowding her against the shelves like she’d hoped).

By the time they’re on a stroll around Zolnyy, killing time before a non-Korolevskiy show in the theater, Vodyanitsa has tried no less than four more times to get Alyosha’s attention. She has half a mind to get Odette to break the tension first, since she has no such fae reservations to stop her, but Vodyanitsa is stubborn. She will get Alyosha to kiss her, somehow!

She hopes the darkness of the theater will perhaps encourage Alyosha to be more bold — they’ve reserved VIP seats at the theater, no one can see them in the private box. The bench in the box is only technically large enough to fit three people, but it’s a tight fit, and Alyosha (of all people) should know what happens between young couples in the VIP boxes.

Vodyanitsa ends up kissing Odette more than Alyosha (during the intermission of the show, because they have unshakeable respect for the efforts of the performers), not that it’s a feat to beat a score of zero. At least she’d gotten to spend part of the show tucked under Alyosha’s arm, curled against his side for the first half, but he’d gone back to his standoffish ways after the intermission.

There’s only one more destination after the theater: the hotel.

Odette had said that the intent should be pretty obvious, especially when they enter their booked room and find one over-large bed, and Vodyanitsa thought it was a fantastic idea. Booking a room in the city made sense on several levels — they can’t stay at Odette’s place in Glupov, it’s too late for Vodyanitsa and Alyosha to return home, and the theater is occupied by another troupe tonight — so it’s beneficial for all of them, regardless of anything that may happen. Even if they don’t do anything of an intimate nature, a night in a cushy, private room with both of her partners is the kind of domestic bliss Vodyanitsa’s human-loving relatives could only dream of. Of course, she wants more than just sleeping together, but if Alyosha won’t even kiss her yet she doesn’t get her hopes up.

As night falls and blue and gold lights illuminate Snezhnograd as the plaza empties, Vodyanitsa leads the way to the hotel with Odette and Alyosha trailing behind her, quietly discussing the show; she’d seen them link hands as they left the theater, a rare sight since they’re both much less physically affectionate than she is. It truly makes her heart sing to see, though — both of them deserve more love than she can give them by herself.

“Here’s the room,” Vodyanitsa stops in front of a door at the end of a long hallway, unlocking it with shaking hands. Alyosha hasn’t left yet, but he’s gone silent. “Ta-da!” Vodyanitsa pushes the door open with a flourish.

It’s an incredibly nice (and expensive) room, with a huge window that faces the Zapolyarny Palace covered with thick curtains, and an ornate heater built into the wall past the foot of the very large bed, which itself is dressed in a plush quilt and luxurious pillows.

Vodyanitsa can’t say she didn’t see it coming; Alyosha wishes her and Odette a good night, and leaves before they can protest.

Whatever, she’s not going to let such a nice room go to waste, and neither is Odette. They can enjoy each other’s company without Alyosha there, and they do.

But even as they lie together under the soft sheets, skin to skin and tired to the bone, Vodyanitsa feels the need to scream.

“Odette?”

“Hm?”

Vodyanitsa draws little circles on Odette’s hip with her fingertips. “I wish Alyosha was here.”

“…Me too.”

“He’s so warm. I mean, you are too, but he’s like a furnace.”

Odette shifts, opening her eyes to meet Vodyanitsa’s.

When she doesn’t say anything, Vodyanitsa continues, “He’s just so… dense! We both know he’s interested, you saw just as much as I did after our last show, so why’s he always trying to leave when we’re basically throwing ourselves at him?”

Resting her forehead against Vodyanitsa’s shoulder, Odette sighs. “I… think he might just be self-conscious. Because it’s us, maybe he doesn’t feel like he’s good enough.”

Vodyanitsa pouts. “But why! He has nothing to worry about!”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t worry, you know how he is.”

It’s true, unfortunately — Vodyanitsa has never seen Alyosha not worry about something or another, whether it’s securing heat for an underserved village, securing his next meal, making sure Odette hasn’t overexerted herself in training and Vodyanitsa hasn’t strained her voice. She’ll probably never understand him entirely, but his selflessness is something she loves about him anyway.

He’s never one to accept good things without hard work, but she wants so badly to share her good fortune with him, because she truly believes he deserves the world — even if the only world she can promise is the space she and Odette share, held in each other’s arms.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

+1: ALYOSHA

Alyosha’s cabin in Sretomorozsk isn’t exactly a glamorous place to host guests; the owner hardly stays in it himself, anyway. It’s sparsely furnished, with just a small bed, a work table, and some storage shelves; the kristall heater and Tugarin’s straw pile take up more space than all of Alyosha’s belongings combined. Taking in a weary traveler for a short rest is one thing, but when Vodyanitsa and Odette insist that they want to spend a night at his place, Alyosha finds himself at a loss.

Luckily, the girls seem perfectly content with the frankly meager amount of pillows and blankets he owns, assembled into some sort of pile by the heater. He shouldn’t be too surprised by this — he’s seen Vodyanitsa’s cavern, and Odette, while pampered in the city, is also extremely utilitarian.

As night falls and sleep threatens to take him, with Vodyanitsa against his chest and Odette on her opposite side (and with Tugarin pressed to Alyosha’s back, closest to the door), their limbs indistinguishably tangled together beneath his only spare blanket, Alyosha makes a painful decision:

“You two should take my bed so you’re not sleeping on the floor. I’ll be back later.”

And with great effort, Alyosha extracts his legs from the tangle and frees his arms. A heavy silence fills the cabin as Alyosha grabs his coat from the back of his only chair and slips his boots on, and he feels a glare as sharp as daggers on his back as he opens the door to the tundra.

He doesn’t go far, taking a seat on one of the old disowned crates on his porch to think. The abandoned cabin with the buried Kresnik’s Torch isn’t terribly far; as long as he’s careful about it he could, theoretically, make it there without supplies, but he’ll be traversing the tundra deep into the night. A safer option would be to simply drop in with Repnina — it also wouldn’t hurt to take care of her overnight — but it’s already late enough that the old lady should be sleeping. Realistically, there’s a kristall lamp on his porch, he can very easily move crates around to shelter from any wind, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’s slept outside….

His front door opens with enough force to snap him out of his thoughts, and Odette stalks over to him with a very intimidating sense of grace, akin to a wild cat. Being the target of Odette’s glare is nearly indistinguishable from the feeling of being hunted — Alyosha’s fingers twitch and his skin prickles with a primal thrill, and it’s easy to see why Odette is under consideration to take the title of Fair Lady. She’s as dangerous as she is beautiful, and one should be extremely wary of angering her.

“This needs to stop,” she says, crossing her arms.

“What?” Alyosha asks, bewildered.

“Quit running away.” Odette takes a threatening step closer, but a shiver shatters her intimidating aura. She’d chased after Alyosha without a coat, likely only pausing to slip her flats on before confronting the cold.

Alyosha shrugs his coat off, draping it over her shoulders; between her slight frame and the bulk of the fur, she’s practically swallowed up by it. “I’m not running away, I’m giving you and your girlfriend space.”

She mumbles thanks for the coat, shoving her arms into the sleeves. “My girlfriend? What do you think that makes you?”

A freeloader for sure, probably a voyeur, Alyosha thinks, cynically. He chews the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying as much. Pathetically, all he manages is, “A friend, I hope.”

Odette pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “We go out on dates all the time. Do you really think Vodyanitsa booked that nice hotel room under a fake name last time for us to just hang out as friends?”

“Obviously not, that’s why I keep leaving you two together. I don’t see why you’d want me there, just, I don’t know, watching?”

“Tsaritsa give me patience,” Odette mutters. “We’ve been inviting you because you’re part of this relationship too. Or do you think she and I just enjoy having you trail us on dates? We plan the dates with you. But every time Vodyanitsa and I get affectionate with each other — or with you, Archons we try — you get shy and show yourself out.”

Alyosha runs through his memory of the last few months. They really are together, all together, as much as possible outside of work. Odette’s a very busy person, he can’t imagine how she’d realistically squeeze in any extra time outside of that for just Vodyanitsa, so…

“Alyosha,” Odette takes another step closer, less threatening this time. “Be honest with me — do you want to be involved with us? Because I can speak for both myself and Vodyanitsa when I say we love you.”

That greedy little part of Alyosha’s heart rears its head again — is Odette saying he wouldn’t have to choose? That he wouldn’t be ruining everything good in their friendship, their relationship apparently, if he admits that he’s been in love with them and has been wanting more? That he’s truly not just a wedge between a fairytale romance between Odette and Vodyanitsa? How much debt will this kind of good fortune incur on his spirit?

“I do, but,” he says, as measured as he can muster, “why didn’t you, or Vodyanitsa, say anything?”

“She’s afraid of coercing you with her voice. But she’s been trying so hard to get you to kiss her.”

Suddenly, a lot of things make a lot more sense: the way Vodyanitsa sometimes stares at Alyosha’s face as if looking for something, fixates on his lips, leans in more than is strictly “friendly” while giving him that expectant stare….

He curses under his breath. “And you?”

Odette rolls her eyes. “I haven’t been exactly subtle either, you know. But I had a theory to test.”

“Theory?”

“Well, I thought you were self-conscious, but it turns out you might just be dumb.”

“Oh… I think I’m inclined to agree with that conclusion.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Odette takes a deep breath and steps toward Alyosha. Without her heels she’s the shortest of their trio, but she’s no less intimidating for it.

“I suppose I have a lot to make up for, right?” Alyosha asks, letting Odette pull him down by the collar of his shirt.

“Best you start catching up now,” she says, and though her tone is always rather un-enthused, Alyosha can hear the affection threatening to melt away the polished surface.

Odette leans in halfway, her hand moving from Alyosha’s collar to his shoulder; he can still escape if he has any doubts. He can reject the spot in Odette’s and Vodyanitsa’s hearts that’s been kept warm for him to return to, turn away from Odette and walk down his worn-down porch steps into the endless snow-scape while the girls sleep peacefully in his home.

But Alyosha’s done with believing he’s undeserving of the good in his life — he closes the distance, and finally understands Vodyanitsa’s infatuation with kissing Odette.

Everything Odette does is filled with a certain finality, a determination to never settle for halfway, and it turns out that kissing is not an exception. She wastes no time in tilting her head for a better angle, bringing both of her hands to Alyosha’s hair to likewise guide him how she wants. She pulls away after just a moment, dragging her teeth over his bottom lip as she goes; Alyosha surrenders, letting her take the lead. It’s the least he could do after denying this for so long.

Odette’s fingernails scratch pleasantly against his scalp as she pulls Alyosha in again, and he’s a bit too preoccupied to be embarrassed about the soft whine that escapes his throat, but not too far gone to feel Odette smirk against his lips. Not one to have his vulnerabilities laid bare all alone, Alyosha pulls Odette closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and savoring the gasp she lets out in turn.

It’s hard not to get lost in Odette, so she’s the one who eventually drags Alyosha back to his senses. She pulls away, dragging her hands down Alyosha’s arms as she goes, leaving him just a little colder than before.

“Vodyanitsa’s waiting,” she reminds him.

An understatement — Vodyanitsa’s been waiting far longer than the few minutes Alyosha and Odette have been outside.

Alyosha takes a deep, steadying breath. He fixes his coat on Odette’s slim shoulders and takes her hand in his own, giving it a grateful squeeze before leading the way to the door of his cabin.

Inside, Vodyanitsa is sat on the ground next to Tugarin’s bed, vigorously scratching the dog’s sides and cooing as he wriggles in delight, scattering straw around him even more than it already was. If Alyosha were to fumble this much longer, he wouldn’t blame Vodyanitsa if she took his dog, since clearly Tugarin already loves her and doesn’t have any reservations about showing it.

“Welcome back,” she chirps. She undoubtedly notices their linked hands and the fact that Odette is now wearing Alyosha’s coat; a wordless exchange with Odette seems to reassure her of something as she rises to her feet.

It hits Alyosha not unlike a train as she stands in front of him, patiently waiting for his response, as always: the affection he’s been forcing down for months, the desires he’s been repressing out of what he thought was respect, not to mention the frustration he’s inevitably caused in all of them.

Alyosha pulls both women in for a tight embrace; Vodyanitsa squeaks in surprise and Odette goes stiff for a moment before relaxing again. He can’t quite find the right words, but he hopes that they’ll understand. After a long moment of just holding them, warming each other after the exposure to the night air, Odette clears her throat and pinches Alyosha’s side, excusing herself from his hold to leave him with Vodyanitsa.

There aren’t any words he can offer to make up for how many times she’s asked him for something so simple, or perhaps there are too many words to fathom, so he presses his lips to her forehead first, then cups her flushed cheeks and finally gives her what she’s been asking for for so long.

Vodyanitsa, rightly so, is both less patient and more demanding than Odette. She grips the back of Alyosha’s collar, keeping him close and kissing him long and hard enough he wonders if she’s forgotten that he needs to breathe. She’s as unrelenting as the tide itself, threatening to pull Alyosha under the current with her, and he’s coming to believe he’d enjoy drowning just like this.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Alyosha’s bed is far too small for all three of them to sleep in normally, but that’s not about to stop them from trying. It’s not the most comfortable arrangement, with all of their legs hanging over the side as they settle in at an angle, but none of them care if it means Alyosha’s finally there with them, even if his left arm is crushed under Vodyanitsa and Odette’s knees dig into his hip on his opposite side as she curls up to fit on the bed.

“So, when exactly did we start dating? I’ve been out of the loop, apparently,” Alyosha asks once they’ve gotten comfortable.

Vodyanitsa takes a moment to think. “It was that time we all went to Svetloledovka to see the art show, right? That was our first date. Right, Odette?”

“Oh,” Odette, surprisingly, blushes.

“What, is that earlier than you thought?” Alyosha prods.

Odette shakes her head. “It’s later, actually. I thought we’ve been together since we rebuilt Rankova Zorya.”

“Whoa, that is early!” Vodyanitsa agrees. “Why then?”

“Well… we took that one photo to send to Alyosha, remember?”

“Photo? The one with all our friends and the snowman?”

Alyosha springs up from the bed to fetch his coat, but not to leave — he fishes the folded up photo of Vodyanitsa and Odette kissing the cheeks of the snowman dressed as himself, his most prized possession aside from his rifle, from his inner chest pocket. “This one, right?”

Odette takes it and unfolds it carefully, as if it’s a fragile artifact. A small smile graces her lips as she nods and passes it to Vodyanitsa, who lets out a small shriek.

“You’ve been carrying this in your pocket this whole time? You softie!”

“You sent it to me,” Alyosha counters, “so of course I’ve been carrying it.”

Vodyanitsa and Odette share a look, and Alyosha thinks he may be beginning to understand their silent exchanges. Vodyanitsa sets the photo on Alyosha’s nightstand, then reaches out to pull him back to the bed; as soon as he sits down, two pairs of soft lips press against his cheeks, one on each side.

He does, indeed, smile almost as wide as that snowman.