fic: and the waltz goes on
Dec. 25th, 2020 07:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vvitchsdesireTitle: and the waltz goes on
Fandom: The Grisha Trilogy
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1949
Summary: “You don’t know how to dance?” The Darkling asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You don’t know how to dance?” The Darkling asked, raising an eyebrow. Alina nodded, wringing her hands on her lap.
She shouldn’t be nervous. It was just telling the Darkling the truth of why she couldn’t go to the most recent fete. Alina had managed to not go to the ones before with easy white lies: she always had a mission on the Fold to attend to, some state visit or another. Now, however, with her schedule clear for a few weeks if nothing went wrong (and Alina felt bad to wish for the saints to have something happen), she was bound to have to actually attend it and intermingle with nobility, the horror. That, too, included dancing.
“It’s not like soldiers need to learn how to dance.” She shrugged, and the Darkling gave her a sharp nod. “So, if you have any sort of mission for me to go to, even the most boringly diplomatic ones, I’ll do it.”
“All that to avoid dancing?” There was a twitch of a smile on his lips. Alina politely pretended to not see it. “I’m afraid that this time I cannot be of help. We’ll have some Shu Han diplomats coming in, so your presence is necessary to show off the strengths of Ravkan Grishas. All par for the course of this time of the year.”
Alina cursed underneath her breath. The Darkling, probably pretending he did not hear that, rose from his chair and crossed the small space between them, offering Alina a hand. She gave him an odd look, and he offered her a smile so small Alina was almost sure she had been seeing things.
“I can’t let my sun summoner embarrass herself, can I?” Alina accepted his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. “It won’t be nearly enough, but if I monopolize your dances, I am sure you won’t embarrass yourself.”
Alina blinked quickly once, twice, and when he let go of her hand Alina had to admit she missed it already for some reason she could not explain. He cleared some space around his office with barely a thought, setting the chairs aside.
“You can dance?” Alina asked, and the Darkling gave her a look. “You… Don’t look like the type that dances in those formal fetes.”
“Just because I don’t partake in now doesn’t mean I didn’t dance in my youth, Alina.”
“You sound like an old man.” The Darkling choked and then turned to her. Was it a blush on his face? How sweet. Alina filed that away as a point to her, as if it mattered: if she kept a true tally, the Darkling would win, with no chance of her ever taking the lead in her lifetime.
Well, she would have a long life.
“What I sound like doesn’t matter.” He said, straightening his back. He offered her his hand again. “Come on and follow my lead. Put your hand on my shoulder.”
Alina accepted the offer, and he pulled her close, one hand on her back, the other still holding her hand, with her putting her free hand on the Darkling’s shoulder.
Her heart felt like it was going to jump out of her ribcage, throat closed tightly. He was handsome, she knew: chiseled face, grey eyes and the black hair that seemed almost windswept, but not quite. His hands felt warm, burning through the layers of her kefta to reach her skin.
He gave a step forward, and Alina, almost instinctively, gave a step back. The Darkling went to the right, and she followed, with him stepping back and Alina moving forward, the two soon falling into an easy forward-right-back-left pattern. So far, she had managed to not look at the Darkling, eyes wandering literally everywhere but his face.
“This is… Surprisingly easy.” Alina said, surprised, looking down to their feet. The hand on her back left its place, and she felt him raise her chin. His eyes locked on hers, and Alina felt her face warm up.
“Look at me only.” Alina gulped, and his hand went to her back once more. “And yes, with the right partner, it isn’t hard at all.”
He spun Alina, her kefta flying with her, and she couldn’t help but laugh a little. The Darkling smiled once more at her and spun her again.
When she had first found her powers, she had been so afraid of him. Now he was just… Someone she could confide, maybe. Sure, the Darkling was her boss, but he understood the issues of the power they had, the unknown factor of it, the loneliness it brought. It felt like home, and Alina, who never had a proper one, reveled in the feeling.
“You’ll do well enough, I think.” He declared as he stopped moving, but his hands did not leave Alina. The two of them stood there, immobile, as if waiting for the other to make the next move, gazing into each other’s eyes.
Alina broke first, and he chuckled. He once more guided her face to look at him, and Alina gulped.
“Eternity with you will be a delight.” He purred, kissing her softly for a moment so short Alina almost doubted it had happened, but no: she could still feel the heat on her lips, the buzzing on her head; that last one must’ve been her blood rushing, though. He disentangled himself from Alina, and went back to his seat. “Off you go, yes? I’m sure you have more to do today than stand in the middle of my office.”
Brought to her senses, she offered a sharp nod to the Darkling, before leaving the room with one last look to him. He was already looking over his papers once more, but there was a tiny nudge of a smile that made Alina giggle quietly before closing the door.
At the ball, Alina did her best to blend in. It failed, because her presence was such a novelty that she felt as if every ten seconds a new noble came in to ask to see her powers. Being a party trick was getting tiring, and fast.
Lady Something Somethingva was her current handler, talking excitedly about the light to her friends as Alina showed a small sliver of light in her palm, as if she was a mere decoration. With a sigh, she glanced at the dance floor, where nobles swirled in dazzling swirls of fabric, laughter roaring over her ears.
What was the purpose of that single small lesson she had, if all she was going to do was produce light for the amusement of nobility? With another sigh, she smiled at the lady whose name she hadn’t caught. The woman opened her mouth, then closed, her eyes snapping to somewhere behind Alina.
“May I take the Sun Summoner out of your hands for a moment?” The Darkling asked, and Alina looked at him. He put a hand on her shoulder, warm and protective.
The ladies cooed something quickly and left in a hurry. Alina let out a laughter, shoulders sagging.
“Thank you for rescuing me.” Alina said, resting her back against a pillar, and the Darkling did the same, looking over the dance floor. He held in his hands a barely touched flute of champagne, and if Alina pretended she did not see the kefta, he almost looked like a noble. “Is this how it was for you?”
“People tend to fear the darkness more than the light.” He replied, polite, setting the flute aside. He offered Alina a hand. “You’re at a fete. It is an obligation to dance.”
“Is it?” Alina asked, with a smile, and the Darkling gave her a smirk. “It seems like I’m really a country bumpkin.”
“If anyone called you that, do tell me. It’s been quite a while since I’ve terrorized royalty.” There was a genuine smile on his face as he assumed position, offering her a slight bow. “Ma’am.”
Alina accepted his dance proposal with a smile.
Alina does not notice, but he does: when they dance, twirling around the ballroom’s dance floor, the lights grow brighter. He dims them.
Later - when the party was dwindling, people tiredly hanging out in barely lit corners and it was just Alina and the Darkling on some long forgotten balcony, sharing a tray of appetizers they may or may have not shamelessly stolen from the kitchens, Alina wondered if this was how people her age had fun. She should know, but in the military, she had been too busy walking behind Mal as a lovesick puppy to care. Now, she barely thought of him, too busy.
Still. She popped a canape in her mouth, and the Darkling chuckled. He seemed half-drunk, but maybe it was just him, unwinding, that gave Alina that impression. She was sitting by where he was leaning in the handrail, the tray of food between the two. Alina still could hear the vague sound of music coming from a distant open window.
“So, did you parents name you Darkling?” Alina asked, washing down the canape with some champagne. He looked a bit surprised at her question. “Darkling kind of seems like a mouthful.”
“Maybe my parents have an interesting sense of humor.” He said, and looked at her. “You’re the first one so bold to ask me for my name upfront. Usually they root through archives for it.”
Alina smiled at him, shamelessly.
“Well, if you won’t tell, then I won’t ask anymore.” She went to grab another canape, but the Darkling’s hand curled itself around her wrist. Alina looked at him, his grey eyes full of a fire she couldn’t explain.
“What do I get from telling you?” He asked, fingers drumming a beat that matched her heart on her pulse.
Alina hummed a note, and cocked her head, feeling brave - perhaps too much. Maybe it was all the alcohol finally getting to her head.
“I don’t think many people would have the bravery to call you it?” A smile from him, although Alina struggled to call it so: it was a mere twitching of the lips. “Hmm. Is it Mikhail?”
The Darkling laughed.
“Very well, I’ll indulge you. Not even close, though.” His fingers kept drumming a beat into her skin; Alina grew distracted.
“Nikolai?” That got a laughter out of him, one so genuine his shoulders trembled. “Okay, so that’s a no. Let’s see… Oh! Alexei?”
A pause from him. Alina grinned ear to ear. The laughter stopped, and the fingers stood still on her wrist.
“That’s close?”
“Aleksander.” He said, and she blinked. “That’s my name.”
“Aleksander.” Alina repeated, rolling the syllables in her tongue. A common name, more fit for a peasant boy than the man in front of her. “Aleksander.”
“Don’t wear it out on your first try.” The Darkling - no, Aleksander - said. Alina smiled at him, kissed him lightly - a move that surprised him, if the muffled exclamations against her lips were any indicator.
He didn’t take it as lightly as she, though: he gripped her tighter, bringing Alina closer, dropping the tray in the garden. Vaguely, she heard the sound of crashing, but she ignored it: the physical sensation of Aleksander’s lips against her, the body heat he exuded, was overpowering to her senses.
When he let go, Alina looked at him. He seemed amused at himself.
“Is this going to happen every time we are alone?” Then, for good measure: “Aleksander.”
Aleksander’s smile seemed genuine this time.
“If you would like to.”
“I think I would, yes.” Alina touched his face, and as he leaned into her touch, she couldn’t help but think he was correct: eternity with him would be a delight.
