Archive of Our Own

Winter is a wretched time. 

Mama has been sick for days, coughing and wheezing throughout the coldest days of December. She couldn’t stand long enough to go collect eggs or milk the cows, barely even had the strength to continue sewing the fabric for what was meant to be Alina’s new Sunday dress. 

The turn of the season, brisk fall to brutal winter, had brought with it a sweeping wave of illness. Half the village was bed ridden just like mama and neighbors kept their distance more so than usual. No one came to visit them when Papa was gone- Mama says it’s because her eyes frightened them away. She doesn’t understand why, Mama has beautiful eyes and Alina has them too. 

But she supposes there must be something wrong with them when the doctor says he won’t come help mama.

“ Too many sick ” he says. He doesn’t have time for charity on her kind. Her kind. Alina doesn’t know what he means by that, but she thinks about it as she trudges home through the building snow and burning wind. 

Tears puddle in her eyes- from the wind or the sadness she doesn’t know. But if the doctor won’t come help mama, she’ll stay sick forever.

When she makes it back to their humble home, Alina huddles by the waning fire as mama trembles under the blankets of the bed, no money for firewood or strength to cut their own so she watches the twigs she’d scavenged turn to embers and ash. She wishes Papa would come home, he’d always bring something to ward off the cold.

She can barely remember him these days, only the warmth of the blanket he’d tuck around her at night when she’d be squeezed between them in bed. She can’t recall his features anymore, just the gentle press of a kiss to her forehead and a swath of blue fabric over her. Papa would tell her that she was a brilliant girl- mama used to do that too, back when she had the strength to speak more than a few words at a time. 

But it’s been so long since he’d gone and mama can only summon a sad smile when Alina asks when he’ll return.

As she lays in front of the fire, her stomach growls. They’ve already eaten through all of their meager dried meats and mama hasn’t been able to make bread in a week. Alina wants to help, but mama never had the time to teach her how. They’ve only got a few jars of preserves left- and Alina knows mama needs them more than she does, no matter how much her stomach protests. 

Mama is already asleep when Alina crosses the small room to bring her supper. Her lips are blue and Alina wants to do nothing more than crawl into the bed with her and try to warm them both up, but mama was adamant that she stay as far away as possible. She had said that she didn’t want her to catch the sickness she had. 

“Good night Mama. I love you.” she whispers, leaving her to sleep.

Alina takes just one spoonful of the berry preserve for herself, shiving as she does so. Her tiny hands drag a pillow to the nearly gone fire, curling up on top of it and clutching her knees to her chest. 

Everything aches from the cold and the embers do nothing to fight against the wind seeping into the space. Mama doesn’t think so, but Alina believes that her Papa will be home soon. He’ll sweep her up into his arms and hug her tight and tell her he loves her and keep her warm. That’s what Papa always does. 

Sleep is hard to find when her body is wracked with shivers and the gnawing in her stomach grows. Alina squeezes her eyes shut and tries to curl in on herself as much as possible. Not for the first time, she prays that someone will come help them. She prays for Mama to get better. She prays for Papa to hold her again. 

Her prayers fall on deaf ears. 

-

The morning is nearly as frigid as the night. Alina wakes, stiff and sore from her position on the floor. Her tummy growls like Mr. Orestsev’s old dog used to. She heaves herself off of the floor, frozen fingers struggling to hold onto the jar of preserves as she goes to give Mama breakfast. 

She’s in the same position as last night, laying on her back in bed. 

“Mama, s’time to wake up.”

She doesn’t stir. 

“Mama” Alina tries again, tugging at the blanket. Mama must be tired.

“Mama m’ cold…wanna share a blanket.” 

She tugs harder. Mama’s arm rolls out of the bundle, fingertips blues. Her skin is freezing. What’s wrong with her? Why won’t she wake up? Despite Mama’s warnings from before, Alina pulls herself up onto the bed. 

“Mama” she says, crawling over to push at her shoulders. Alina’s bottom lip begins to tremble. She wants Mama to wake up. She wants Papa to come home. She wants to be warm again.

“Mama! Wake up!” she shrieks, but Mama stays still. She’s confused and tears are gathered in the corners of her eyes. Her face feels warm despite the cold. 

“Mama! Mama! Wake up!!” 

She doesn’t know how many times she screams it, uncaring of how loud she is. Her voice is hoarse and tears are running uninhibited down her face by the time someone starts knocking at the door. 

But she doesn’t care who it is. She just wants Mama to wake up. 

Eventually the door opens and a gust of freezing air blows in. Alina shivers, but doesn’t give up on her pursuit of shouts. Everything is blurry when hands start to pull her away from Mama. She struggles against the foreign hands.

“Stop! I need to wake Mama up!” she shouts, but her little form is unmatched by the fully grown woman who drags her away. She thinks there’s other people in the house now, a man moving towards the bed, but she can’t be certain when the tears leave her vision stained. 

“Hush child. You’ll wake the devil with your screams.” someone says- their voice familiar, a neighbor maybe, carrying her out into the cold of the streets. Alina doesn’t stop struggling, Mama is going to freeze if they leave the door open like that. 

The world passes by in a haze as she's carried away from the only home she’s ever known. She’s cold and tired and hungry and she wants Mama. The glacial winds seep into her bones, a tug at the back of her mind telling her to stop fighting. To give in to the cold and let the neighbors take her where they may. The chaos burns beneath her eyelids, thoughts muddled by the raging storm of emotions. She’s too tired to fight it, only has enough energy to hope that they’re bringing Mama wherever she’s going too. 

For a moment, all lies in stillness.

-

When Alina wakes, it’s to her name and someone pushing her shoulders. She doesn’t know where she is, her little body piled onto a stuffed chair. There is a fire crackling in the little stone room, but the coldness within her is bone deep as she shivers. 

She takes in the face of the old woman sitting across from her in another chair, her grey hair slicked back into a bun.

“Goodness child, I’d thought you’d never wake.” the woman says, her voice tight as though she were angry with Alina. 

“Wha-I…who are you?” she asks, her voice shaking. 

“I’m Ana Kuya. I am the headmistress of this orphanage.” 

Orphanage? It’s a strange word, one she’s never heard before. She doesn’t like the way it sounds coming out of this stranger’s mouth, muddled by a tone that she can’t make sense of. The woman sounds almost sad when she speaks. 

“Alina Starkova, yes?” 

She nods her head, wary of the woman. Her stomach hurts and her feet are numb, she just wants to curl up near that hearth and go back to sleep. Being awake is too painful. 

“Alina, you are going to be staying here with us for a while. Yes?”

“Where’s Mama?” Alina asks, trembling and tired. So tired. 

“She…she succumbed to her illness. Your mother has passed on child.”

No. No, that can’t be right. Mama was just sleeping. Because if Mama was gone…then she was alone- no. Papa would come back. He’d be back any day now. He’d bring her back to Mama and they’d be happy all together. 

Her body was shaking against her control, tears spilling from her eyes. A little sob tore its way out of her throat. 

“But Papa will-”

“Quiet girl. Your father is gone and he won’t return. Mr. Starkova has been away long enough to relinquish his ownership of you.”

No no no. Papa couldn’t be gone. He never taught her how to read or sing like he did or brought her the kitten he promised her. He couldn’t be gone forever. She’d never gotten to say goodbye to either of them. 

If they weren’t coming back…Alina was alone. 

The grey-haired woman sets a cup of tea down next to her as she sobs, patting her back gently. Alina doesn’t want tea. She wants her Mama and Papa and can’t stomach the thought of eating or drinking anything. The tea sits untouched on the table as she sobs and shakes.

Eventually, she sheds all the tears she can muster, allowing the woman, Anna Kuya , to lead her out of the small office and through a few hallways into a large room lined with cots. 

She points to one towards the back of the room.

“You’ll sleep here. Get some rest, I’ll explain more once your affairs are in order.” she instructs, leaving Alina standing at the foot of the cot. It has a grey, threadbare blanket over the edge but no pillow. 

She’s confused and tired and cold. Freezing cold, one that brings a throbbing pain at the base of her skull. Maybe she’ll lie down for just a moment. Then she’ll get up and go find Mama.

The moment her tiny head hits the bed, the darkness of sleep consumes her. 

-

The grey days of the orphanage slip into weeks. The weeks into months. The bone deep chill of that cursed night clings to her body, even in the sweltering heat of summer. It adds to the monotony of her life.

Wake up. Clean a different room of the orphanage. Help the cooks set the table. Watch the other children chatter and play and sneer at her appearance. Drag herself under the single grey blanket and wait for sleep to change the dullness of day into the silence of night. 

She shivers through every day, keeping her head down before crying herself to sleep each night. Despite a house full of children, she finds herself unbearably alone. They don’t speak to her in any words other than teases, and she simply can’t find the energy to care. 

She sits at the dinner table every night, picking at the thin slices of unseasoned chicken and stale bread. Her already small appetite diminishes even more in her days at the orphanage, her thin frame narrowing out further, all of her baby fat lost to what the nurse calls wasting sickness. 

She’s a hollow shell of herself, moving on autopilot through each day. She trembles and shudders through each day. No light behind her eyes. 

Mama never woke up. 

Papa never came back. 

She was alone. 

-

She can hear their snickers and jabs as she passes by the sitting room. Words she’s never even heard of, but said in a tone full of such disdain that she knows they’re insults. She seeks refuge in the small study, tucking herself into a chair she only dared to call her own in her mind. 

Footsteps outside call her attention. They’re heavy and slow, a pattern she recognizes as the cooks. Maybe someone else too. Alina preses herself further into the chair, hoping they weren’t coming to find her. Sometimes they were even crueler than the children, whispering about her when they didn’t know she was near. 

The footsteps pause further down the hallway and Alina holds her breath as she listens closely. They’re whispering, low but distinguishable. 

“I don’t blame the man. Dead wife and daughter afflicted with wasting sickness…and those eyes too. I wouldn’t come back either.”

“No, that scrap of a girl won’t fetch more than a few coins of bridewealth- if she even makes it that long…” the voices trail off as they continue walking.

Alina stays frozen, processing what they’d said. She was the only one in the village with eyes like mama’s- they were talking about her. But…but they’d spoken of Papa. That he might be out there somewhere? Why wouldn’t he come find her?

They’d said it was because- because she was Shu? Because she won’t fetch a good bridewealth? Papa didn’t want her anymore because she wasn’t good enough. 

Tears well in her eyes for what had to have been the hundredth time that week. It’s like a little crack forms in her heart, a terrible tug that grips the very center of her being. An icy sliver of disappointment makes its way through her entire body, settling in the pit of her stomach. 

She didn’t deserve Papa. It was all her fault. 

It felt like the room was pressing in on her, the walls shrinking down on her. Her lungs shrunk, each breath fighting to make them expand properly. Sweat glistens on her forehead as her heart rate speeds up. Alina knows she should go find Ana Kuya, tell her that she must be falling ill. But she can’t seem to make her legs move, her body paralyzed on the chair. 

She thinks her heart might explode from the ways it’s pounding in her chest. The room is impossibly small around her. She’s being crushed by the walls pressing in on her from all sides. She might be dying if the pounding in her head is any indication.

Chills run down her body, an uncontrollable movement that serves as the motion her paralyzed body can muster. A flash of something behind her eyes- dark and cold. Frozen skin. Blue lips. Dark hair spilled like blood around her once beautiful face. 

Mama.

Mama is dead.

Papa has abandoned her. 

And it’s all her fault. 

-

Alina doesn’t know how long she stays frozen in that chair. Could be minutes or hours or days, a perversion of sleep. The only thing her wrecked mind can comprehend is Mama’s frozen body in bed and the burn of every struggling breath. 

But eventually the greyed edges of her vision begin to recede and the terrifying image of Mama is replaced by the familiar details of the study. The walls slowly pull back into their original positions and air rushes to her lungs. It’s like she’s spent the day racing with the boys outside, or hauling a sack of goods back from the market. Her mind regains control of her limbs, but Alina barely has the energy to sit up.

The last shreds of sunlight are creeping through the little window in the study, evening staking her claim over the sky. She pulls her still numb body onto her feet, stumbling back to the living room where the other children are complaining of the impending cold night. Alina knows that supper will be ready soon and she needs to help set the table, so she turns her head down and heads for the dining room. 

She’s too busy swatting away the sticky remnants of tears on her cheeks to notice that there are people in the dining room. It’s not until Ana Kuya’s stern voice hits her ears that she looks up. 

“Where have you been child? We will have a guest for supper this evening. Prepare an additional plate for him.” 

Alina blinks up at Ana Kuya and the tall man next to her. He towers over them both, dressed from breeches to cloak in a fabric so black it seems to suck in the light from the candles and lanterns around the room. His dark eyes are piercing, staring confidently down at her and he regards Alina. 

She feels like she should be scared of him- like he is the wolf in the story the older children tell her about at night, a story so horrible it’s made her cry many times. But something in his gaze is soft, a little twinkle behind his eyes that soothes the rasp of Ana Kuya’s tone. 

He bends down slowly, carefully shifting his weight on one foot until the other knee hits the ground. Even bent over he’s still taller than her, so he ducks his head down to look little Alina directly in her eyes. 

“Good evening, little dove,” he purrs, soft but sure, “who might you be?”

Alina pauses. He can’t be addressing her, none of the orphanage’s guests ever do. And yet he’s looking right at her, gaze undisturbed. 

“I…my name is Alina…sir,” she rasps, voice hoarse from disuse. Alina is torn between looking down at the ground, as is the expected state of capitulation when an adult speaks to a child, or continuing to watch the ardor in his eyes. She chooses to keep looking. 

“Mind your manners child, this is Duke Morozov and he should be addressed as such.” Ana Kuya apprises. Alina opens her mouth to say that she didn’t know, but is cut off by a warm smile from the man kneeling before her. 

“Never your mind about that. Surely this girl couldn’t know my face, I haven’t been this way in many years. You didn’t mean any harm, did you little one?” the stranger, Duke Morozov , asks, reaching down to take her tiny hand in his. 

“No…no your grace. M’ sorry.”

“Not to worry. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Alina.” he whispers against the back of her hand before pressing a soft kiss to her cold skin. She can’t help the little giggle that comes out. No one has called her by her name in a very long time. Always child or bones or no eyes . She quite likes the way her name sounds on his tongue. 

He stands back up, once again towering over her tiny form as the fabric of his cloak brushes her arm. It’s deliciously soft and it takes all of her energy to not burrow into it, lose herself in the endless waves of cloth. 

Ana Kuya sends her off to set the table before she can say anything else, but she can feel the Duke’s eyes follow her as she moves about the room. 

Alina can’t explain why his presence feels so assuring, so familiar when she’s only just met him. There’s something in the way he looks down at her that stirs a feeling in her brain that she hasn’t felt in a very long time. 

She likes it. 

-

Grief, they say, is what killed the poor girl's mother. Brought on by the disappearance of her father, either robbed and left for dead on his journey away from the village or simply abandoning his wife and child for better prospects. The bastard left such a sweet, darling girl alone in this world, little body trembling in the cold even though winter has barely begun. 

Aleksander doesn’t often get to Keramzin, it’s in the outskirts of his territory and it’s far too small to warrant the attention of the larger cities and villages. But he ensures that he makes his way down every so often, bringing gifts and settling matters. He only intends to stop at the orphanage long enough to supply the children with a few toys and turn over a donation. The mistress of the place is insistent that he tours the place while his men distribute the dolls and marbles. 

He obliges if only to see use of funds he’s previously donated. Ana Kuya is gracious as she leads him through the tiny building, pointing out places where money had been used to repair windows or purchase more chalkboards. She touts the impressive education the children receive for being in their situation. They’re in the dining room, furnished simply with one long table and enough chairs to seat all the wards, when a small girl enters.

Her eyes are downcast, little feet pitter pattering against the floor. She nearly barrels into the mistress before she realizes they’re in the room. Her big brown eyes are droopy, dark circles underneath them and Aleksander is struck with foreign feeling deep in his gut. He’s unsure how to describe it, but he knows that he hates the redness in her eyes and sickly pallor of her skin. This slip of a girl looks like a gust of wind would knock her over and for the first time he questions the capability of the orphanage, if they were properly feeding their charges.

Aleksander lowers himself to her level, pitching his voice as soothing as he can so as to not scare the skittish girl. She’s trembling from the admonishment of Ana Kuya and he wants nothing more than to wrap her up in his cloak and hold her little body until she’s warm, to sit her on his lap and feed her until she grows strong. He wants to plait her sable locks and secure the finest ribbon he can buy to the end. 

Her name is Alina. A beautiful name for a sweet girl.

He watches her carefully throughout supper, notices the way she picks at her food and only manages a few small bites. He’s conversing politely with Ana Kuya and a few of the older children at the head of the table when he sees Alina push what’s left of her meal onto the plate of a young child. 

Darling girl, so young and already looking after others. None of the others seem to comment on it and Aleksander is left to wonder when was the last time that someone took care of her. The idea percolates throughout the remainder of the meal, of how he can ensure that darling little Alina is looked after properly. 

She collects a pile of dishes and marches them back to the kitchen without question while most of the other children continue to eat and jest. When she doesn’t return to the dining room, he knows exactly what must be done. 

Aleksander engages with Ana Kuya until the children have cleared out of the dinning room and they have retired to her office. The moment he takes a seat across from her, he drops all pretenses.

“I’ll be honest, I intend to adopt a child from this establishment, Madam.” he announces bluntly, relishing in the look of surprise that crosses her face. He can’t blame her- it is well known that the Duke has made a conscious decision to not marry. With his looks and status and wealth it would not be hard to find a wife and breed a whole herd of heirs, yet he has chosen to remain in solitude. Aleksander honestly finds the rumors of his alleged dalliances amusing- he is far too careful with the women he allows in his bed to allow any children to be sired. 

“Your Grace…we thank you very sincerely for your donations over the years, but-”

“I understand that this may seem to be sudden interest, but I assure you that I have been interested in taking a child into my care for quite some time.” 

A lie through and through. He’s always been far too busy to consider the prospects of parenthood, to understand what others meant when they described the satisfaction of providing for a child. But then he’d looked at little Alina’s shivering body and sad eyes and he’d known instantly that providing her with a proper home and endless affection was the thing he was put on this earth to do, the only way he could reap satisfaction from the life he’s sowed. 

“Pardon my questioning on this matter Your Grace, but you must be very busy with your duties and a child requires attention-” Ana Kuya begins, but Aleksander knows how to negotiate. An aspect of his behavior so deeply ingrained by his mother that he speaks purely on instinct.

“I understand what my duties entail very thoroughly Madam, and I believe that a child would only benefit from traveling my duchy and experiencing more of what Ravaka has to offer than this small village. I did not make this decision lightly.” he states simply, prepared to explain to the woman that he’ll happily pass off any responsibility that takes him too far from his estate should it make Alina happy to stay there instead. 

Wisely, the older woman drops her gaze and lets out a sigh. 

“Of course Your Grace. Is there a child in mind? Certainly some of the older children would make fine companions during your travels.”

“Tell me about Alina.” he redirects, no desire to act like he has interest in any other child, like any of them could outshine little Alina, even through her sorrowful demeanor. 

“Oh-she’s a quiet thing. Very timid but does as she’s told. She’s made some progress with reading and maths but she’s ill frequently. You Grace I don’t think she’s fit for travel of the caliber you’d need.”

“Nonsense, she seems like a fine girl. Nothing a proper meal couldn’t fix.” he says pointedly, imagining how the small girl would enjoy the fine sweets he imports for himself. She’s likely never had a proper cake or pastry and he’d very much like to remedy that. 

“And what of her parents?” 

“Her father left for travel and never returned. Some say he died during his journey, others theorized that he simply left them. Her mother, a Shu woman, fell ill a few months after his failure to return. The winter was too cold for her to bear.” she informs him. 

Aleksander feels a pull in his gut, a simmering anger forming at the idea of young Alina, cold and abandoned. He wishes he could go back in time and pluck her out of that house from the start, raise her safely under his care. 

“We don’t know how long Alina was in the home after her mother passed, but the neighbors pulled her off of her mother’s body screaming and crying. She’s been here nearly a year since that incident.” 

A fist tightens around his heart, squeezing to the point where he thinks he might lose consciousness. The image of poor, little, starving Alina wailing for her mother is forming in his brain. He hates it. He’d give anything to fix it. 

His voice is gruff when he speaks.

“I would like to take her under my care, if she’ll have me.” he states, prepared to send  a messenger to his estate to ready a room immediately. He’ll put her up in the room closest to his, give her a queen bed just to see the way she swims in the sea of blankets and furs covering it. He’ll make sure someone is awake at every hour to see to any need she might have during the night. The hearth in her room will never go cold.

“I-we can ask her. Though she may be too ill to travel, the girl seems to be suffering from wasting sickness. And she is so young…” Ana Kuya advises, though she’s drawing papers onto the desk as she speaks. 

“Not an issue, I’ll ensure our journey to my estate is at an easy pace. I’ve brought my carriage so she can relax the entire time, sleep even. My estate is merely a few days travel.” he declares, already thinking of what to tell the messenger. 

“It will take at least a few hours to prepare the proper paperwork, we’ll not be able to complete everything by the end of the evening. Perhaps you could return in a few weeks-”

“Have it done by the morning. I’ll stay at the Inn and return first thing to collect Alina. I’d also like to speak with her now and introduce her to the idea.” 

The woman nods her head carefully, agreeing to start drawing up the paperwork. She calls for another child passing by to send her in. It’s only a few moments before the soft sounds of her footsteps reach his ears. Her little frames pauses in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter. 

“Alina, come in girl.” Ana Kuya calls, gesturing to the empty space near the desk. Alina approaches cautiously, taking in both adults in the room. 

“M’ sorry that I forgot your title Your Grace. I really didn’t mean it.” her voice catches, bottom lip wobbling. Oh sweet girl, she thinks in trouble. As if he could ever be upset with her. 

“Oh no darling, don’t worry. I’m not upset with you.” he coos, softening his gaze. She shuffles nervously on her feet, eyes downcast. 

“Are…are you sure?” she hiccups, her uncoordinated little hands swiping at the tears that begin to fall. 

“Of course, little dove. I truly do not mind. In fact, you can call me Sasha if you’d like.” he whispers, as if he’s telling her a secret. Her brown eyes go wide at that and her little tottering feet stop. Ana Kuya’s face pales, but she keeps her lips pressed together in a thin line. A duke giving a child permission to use a diminutive is unheard of, but it seems to melt the ice surrounding Alina.

She takes a half step towards him, like she wants to reach out but is too frightened. He makes the decision for her, extending out one hand to clasp both of hers. Her skin is cold, even in the room warmed by the hearth. 

Aleksander draws her closer, letting their clutched hands rest on his knee. 

“ Sasha ” she whispers, her little chapped lips quirking up. His name rolls so sweetly out of her mouth that he nearly scoops her up into his arms and curls her into his cloak. 

“Alina, how would you like to come stay with me? I’d like you to be my special guest.” he asks, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. His other hand gently wipes under her tear-stained eyes. He knows deep in his stomach that she should never have to cry again. 

“You…you want me to…stay with you?” she questions, her eyebrows furrowing. She’s young but the intelligence behind her eyes is palpable. She’s curious but cautious- traits he wants to nurture until she’s a brilliant and cunning young woman.

“Yes, Alina, I would like you to live with me.”

“For how long?”

“Forever Alinochka , if you’d like.” 

She clutches his hand tighter as the gears turn in her head. He can tell that she’s weighing the options before her. Like she’s deciding how much she can trust him and how badly it will hurt if she disappoints her.

Alina looks back towards Ana Kuya at the desk, her eyes wide and pleading. 

“Can I?” she asks.

“Yes Alina, you may if that is what you wish. But surely you need to think it over.” Ana Kuya says, wrinkled hands balled into fists. Alina turns back to him, something warm glowing behind her eyes.

“I-yes I think I would like that…Sasha.” her smile is soft but hesitant. 

Aleksander can’t contain his grin, his desire to embrace her only contained by the thought in his brain that she’ll need more time to be comfortable with that. But the relief in his heart is great, that she’ll be his, that he can provide for her. 

“Alina, I believe it is time for you to retire to bed. Duke Morozov will have to return in the morning to collect you.” Ana Kuya’s strict voice cuts through the air. Alina clutches his hands tighter, stepping closer to his legs. She looks like she doesn’t want to go, and he can’t blame her. The poor girl was probably scarred from her abandonment, doesn’t know him well enough to understand that he’ll always see something through. 

“Don’t fret little one, I shall return for you in the morning. I promise.” he assures, petting her hair. Her eyes turn glassy, like she’s already pushed down all the excitement she only just started to feel. 

“Here,” he says, gently extracting his hands from her grip. He shifts to grab his cloak that is hanging over the back of his chair. He drapes the fabric over her small frame, watching as she is swallowed by it. Her little face lights up.

“Why don’t you hold onto this until I return. To keep you warm tonight.” he whispers as he secures the clap at her collarbone. A brilliant little smile takes over her, shining brighter than the sun itself. 

His perfect girl. 

That night Alina sleeps soundly, surrounded by the heady smell of tobacco and warmth of cloak that feels something like a promise.

-

Aleksander has never been particularly fond of his manor. It’s overly large for just one man and his staff, the formal dining hall and sitting rooms sitting empty almost constantly. Only his study and his bedroom were ever occupied enough to not collect dust. The entire estate fell cold and unused due to his frequent travels, and he much preferred to handle matters in person when a letter might otherwise suffice. Being a commanding force to those below him required a powerful presence in person. They did not call him the Darkling for nothing. 

And yet, for a building he always considered looming and lonely, it takes Alina all of a few weeks to turn it into a welcoming and warm home. When they first arrived, late in the evening and weary from travel, she’d clung to his hand and drowsily allowed him to lead her up to her room. Now he rises every morning and insists that he must be the one to wake her with a cup of tea brought directly to her sleeping form. She’s utterly adorable in the way she blinks up at him each morning, like she’s surprised that he’s returned. Even more adorable is the way she rises up on her knees to press a kiss to his cheek as she says good morning. 

Though Alina is shy with his staff at first, she quickly becomes the highlight to the entire manor’s day. She takes breakfast with him, her appetite steadily increasing as she grows more comfortable. Her smile when she tries a ripe fig for the first time is so luminous that Aleksander demands them at the table with every meal just to watch grin and giggle when she takes a bite and the juice dribbles down her chin. 

He leans in towards her chair, swiping the juice with his thumb before popping it into his mouth. He savors the sugar taste as he smirks down at her and whispers in her ear

“Just as sweet as you, my little dove.” It sends Alina into another fit of giggles so lovely that he doesn’t even mind when she comments on the amount of sugar he scoops into his tea. 

He sends for a governess as soon as possible and is very insistent on Alina getting the best education possible. He is delighted with her progress in just a few weeks, watching her blossom under the attention of Ladies Safin and Nazyalensky. She is a remarkably quick study, reading whole pages of his own novels aloud to him when he asks. If anything, she preens under his undivided attention, doing anything she can to be in his presence. Aleksander simply can’t say no to her little pout, so he ends up doing work in the sitting room with Alina much more often than in the privacy of his office. 

They walk the grounds every evening, Alina bundled up in a new shuba with her little hand tucked in his. She’d tell him about her ever changing favorite toy- perhaps he’d gotten her too many- or the new dish she’d convinced the cook to teach her to make. He regails tales of his youth or tells her about the pony he plans to get her come spring. Aleksander wants nothing more than for her to become a talented rider so that they can travel in the following years.

He’s been pushing off leaving home for at least the rest of the winter, reluctant to leave Alina alone when she’s just barely gotten comfortable, calling him Sasha without hesitation. Ivan grumbles every time Aleksander sends him as his proxy, but nothing is truly worthy of his presence until the spring at the earliest. So instead he’ll stay and make sure that Alina is warm for the winter and learns to trust him so deeply that it becomes second nature. Until she knows that he is her true home. Until she sees him as someone who will always protect her, nurture her, love her. 

Alina is still unconvinced that he won’t change his mind and drop her back at an orphanage, alone and unwanted. He’s determined to show her that he loves her, tucking her into her massive bed each night with a kiss on her cheek. The hours between when Alina is asleep and when Aleksander himself goes to bed are often his least productive despite the silence in the manor. It’s just too quiet- he misses Alina’s footsteps down the hall, her gentle laughter when she convinces Feydor to play dolls, her humming along to whatever song Aleksander plays on the piano. She breathes life into the space without even trying, like blood pulsing through the veins of the building, turning it from a house into a home. 

One freezing January evening, Aleksander sits in his study staring at the swimming words of a farmer in the north, asking for aid for the sixth season in a row. He sighs, pushing back his chair and resigning to draft a reply the following day. Downing the remnants of his kvas, he stands and makes his way up stairs. He’s just passed Alina’s door when he hears something strange. There’s a whine of sorts, a low cry, coming from her room. 

Her room is dark when he pushes through the already cracked door, eyes landing on Alina’s small body lying beneath the blankets he’d tucked her under just hours before. Her head is thrashing back and forth on the pillow, the mess of inky hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. Aleksander crosses the room, immediately kneeling at her bedside and restraining her flailing hands. 

“Alina, darling girl, wake up.” he whispers, other hand pushing the hair off of her face. Her brows furrow, eyelids twitching as another cry falls from her parted lips. 

“ Alinochka , you’re having a nightmare little one, wake up.” he tries again, louder as she struggles against his hold, shivering despite the sweat on her. He squeezes one of her shoulders and she shoots awake, sitting straight up in her bed. Her eyes are frantic, taking in her bedroom and Aleksanders face despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. Her lower lip wobbles but her eyes become clearer, recognizing him after a few moments. 

Alina throws her little arms around his neck wordlessly, only sobs escaping her as she sinks into Aleksander’s embrace. He brings his own arms around her waist, pulling her close.

“Oh it’s okay little dove, Sasha is here.” he murmurs, stroking her hair. She buries her face into his shoulder, tears soaking the fabric of his shirt. He lets her cry it out, seek comfort in his arms until she’s calmed a bit. When she pulls back, Aleksander’s heart breaks at the hiccuping sounds that come from her. He frames her small face in his hands, gently wiping at her tear stained cheeks. 

“What happened, milaya ? Did my sweet girl have a bad dream?” 

Alina nods, her nails digging into his skin behind his neck. Her big pleading eyes just look at him for a few moments. 

“It…it was Mama. When-when she…so cold…” Alina mumbles.

“Oh Alina. It’s okay now, darling. You’re safe here, I promise I won’t let you go cold or hungry ever again. I’ll never leave you my solnyshko .” he coos, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She snuggles closer to him nuzzling into his hand like a kitten. 

“Come on zoloste , you can stay with me tonight okay? I’ll be right here if you have any more bad dreams.” he murmurs, scooping her up into his arms, one hand under her legs and the other wrapped around the back of her neck, keeping her face firmly pressed into his shoulder. She goes limp in his arms, letting him carry her into his room as he continues to whisper encouraging words into her ear. Alina is nearly asleep by the time he peels back the covers of his bed and lays her down. He contemplates leaving her for a moment to get her water or tea, but she makes grabby hands at him the moment she’s detached from his arms and his resolve dissipates. 

Aleksander slips under the covers as Alina immediately shuffles closer to him. He tucks her into his side, toying with her hair.

“Sleep my love, I’ll be here when you wake.”  

“M’kay” she mumbles sleepily, little hands clutching his shirt. She lets out one final yawn before whispering the sweetest words Aleksander has ever heard.

“ Love you Papa .”

-

Aleksander and Alina fall into new habits after that, Aleksander letting her into his bed whenever she wants and Alina falling asleep in his arms more often than not, mumbling good night Papa into his ear just before sleep claims her. He doesn’t know how one word could hold him so tightly in its clutches, but every time she says it, his heart stops. 

He thinks that maybe, just maybe, she’s finally accepted that he’ll never leave her. That he’ll do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy. That he’ll spend every penny in his pocket to see her smile. 

For the first time in a very long time, Aleksander feels a sense of home, of family. When Alina shyly asks him to teach her to play piano, he obliges without hesitation, propping her up in his lap and lying her tiny hands over his as he strikes the keys slowly. And when she starts to get antsy, he plays a fast piece at full pace, her hands barely able to keep up with his motion as she doubles over in giggles. 

“Faster Papa!” she squeaks, and so he moves faster, the song barely recognizable at the rapid pace. His fingers fumble through the rest of the song, unable to restrain his smile as Alina laughs so fully. His perfect girl.

In the early thaws of spring, Aleksander arranges for a horse to be purchased of Alina, a beautiful young Orlov Trotter, gleaming white like the last layers of snow. Her wide eyed and toothy grin would be enough to buy her a new horse every day if she wanted it. And so their evening walks turn into riding lessons and gentle trots through the surrounding woods.

But when April arrives, Aleksander is no longer able to avoid meeting with the people of his duchy. He attempts to break the news to Alina gently, explaining that it’s just to a nearby village for standard business- he’ll only be away for five days at the most. He can tell that she’s trying to hold back tears, trying to be brave for him. But he knows that it must feel like a sting, like he doesn’t want to spend time with her. 

“Don’t worry little dove, Papa will be back before you know it. Perhaps with something special for my precious girl.” he promises, prompting a curve from her now chubby cheeks. Alina has grown into a nearly unrecognizable girl- her hair full and shiny, skin no longer translucent, and a gloriously little of her ribs protruding from her skin. But he can also see the sadness lingering in her eyes, the way she clings to him after a nightmare as though he would leave her or how she cowers when she spills the ink jar as though he could ever be properly cross with her. 

“There she is, that beautiful smile. Do not fret Alinochka , I promise that I’ll return. The King himself couldn’t keep  me away from you my love.” 

Alina swipes the wetness in her eyes away before she pulls him into a crushing hug.

“I’ll miss you Papa.” she sniffles into his neck. 

“I’ll miss you too malyshka . Now be good for Feydor while I’m gone, and ask the cooks for extra sweets.”

“That’s what you do Papa.” she giggles, pulling back to look at him. He pretends to ponder that thought, acting like he can’t recall such a thing in order to pull another laugh out of Alina. He grins back, dropping a kiss to her forehead before he reluctantly has to pull away and stand up. While he asks so much of Alina, to be brave while he’s away, he can’t deny his own watery eyes as the horses pull away from the manor and into the blooming spring. 

-

Aleksander’s return is marked by the bang of the main door and the thump of footsteps the minute he dismounts his horse. He barely has time to look up before Alina is flinging herself into his arms, a chorus of Papa Papa! You’re back! chanted into his ear as he scoops her up into his arms. He pecks kisses into her cheeks as he takes stock of his bright eyed girl.

“My my Alinochka, how big you’ve grown! Such a beautiful sight to come back to my darling.”

“Papa, I missed you! I finished my book while you were gone. And I made a sketch of the flowers in the garden! And did you bring me something back like you promised?”

Aleksander can’t fight the grin on his face and nor does he try to when Alina is beaming right back. 

-

Alina grows more accustomed to his necessary traveling and preens under his attention each time he returns. And even just a few days away seem to feel like years because each time he comes back, Alina seems even more grown up. 

Seasons fly past them and Aleksander begins to savor every moment, tea with Alina in the mornings, watching her blossom as an artist in the afternoons, her curled up on his lap while he works in the evenings, carrying her into his bed each night. 

They spend the summer at Aleksander’s lakeside home, much smaller than the manor but the constant breeze from the lake’s shore allows a reprieve from the sweltering heat. Alina has never seen the water before and he’s delighted to show her, watching the long summer days melt seamlessly together. Just painting on the patio, playing cards after dinner, and sipping on delightful lemonade. Each day he wakes early to get through as much work as possible before Alina is awake and demanding his attention with the gorgeous little freckles that have sprouted after so much time in the sunlight. Aleksander is certain her governesses will have something to say about her tanned skin and sun bleached hair, but watching Alina soak up the sunlight like she needs it to survive is something he couldn’t deny her if he tried. 

After a particularly long day, he finds himself reading aloud from an old book of fables in the sitting room, stretched out on the settee while Alina reclines, pressed between him and the back of the couch. He idly plays with her hair while he reads, putting on voices for the different characters. They usually have Alina enthralled, but she’s clearly worn out from the day, stifling yawns left and right. He’s been reading for nearly twenty minutes before he realizes that Alina has drifted to sleep. 

“Oh my little dove, let’s get you to bed.”

She doesn't stir when he picks her up and he carries her into his room, pretense of her sleeping by herself long since forgotten. Aleksander slides in after depositing her in the bed, carefully curling himself around her sleeping form. He wraps an arm securely around her stomach, pulling her back flush to his chest. 

“Good night, malyshka ” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair. She nuzzles into the pillow, shifting in his hold. She keeps wriggling like she’s trying to get comfortable, tiny fingers push his arm lower and lower until his hand rests between her thighs. 

It’s like the wind has been knocked out of him as any word he might say gets stuck in his throat, a knot twisting deep in the pit of his stomach. 

“Feel funny here Papa….”  she whines, pressing down on his fingers with her own. He knows it should feel wrong, that these notions in his mind should be reserved for a different scenario, but he’s famously bad at denying Alina anything, and if all she needs to fall back to sleep is his hand in the right place, who is he to say no. So Aleksander obliges, cupping the apex of the thighs in one hand, pressing down lightly with the heel of his palm. 

Alina coos, settling down as his thoughts reel. His initial thought is of how bad this is, but the animalistic, primal primal part of his brain can only focus on safe . How perfect his Alina is this way. How his once far off worries of Alina growing up and being married off like a lamb to the slaughter can be so easily resolved. Aleksander can show her how things should be, how she should be treated. He knows the King has a son not much older than Alina and the royal family’s penchant for pairing sons with Ravkan nobility to ensure internal strength. His girl would be a prime choice if the way her skills are developing are any indication, and he simply can not bare the idea of his Alina being pawed at by the greedy little terror that is the Lantsov boy. 

No that won’t do. Only the best for his darling dove. And Aleksander is the best there is. He can love her, protect her, show her all of the things she has yet to learn about herself without the brutish tactics other men would employ. Alina will never be able to trust someone the way she trusts him, and how could he betray that trust by handing her over to someone that could never provide for her. 

With Alina fast asleep and one of his hands firmly cupping her center, Aleksander makes a pledge to do whatever he must to keep her safe- to keep her with him. 

-

With every day that passes Alina grows strong, smarter, and more curious about the world. Aleksander watches as her pencil sketches grow into lively, colorful paintings of everything around them- the garden, the view out of the window of his study, the old barn cat that sleeps in the stables. His favorite though, is a painting of him, sitting in on the patio and reading with the backdrop of the sun setting over the surrounding woods. She presents it to him on his birthday one autumn, he nearly sheds a tear. That night he lets her stay up late and have an extra slice of cake, dancing around the music room as he plays a lively tune on the piano. 

He watches Alina swirl around the room before she tumbles onto the rug in a fit of laughter, her little body jittery with sugar and excitement and the sip of imported sparkling wine. He tucks away the memory of this night in his mind, never wanting to forget the way she looks so carefree and happy. Such a change from the shell of a girl he’d found at the orphanage several years ago. 

“Come here little dove,” he whispers, leaving the piano to scoop her up off of the ground, “let’s get you to bed solnyshko .”

“M’kay Papa. Happy birthday.” she sighs, content to let him carry her. Aleksander presses a kiss to her forehead as he passes through the hallways, tucking her into bed like he has nearly every night for so long that it’s second nature. The moment he presses up next to her, Alina tucks one of his hands between her thighs just like that first time. But tonight she’s wound up and rambunctious, wriggling her hips against his hand like she’s searching for something. Like she knows what he can give her. 

Maybe it’s the high of the celebration or the light headedness of the kvas and sparkling wine, but Aleksander feels determined to give it to her. To let her know how much he loves her and that she’s wanted . So he presses down letting his middle two fingers apply the most pressure and drags them slowly up and down her center. 

A soft sound escapes her mouth, her own body twisting to accommodate his fingers. 

“That’s it zoloste . Are you going to let Papa make you feel good?” he whispers in her ear, feeling the little shiver that runs through her.

“I… oh …please don’t stop Papa.” Alina whimpers, clutching at his forearm as he works her over her nightdress. 

“I won’t Alinochka . Now just relax for Papa.” he encourages, bunching up the silken material to touch her bare skin. She’s slick and warm as Aleksander slides up her folds before rubbing a gentle circle on her clit. Alina’s breath catches, her hips jerking up at the sensation. 

“ Relax Alina.” he repeats, and she settles a bit as he continues his exploration, collecting her arousal just to rub it into her clit. Encouraged by her breathy sighs, Aleksander works the tip of his middle finger into her. He shushes her whimper, pressing in further. 

“Oh there you are my darling. Such a good girl for Papa.” he murmurs, stroking her inner walls and grinding his palm against her clit. 

“Hmuf…Papa! Please I-I need…” she whines, grinding herself against him. Such a smart girl, chasing her pleasure on pure instinct. She’s just slightly out of sync with his finger thrusting, but she’ll have so much time to learn. He’ll teach her, make sure she knows exactly how her body works. How to make those funny feelings all better. He can feel the pinch of her nails digging into his skin where she’s still gripping his forearm.

“Papa knows what you need, little dove. Only I can make it better.”

Aleksander presses kisses to her forehead as he slips a second finger inside of her. Alina lets out a little cry that turns into a moan, her little thighs shaking as she clenches around his fingers. She cums with a shiver, her eyes squeezed shut as she grinds against him. He continues to gently pump in and out of her warmth, letting her down slowly. 

His fingers are covered in her slick when he pulls them out, bringing them up into his view. Alina’s breathing slows and she blinks up at him, her eyes brown eyes glazed over. Maintaining eye contact, he brings his fingers to his lips. She tastes divine , and he can’t help but lick them clean. 

“Just as sweet as I thought,” he whispers. Even in her drowsy state, Alina giggles. She rolls, tucking her head into his shoulder.

“Did that make you feel better darling?” 

“Yes Papa….thank you.” she mumbles, the words muffled. Aleksander pulls her closer, letting her be soothed by the heat of his body. He’s uncomfortably hard, but he can deal with that- ignore it until it goes away. Alina’s too young yet to worry about anything other than her own pleasure. And he’ll give that to her like no one else can. Like only Papa can. 

“Anything for my little girl.” 

- 

It only takes a few days for Alina to ask for him to do that again. And again. And again. His little one is insatiable, but he’s more than happy to help her. Especially when she asks him so nicely and makes such pretty little sounds when he moves his fingers inside of her. Or when he directs her to straddle his thigh and guides her hips in a grind along him. Alina whines so sweetly against his neck when she cums that he nearly loses himself right then. She’s nearly insatiable with her want, pulling him away from important work with a simple Papa please . 

But he’s always willing to show Alina how much Papa loves her. And remind her that no one can make her happy like Papa can. 

She cries so pretty when he tells her that he’ll be leaving the following week on business, finishing up some matters before the summer arrives and they can make their escape to the lakeside estate once more. 

“But Papa, what if I need your help when you’re away?” she pouts. He knows that he should teach her how to find her own pleasure but the idea of not being there makes him sick to his stomach. He simply can’t imagine a reality where his little girl no longer needs him at night and can find her own fun without him. 

Or worse she might start to seek comfort in boys her age. He knows they’d only leave her heartbroken and in pain. Mere boys could never make Alina feel like he could, they’d rut in her like dogs and he’d be left to pick up the pieces. No, he can’t have that. Especially not with the way she’s been eyeing the new stablehand, a boy of 17, barely old enough to find his own cock let alone get Alina the pleasure she craves. He won’t let him hurt her like that. 

But she’s staring up at him, her eyes pleading. He runs a hand through her hair, contemplating what he can do. How to keep Alina happy but coming back to him.

“You know little dove, Papa can teach you how to make yourself feel that way. If you promise to only do it when I’m away.”

She seems to ponder this for a few moments, considering his offer and what it might mean for her. Alina might have once been a shy and naive child, but she’s grown bold with age. Secure in Papa’s love, safe in his arms. Now she’s fierce and curious and brave and knows that she can trust him. So she gives in to the temptation of knowledge, agreeing to his proposition. 

That night, instead of settling beneath the sheets, Aleksander sends Alina to prepare for bed on her own and wait in his room. He sips his kvas in his study, turning the glass to watch the way it bends the candle light. He’s trying desperately to find reasons to keep himself downstairs, not rush up to hold his girl. But he keeps himself calm, carefully finishing his drink and taking each step with excruciating deliberateness. When he opens the door to his bedroom, Alina is spread across the foot of his bed, a book in her hand though she’s nearly nodding off. 

“Hello lapushka , are you all ready for bed darling?”

“Yes, Papa.” she sighs, sitting up to look at him. He takes a seat in the large stuffed chair across the room, near the full length mirror.

“Come here Alinochka .” he commands quietly, and Alina scrambles to obey, rushing to sit on his lap. Aleksander brings one hang to her knee, stroking a line up and down her inner thigh. His other hand nestles into her hair, tugging so that she looks into the mirror. 

“Pay attention now, Papa is going to teach you everything you need to know.”

She nods, a shiver running down her spine. Her eyes meet his in the mirror, and though she looks nervous, he can see the excitement behind her smile. He gathers up the material of her night dress, letting the white fabric pool over his lap. 

“Spread your legs malyshka .”

She obeys, exposing her cunt before them, his eyes feast on the pink flesh reflected in the mirror. 

“Good girl. Do you know what grown ups call this?” he asks, running a finger through her folds. She shakes her head, her own eyes trained on the movement of his hand. His touch is feather light, and he keeps pulling back just as her hips lift, seeking pressure. He’s teasing her, he knows, but drawing this out is the only way she’ll ever know how to pleasure herself properly.

“This is your cunt, Alina,”- her breath catches at the bad word- “but it belongs to Papa yes? I know exactly how to make this cunt feel good.”

She nods at his words, squirming in his lap. He slaps her cunt with the flat of his hand- a tap really, just to see her whimper and make her settle down.  

“None of that. You take what Papa gives you solnyshko . Now do you know why you get wet little dove? Why your body makes such a sweet slick?”

She shakes her head again, eyes watering because she doesn’t know the answer. Because he’s still teasing her opening and making her watch it. A slow burning pleasure disguised a torment. A lesson disguised by pleasure. She’ll learn so much from her Papa. 

She digs her nails into the arms of the chair and a tear falls from her eyes.

“Oh it’s okay, zoloste . I know it's hard, but Papa will tell you. You get wet because your tiny cunt needs it to fit things in, to make it feel good.”

“Like your fingers?”

“Very good.” he praises, slipping a finger into her and pushing a hiccup from her lips in the process. 

Aleksander watches the flush deepen in her cheeks as he pumps in and out of her, enjoying the way she yields around his finger so perfectly. Just for him. 

He pushes in a second finger just to see her mouth open and hear her breath catch. To feel her inner walls working to accommodate him.

“Do you feel how you’re stretching around me? It’s because your body knows Papa belongs right here, buried deep in your cunt.” 

Alina whines, pressing back further against his chest and spreading her legs wider.

“ Ah-oh …Papa I-I wanna…” she tries, lost for words but knowing the feeling she’s chasing. He’s trained her so well. 

“Cum, malyshka. It’s called an orgasm, or cumming. That's when Papa makes you clench around him. It feels good, hm?” he hums, tilting her head so he can press a kiss under her jaw. 

“Yes…Papa please, I wanna…wanna cum.” she groans, chest heaving. He grins in triumph as a bead of sweat makes its way down her face. She’s so good for him.

“Okay baby, you need to touch your clit to make yourself cum okay? Do you know where your clit is?”

One of her shaky hands makes its way between her legs, index finger extended to rest over top of clit. She’s unsure, but he can tell she’s relying on instinct. On how Papa has made her feel good before.

“Here?”

He grins. His smart girl. 

“Yes darling dove, right there. Now rub it sweetheart. Little circles like Papa does, then you’ll come all over my fingers.”

She immediately obeys, circling the puffy nub like he’s done so many times before. They make a perfect sight in the mirror, his massive forearms encircling nearly her entire waist as she rubs her own clit. Her other hand tugs at his hand behind her neck until she can face him. 

She’s confident now, leaning in to kiss him. Aleksander can’t help but be proud of her, seeking out what she wants so well. He kisses her back with enthusiasm, pressing his tongue into her mouth. 

And it’s just so perfect when he twists his fingers inside of her, pushing her over the edge as he swallows her moans with his own mouth. She’s clenching around him, trying to draw his fingers deeper inside of her. Keep her full. 

He laps up to moans as they fall from her mouth, her little body shivering in his lap. But he’s determined tonight. To make Alina understand all the ways he can be good to her. All the ways she belongs to him.

“Another. This time you can help” he demands, tugging her hand down to her glistening cunt. Without pause, he pushes one of her fingers in, following it with two of his own. She shrieks at the sensation, but Aleksander is relentless, setting her pace with his own hand. 

“Come on little one, Papa wants another one. And good girls give Papa what they want.” he groans, unable to stop himself from grinding against her. He’s painfully hard, aching for release, but Alina doesn’t seem to mind at all. She just tucks her head into his shoulder and watches as he moves her hand for her- fucking her open like a good girl. 

“I- oh … okay Papa…for you.” she chokes out, letting him control her movements. All it takes is a brush of his thumb over her clit for her cum again. She’s squelching and wet and messy all over their joined fingers and Aleksander lets out a grunt at the sight. Alina whimpers wetly against his neck as he slows the motion of their hands. 

“Good girl. So brave for Papa. So smart.” he whispers in her ear, tucking her hair behind her cheek. She curls against him, hiccuping into his year. It brings her ass right on top of his throbbing erection and he can’t help the groan he lets out.

“ Alinochka …” he warns when she wriggles against him again. She blinks up at him, brown eyes pleading under her wet lashes.

“Wanna make you feel that too Papa. Please ,” she all but begs, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He should say no- put her to bed and let her rest. She was just so perfect for him all night, learning how to work herself, exploring her body. He shouldn’t push her…but hearing her say such things- about how she wants him to feel good too.

“Papa please. I-I love you. Wanna be good for you, make you…cum.” she says hesitantly.

And doesn’t that just break his fucking heart. She loves him. And he’s always known that he wanted to claim her before any other boy got the chance. Before anyone could hurt her. 

But he didn’t have any intention of doing that tonight, not so soon after her courses had started. She was merely months into being a proper young woman. And yet he was weak for her begging, the sweet lilt of her voice and thump of her pulse under her veins. 

“Alright malyshka , but you’ll have to be brave for me.” he whispers, scooping her up into his arms. She’s pliant in his grasp, letting him walk her to the bed.

“M’kay Papa. I can be brave.” she mumbles against him. He smirks, spreading her out before him on the bed. He looms over her, smiling when he sees that she’s smiling back. He kneels at the foot of the bed between her spread legs, lifting the left one to his mouth. He kisses his way up her leg from ankle to knee before repeating it on the other side. 

He starts a path up her inner thighs and Alina lets out an adorable giggle when his head ducks under the soaked and thin fabric of her nightdress. He pushes the material up, reluctantly removing his mouth from her skin to pull it up over her head. 

Aleksander’s mouth waters at the newly bared skin, her freshly budded breasts so lovely under him. He gives in to the urge to suck one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking carefully while his hand cups the her neglected breast. She writhes under him and the new attention he’s showing her. One particularly strong suck causes a yelp to fall from Alina’s lips. 

“Papa…oh-I,” she tries as Aleksander plants wet kisses along her collarbone and up her throat. She tugs at his shirt, trying to simultaneously pull him closer and push his shirt off,

“I know zoloste , let Papa do it.” he murmurs against her neck, making quick work of the buttons before tossing it aside. Alina is frantic beneath him, hands sliding up and down his chest to feel him. He lets her explore, looking down at her with such pride as she figures takes in his body. He lets her hands wander down to his trousers, palming experimental at his hardness. 

“ Alina ” he grunts, grinding into her touch. Her eyes light up in fascination at the reaction, encouraged to try again. His little Alina, learning so quickly.

She tires quickly of his trousers, tugging at the waistband and trying to push them down. Aleksander leans in to kiss her thoroughly, brushing her hands away to undo his pants and pulling them over his hips. Alina’s hand is back on him instantly, small hand wrapping around his sensitive flesh. He groans into her mouth, but Alina is smiling against him, enthused by her discovery. He pulls back to look down at her, pupils blown wide and lips swollen.

“Papa, tell me how to make you feel good.”

“Like this little one.” he says, guiding her hand to pump his cock gently. He’s fascinated at the way she looks between their bodies to see him, watching her take in his flushed and veiny skin.

“You know what this is right darling? Go on- you can say it.”

“It’s Papa’s cock.” she whispers, like it’s a secret. 

“ Good girl . Now are you gonna be brave and let Papa put his cock where it belongs? Right in your little cunt?” he asks, doing his best to keep himself from grinding against her hip.

Alina nods, watching in awe as he braces himself on one arm, the other stroking the head of his cock up and her drenched folds. She keens when he presses the head in, a high pitched choking sound that could wake the house. Let them hear , he thinks, let them know who treats Alina so well, who takes care of her . 

He’s shaking with the effort of remaining still, not just pounding into her like a greenboy. His girl just needs to adjust to him, let her body do the work of accommodating him. 

“Just relax malyshka , Papa is gonna make sure you can take all of it. Just be brave.” he coos, pushing in just a touch more. Alina lets out a delicious moan even as tears prick in her eyes.

He thrusts gently, pushing in little by little and relishing in the way her body pulses around him. 

“So fucking tight, Alinochka . Such a perfect little cunt for a perfect little girl.” 

“All…all for you Papa.”

He nearly loses himself at that, instead leaning down to claim her lips. It’s wet and sloppy but with the whine Alina lets out, he can tell she’s more preoccupied by his length inside of her. She’s just so small beneath him- it feels like he’s carving out his own space in her body. Shaping her to his cock only. 

He sighs when his hips finally meet hers, his cock fully encased by her messy pussy. 

“Oh what a good girl. Look little dove, I knew you could take my whole cock. Just where it belongs.” 

Her walls pulse around him, resistance slackening as her body accepts the intrusion. Tears slid down her face but Alina is clutching at his hair so tightly it’s like she needs him to survive, to ground herself amongst the sea of new feelings.

Aleksander starts a gentle pace, rocking gently as she figures out how to breathe again. He’s barely been inside of her for a few seconds but he already feels the telltale pressure of an orgasm building at the base of his spine. 

“There you go. You’re being so brave for Papa.”

Alina sobs, pulling him in for a kiss as he steadily increases his speed. The whines and keens coming from the back of her throat are heavenly, encouraging him to fuck her harder, deeper, and keep his cock right where it belongs inside of her. 

“I-oh- Papa…” she moans, legs trembling where they’re wrapped around his hips. She is probably sensitive from her earlier orgasms- he’ll teach her to take many more in the future. But he’s too close for his own good and Aleksander knows he shouldn’t push her too hard this first time. Let it be more pleasure than pain. 

He presses a thumb to her clit and laps up the cry that follows it. 

“I know baby, I know. One more for Papa and then he’ll be all better.” he coos, slamming his hips against hers. Alina’s heels dig into his back, attempting to pull him closer, to ground herself. 

“O-okay Papa. Are you- hmmg - are you gonna cum?”

“Yes solnyshko , Papa is going to cum inside of you, fill you up like a good girl deserves.” 

Alina whimpers at his words, and it only takes on more thrust before her back is arching off of the bed. She cums with a desperate cry, clinging to Aleksander as she screams glorious litany of Papa . Her cunt starts milking him, refusing to let him leave the warmth of her body. His own pace falters, becoming frantic as he seeks his release. 

He grunts as he fucks her hands, clutching at the sheets on either side of her to avoid pressing to hard at her skin. Alina is limp below him, eyes glassy and mouth parted as he pounds into her. 

“Want you to feel good Papa… please …cum…’so good to me Papa.”

Her horse voice delivers the most beautiful words he’s ever heard and the building pressure at the base of his spine explodes. His vision whites out as he cums, spilling his seed deep inside of Alina as his body flattens against hers. She whimpers at the strange sensation of the warmth filling her, but Aleksander can only stroke her cheek as he stills inside of her.

“You did so good Alina. You were so brave for me.” he praises, watching a loopy smile form on her face. 

“Mmh, felt so good Papa.” she murmurs, letting him turn them onto their sides. He pulls her close, letting her nuzzle at his bare chest before he slips out her, his cum dripping onto her thighs. They both wince- oversensitive and tired, but his darling girl has a glow about her. Like sunlight dripping from her skin as she basks in the haze of feelings that accompany proper fucking.

“Papa loves you so much my little dove. Want to keep you just like this forever… now sleep Alinochka , Papa will take care of you in the morning.” he hums.

As their breathing evens out, Aleksander is struck for the hundredth time by how lucky he is, how perfect his beautiful Alina is. He clutches her tighter against his, thoughts only of ways he can keep her happy and safe and home for the rest of her life as she drifts off to sleep beside him.

-

When he wakes, light is just starting to stream in through the windows and Alina is curled up next to him, naked and sated and so beautiful it hurts. As he gazes down at her sleeping face, Aleksander allows himself to breathe. He knows she’ll be okay not just while he’s gone, but for long after that. It’s a wonderful revelation to know that Alina will willingly stay with him. Now and forever.

Despite the nearly constant chirp of birds in the warmth of spring, the morning is blanketed in a comforting hush. Like nature herself has paused to revel in the beauty of his realization. And so for a moment, just one moment, all lies in stillness.