The Pomegranate Society

Fourteen: Aleksander Morozova

TW:  THIS CHAPTER HAS DISCUSSIONS AND REFERENCES TO WARTIME VIOLENCE. 

Fourteen:

Professor Aleksander Morozova

No one, truthfully, could remember what the conflict was about. Or who had started it. Men like The Apparat liked to wax that it was about religion. That everything they were doing was in the name of The Saints, in protecting Ravka from outside influence. Keeping the old faith. The textbooks would tell you that it was for the King, for glory, and for their country. But in truth, Aleksander suspected war was about one thing and one thing only.

Power. And keeping it from others. The easiest way to make certain that a country didn't function, or for a ruler to hold power, was to keep it in fear. Or to make them fear others. What better way to do that than to make their worst fears come to life daily?

The air raids had been going on as long as he could remember. When he was a child, he and his mother would sneak into the basement. "Come, Aleksander," she would whisper to him. They would stay there until the morning, and the electricity would flicker on and off as the bombs grew closer and closer.

Baghra kept an old lantern downstairs, along with water, and some food. But it still wouldn't be enough to last if they had any real damage done to their home. And that was if they survived the night.

He remembered her singing old folk songs to keep him calm as he clung to her.

Usually, if there was an air raid, he'd try to get a call to his mother. Then he would go to one of air raid shelters the university had where he'd stay with the other Professors and students until it was over. This time, when he made his way to the shelter, he found himself looking for Alina's face amongst them.

He didn't see her.

Which meant....

He knew what it meant. She was under the protection of the royal family now, she had chosen glittering palaces, and fairytales over.... what? What could he offer her? The other students had gathered, some with flashlights, or using their cell phones. A few had brought blankets.

Some of the more ambitious ones were actually studying, despite the rattling, and the noise outside as it went on through the night. Aleksander found a spot that wasn't too crowded and made a seat for himself. He had a book with him and tried to focus. Yet the words all seemed to merge together, into one.

Alina.

He wanted to be with her. To make sure that he was safe, to comfort her during this time. But he didn't get to be that person for her. He wasn't ever going to be. She was going to be the future Queen of Ravka, and he was going to be.... what? An old man with his books and his money, giving diatribes on stories long forgotten that no one seemed to care about anymore?

He settled in for a long night. If the Saints gave a shit, maybe they'd.... what? End his miserable, fucking existence? So that he wouldn't be cursed to think about someone he wasn't ever going to have? No, fuck that thinking. He got what he wanted. He always did. If the Saints wanted her with Nikolai, they'd have to show up and tell him to fuck off personally. And even then, that might still not work. He wanted her, and wasn't Aleksander Morozova a man who always got exactly what he wanted? No matter the price?

He was the head of a society that helped give people their darkest desires. If he could give them all theirs, he could certainly claim his. He'd drag her down from the palace throne, into his world, and watch as she succumbed to his shadows like it was his favorite fantasy played on a loop for him.

The night passed, and in the morning, the Headmaster let everyone out. The shelter was in the basement of an old library, and as he went out into the morning sun, he saw a young woman exiting holding a worn, red and gold copy of The Lives of Saints. Aleksander couldn't help but laugh.

"Fuck you all," he muttered to himself.

He should have gone home, made sure that he even had an apartment that was still standing. Instead, he was walking through the University District, headed in the direction of Genya Safin's apartment. He knew the location after seeing the pictures of Alina that the paparazzi had taken. When he got there, Alina was getting out of a sleek black car with her roommates leaving him no doubt about where she had spent her night.

In the safety of The Grand Palace, with the Prince.