How to rule a king

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Authors note: Sorry for the delay, I was sailing the Mediterranean Sea for two weeks before visiting a few friends abroad. Anyways, I am back now with another extra long chapter. I hope it's worth the wait.

Ronja:

"I win!!!"

Vasyli jumped up and down on my lap as soon as he got rid of the last card he had been holding in his tiny hands for several rounds of a card game he and his father had been playing for at least two hours by now. Alexei placed the twelve cards he had still held in his right hand on top of the table as he smiled at his son.

"You must be cheating, Vasyli. This is the fifth round you won in a row...maybe Ronja helps your cards disappear beneath the table."

He shot me a wink before he reached across the small table we were seated at and ruffled his son's dark hair.

"I don't cheat. I played fair and I won. I am simply better than you at Uno. Now I want the ice cream you promised me. Three giant scoopes...oh...and can I have another one of the Chocolate Chips Ronja gave me in the chopper...please."

Vasyli crossed his tiny arms in front of his small chest, pouting his lips as he tried to look serious before he bounced off my lap to run to my husband's side. He grasped his father's hand trying to pull the grown man from his seat so that he would finally get his prize. Alexei tardily got up after leaning across the table to place a short kiss on my hairline, promising he would be back in a minute just to leave me alone in his private quarters on one of the smaller Volkov bases in the northern part of Siberia.

We had arrived at the base in the early morning hours after a three-hour flight in a black hawk helicopter Alexei had claimed he had bought from a black market seller instead of, as I still highly suspected, stealing it from the Russian military. As soon as we had landed, Alexei had introduced his son and myself to most of the crew stationed at this very outpost before having breakfast with them in the cafeteria. Vasyli had immediately fallen in love with this place, as it was much smaller than the den, so that Alexei had been far more relax, allowing his son to run around between the rows of his dining soldiers, stopping every now and then to take a closer look when he had spotted a tattoo he had specially liked on one of their trained arms. When we had finished the rather dreary breakfast, Alexei had shown Vasyli and I around the base, never letting go of my hand while explaining various defensive mechanics to his little son, who was as eager to learn as always when his father had been the teacher. Later on we had made a quick stop at the soldiers' sleeping quarters before Alexei had proudly guided us through each one of the five fully stocked assault weapon rooms.

When he had lead us to the base's main training room it had been full of overly grown, sweaty men by this time of the day. Yet, as soon as my husband had entered the room with his son and myself by his side, they had immediately stopped their exercise to salute their leader. Alexei had then arranged them in pairs before ordering them to start fighting each other until one man of each pair had been knocked out or defeated. With each round new pairs were formed before the fights had started again.  Vasyli had had a hard time keeping himself seated on the bench between his father and myself as he would jump up in excitement every time one of the soldiers would try an exceptionally daring move against his opponent.

Over an hour later, only one soldier had remained standing. He apparently had been in his late thirties as his white blonde hair had been yet missing grey strands. His nose must have recently been broken as the slightly yellow bruise had contrasted his paly white skin while his own blood had tainted his normally colorless lips. Yet, the most striking feature about the man hadn't been his bulging muscles, his overgrown statue or the tribal tattoos hiding most of the pale skin of his arms, but the blood red irises of his eyes glowing in the dim light of the gym making him look like a mad man. Once he had finished his last opponent, he had planted his fist against his sweaty chest before raising it in our direction to greet the man I called my husband. Vasyli had screamed in delight as he had applauded the victor smiling up at his father, knowing what was to come next. Alexei had nodded at his son before he had raised from his relaxed seated position telling the child to watch and learn. At first I had been confused not knowing what my husband had in mind as he had discarded himself from his typical combat jacket he had chosen to wear this morning before we boarded the aircraft. Only being dressed in a pair of loose fitting military green cargo pants, his favorite black laced up combat boots and a simple black shirt he had made his way over to the table, pushed against a wall picking up a two combat knives, telling the albino to pick his own weapons before he had made his way to the center of the training room. By then all the defeated men had respectfully stepped back to give my husband and their winner space for a last fight. The pale man had made his way to the other side of the matt facing his boss with a huge smirk plastered on his face as he had pushed a knuckle duster onto each of his oversized hands before forming two fists which he had raised to his face.