Aethiria, present
Two hours. Two more hours of freedom.
And Aleksander fully intended one spending it by moping in his room until his coronation.
But despite how much he tried to dismiss it, this was probably the biggest day of his life. If he didn't know the reason why he was being crowned, Aleksander would have been bouncing off the roof.
Instead, his limbs felt like lead as he trudged to the bathroom to shower.
Cold water pounded on his back, and he relished the stinging pain it brought.
He could have stood there for hours, days, weeks.
When he finally stepped out of the water, he could barely blink his eyes.
Drying his hair furiously with a towel, he donned his suit.
He looked in the mirror, clutching the end of the table. The boy who stared back at him looked foreign, ice in his blue eyes and a grim set to his jaw.
What happened to me?
Aleksander combed his hair, donning his sash and royal insignia.
On his dresser table, there was a velvet box. He didn't have to look inside to tell what was in it.
Suck it up, Volkov. There is a war on the horizon, and my people must be united.
He tucked the box into his suit pocket.
A knock on the door roused him, and when he opened it the Head Governess stood in the doorway.
"You're behind schedule, Your Highness!" She squawked.
"My apologies. May we go?"
Aleksander half heartedly hoped she would say no, but of course the Governess only beckoned for him to come with her.
He stepped out of his room, immediately being hit with the castle's frantic buzzing energy.
It wasn't everyday that a prince was named.
Servants rushed around like bees, barely stopping to bow to him before they were off again.
He strode to the King's office, the governess scuttling behind him.
Aleksander raised the bronze knocker on the mahogany door, but before he could knock the door swung open.
Facing him was Kirigan. The older boy had a glare on his face so venomous that if looks could kill Aleksander would have been melted into a pool of acid.
"It seems like Father finally decided to claim you as a son," Kirigan spat.
Aleksander nodded brusquely, in no mood to put up with Kirigan's sour attitude.
But what Kirigan said next chilled him.
Leaning in, he whispered in a low voice: "I would watch your back. Accidents happen often."
Aleksander stiffened, lips parting in shock before Kirigan marched away.
Did he just threaten me?
Aleksander shoved the thought away before pushing open the door.
The King stood inside, back towards him. He didn't turn around, so Aleksander cleared his throat.
"Father."
"Kirigan extended his hand of marriage yesterday." Without turning around, King Ilya brushed imaginary dust off of his lapel.
"How did it go?"
"The Duke threatened to have his head."
Aleksander had to cover up his surprised gasp with a cough.
"That bad?"
When the King turned around, Aleksander was met with empty, tired blue eyes.
"I'm sorry, Aleksander. It wasn't supposed to be like this."
All of a sudden Aleksander was filled with white-hot rage, melting his carefully crafted indifferent exterior.
"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't. I'm sure there was absolutely nothing you could have done to stop Kirigan's proposal. I'm absolutely positive that there was no preventing the fact that now I have to act like a besotted housewife to a Kateria Alexeeva who has the brains the size of a pea. And I sure as hell know that with a war almost upon us, I don't have a choice."
His voice cracked with the last sentence, and the full enormity of what was going on crashed into him.
I'm going to be a prince. I'll have to be polite, wear a fake smile, marry a girl who I despise, and pretend that life is great when really it's falling apart.
Tears welled in his eyes, and Aleksander vigorously shook his head to clear them.
"We're going to be late."
Swallowing thickly because of the burning sensation in his throat, Aleksander turned on his heel and strode out of the office.
The cathedral doors were wide open, and a herald introduced them as they stood at the end of the aisle.
"Presenting His Majesty Ilya Volkov and His Highness Aleksander Volkov!"
I can do this.
The High preist stood at the front of the church, holding a staff. He beckoned for Aleksander to walk down the aisle.
I can do this.
One step. Two steps.
I can do this.
Aleksander knelt down in front of the priest, and he spoke the vows that bound him to Aethiria forever.
" I, the High Priest of the kingdom of Aethiria, chosen servant of the heavens and keeper of sacred traditions, do solemnly beseech you, Aleksander Volkov, to take this vow as you ascend to the honored throne of our forebears. Before the witnesses assembled, before the realm, and before the eternal Creator, I bid you to swear by your heart, your blood, and your sacred duty to the people of this kingdom. Do you, Aleksander Volkov, take upon yourself the burden of becoming a reigning sovereign of Aethiria?"
"I do."
The priest signalled for the crownbearer to step forward, and took the crown with both hands.
"By the power vested in me as a servant of the divine and a guardian of our traditions, I now pronounce you, Aleksander Volkov, as the sovereign ruler of this realm. May you wear the crown with grace, rule with wisdom, and forever carry the hopes and aspirations of your people in your heart. So swear you, so be it, now and forevermore."
The cold metal of the crown settled on his head, and Aleksander rose.
"All hail His Highness Prince Aleksander Volkov!"
A sea of people rose to cheer for him, and Aleksander felt bile rise in his throat.
IcandothisIcandothis.
I can't do this.
He was falling apart at the seams, his facade crumbling like a house of cards. His vision was blurring, black dots swimming in front of him. The crown was burning, searing into his head.
Hold it together, Volkov.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aleksander saw his right hand catch fire.
"Giving up already? I expected more from you."
Geneva.
Her green eyes were twinkling, pink lips curved in a lopsided grin.
"Come on, Princeling. There's more to you than that. Besides, we have a war to win."
She tossed her braid over her shoulder raising an eyebrow.
Aleksander's vision came back into focus. The flame that erupted on his hand extinguished.
The High priest was beckoning him to greet the nobles that were rising out of their seats to meet him. Geneva was gone.
I'm hallucinating. I've gone insane.
Insane or not, Aleksander didn't drop his smile until three hours later, where everybody was sent to rest before the celebratory feast and ball that once being hosted in his honor.
The sun was well past it's midway point in the sky before Aleksander could finally relax.
The crown on his head was so heavy his neck ached, and in the comfort of his room he was glad to shuck it off.
He stared at the crown for a long while. It was of solid gold, embedded with emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. Periodically spaced peaks in the shape of diamonds were spread on the circumference, each hollowed out in the center and lined in silver.
All in all, it was beautiful. A solid-gold reminder of who he was and who he couldn't be.
Is that all you got, Princeling?
Ever since she came to Aethiria, something had been wrong with him. Geneva threw his whole world off balance, and he hated it.
Why had she appeared? Why was she suddenly so important to him?
Aleksander raked a hand thorugh his hair, gripping it by the roots.
Not a moment later, Andrei thundered into the room. Literally. There was a cloud that was shooting off sparks above his head.
"You're going to get my floor wet," Aleksander said noncomittedly.
"Sorry," he hissed through clenched teeth.
"I'm just... just so done with it all."
Thunder boomed and Aleksander flinched.
"Done with what?"
"This." Andrei waved his arm at Aleksander's crown.
"I'm sick of everyone pretending that all's well. Romanov's readying his soldiers to stomp us to pieces and Aethiria is hosting parties."
"Well, it's not like I wanted to be a prince." Bitterness and hurt laced through his words and Andrei flinched.
Awkward silence spread between them before Aleksander snatched his crown up, placing it on his head haphazardly.
"I've got a ball to attend and I can't be late."
He tugged on a pair of white gloves before stalking out the door.
The ballroom was brimming with people. Ladies' dresses flashed in all different colors, and Aleksander was almost blinded by the amount of jewelry that was present.
A herald blew into a trumpet and announced his name.
"Presenting His Highness Prince Aleksander Volkov!"
Feminine giggles drew his attention, and Lady Katerina swept in with a train of attendants.
Her dress was bright pink, glitter strewn on the bodice. The pink color tapered down to white as it went down her dress, creating a pretty ombré color. Pink diamonds so big they could've taken somebody's eye out were laid on her neck, attracting people's eyes to her dangerously low neckline.
Aleksander's first thought was that Geneva would never even think of being seen in a dress like that.
His second thought was that this was the girl he was supposed to marry. The thought was so repulsive that Aleksander wanted to bolt out of the room.
Sadly, the gentleman in him didn't allow him to budge. Plus the fact that everyone was staring at him. His hands were not shaking, no indeed.
"Lady Alexeeva. It's a pleasure to meet you tonight."
No, it's the opposite of a pleasure.
"Prince Volkov! I didn't see you there. Is everything well?" She giggled, batting her lashes that were heavily darkened with powder.
"Of course. I heard that you are to be engaged to my brother?"
Aleksander tread the topic carefully, praying that she wouldn't take offense.
"No, I'm afraid not. my father didn't approve. But, there are always bigger fish in the pond."
Damn. She didn't even try to hide the fact that she was aiming to marry him for his crown and his appearance, not for his heart.
It's just another responsibility. Relax.
"Lady Alexeeva, would you care for my first dance?"
She giggled again, curtsying and taking his extended hand.
"Of course."
"Please welcome His Majesty King Ilya Volkov and His Highness Kirigan Volkov!"
Aleksander looked up to find both his father and his brother's gazes trained on him. His father's with a look of fatigue and Kirigan's with a look of hate.
The king waved for everyone to continue their night, and the string quartet raised their instruments for the first dance of the night.
Katerina drew jealous whispers and stares as he lead her down to the center of the floor, hand resting gingerly on her waist.
A waltz started up, and Aleksander led her through the dance. He wasn't a bad dancer by any means, but lack of practice meant that he was definitely not as good as he should be. Katerina wasn't bad herself, and halfway through the piece she started the conversation.
"So, how do you feel about your new title?"
"Good. It holds responsibility, but I am happy to take it for my country."
I'm not happy at all. As far from happy as can be.
"Are you looking for a potential bride anytime soon? You are becoming of age in only a few months, right?"
She really doesn't waste any time.
Alexander nodded his head, stepping closer to follow the flow of the dance. As the second heir, he wouldn't get a season. He would probably get married, claim another title as duke, and live off somewhere in the country until he was old and gray.
"I believe I am."
Here goes nothing. Nothing and everything at once.
"Lady Alexeeva, it would be of utmost gain for both our families to be brought together. Especially in times of hardship."
He cleared his throat, ears turning pink.
"Will you marry me?"
If her smile could get any wider, Katerina would split her face in two.
"Yes, of course."
The last note of the piece came to a close, and Aleksander placed a hand in the small of her back, guiding her out of the ballroom.
He knelt on one knee, presenting the ring. It was made of emeralds.
Aleksander's breath caught in his throat.
Just another chore.
He slipped the ring onto Katerina's left ring finger.
"Come, let's enjoy the night."
He rose, offering her his arm.
Her hands closed against the fabric, and they felt like talons on his bicep.
That was it. It felt monotonous. No fluttering of nerves. No confessions of love.
I'm going to spend the rest of my life with... a witch.
Oh, what a wonderful life this is.
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A/N
So, I've gone MIA for a bit. Sorry 'bout that.
Anyway, what recommendation number was it? Eh, I'll just skip it.
BOOK NUMBER SOMETHING, HERE WE GOOOOOOO
KEEPER OF THE LOST CITIES BY SHANNON MESSENGER
Take this with a grain of salt, friends. This series used to be my favorite thing, and then I realized that it was the same thing, over and over again. It's just, repetitive and.... well, read for yourself to find out.
This probably wouldn't have made it in my top ten except I pay homage to my roots.
See you guys in the next chapter! Also I am not making a Sergei POV. It would confuse people (I think, because nobody answered my message *cough cough*) and so I'm leaving him out for now.