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Aleksander is no where to be found.
It’s Christmas Eve, and soon it will be time for you to move the presents from one of the spare rooms to underneath the Christmas tree in the Domed Hall. Aleksander could never resist spoiling the children who choose to stay at the Little Palace for Christmas. Since he was the reason why there were so many gifts, you weren’t going to start moving them without his help.
The bedroom you share with Aleksander is empty, as is the old war room, and his study. After a brief check in the library, you decide to walk through the corridors beside the children’s dormitories. It’s then that you notice a door left ajar, warm candlelight spilling out of the crack as you nudge it open.
It appears you’ve found your husband.
This particular dormitory is filled with the younger children, between the ages of five and seven. Aleksander sits against the headboard of one of the central beds, a child on each side, accompanied by a tiny one on his lap.
His voice is soft as he reads from the book propped on his childless thigh. Looking at the beds along the wall, you note that majority of the children have already fallen asleep. The boy in his lap, the youngest sun summoner Dimitri, is blinking sleepily as he leans against Aleksander’s chest.
Aleksander smiles at you when he sees you lingering in the doorway, as he turns the final page of the book. Once the story is over, you help him guide the last few sleepy children into their own beds. Tucking in blankets, adjusting cushions, and finally blowing out candles.
It’s only once you retreat into the corridor that Aleksander speaks to you in a low voice as he pulls you close.
“Apologises for keeping you waiting, my love. They wanted a story before bed.”
Pressing a tender kiss to his cheek, you smile softly.
“I love seeing you like this.”
With the Second Army now disbanded, and the war won, Grisha were free to choose whether they would join Ravka’s singular army. The Little Palace was now a safe haven for Grisha who had no family, and a place of learning for all Grisha.
Aleksander was now able to be simply himself. Not the fearsome Black General. Just Aleksander. The man who oversees the Little Palace, who teaches summoning lessons, and plays with the children when they plead with him to join in on their fun.
“Have you eaten?” You ask him as you slide your hand into his.
Tugging him along the corridor, you already know the answer to your question and you begin to lead the two of you towards the kitchens of the Little Palace.
“Not since luncheon.” He says quietly.
As Ravka had finally entered the depth of winter, the afternoons soon turned dark, and with your increasingly busy schedules, you and Aleksander often ended up dining when it was dark outside.
“I have a surprise for you.”
His eyes soften, and he tilts his head in curiosity. Excitement fills you, and you all but skip your way down the corridor.
The fire casts a soft orange glow over the kitchens, as you open the door and step inside. It’s much warmer in the cosy space beside the ovens. The smell of your surprise warming on the stovetop has your mouth watering, and you turn to look at Aleksander.
His brows are furrowed deeply as he tries to decipher the delicious scent filling the room, then recognition sparks in his eyes and he turns to look at you with his lips parted in astonishment.
“Is this?”
Your smile widens and you stop in front of the pot.
“A traditional borscht, made with frost parsnips.”
Aleksander had told you about one of his favourite wintertime meals from his childhood. Unfortunately, the frost parsnips that had been a key ingredient hadn’t existed over the last few centuries.
However, you had been practising using your power to create plants that had become extinct over the years - although you had only been successful with a few flower breeds so far.
He gapes at you, and your face practically glows with excitement and pride.
“How?” He asks.
“I had a little help from David.” You admit, before you begin to explain how you did it. “We managed to figure out that frost parsnips were from the same family as both carrots and parsley.”
Two bowls have already been placed on the countertop, and you scoop out a portion each for you and Aleksander.
“Their closest cousin is a turnip that grows in Fjerda. So, I used that as a starting point. It took me a few tries to get the shape and texture right, but Baghra helped as well.”
He raises a brow at that.
“She did?”
Your smile softens as you hand him a spoon, followed by his bowl of borscht which he accepts eagerly.
“Usually I wouldn’t trust her judgement, but she was very critical of my first attempts, so I think she was telling the truth when she said this one was passable.”
A small laugh leaves Aleksander’s lips, and he brings a spoonful up to his mouth. He blows lightly over the food, before he takes his first mouthful.
You don’t even look at your own bowl, instead focusing on remembering every detail of Aleksander’s reaction.
As soon as the food warms his tongue, his eyes widen in surprise and delight, and he hums with pleasure as he continues to chew on the dish you had created. A wide smile spreads over your lips, and you finally pick up your own bowl and allow yourself to enjoy it.
Aleksander was right, it is delicious, perfect for a cold winter evening.
He serves his own second helping as you’re halfway through your first, and warmth glows in your chest.
Once you’ve both eaten your fill, Aleksander pulls your body against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and your body sings with pride and happiness at the thought of pleasing him.
“You’re incredible.” He tells you.
Leaning back, you tilt your head to look at his face. His eyes are glossy with emotion, but there’s a tender smile on his lips.
“Thank you.”
He kisses your forehead, and your smile widens as his lips trail down your nose. Another kiss is pressed to the tip of your nose, before he nuzzles his face affectionately against yours.
“You mean the world to me.” He whispers against your lips as he leans in to kiss you. Sliding a hand into his hair, you grip the back of his head to pull him closer into the kiss.
You’re both smiling fondly as you break apart.
“Happy Christmas, Sasha.”
He kisses you again - a chaste press of his lips against yours.
“Happy Christmas, my love.”
»»---------------------►
The next morning, you’re awoken by the doors to your bedroom opening. Fedoyr and Genya stand in the open doorway with conspiratorial smiles on their faces, and a swarm of children burst in behind them. They greet you with a jumbled chorus of 'good morning's and 'merry christmas'.
When the curtain is tugged open to allow in the bright morning light, you whine and squeeze your eyes shut with a pout.
“It’s far too early.”
“But it’s Christmas.” They protest.
“Sasha, tell them to wait.” You mumble against the pillows, turning over to reach for your husband’s warmth. Only for your hands to settle over cold sheets.
Lifting your head up, you find Aleksander standing at the foot of the bed, tying up the belt of his softest dressing gown with several excited children bouncing around him.
You narrow your eyes at him.
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
His smile is wide, and he looks just as excited as the children.
“But it’s Christmas, my love.”