may i have this dance?
koschei & asathe past.
cw: none
As a human man, Koschei had never been invited to a ball before in his life. He'd been a simple enough farmer, he'd never dreamed of anything more extravagant than a season where nothing went wrong, where his children and wife could survive the seasons, and maybe, good drink.
Being invited to events, as someone immortal, as someone expected to was, well, different. Saying he felt stiff was an understatement, and further more, not as naturally attuned to it the way others were. But turning things down now felt... loaded, in a word. There was already some anger over who Asa had escaped from in marriage, Leraje's men could be anywhere, and he was finding that being an immortal was more political, more glitz than expected.
So, when summoned, he had given the invitation to Asa — who could actually read, Koschei still unsure of how exactly to state that he couldn't — and with some preparation, they'd managed to actually show up to this event. What it was about, Koschei gathered it was an attempt to get various magical beings together, to decided on lands, on rules.
Did he care about it? Frankly, no. He was beginning to learn that it didn't matter what individuals thought; ruling wasn't all that cracked up to be. And he wanted to avoid the talks that were starting to pop up, able to see a rather determined fae working their way through different people. Koschei gives a glance to Asa — generally, better tempered than him — when the music starts, he feels grateful for it.
Immediately, he offers his hand, a grin on his face, "I don't suppose you'd mind dancing over politics?"
As he had found out early on, well before he had made that silent plea to be plucked from what he saw as unwanted, problematic circumstance, everything was an opportunity for politics. High tea was opportunity for discussions of marital futures and what it could mean in the building of empires, supper the chance to talk about military strategy and extending borders and elaborate galas like the one proposed by the invitation, however shrouded in fineries, were open opportunities to catch an individual off guard with one proposal or another; and it could be as readily dangerous as it could be annoying, appearances made despite the constant struggle of avoidance that they became.Fortunately, rank and title far different from what it would have been under engagement to the Snow Queen - a situation that he sincerely hoped would not rear its ugly head this night in particular - the more political of conversations could be easily ignored, swept aside in a twist of dark red fabric that concealed more than Asa might have worn in the confines of Buyan. HIgh-necked and long sleeved with a fur-lined brocade to keep out the winter cold, almost military in style, there was still no shortage to the gold accessories, embroidery and beading that gave it some glittering flash of brilliance.
Dancing - that just made it even more possible to avoid, the encroaching fae working their way through the crowd not without notice by Asa who, without second thought, takes Koschei's hand.
"Who do you take me for? A strategic mastermind?" He jokes, taking up more appropriate form once led on the sizable ballroom floor, stepping into the procession of couples bowing and curtseying and going through the motions of preparation into practiced steps. Every so often, there is a flicker of his eyes to those on the outskirts, perhaps simply observing or waiting for their chance to step in, perhaps impose political conversation into attempted merriment. Asa, however, shows no inclination to leave his husband's side. "They're certainly determined, aren't they?"
Truly, he didn't know what he'd be doing without Asa. Snatching immortality was one thing; being representative of someone, something else, something bigger than him was different. He didn't know how to do it, exactly, and Asa was more than apt at it. He grasps Asa's hand, almost entirely the same length as his yet different. It's the soft hand of a noble who'd never done a day's worth of work, compared to Koschei's rougher own. Sweeping Asa to the dance floor is easy, and while he was a simpleton when it came to words, he knew how to use his body to dance. It is easy to fall into the rhythm needed, for him to put his other hand on Asa's waist, moving appropriately in to the practiced moves.
"Compared to me? I think you're very capable with words," A grin flits on his face, and he moves easily. He'd gotten more than enough practice with Asa at home to say nothing of those dances with fellow soldiers on the battlefield between rests to his original, human wife. A part of him wishes it was more common music: faster, more built on real camaraderie and merriment than careful politics.
Love will have to fill in that space, and love's more than enough as Koschei dances alongside his wife. "Very. I'm not sure why." He keeps his tone low as they move in their circles, Koschei happy to block anyone else who wanted to get between them. "I think they underestimate how many people want to be allies, and overestimate the need for it. People will pull away into their own tribes, and so many of these immortals don't know a damn thing about humanity." He thinks in particular of some of the more asinine suggestions, loving the way the light looks on Asa's dress. "What makes them think that humans will give up kings?"
They glide; it's of no magic or supernatural means rather practiced readily whether for moments like this when impressions are built not only on standing reputation, but appearances, or simply because it is a fun break from everything else surrounding maintenance of a kingdom. Granted, the Domovoi do plenty of the work, the heavy lifting among the walls, but beyond, it still takes someone more - be it a strong leader on the battlefield or the calm voice of diplomacy. Very capable with words might have been an understatement, Asa far more inclined to believe it was much more than that as talks, when they fell onto political grounds, found themselves much calmer than the fervor they could usual rile."They've been away from it so long, if at all, and the aura of superiority certainly doesn't help that," Asa says, hand delicately resting on his shoulder, "and for every moment they attempt to conspire, I've no doubt there is something more at play."
"It's easy - should there be an overwhelming sense of disapproval in leadership, they may look elsewhere for it if the opportunity arises." Could he say he knew of any such thing rippling through supernatural society, even in that which crossed lines with that of mortals? Not surely, but silver tongues and charisma had far reaching affects. "And then it is as easy as snatching it up for themselves, strengthening their domains or, well..." He didn't say it - the notion that some factions might have simply been looking for blood stock - but Asa canted his head slightly as if to notion to vampiric parties.
"That it is the fae, however," he says, shaking his head, "leaves me without even probable guesses." And conversation? He didn't want to step into it if he didn't have to.
The conspiracies, the cloak and dagger... Koschei isn't a fool. He knows that's how kings rule, it's how things work but as someone not very skilled at it, so new to all of this still, and yet. He trusts Asa as he explains, keeping in step with every movement Asa makes, easily finding a rhythm as he goes. "Sounds just like a different kind of king," Koschei thinks on it a little bit, not sure exactly of where to articulate it. "Different rules, but the same set up. A man at the top, a family, fighting each other for a seat. Maybe he'll call himself the Pope, or Кирилл." It's strange to think of anything except a system with one at the top, many at the bottom, revolving around it. The cant at vampires isn't ignored though; of all the other supernatural races, even Koschei had to admit that they were more power hungry than usual, more egotistical than most and wholly... untrustworthy as he saw it.
But then again, he'd double crossed a demon to get here. Maybe he could go head to head in mind games if he wanted.
Just switching names, stations, and not much else. There'd always be someone in charge, somehow. He moves them around the floor, able to see some more couples shifting away from each other, switching partners and still refusing to do so himself. "I'd take your guesses over mine. Even well meaning fae are strange to me." There's a shuffle, a slight change in music, and Koschei alters his step just light enough. "At least tonight, there haven't been many arguments, or fights. Or, worse, Снежная королева." The mention of her is a little trying in and of itself, he knows. It doesn't make it any less true, though, that if she showed up, things would get tense and quickly.
Then again it doesn't stop Koschei from saying right against Asa's ear, "Though maybe I should hope she shows up. Just to show off with you."
It was how everything worked, real intentions hidden from those who simply didn’t need to know, be it their own delegations which might have stood to stop them or the people that in however shrouded means would only benefit so much while the lion’s share was taken off the top. It requires some tact to navigate, something he knows he holds over Koschei in bounds, but Asa certainly wouldn’t have been the one to draw up a sword and that is where he knows his husband shines far brighter than even the Firebird.“That is all it is,” Asa agrees, “and there is always a второй сын or третий сын or even старшая дочь ready to fight against her brothers for the throne waiting in line as if they’re make sweeping reform to governance.” This day and age, it more readily fell to the sons, but history wouldn’t always be that way as resources gained eventually became mammoth chess pieces for even the most unlikely of powers. The individual – these so-called “kings” and “queens” – just had to get there first, and in many cases, be it benevolent or tyrannical, it didn’t take much of a push to smooth talk and butter up like minds.
“These read much different from the vila or rusalka,” Asa says, speaking of the more common “fae” of their lands; though they share their familiarities, though some are much more accommodating of men than others, everything takes on a different shade when dealing with supernatural courts of such near-agelessness. A shift in tune and in step gives him a more beneficial angle to regard the delegation from Elphyne, but as soon as that name leaves Koschei’s lips, Asa’s attention to diverted right back to center.
“One can only hope she is too busy watching her country fall to pieces than bother with supernatural politics,” he comments with full knowledge that part of that political disunity is his doing and though the tension lifts slightly at the notion of being a show off – of being shown off – there’s no part of him that wishes to see the ballroom, its patrons, frozen like stone. It causes a flux in temperature, skin warmer as he grips Koschei’s hand more readily, aura brighter, embroidery and beading sparkling more readily in the light.
>And this is partially why Koschei valued Asa so much, listening to him speak as they moved around the dance floor. Asa could invite calmness, diplomacy, all things that Koschei at times felt very, very ill-equipped to do at best, and at worst, unable to. Being a ruler with someone who had training for this — no, training was the wrong word. Someone who had finesse at this, knew it down to an art, was better than being on his own. To say nothing of the rope of patience Asa afforded him in all this. At the very least, the fae in their own lands were easier to contend with, he has to admit. "I prefer the rusalka. They're at least easier to deal with, not so..." he casts around for a word. "High minded?" Using a word, a phrase incorrectly has always been high with these diplomats with their learning. Asa had been teaching him more and more, and he hopes he's used the word right with him. "They know what they do and don't like, and it's never an urge for a crown or politics."
The key change, the shift in conversation doesn't bother Koschei even if he can feel some of that weight on Asa's shoulders as they move. Of the fact that whatever the Snow Queen was feeling now, had to deal with now was partly because of them.
He could feel guilt. He could feel responsible in a negative way.
Instead, Asa's temperature change catches his attention more. He leans more into their movements, feeling his slightly cold skin warm up more with Asa's contact, eyes narrowing a little. Not out of suspicion; it's the way Asa says it. He still moves them, still happily displays Asa, but on the last turn, Koschei can't help himself. "You think she's someone you'll have to avoid forever?" There's no concern, just curiosity. "She should move on, she lost her chance."
“High minded, yes,” Asa grins – it isn’t so much because of the kinder way of saying that, at least in the current court, they had a bit of a “superiority complex”, but how readily he can see his teachings getting somewhere, leaving their mark and even if it came with a mixed up word or phrase here and there, he at least knows that there is a little more diplomatic backbone to Koschei than before. Still, he was the warring partner, the strategist and vicious leader on the battlefield – a domain that Asa knew he never would thrive – but it took all sorts to make such things go ‘round and swords didn’t always work as well as words.“All a crown is, is a figure piece, a symbol, and it truly doesn’t matter whether someone wears one or not,” he says, shaking his head. “It is just nicer when it is on the head of someone the people believe in versus someone they fear.”
When it came to the Snow Queen, cold and frigid as the kingdom she ruled, he couldn’t say it was the former. Even Asa, standing tall and proud now, had reason to fear her if it came down to coming face-to-face once more, but Koschei was right in Asa’s mind: She could find another, someone who wanted to marry her, and perhaps it would do some good to the situation he had perhaps only worsened for reasons he felt were right.
“Perhaps,” Asa admits, pressing himself to keep his own concern and worry – anything he didn’t care to be viewed by others as weak – to himself, hidden and tucked away, “but we haven’t exactly seen that come to pass yet, have we? As far as I know, the Danish are perfectly content with the Duchy of Estonia for now and she has no reason to be here.” At least any reason otherwise.