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dolokhovisfierce · 2 years

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Malloysical Secret Santa 2022

This is my gift for @dreadful-windandrain :))

I truly wish that you have an amazing end of year and happy Holidays!

I wrote an one-shot covering Helene’s, Anatole’s and Dolokhov’s lives after the failed abduction, spicing some Holiday’s feelings on top of it. English is not my first language, so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes in it. Besides that, I really hope that you enjoy it!

Before it starts. I’d like to say that I tried to avoid anachronisms. Even so, there might be plenty of them still left. To try to avoid them, I used this sources:

1 - I used this source to base the Christmas scene: https://www.rbth.com/lifestyle/334538-christmas-tsarist-russia/amp

2 - About Ded Moroz’s and Snegurochka’s tradition: https://www.mdig.com.br/index.php?itemid=48170

Last thing, here’s a little synopsis:

After the failure of Natasha Rostova's abduction, it's up to Dolokhov, Helene and Anatole to learn how to move on with their lives.

Title: What I Want

"Betrayed! Betrayed!" Dolokhov shouted trough the freezing air of the night "Anatole! Come back!"

Dolokhov, who had stayed by the gate of Marya Dmitryevna's house, was now fighting with the Janitor responsible for the Night Shift. Dressed in an old yet clean uniform, the Janitor desperately attempted to lock the gate in order to not allow Anatole Kuragin to escape out. With a last effort, Dolokhov pushed the man away, dragging Anatole by his arm as they ran trough the Courtyard, moving towards to where the Troika was.

Now, this was not how it was supposed to be. Natasha Rostova was supposed to be with him in the troika. Natasha Rostova was supposed to be at her back porch at ten. Anatole was supposed to wrap the fur cloak around her. If someone had told Anatole that the night would end up with Marya Dmitryevna shouting 'You will not enter my house, scoundrel!' at him, and not a single sight of Natasha Rostova, he would have refused to believe such thing. Actually, someone, or rather Dolokhov, had in fact warned him about the countless ways that the plan could have gone wrong. Anatole had refused to listen to him earlier on, and he is still refusing to face the reality of the outcome of their plan. Dolokhov, however, wasn't surprised at all, not after all effort he put into trying to make Anatole see his own stupidity. Breathing heavily, more from anger than from the physical effort of fighting the Janitor, Fyodor Dolokhov was throwing a constant flaming gaze at Anatole, only the darkened blue of his eyes being enough to warn: 'I had warned you, didn't I?'. Anatole, not caring about Dolokhov's own reactions at the moment, had his head buried down in his hands, eyes wide open as the troika moved down on the street. Before Dolokhov could voice the shout that was burning by his throat, Anatole finally wailed:

"Natasha! It's essential that I see Natasha!"

Clenching his jaw and staring at Anatole with a gaze that either implied an air of superiority and disdain, or concern and frustration, Dolokhov responded firmly:

"You have done enough! The situation is already catastrophic as it is, Don't worsen it"

Anatole, with a childlike need to take out his frustration on someone, began to accuse Dolokhov, as if it weren't his own fault for ignoring the flaws of his idea:

"I need to see her! You wouldn't understand!" He meant that Dolokhov could not understand the 'love' Anatole had for Natasha Rostova "You wanted this plan to fail all along, didn't you?!"

"The stupidity of your idea is not my fault!"

Dolokhov responded, trying, for the last time in that night, to see things from Anatole's perspective, reasonating within himself that Anatole knew, deep down, that he was wrong, and that he was only taking out the frustration of the moment on Dolokhov.

"But the plan was yours!" Another wailed and then he had the terrible idea to use Dolokhov's own words against him, stating with irony: "Who found the priest, Raised the money, Got the passports, Got the horses?'"

That was all it took for Dolokhov to mentally send Anatole and his idea of eloping to hell, starting to snap at him in husked words:

"You'd already be in jail, if not dead, if it weren't for me! And the next time you decide to ruin your life for kicks, l'll fucking let you be, how is that, eh?!"

Anatole, now gesturing his fingers at Fyodor, was ready to voice another complaint that would have Dolokhov urging to throw something at him. But before he could voice those words, Dolokhov quickly raised his hand at him, silently commanding 'Quiet’.

The rest of the way was consumed by an uncomfortable, sharp silence, ready to explode into more screams at any given moment.

They should be heading to the Poland highroad by now. Instead, with the failure of the abduction, They were now arriving at Dolokhov's house. In spite of a few more trials from Dolokhov's part, trying yet to get Anatole to eat something, the rest of the night was consumed by that same uncomfortable silence. Anatole, the most common guest of Fyodor's house, went early to the Guest room in which he usually slept when he was at Dolokhov's home. The house servants soon noticed the tension between the two men, for Anatole's early departure went against what usually happened when Anatole visited Dolokhov: They used to drink until they had used up all of the host's best bottles and then they would gamble and play until they couldn't stand still anymore.

Neither Dolokhov, neither Anatole slept during that night. Both of them pacing to and fro in their own rooms. Anatole, in his mind, was still planning a way to meet with Natasha Rostova again. Even more than that, he knew that only if he asked Dolokhov once more, he would help him to find a way to meet with Natasha. And Dolokhov, well, unfortunately or fortunately, knew that Anatole was still thinking about meeting Natasha, and worse, he knew that he would end up helping with his friend's nonsense once more. Given that, Dolokhov was already thinking about how to approach Natasha Rostova. After putting some effort into that thought, he came to the conclusion that the best option was to get to her through Helene Bezukhova. With that, it was essential that they went to Helene's house first thing in the morning.

In the morning, the remnants of that silence were still between Dolokhov and Anatole. However, there was something different now, both of them silently understood that, in spite of their own irritation with one another, nothing had changed in essence: They were going to try to get to Natasha Rostova, Dolokhov would help Anatole, and even if it failed, they would make it work, one way or the other.

"As soon as Pierre arrives, he'll help us. He is close to Natasha's family, after all"

Helene Bezukhova concluded to Anatole and Dolokhov as they discussed by one of her house's drawing rooms. Now, Helene knew that Pierre had left early in the morning, however, she did not know what he was up to. And thus, she couldn't know that Pierre was, in fact, talking with Marya Dmitryevna, and that the last thing he'd will to do as soon as he got home was helping Anatole.

Anatole, finding some comfort in his sister's words, returned to his wails, which sent Dolokhov over the edge to throw something at Anatole once more:

"Oh, Helene! I need to see Natasha! It's essential! Pierre must help us!"

Dolokhov was getting even more annoyed as Anatole talked about Pierre, as if Pierre Bezukhov had not shot him just some months ago. Anatole Kuragin might have actually forgotten about the duel as he started to see Pierre as a light by the end of a tunnel. Helene Kuragina, however, being more blessed than her brother in terms of intelligence, didn't forget about it all. Instead, she decided that it would be better if Dolokhov went home and left Anatole and Helene alone to talk with Pierre. With some effort, Dolokhov accepted to go home before he actually threw something at Anatole, maybe one of Helene's books, maybe a chair…

Dolokhov wasn't even aware of why he was still that infuriated with Anatole. Maybe it was only because of the stupidity of his idea to elope with Natasha Rostova, as Dolokhov claimed. Or perhaps, it was because this stupidity was putting Anatole's life on the edge of ruin, and maybe because, in spite of himself, Dolokhov cared, truly cared about Anatole. And even so, he couldn't stop him from ruining his own life for someone he had just met three days ago. If it happened to be anyone else, he could have stopped them, all Moscow's most brilliant young men were terrified of Fyodor Ivanovich Dolokhov. Except, of course, for Anatole Kuragin. No, Dolokhov could not stop the Kuragin, and it infuriated him, this lack of control, this feeling of incapacity, it was a rare and hurtful feeling for Dolokhov. And because of that feeling, that urge to throw something at Anatole insisted on ringing by his head. Even when he wasn't at Helene's house anymore, even when he was already at his own study, watching the clock slowly move as he pretended to pay attention to the book above his desk, just wasting time until he could rush to Helene's house to hear about the outcome of the talk with Pierre.

"May I present the Prince Anatole Kuragin"

One of the servants hesitantly communicated to Fyodor Dolokhov. Dolokhov frowned his brows, the irritation slowly being left behind as an interrogation formed at his mind: 'What is Anatole doing here? Have they already talked to Pierre?'

To worsen Dolokhov's both irritation and doubt, the first thing he noticed as Anatole entered his field of vision was the big, travel bag he was carrying along with him.

"What is up with that bag?"

Dolokhov asked, approaching Anatole as they stood in the middle of the drawing room.

"Oh-This is utterly terrible, Fedya!" 'Fedya', for the first time since the Abduction, Anatole had called Fyodor as 'Fedya'. Anatole spoke rapidly, gesturing around. Dolokhov got the clue that Anatole finally took note of the gravity of his own situation.

Anatole continued: "Pierre confronted me about the affair! I must leave!"

Dolokhov, in spite of already knowing what probably had happened, questioned Anatole, as if he hoped that he, somehow, had heard him wrong:

"What the hell do you mean? Leaving to where?"

"To Saint Petersburg! Oh- this is terrible! If not Andrei Bolkonsky, the first Rostov who meets me will challenge me to a duel! And her family... they'll want to put me into justice! But... Pierre talked with her godmother, if I leave... it's all they ask!"

Dolokhov clenched his jaw. Not a word about Natasha Rostova! Now, when Anatole found himself on the edge of risk, he suddenly stoped talking about Natasha Rostova! Now it was all about getting himself off the line... After it all had happened because he claimed, over and over, to ‘love’ Natasha Rostova. What Anatole had for Natasha.. Dolokhov could not call that love, whatever it was, it wasn't Love.

"Now that finally see your situation you suddenly forget about Natasha Rostova, eh?"

"Oh-Fedya... but what am I to do?"

Not have gone after her during the Opera, not have gone to the ball with her. Not have kissed her, not have tried to elope with her... not have dragged me into this. Dolokhov smiled, something between sorrow and disdain.

"Nothing. You ought to do nothing"

Dolokhov rose his eyes to Anatole's face, suddenly locking their gazes, something silently settling between them: They were wrong, the situation had changed. They would not make it work. Anatole was leaving for Saint Petersburg. Fedya couldn't do anything to stop it anymore. They would not make it work, Fedya would not see Anatole for God only knows how long... the urge to throw something at Anatole suddenly grew again in Dolokhov's chest. Something… maybe one of his books, maybe a chair, maybe himself.

“Pierre lent me the Money. I'll leave in the next train to Saint Petersburg. I only needed to say one last goodbye to you"

Anatole made a mention to shorten the distance between them. Noticing that, Fyodor took a step back, becoming the one to take out his frustrations on Anatole this time:

"Of course! Now you leave, after all is done, after all the damage you have done!" Dolokhov tried to sound as if he was talking about the damage he had done to Countess Rostova, but truly, he was thinking about the damage Anatole was doing to him as he was leaving to Petersburg "You were too stubborn and too stupid to even think about the possible consequences! You don't even give a damn that I-" Dolokhov suddenly stoped, he opened his mouth to continue, but he didn't, steeping back from Anatole. "Goodbye, Kuragin"

Anatole approached Fedya again, pulling an arm above his shoulder as he tried to once more justify his actions. Dolokhov didn't pull him away, he didn't tell him to stay quiet, he didn't throw something at him. No, he stood there, more dead than alive, listening to Anatole's wails. Dolokhov didn't respond, not properly, only repeating planned answers as "I understand" "Goodbye, Anatole". Anatole wasn't quite satisfied with those answers, that nothing sounded like Dolokhov. However, he couldn't insist anymore, or else he wouldn't be able to catch up with his train. In one of those planned answers, Anatole answered "Goodbye, Fedya, wish me luck!". Against Dolokhov's will, the last thing the Kuragin did was pulling him into an embrace, only to leave Dolokhov behind as he crossed the entry door, going back to the streets of Moscow. It was the last time Dolokhov had seen Anatole before he left for Petersburg.

The day after that, Fyodor and Helene had received the word that Countess Natalie Rostova had poisoned herself. Now, Three months had passed since it, neither Dolokhov nor Helene could face one another, not because of any disagreement, but because it reminded them of their own fault in Natasha's fate. It was shameful to be reminded of it, so they have rarely meet since The Abduction. A few Soirees here and there, some letters, a few news about Anatole, but nothing as it used to be. However, the end of the year of 1812 was close, and it was a custom for Helene, Anatole and Dolokhov to spend it together at Helene's house, along with Pierre. The impossibility of it happening this year was silently rooting at the heart of each one of them, even Pierre, who had noticed the sudden change in Helene's behavior.

Helene was not only suffering from the fault she carried because of the Abduction. More than ever, it was clear to her that Pierre despised her and her brother. In that day, as Pierre confronted Anatole, Helene was hearing his shouts trough the closed door, hearing what she concluded to be Anatole's body being pushed against the desk. It all still lingered at her head, persistently, especially Pierre's words about her.

"Be quiet! I will not greet you. At this moment, you are more repulsive to me then ever"

"Amuse yourself with women like my wife, well, with them you're within your rights!”

Now, the furthest thing Helene either wanted or expected was Pierre to love her. Neither of them wanted this marriage in the first place. But now, to be forced to live with that man that openly despised her… it was humiliating. And Anatole's absence was only adding to the loleny feeling. For the first time in months, she didn't have Anatole’s constant presence at her house, gossiping with her and gambling along Dolokhov. In a matter of one night, her house had became utterly quiet without her friend and brother. Anatole was still in Petersburg, he didn't know when he would return to Moscow.

Helene was gathering strength to lift from the drawing room’s chair and go change her dress in order to host the Soirée that was planned for the night. That was when Pierre entered the same drawing room, his eyes full of pity staring at Helene. Looking at his eyes, it only made her rush even more to get out of there, the last thing she needed was his pity. But Pierre spoke before she could leave him behind in that room:

"It's almost Christmas. Have you heard from... your brother? You could certainly call him to spend the holidays in our house"

"After you pushed him against the desk of your study? I don't think that'll be possible"

Helene stated, gazing sideways at Pierre.

"What Anatole Kuragin did to Natasha Rostova was absolutely wrong and-" Pierre could not finish, for Helene raised her voice:

"You truly think I don't know that? I do! Day and night I think of the misery we caused her! But even so, Anatole is my family, whatever he did, he is still my brother!"

Pierre mentioned to open his mouth to interrupt Helene, but she continued, finally voicing what had been lingering at her mind for those three months:

"You think you are that much better than me and my brother? He might have hurt your protégé" She was talking about Natasha Rostova "And that is why you confronted him. But you, you shot my friend because of a rumor, and when I tried to confront you about it, you threw a desk at me!" Helene paused, absorbing her own words to herself "So don't come at me with your pity, I do not need it!"

And then Helene left, finally leaving an anguished Pierre behind. Pierre, more than anything, regretted his duel with Dolokhov, regretted how he acted with Helene after it. However, his regret didn't change the fact that he had, in fact, done all the things Helene just stated.

The soiree would have been like all of Helene's last soirees: dull and boring. Some new gossip occasionally popping up here and there, but nothing that really helped to lift Helene's spirit. Today, however, wasn't the case, for the first time in months, a certain military Captain appeared by one of Helene's soirées, it was Fyodor Dolokhov.

Helene first noticed him as she crossed the drawing room to greet some of her guests, and there was Dolokhov standing in the middle of all those people. For a moment, they locked eyes, silently reminding one another of their fault in Natasha's misery, and also wailing about Anatole's absence. Dolokhov approached Helene:

"Countess Bezukhova" Normally, he would have just called her as 'Helene', but since Society already did not see their interactions with good eyes, it was safer to use her title name. Dolokhov stopped for a moment, as if he was deciding to say something or not. He opened his mouth, but stoped before any words had left his lips, deciding to rather use a banal structured phrase: "How have you been doing?"

The small circle around them had slowly vanished away, allowing Helene to freely speak, irony dripping by her tone:

"I've done better. It's been hell since the Abduction!"

Their eyes locked once more, and, even with the shame, they silently agreed that denying each other's company was impossible to do for any longer. Given that, Dolokhov voiced what he had first thought as he spoke to Helene, and, honestly, what was the only reason he had appeared by Helene's soirée.

"It has been hell" He agreed "But you could come and spend the Holidays in my house with my family. I imagine that you don't want to spend it with Pierre alone in your house"

Helene stood in quiet for a moment, frowning her brows as she thought about it, about everything. First, she got anguished, remembering how they were actually supposed to celebrate it at her house along with Anatole. Then secondly, a glimpse of hope started to grow in her eyes. It became louder and louder, until she smiled at Dolokhov, agreeing with him as she thought to herself: 'Not all is lost, at least I won't be home alone with Pierre'.

They still talked for about some more minutes, mutually asking about Anatole. Neither of them had heard from him since last week, a fact that was killing any small hope that Anatole would be home for the Holidays. Soon, Helene had to leave Dolokhov in order to receive and talk to other guests, not long after that, Dolokhov left the soiree, returning to his home after spending some time at the card’s table.

Every time he got home, he silently hoped that one of the servants would say 'There's a new letter from Prince Anatole Kuragin' However, it rarely happened. Today, it wasn't the case, not a single letter from Anatole, which worsened Dolokhov's spirit, that had been slightly lifted by his talk with Helene. Dolokhov went straight to his study, going against himself and deciding to write to Anatole. In the middle of the letter, he decided that he would, in fact, not write a single word to Anatole, for Anatole didn't have the decency to send, at least, one damn letter! He threw it away, starting to read the book on his desk. In less then 10 minutes, his eyes went magnetically to his paper and pen. Dolokhov sighed, deciding that he was being childish and that he should write to Anatole and invite him in for the Holidays. This time, he was almost done when he suddenly dropped his pen. He hadn't written to Anatole ever since he left, would the Kuragin think that Dolokhov was inviting him because some sort of politeness? Not that Dolokhov would ever bother to invite someone in order to be considered 'Polite', but Anatole's brain just isn't logical sometimes. Convincing himself that Anatole would understand him, Dolokhov, with more effort than what he first intended to use, finished the letter. It was simple, direct, but it was enough to voice what he meant: He wanted to see Anatole again, he missed him.

The days passed, the weather got colder and colder, the nights being filled by snow as they were now one day before Christmas. In spite of how much time had passed, Anatole hadn't answered neither Dolokhov, neither Helene. At this point, Helene and Dolokhov had already lost all hope of spending the Holiday with Anatole.

Inevitably, The Christmas Day arrived. Gathered at Dolokhov's house were his Mother, Marya Dolokhova, his little sister, Katya Dolokhova and Helene Bezukhova. The celebration was not one of their best, it wasn't like the year in which Anatole and Dolokhov danced until falling by the floor, not like the year in which Helene and Anatole convinced Fedya to spend the Holidays abroad with them. No, this year's celebration wasn't vivid, not like before, Anatole's absence was leaving behind a feeling that something was missing. Even so, there was something cozy about this year, a warm, tender sorrow settling around in the decorated drawing room. Helene calmly talked with Dolokhov's mother as Katya questioned Fedya about Ded Moroz’s and Snegurochka’s existence:

"Fedya! It isn't true, Kitty told me!" Kitty was her friend "They don't exist!"

Now, Fedya didn't know Kitty, but she wasn't helping him to preserve his little sister's imagination. With a last effort, he tried to convince her:

"Katiucha, dearest, Kitty doesn't know what she is talking about. Believe your brother, They are real!"

Helene laughed, turning to Dolokhov to whisper:

"If you don’t tell her the truth, I will!"

"Perhaps it is time…” Dolokhov then turned to face his sister's round, childlike eyes, and then he took back his words "Definitely not" directing himself to Katya, he continued "Ded Moroz and Snegurochka are real, Katiucha"

After Dinner, Helene was about to get ready to go back home when Katya insisted that her Brother and Helene were to come with her outside to watch the snow. With very little effort, Katya convinced Fedya, and Helene did not take long to go along with them.

They gathered in the Courtyard of Dolokhov's house. Katya, with Fedya's help, sat by one of the Benches, Dolokhov and Helene sitting besides the little girl until she started to point at the sky:

"The moon! It is quite beautiful today, isn't it?"

Dolokhov smiled in a way he'd only do around his family, agreeing with Katya. Then his smile slowly vanished as he reminded of Anatole's absence.

"You didn't hear from Tolya?" Dolokhov asked Helene.

"No... How about you?"

"Nothing"

Katya frowned her brows in a way that made her look extremely alike Fedya, asking:

"Prince Kuragin hasn't returned from Petersburg yet?"

Dolokhov's smile was now totally gone as he responded in a warm sorrow:

"Not yet, dear"

The snow slowly got worse, forcing them to go back inside the small, clean and well decorated house. With much effort, Fedya convinced Katya to go back in, even if the little girl loved to watch the snow, it had became unbearable to stay outside.

Once They were inside, Marya Dolokhova joined them in the Christmas celebrations. At the beginning, they were shyly playing Christmas games, dancing and singing. Gradually, the celebrations became more and more merrily and vivid, getting to the point of Katya getting on the edge of her seat as The adults were playing the game of cards. In a childlike provocation at Fedya, Katya was heartily rooting for Helene to win. For her happiness, Helene did really win the round, causing a playful irritation to grow in Fedya.

It went like this until midnight, when Helene was in charge of distracting Katya as Fedya was in job to bring the Christmas tree into the drawing room they were gathered at. Once he was done and The Christmas tree and Katya's presents were ready in its full glory, he got the small, golden bell that hanged by one of the tables, catching his Sister’s attention.

As the girl saw the tree, her eyes popped open, sparkling at the impression of the Tree. She was smiling with open teeth, anxious to open her presents, smiling more and more at every wrapper that she threw by the floor, finding gift after gift. While that, Helene and Dolokhov were talking by the couch.

"Do you want to know something curious?"

Dolokhov asked with a grin. Helene raised a brow at him, signing for him to say it.

"Remember Count Tchekov?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, I did hang around for a bit in your Soiree that day. And God, I didn't even need to cheat to win at all Tchekov's cards"

Helene laughed "Tchekov? Of course! He is terrible at cards. And after two drinks, if you have two working neurons, he's a source of money!"

"I used all the old man's money to buy Katya's gifts”

“Clever guy”

Before Dolokhov could ask Helene if Pierre was home tonight, the doorbell rang, Katya suddenly lifted her eyes from her gifts, hurrying to the door, where one of the house servants were receiving the new arrived person.

"It's Ded Moroz and Snegurochka!"

Fedya was going to warn Katya not to run, but her loud steps soon became quiet as she got to the door, she gave one last loud laugh and went quiet. Faster than what she had walked out of the drawing room, she rushed back into it, quickly putting her hands above Fedya's eyes.

"Don't look! Ded Moroz and Snegurochka just brought your gift!"

He frowned brows, his mind wondering if it could be what, or rather who, he was thinking of. In less than a second, he decided that it was impossible, and pushed that little bit of hope out of his mind.

He heard a few steps by the wooden floor, feeling Helene getting agitated besides him in the couch, Dolokhov's heart beating faster against his own will. Two hands, way too familiar, at his shoulder and he thought that his heart might have exploded as well.

"There! You can open your eyes now, Fedya!"

It was Anatole Kuragin.

In one movement, Fedya opened his eyes, processing the man in front of him as Helene vividly greeted Anatole. It had been months, Fedya was still considering throwing that chair at Anatole...

"What is with that face, eh? Did you miss me?"

"I only noticed that you were gone when I found myself out of trouble for more than three days"

Yes, Dolokhov had in fact missed Anatole, and even his friend's stupid ideas.

"I'm going to pretend that I believe you"

Dolokhov decided not to use that chair, rather opting for pulling Anatole into an embrace, which caused Katya to giggle.

Dolokhov did not know to explain, but Anatole's presence suddenly lifted the house’s mood. Before he could process anything, All four of them, including Fedya's sister, were playing some Christmas game by the rug on the floor. Fedya won every single one of them, which made Anatole threaten to go back to Petersburg:

"If I knew that I only came here for you to win over me all night, I would have stayed in Petersburg"

Today, Katya, who suffered with Kyphosis, had been feeling really better than most days, her back pains almost not bothering her trough the day. However, even though she spent most of the night sitting up and Fedya helped her get around (like when they went out into the Courtyard), with all the celebrations, Katya's back was increasingly bothering her. And besides that, she was growing tired and sleepy as the time passed by. When Fedya noticed that Katya started to blink and not pay attention to the game they were playing, he helped her back into her room, allowing the little girl to finally sleep after such a night.

Dolokhov's mother was the next one to leave for her room, mostly intending to let the young adults to hang by themselves. Anatole, well... he was Anatole, and he was telling about everything he had lived in Petersburg. Eventually, Fedya asked about why he didn't answer his letter about him spending the Holidays at Moscow.

"Letter? What letter?"

"I sent you letter, about a week ago"

"Did you send it to my address in Petersburg?"

Dolokhov frowned eyes as he though 'Where the hell else was I supposed to send it to?'

"Obviously?"

Anatole gave a short laugh "Of course! I didn't receive it! I meet a friend in Petersburg" and back into another story he went "Prince Nekhliudov, do you remember him? He was with us in 'the night of the bear'". 'The night of the bear' was the night in which Anatole, Pierre and Dolokhov took a bear into a carriage, driving it around Petersburg. A Police came to calm them down, and they caught him, tying the man to the back of the bear and throwing them both into a river. A smirk appeared at Dolokhov's mouth as he remembered that night. Anatole continued "Anyway, I met with him, and he asked me to spend a few days in his new house at the camp. That was why I didn't receive your letters, I wasn't even home".

'Of course. I should have thought that something like this might have happened for him not to receive them' Dolokhov thought, suddenly wondering how he hadn't thought of it before.

Now that only the three of them were in the drawing room, the games soon became more interesting. Fedya ordered the servants to bring his best bottles of Vodka and wine as they started to play the cards again, but this time, gambling and singing along some Christmas song, until they forgot about the game and started to dance by the middle of the drawing room. Anatole was dancing in an animated rhythm with Helene when Dolokhov exclaimed:

"Yes! Show me what you got, Kuragin!"

The celebrations only ended late in the night. And when it came to be, Helene left before Anatole, way happier than when she came. Anatole, however, decided to stay for some more time. As the snow had calmed down, him and Fedya decided to spend some time outside, sharing a bottle of Vodka as they talked.

"I’ll never help you elope with anyone ever again"

Dolokhov pointed.

"Such a shame! I was about to tell you about this Petersburg's lady and-" even though Anatole was joking, Dolokhov threw a flaming gaze at him, which caused Anatole to start laughing. He slowly stoped as he asked:

"And what about Natasha Rostova?"

Dolokhov frowned brows, acknowledging that the conversation would enter a serious subject.

"Countess Natasha Rostova poisoned herself, Anatole" Dolokhov pointed, and ignoring Anatole's widened eyes, he continued "She has been at death's door. But she is out of danger now"

Anatole threw his head at his hands, in the same pose that he was when the Abduction had failed.

"Oh- I had no clue that approaching Natasha could have such an outcome"

Anatole was about to enter what seemed to be an spiral, so Dolokhov stoped him. Dolokhov had gotten the time to feel all the guilty he needed to about Natasha's fate, so, right now, he could be the voice of reason to Anatole.

"But now you do. What is done is done, Anatole. Now it's only up to you to learn from it"

"No more eloping with little girls, learned it!"

Anatole joked, but as he laughed, his eyes still seemed a little sad and guilty.

"In fact, don't elope at all" Anatole truly laughed this time, his eyes becoming joyful.

Anatole them remembered of one of Petersburg's clubs, and he started to tell Fedya that They, along with Helene, should visit it as soon as possible. Dolokhov listened to all of it, even when Anatole started to repeat the same stories from the start of the night. Before he could finish a story that Fedya already knew and had memorized the end, Anatole suddenly pointed at the sky, Fedya moved his eyes from Anatole's expression to where his finger was pointing to:

"A shooting star! Guesss we got lucky, eh? Quick! Make a wish!"

Dolokhov laughed, resting an arm across Anatole's shoulder as he concluded:

"I don't think so. I already have what I want"

#malloysical secret santa 2022 #great comet #fedya dolokhov #anatole kuragin #helene kuragina #somewhere in the middle of it I thought about following the book and killing Anatole

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