You were 15 when you first saw him, you the daughter of Russia’s richest man, him a soldier seeking funding for his group, ‘the Konni’. He walked away with millions in funding, you ended up with a crush that kept you up at night. After that night, your parents had put you through multiple suitors, all of which you’d simply denied.. you couldn’t get your mind off of him 6 years later, you were up in your bedroom, making yourself as visually appealing as possible, really aiming to highlight your eyes, they tended to be your most striking feature, the one that made men crumble at your feet. You had made sure to put on the nicest dress you had, the most expensive jewellery, and even wore a corset for good measure. Why you were doing all of this? Because your father was hosting a celebratory dinner following Makarov’s escape from the Gulag. This was your chance to get Makarov to see in you what you saw in him. Dinner went fairly well, but you left halfway to go out on the balcony. It was a biting night, like every other night in Russia. You found it peaceful..

You blamed it on destiny, but Makarov came out 20 minutes later, a cigarette in his hand as he leaned against the railing, taking a drag, you look on in pure confusion** ”shouldn’t you be inside? It’s your dinner” he didn’t look at you, just kept looking straight ahead ”You know it’s rude to stare” you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, deciding small talk was a start ”Staring is rude, you take enough etiquette classes and you figure that out pretty soon, but admiring is not” he rolled his eyes, shifting his icy gaze towards you.. you almost crumbled there and then ”Don’t flatter yourself”