Work Text:
Kirill Sidorov sighs as he glances at his clock. He still has another hour before he leaves, and his next appointment is not for another 5 minutes.
One would think being a state official would be lively, but for the most part it seemed to be just a lot of sitting around waiting for paperwork to appear on his desk. And Saints forbid he bring a book to work to pass the time! If his superiors saw him ‘slacking off’ he’d be let go before he could even blink, and then what would his mama say?
He sighs again, tapping his fingers against the desk. If the pay weren’t so good, he’d quit and go back to being the butcher’s apprentice. But mama had insisted, so here he is, a good little boy, bored out of his mind.
He perks up when he hears footsteps on the creaky floorboards outside his office, voices murmuring quietly. Might not be his appointment - three minutes still to go according to his clock - but one never knew. People were funny that way. Some viewed being on time as being early, others perfectly on the dot, and still others less than fifteen minutes late. Kirill sits up straight and re-aligns his ledger and pens quickly.
And sure enough, a smart rap against his door.
“Come in!” he calls.
And, oh, aren’t they a striking pair?
The man that enters first is tall, easily six feet if not taller. Lean with a whip-cord sort of strength, his pale skin is striking backdrop for his black hair, beard, and eyes. A killer jaw-line, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and full lips complete the picture. The woman that follows him is much smaller, and just as beautiful - soft-looking gold-tinted skin, heart-shaped face with full lips pulled into a shy smile, striking black eyes.
Kirill feels his heart give a little trip as he rises. The pair of them are going to make absolutely gorgeous children.
“Ms. Starkova?” he asks the woman, just to make sure.
“Yes,” she replies. Her voice is just as pretty as the rest of her - tinkling like windchimes in a summer breeze.
“Good, good. Please, both of you sit. This should be relatively brief, most of the paperwork has already been filled out in preparation.” He smiles easily at them. “I feel I must thank you, Ms. Starkova. We rarely see such attention to detail on the forms.”
The woman blushes, turning her face and hiding it briefly in her companion’s arm. The man tilts over and whispers something in her ear that makes her smile again.
Kirill pointedly looks down at his desk and opens his ledger, giving her a moment to compose herself. It’s not the first time he’s seen women like this, and it likely won’t be the last. Growing up in Ravka isn’t kind to anyone, let alone its women. He’s always made a point to observe the men in these sort of moments. When men ignore the signs of their intended’s discomfort, Kirill makes a point of being as difficult as possible, delaying their marriage. Sometimes it works, the women catching on to their partner’s unsuitability to their companionship, other times it doesn’t.
He is relieved to see that Ms. Starkova’s man is well-attuned to her.
“I just have a few questions before we can proceed,” Kirill says after a moment of pretending to read over his ledger. “First, I have to confirm for the records that…” checks the paperwork “Mr. Patronov is going to be taking the name Starkov?”
“That is correct,” the man, one Aleksandr Patronov, says.
Kirill barely keeps from swooning. Saints , what a voice. Soft and resonant, deep with a smoked edge. He blinks, swallows, fights the blush he knows is beginning to creep across his face.
“Good, good,” he says, clearing his throat and makes a note of it.
“Ms. Starkova supplied a rather detailed summary of both her holdings and the dowry she’ll be bringing to this marriage. Do you have a summary you wish to place on file as well?”
Yes,” he says, and pulls out a small packet from a pocket sewn into his cloak. Clever. Kirill makes a note of the design and resolves to see if his mama can replicate it. He receives the packet and opens it. He reads the papers carefully, making notations in his ledger in the appropriate places, signing and dating.
He turns the ledger around and slides it over the desk. “Please read both pages carefully and ensure that everything matches up accordingly. If it does, please sign and date here and here,” he points to the relevant sections, “and while you’re reading, I’ll speak with my manager and set your date for the signing of the license. Please note that you will need at least one witness, preferably two. The chaplain’s office can supply one witness if needed.”
Both nod, and Kirill leaves.
His manager is annoyed at having to schedule the appointment this late in the day - Artyom is old and grumpy on the best of days, but he’s reliable. The other manager, Ilya, is a terror who Kirill believes has only kept his job because he has something on someone much higher up. Kirill rolls his eyes discreetly as Artyom grumbles, but otherwise waits patiently. It could be worse. It could be Ilya on duty, and then Kirill will be keeping the lovely couple in his office waiting for hours.
He makes his way back to his office, knocking on the door before opening it. He grimaces even as he does - wishing that it wasn’t necessary. The last time he’d had a well-matched young couple in his office, he’d come back to a rather vigorous session on his desk. It had scarred all parties involved.
A swift glance reveals that both parties are still sitting in their respective chairs, though Ms. Starkova’s face is highly flushed and Mr. Patronov has a smug smirk on his face. Kirill sighs internally, but counts his blessings.
“Congratulations,” he offers, once he double-checks his ledger and ensures that the signatures are there and in the right place. “Your appointment with the chaplain has been scheduled for next week, Thursday at quarter to three. Again, you’ll want to bring your witnesses with you. Please let our office know at least two days in advance if you will need a second witness supplied.”
Both nod and stand. Kirill stands as well and bows his head slightly. He watches as Mr. Patronov places a possessive hand at the small of Ms. Starkova’s back, almost absentmindedly, as they start to head out. He watches the way her flush deepens, but the smile on her face loses the lingering awkwardness and turns into something legitimately pleased.
Beautiful couple. He sighs dreamily as they shut the door. He hopes they need a second witness. He is usually the one called for such a simplistic duty and he wouldn’t mind seeing them again.
He looks back at his clock and brightens. Only five minutes before he is allowed to leave! His mama won’t believe him when he tells her of the pair.