Prompt — AU where Natasha helps take care of Pierre after his imprisonment. (Your writing is lovely by the way! I always look forward to reading more of it.)
you! are so kind! i’m. tears.
**Note: this only kind of came out in a her taking care of him kind of way, I hope that’s okay!!!!!!!!
“he’s been found,” marya says, rushing from the door, a solemn look present in her usually kind eyes.
natasha stands still for a moment, processing, and suddenly feels her legs begin to buckle, forcing her back into her seat. fear washes over her.
“pierre…he’s…is he alive?” she asks, her voice plagued by the tremors pulsating throughout her entire body. marya smiles, kindness returning to her soft features.
“he’s alive. dolokhov found him with a group of prisoners, he’s…” she trails off, searching for the words, and ultimately decides to charge forward in her message,”he’s quite ill natasha. he’s been through so much… he’s been asleep for two days now.”
“two days,” natasha said, her voice weak and straining, her hand gripping at the armrest on her chair. marya’s features softened even more.
“let’s see if we can pay a call,” she offers, and taking natasha’s hand pulls her quickly through the front door, asking for her coach in the process.
their journey is not long, but marya can see that any length of journey is too long for natasha. she is pallid and sweaty, her eyes darting from spot to spot throughout the carriage, her breathing shallow. marya takes natasha’s hand and gives it a firm squeeze.
“he’s going to be alright, you know.”
“i just…i have to see that for myself.”
when they arrive they are taken to the head of the staff of the house, Ivan, who is standing in the front hall. his hands are crossed sturdily over his stomach, his presence offering a feeling of great security.
“Princess Bolkonskaya, Countess Rostova,” he greets them, his face stern and hinting only slightly at nervousness, “…Count Bezukhov has not awakened yet.”
“i was almost sure of that,” she replied, her sweet tone drifting smoothly through the air, “i was hoping… could we do anything? is there anything we can help with?”
“i don’t know that there’s anything you can do right now, but,” he said, glancing at natasha, “i’m sure your presences would be most welcome to him if he is to awaken. i’ll take you to his chambers.”
marya holds tightly to natasha’s hand as they ascend the grand staircase, a gesture which natasha greatly appreciates. they stop outside of his door.
“one moment, please,” Ivan says, and he steps inside the room.
natasha’s breathing is still shallow, her face still incredibly pale, her eyes distant. she looks at marya, who’s resolve is strong and unwavering, and is confused by it.
“how can you be so calm?” natasha asks.
“because…” marya begins, her voice cracking only slightly, “i….i have to believe that…that after all that’s happened, after all of the terrible things, something good will come. that pierre…” she clears her throat, fighting the tears now brimming in her eyes, “he’ll be alright.”
natasha took marya’s free hand and squeezed, and pulled her into a tight embrace. ivan opens the door.
“You may come in,” he says, gesturing in toward the room.
the bed is at the center of the room, an ornate four poster with a red canopy, larger than the beds natasha had in her homes. she notices pierre, dwarfed by the size of the bed. she moves slowly toward him, and takes in everything she can see about him bit by bit.
his eyes are sunken, dark circles lay underneath them. his cheeks are somewhat bony but rosy, an indication of returning health. his hair is long, uneven but clean. he has a long, thick beard, small grey hairs peeking out at points. there were scratches and bumps, and he has lost some weight, but natasha notices that he overwhelmingly looks…just like himself.
it is a relief, and yet she finds her cheeks are hot, and tears begin to stream.
she takes a seat beside him.
“i’ll be back in a moment,” marya says, and she gives a half smile before leaving the room.
natasha reaches cautiously, and takes pierres hand in hers, interlacing her fingers with his. she places a gentle, wet kiss on the back of his hand and holds tightly to it.
“pierre,” she says, pushing his hair back, “oh pierre, what’s happened to you?”
she leans forward, holding his hand to her forehead, and weeps, filled with conflicting relief and anxiety, and her head begins to ache.
“natasha…” she hears a faint voice. her eyes dart up to see pierre’s flutter open for a moment, to see a gentle smile cross his face, and for them to drift closed again, back into unconciousness.
“i’m here. i’m here. i’m not leaving. not right now.”
she feels a gentle squeeze on her hand, and smiles.