Okay, okay. I know, I know. This is not historically accurate, and nor is it completely accurate to the book. Also, I don't own the rights to War and Peace. Please don't sue me. Instead, read and review. It would mean the world.
"And that is why Napoleon Bonaparte is a vile beast that deserves a most fiery death!" Proclaimed Nikolai with passion in his eyes.
Uproar around the table immediately followed. Nikolai wore a defiant look, his epaulettes glittering under the candlelight.
"How could you say that?" Cried Prince Vasily, who was seated near the head of the table. "You ignorant man! We've finally reached peace with France!"
Sonya picked at her food, her thin fingers grasping her fork delicately. She had never cared much for politics. Nikolai had tried to explain it to her numerous times, but she couldn't help but feeling a removed sort of apathy toward the whole subject. She gazed over at Nikolai, who was now leaned back in his chair as he listened with a sort of amusement to the others' arguments. He caught her gaze and winked. Sonya blushed. He turned away and continued to debate with the others. Sonya felt oddly happy, watching him debate with all those men for older than them. It filled her with a strange sort of... pride.
"So, you're Natasha's sister?" Asked a rough voice coming from the right of her.
Dolokhov. He was staying with the Rostovs; Nikolai's friend from the war. His brown hair had grown long, and cascaded down to his shoulders liege a waterfall. Sonya felt a strange sort of desire to run her hands through it. She dismissed the thought. She looked at Nikolai, still fiercely engaged in debate.
Dolokhov cleared his throat, setting his utensils down delicately, which surprised Sonya, considering his fierce demeanor.
"No, Natasha is my cousin." Sonya said, and giggled in delight at the thought that one would consider them sisters.
"Ah, you two are so close, I assumed the bond between you two was sisterhood." Dolokhov remarked.
"Indeed." Said Sonya, as she retreated back into silence, looking down at her plate. She sneaked a glance at Dolokhov, who was continuing to look at her with a fierce gaze. Sonya's face immediately heated up as her cheeks turned and embarrassing shade of pink.
Sonya looked over at Natasha, trying to get her attention. But Natasha was engaged so deeply in conversation with Pierre, that this proved to be a near impossible task.
Pierre. He had grown so stout and deep wrinkles had started to form on his face. The only things that seemed to make him smile were Natasha's tinkling laugh or Andrei's fierce hug of brotherhood.
She felt a rough hand brush against her hand softly. She gasped quietly. It was Dolokhov again. She giggled with childish delight.
"It is you!" Exclaimed Sonya, looking pointedly at Dolokhov, who merely grinned in response. "I thought that it was perhaps a phantom."
Dolokhov laughed jauntily, an amused expression on his face. "How pure you a
"I'm no angel," remarked Sonya with a laugh.
Dolokhov paid no heed to her remark. "Yes, yes you are. Your purity is like none that I have seen before on this earth. It is as if you have descended from the heavens themselves."
He put his hand lightly on her shoulder. He gazed in her eyes, with a mischievous sort of glint. Sonya looked at him with a curious expression.
"Don't worry, my dove," said Dolokhov pointedly. "I am no Anatole. I am not here to seduce you to your ruin. Though I may consort with the dredges of society, I would not consider myself a part of that group."
"Is is true you tied a bear to an innocent policeman?" Sonya said quietly. She had heard rumors about this man, and most of them had not been flattering.
Dolokhov merely laughed. "We have all been young and naive once, I suppose." He said, and looked into the distance, a mysterious glint in his eyes.
Suddenly there was a clamor from the other side of the table. Natasha stood up, hands on her hips. "Ah, we can discuss politics any day. Let's dance!" She then clasped Pierre's hand and brought him out onto the floor. Count Rostov grabbed Countess Rostova, and suddenly there were couples in haphazard formation around the perimeter of the dance floor.
Sonya couldn't help but laugh. It was funny, Natasha, this little wisp of a girl, could command all these men so much older than her with nothing but a proclamation and a giggle. Sonya couldn't help but admire how audacious Natasha could be sometimes.
Natasha looked in Sonya's direction fondly. "Sing Sonya, won't you please?" Sonya nodded and moved over in the direction of the piano.
"And I shall play the piano!" Announced Dolokhov boldly as he strode toward the piano.
He sat on the bench and started playing a very basic tune, one that Sonya knew. Immediately the couples started dancing as Sonya sang, her lilting soprano matching perfectly with the deep, rich notes of Dolokhov's piano.
Suddenly, Sonya felt somebody staring at the back of her neck. Goosebumps rising on her arms, she turned around. Her timid gaze was met by Nikolai's fierce one. It seemed as if the very fire of the heavens burned in his eyes. His face was only inches from hers, and she felt heat creep into her cheeks. She couldn't help but feeling nervous.
"Yes?" She said, not knowing what to say.
"Why aren't you dancing?" Asked Nikolai in a curious tone, his eyes still ablaze.
"Oh," Sonya laughed delicately. "I let Natasha do the dancing for the both of us."
Nikolai offered his outstretched hand. "Dance with me." Sonya looked at it tentatively.
"But who would sing?" Said Dolokhov's deep, baritone voice, still playing the piano.
Nikolai looked at him pointedly. "Sonya, come."
She took his hand, and it felt cold in hers. He lead her to the floor, guiding her delicately. He put his hands on her waist and Sonya exhaled quietly.
Yes, she thought. This is the man I love.
He gazed in her eyes, and for once Sonya felt as if she was the only girl in the world that existed to him.
Sonya awoke the next morning feeling groggy, as if she had drunk too much. But she hadn't, which struck her as odd.
But then she remembered. Nikolai dancing with her all night, Nikolai telling her she was beautiful. Nikolai Nikolai Nikolai. She was drunk. Drunk on his love.
She heard a knock on her door.
"Come in!" She called quietly, flinging on a silken robe.
The door creaked open. It was Dolokhov.
"What are you doing here?" Sonya said, rushing toward him.
He said nothing, but took her hand and brought it to his lips. His marble lips were cold on her warm hands. Never had she been more frightened.
"I never had the pleasure of dancing with you last night. 'Tis a shame the loveliest lady, was the one I was deprived of."
Sonya giggled nervously. It was has if the moment somebody said something nice to her, she became mute.
Dolokhov outstretched his hand and placed it on her waist.
"What are you doing?" Asked Sonya anxiously.
"Could I dance with you?" Dolokhov blushed.
Sonya found herself at a loss for words, yet again. She wished for the gift of eloquence that Nikolai and Natasha seemed to have. No wonder no one actually considered her to be a part of the Rostov clan.
Dolokhov put his hand on her waist, delicately and started humming a minuet. He glided her around the room, as if she were the most precious thing in the world, not just a young girl in a dressing gown and robe. He held her delicately, not like how Nikolai did, who held her firmly as if she was going to run away any moment.
Dolokhov dipped her, which surprised Sonya. He looked at her easily. Sonya, just a few feet above the ground, felt as if she could stay in his arms for hours.
Alas, she did not have the gift of grace and she toppled out of his arms. As she lied in a euphoric heap on the ground, Dolokhov looked at her. And laughed. It was a deep bellowing laugh, and it sounded quite queer. Sonya giggled at the absurdity of the situation. Dolokhov sat next to her and they continued to laugh together.
Sonya liked the way their voices sounded together. They juxtaposed each other, but created a beautiful symphony that seemed to be the only song that Sonya wanted to listen to for the rest of her life.
There was another knock at the door. Nikolai peered in the room. Immediately his face clouded.
"I apologize if I am interrupting," said Nikolai gloomily. "I will come back another time."
Sonya stood up quickly. "No, no. I can speak with you now."
"I wouldn't want to interrupt your fun." Said Nikolai, and it seemed that venom dripped from his words.
Sonya looked at him with a hurt expression in his eyes. A flash of remorse flickered on Nikolai's face, but it was gone in a moment.
"Anna Mikhailovna is having a soirée tonight. Natasha wanted me to tell you." Said Nikolai bitterly and stormed out of the room.
Sonya ran after him. Nikolai quickened his pace. But Sonya was faster. She grabbed his arm and he turned around.
"What?" He hissed.
"What have I done to anger you?" Said Sonya innocently. "Did I hurt you?"
"Nothing." Nikolai yanked his arm out of her grip, and this time, she did not run after him and merely stood in the hall, watching him go.
"Should I wear the silver or the blue?" Asked Natasha cheerfully.
"Either looks wonderful on you." Said Sonya in a bored monotone.
Natasha's brow furrowed. "What upsets you, cousin?"
"Nikolai was so bitter with me earlier this morning and I can't understand why." Confessed Sonya ruefully.
"You know he's just jealous." Said Natasha in a mischievous tone.
"Of what?" Asked Sonya inquisitively.
"Surely you must be blind. Nikolai is just irritated because Dolokhov fancies you."
"What?" Sonya's mouth hung open in disbelief.
"You're too innocent." Said Natasha sneakily. "Now, should I wear the silver or the blue dress? You've seen me in both."
Without Natasha, Sonya often felt lost. And this was one of those times. Natasha stood in the corner, deep in conversation with Pierre. Sonya grew bitter. How could her cousin abandon her so?
She looked for Nikolai, but found he was deep in conversation with a lady who Sonya did not know. Sonya grew irritated. Was she no longer of interest to anyone?
She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw Dolokhov. She smiled, bright as a candle in the dark. He returned the smile.
"Do you wish to depart this mundane social gathering?" Asked Dolokhov in a bored tone.
Sonya looked around. Natasha was still in conversation with Pierre and Nikolai was now resting his hand on the lady's shoulder.
What an insolent flirt, thought Sonya bitterly.
"Please," she said to Dolokhov. "Take me anywhere but here."
The carriage ride was quite bumpy, and Sonya was now regretting her decision. How she detested the bumpy roads of the country.
Dolokhov had somehow procured a carriage, and they were now driving far away from the bright lights of Anna Mikhailovna's country home.
"Driver, stop here." Dolokhov said.
Dolokhov stepped out of the carriage before it was completely stopped and offered a hand for Sonya to step down. Sonya took it, and blushed at the gesture. Dolokhov said nothing and merely walked forward.
They were now at a pond in the middle of a wooded clearing, frozen over due to the winter temperatures.
"I'm not walking on that," said Sonya firmly. "The ice shall break! I shall fall through!"
Dolokhov laughed merrily. "I'd catch you first," he said as he walked jauntily onto the middle of frozen pond.
Sonya let out a little scream. "Careful!" She called out.
Dolokhov laughed again. "Come on. It's lovely out here." He then proceeded to throw both his legs up and then land back again on the ground.
Sonya took one step out onto the ice. And another. And another. Tentatively, she made her way to him. One yard closer. Another yard closer.
Suddenly, she felt her legs give out and she screamed, scared she would fall through the ice. Just as she was about to fall, she felt strong arms come out underneath ear as she landed in Dolokhov's arms.
"Told you I'd catch you," said Dolokhov smoothly.
She looked at him. She was in an odd position yet never had she felt more comfortable than in his arms.
There was then a loud rumbling noise. Sonya shrieked.
"The ice is going to break!" Sonya said. Dolokhov picked Sonya up and carried her as if she was a small child. He ran off the ice. They made it to the embankment just before the ice they were playing on had fallen through. He set her delicately on the bank.
Sonya giggled with delight. "I was so frightened!" She said, laughing.
"Don't worry, I will always protect you."
Dolokhov pressed his marble lips to hers. He tasted of mint and rhubarb. It was cold out, but never had Sonya been warmer.
Sonya walked back into the soirée just as everybody had begun to leave. Her cheeks were glowing, and not from the cold.
"Where were you?" Asked Natasha in a concerned tone. "I saw you leave with Dolokhov."
"Nowhere. I was nowhere." Said Sonya with a strange lightness in her voice.
Natasha looked at her strangely for a moment, but then grasped her hands and said excitedly, "Oh, tell me everything!"
"Sonya? You are wanted in the drawing room." A maid said curiously to Sonya.
Sonya's brow furrowed. What could she be wanted for? She walked tentatively to the drawing room, her feet plodding quietly on the thick carpet. The maid opened the door to the drawing room and Sonya went in quietly.
It was Dolokhov, looking fierce as ever. Sonya gasped.
"Thank you," said Sonya quietly dismissing the maid.
Sonya looked at him expectantly.
Dolokhov did not mince his words.
"I was wondering if I could ask for your hand in marriage." Said Dolokhov. "As you know, I am going back to the war in a few days time and I was wondering if I could leave with you being my wife. Never have I felt more ardently about a woman than you. Purity such as yours is hard to find, and I want nothing more than to be your shelter against the world. Please, let me protect you and make it my duty for the rest of my life."
Sonya wanted to say yes. She wanted to say yes so badly. She wanted nothing more than to become Dolkohov's forever, to be with the man who looked at him not as if she was Nikolai's lover or Natasha's dear friend, but Sonya. As if she alone was just enough.
But then Sonya thought of Nikolai. And Natasha. Natasha would say she was happy for Sonya, but she'd be lying. Natasha's clear blue eyes would fill with that fake glee that Sonya knew so well. No one wanted Nikolai to marry Sonya more than Natasha.
So Sonya kissed Dolokhov, one last time. She kissed him as if her life depended on it. And she looked at him one last time. And walked away from him.
"Why do I do this to myself?" Grumbled Sonya, her eyes puffy from the tears. Dolokhov had left hours ago, indignant Sonya had not accepted his proposal.
She heard a knock on the door. She groaned, not wanting anyone to see her in this depressed state.
"Come in," she called lightly.
It was Nikolai. He too, did not mince his words.
"You really didn't have to refused him Sonya..." Said Nikolai delicately.
Sonya interrupted him. "I did not refuse him on your behalf."
Nikolai hesitated. Finally the eloquent count was at a loss for words, for once in his life.
"I love you." He said in a tone that implied much nervousness.
"I love you more than you could ever know." Said Sonya.
But she didn't mean it. She didn't mean one word.