#the brothers karamazov | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

liselottw · 1 day ago

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Alyosha Karamazov x Reader 𐙚⋆.˚

!! dni if you're going to be pissy about a stranger online writing about a real guy involved in a murder trial, HE'S NOT EVEN A SUSPECT and this is set before papa karamazov kicked the bucket. besides a very close friend of the family proofread it and told me it's totally fine !!

When the editor of the newspaper you wrote for commissioned you an article about the life of young novices, you knew exactly where to look. The small village of Skotoprigonyevsk, where you'd spent many summers during your childhood, was known to be just a few miles away from a modest yet respectable monastery, where your old friend Alexei Fyodorovich Karamazov was preparing to become a monk. You had written him a letter asking for his collaboration a few weeks prior, and now a carriage was bringing you up the hill where the sanctuary was. On the way there, however, you were stopped by an elderly man walking the other way.

“Are ya going to pay respect to Zosima, miss?” he asked. Elder Zosima, Alexei had told you, was a holy man as few others had been on that side of the empire. He was a wise and compassionate starets, and if you played your cards right there was a chance you could even interview him.

“What do you mean ‘pay respect’?”

“Ya haven't heard, uh? Father Zosima, peace be with him, died a few days ago. And now the whole town's gone crazy ‘cause his body stinks like hell.”

“How terrible!” you said, crossing yourself.

“Yeah, a real disgrace… Even the monks have gone nuts about the whole thing. Why do you need to go up there?”

“I… planned to visit a friend. A novice.”

“Oh, they're the most baffled now. They're young, their faith is crushed. I hope your friend is fine; and if not, try to cheer him up, miss. He probably needs it.”

The carriage started moving again, but your heart was now heavy. How was Alexei doing? What if he didn't want to do the interview anymore? Or worse, what if you had found him deep in despair?

When you arrived, you noticed the death of the elder had somehow affected the whole monastery. You had been there once or twice as a child, and you remembered it always looked like an ivory palace, with golden towers reflecting the light of God and a sweet hymn that never ceased coming from inside. Now what was pristine seemed dirty, what was shining became opaque, and the whole place was deadly silent.

As if someone had just read your mind, you heard the muffled sound of steps coming your way. You turned around and immediately recognised the cherub-like face of Alexei Karamazov. At first you stood straight and smiled, not knowing how to properly greet him after all those years. When he came closer and gave you a quick hug, you realised he was happy to see you as well but still burdened with grief.

“It's good to see you again, Alexei Fyodorovich. I heard what happened to the elder on the way here. I'm so sorry…”

He inhaled sharply, probably wishing you had talked about anything but that. “Thank you. Please, come inside and I'll show you your room. It's not a lot, but I trust you'll find it comfortable enough.”

“Of course.” You stopped for a second. “Alexei Fyodorovich… I understand this is a delicate situation. If you do not want to be interviewed right now, I understand. I'll come back when you're ready. My timing was terrible.”

“Nonsense. God's timing is always right.” You could tell he did not believe it either.

After unpacking your bags you ran into Alexei again.

“Y/n, about the interview…”

“No pressure at all, Alexei, really.”

“I want to do it tonight.”

“Oh? How come? Forgive me my bluntness, but you didn't seem in the right space of mind just a few hours ago.”

“To be honest, I was not sure I wanted to do it either. But I feel like I need to. Zosima would've wanted me to keep our traditions alive.”

“Of course. Then I'll meet you in your room after supper? Or is it too scandalous?” you tried to joke. Alexei let out a small chuckle.

“It’s alright. My brothers know you are here for a noble reason, and they thank you for having chosen us.”

As promised, he let you in his room after dinner and closed the door behind him. You sat on the bed, he was right in front of you on a stool. He gave you a friendly smile, but the bags under his eyes and his curved shoulders revealed he was tired from the lack of sleep. You felt guilty for taking away his precious hours of rest. Nevertheless, you were there as a journalist, not any ordinary friend. It was about time you started working.

“So, Alexei, our readers in the Capital would love to know more about the ascetic life of young novices. Could you tell us how old you are and when did you receive the call?”

“I turned nineteen a few months ago, and I decided to enter the monastery at sixteen. It was never really a calling; ever since I was a small child I felt the voice of God inside me, so I am simply acting according to my nature.”

“Did your upbringing influence your faith?”

“... I am not sure. My mother was a very religious woman, but I barely remember her. The icon of Mary and Jesus you see in that corner,” and he pointed at a small wooden block on his table, “is all I have left of her. My father… I never spent much time with him. The servants often looked after me and my brother. When he turned seven we were taken in by a distant relative and moved to Moscow. I'd say that no one really told me how to believe or why. For as long as I remember I've felt the presence of God around me. That is, until a few days ago…”

Alexei bit his lip. He was clearly thinking about Zosima and the panic that came with his rotting body.

"Ever since that night, my faith has wavered like a flag in the storm. I am torn, y/n. How could a man so righteous and kind as elder Zosima not be granted a holy death? God wouldn't have allowed one of his bravest soldiers to go this way. Perhaps it's a test. Satan may think he works against the Almighty, but really, tribulations are where men find themselves most strong in their faith, or completely abandon it. I steadied my heart, thinking I could bear this, but the whispers... the rumors, y/n... they plague my head and poison my thoughts. My very soul is shaken, and I am starting to think... They were right about us too."

"Us?" you carefully asked, wondering if some babushka had gossiped about a possible affair between you two. Unfortunately, they would've been wrong. "What do you mean?"

Alexei looked at you with tearful eyes.

"Us Karamazovs! An inexplicable curse weighs upon our name, but I thought I'd managed to escape it. The monastery, that holy refuge, was supposed to keep me safe from the temptations of this mortal world, yet evil has found a way! Malice and hatred have seeped inside our sacred home, and I now see that it happened long before Zosima's passing. Y/n," he sighed, grasping your hands in his, "I have been blind and foolish all these twenty years of my life, but how painful it is to have the veil of innocence stripped from your eyes by the brutal hands of fate just when you're waiting for a miracle! God has long abandoned this side of the world, if he ever was in it. I find no consolation in prayer, the fits of hunger can't bring me any closer to Him than an opulent banquet would, thirst cannot quench my need for infinity, and my world has lost its balance. I am utterly alone and desperate in this desert, and it is merely the third of forty days of penitence. I see the Great Divider coming my way, with food and shelter from cruel nature — more terrible yet steadier than God’s word. What must I do?”

“Dear Alexei, this is not you speaking,” you stuttered. “You confound hell in Elysium!”

“Not yet, y/n, but that time is near. The real curse of the Karamazovs is not that we are strong in our vices, but that we’re too weak to resist them. My brother Dmitri understood this sooner than I did. My last prayer shall be for him: may he find a way to survive in this world without running from it; as you can see, it’s been no use. I am too far gone…”

This was not where the interview was supposed to go. The person in front of you had no traces of the kind, sweet Alyoshka you grew up with in his eyes. All you saw was a tired, disillusioned man on the way to perdition. His words were razor blades, cutting through your memories and beliefs. You'd only met his brother Ivan once or twice, many years before, but in that moment Alexei resembled him more than ever.

“Never say that, my sweet,” you whispered, holding his face in your trembling hands. Tears were streaking his cheeks, red from the anger and pain.

“What must I do?” he dared to ask, his voice breaking in sobs. “No one can understand how I feel, y/n. They didn't know Zosima like I did. They didn't see life as I saw it when I still believed there was a meaning to it.”

“I do understand you, Alexei! Back in Moscow I was eaten alive by doubts, day after day, night after night. Once you question the foundations of your being, there is no turning back.”

“And how do you survive? How do you go on?”

“I silence the voices inside me until all is quiet and I feel nothing at all.”

“I'm afraid I can't do it. Now that I am hollow, the silence is stinging and the void echoes my pain.”

“Then you must bury it and forget it ever was there. You will feel strange all your life without knowing why, but you'll have grown so accustomed to it that you'll start to think it is just the way humans are.”

Now you were crying too and your tears were falling on Alexei's face, mixing with his own like the affluent to a stream of constant sorrow. You were closer to him than you had ever been, physically and spiritually. The beautiful boy you'd admired from afar was now, in your shared agony, a long lost friend, the other half of your tainted soul.

He must've felt the same about you, because he leaned into your touch and placed a hand on yours, still holding his face. He breathed heavily and it felt as if a primordial burden had escaped from his breath, for the better or for the worse.

“Teach me how…” he whispered. “Teach me how to bury the pain.”

You drew him closer and kissed him desperately. You could tell he was as inexperienced as you were, but it didn't matter. Perhaps it was even better like this: there was all the naivety of Adam and Eve before the original sin. You knew what was going to happen next, and it felt right, even though it should've been wrong.

Your hands rose to Alexei's hair, and he whimpered

Ok Google, what is this? No, Google, what is this thing my daughter is creating? My goodness, why are you writing what I'm saying? Lise? Liza! What is this thing on your portable device? No, not Google, this other thing. Don't scream, for the love of God, I just asked a question! I know it is not “nothing”, so you better tell me. Is this about Alexei Fyodorovich? Oh dear, I sure hope you don't mean to send it to him! Besides, what were he and the interviewer going to do? I need to read this thoroughly. Don't cry, Lise, I just need to take your device for a few minutes! I'm starting to suspect you're keeping things from me… For example, what is this “monk yaoi” folder?

#the brothers karamazov #alyosha karamazov #karamazov trial lore #rpf #unreality

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