directorstarc - Tumblr blog

directorstarc · 3 years

Text

tag list:

@ignyxdaughter @edithsvoice @24-martie @padfootswife24 @toujurspure @hey-there-angels

(feel free to reply to this if you would like to be tagged in the future!)

sinners and saints (4)

belonging and other drugs

synopsis: arken visser lets a few secrets spill after an interrogation that can only be described as thorough. fedyor brings some news from the drüskelle which changes a lot of things. The only way to move forward is to look back and remember what was once more important than power. love.

pairing: the darkling | aleksander morozova x reader, the darkling | aleksander morozova x alina starkov

warnings: angst, slight fluff, infidelity, jealousy, betrayal, murder, descriptions of violence, bittersweet flashbacks that make you wonder how did things could go so wrong.

word count: 11.8k

cross posted on ao3

glossary: oprichniki = elite soldiers (singular oprichnik), moye serdtse = my heart, milaya = sweet girl, ushanka = a type of fur hat, moya soverennyi = my sovereign (female subject), moi soverennyi = my sovereign (male subject), da = yes, drüsje = witch, vronche = fjerdan word for darkling, lögnare = liar.

note: my exams are over so here i am, thank you so much for your patience and all the love <3

> CHAPTER THREE

"Are you really gonna talk about timing, in times like these? And let all your damage, damage me?"

Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift ; Renegade

You’d escaped from one kind of cold only to be dumped into another.

This one was worse. The dungeons below the palace were rarely used and even though the flames in the torches lighting up the walls spluttered and burned in brilliant hues of yellow and orange, your hands remained cold.

Too much had happened too soon. The intruder Oprichniki, who were sure to have been Kaz Brekker and his cohort, had successfully made off with Alina. Then there was the matter of Marie and Platon.

And now Arken Visser.

You wondered if the cold was just superficial or if it had settled inside your bones and made its home there. You didn’t know what to feel anymore—anger at Aleksander and Alina? Concern that some thieves had disappeared with the Sun Summoner? What you really wanted at the moment was to curl up in bed and cry. Your feet hurt badly, but your heart hurt much worse.

“Has he talked?” Aleksander asked, practically storming down the corridor as both you and Zoya struggled to keep up with him.

“A lot of lies,” Zoya replied, her voice once again stand-offish and cold now that the shock of everything had settled, “Ivan’s with him.”

The man sat hunched over in a chair, hands and legs restrained. Ivan’s shadow loomed over him like a dark smudge. On closer inspection, his sweating face was covered with bruises and shallow cuts. Clearly the Oprichniki who had caught him had delivered brute justice before the rest of you even got to him.

He might have seemed like a gentleman on first sight, but you could tell he was a cheat through and through.

“I’ve been swindled,” He pleaded urgently, as soon as Aleksander halted in front of him, “Hoodwinked.”

His heartbeat escalated immediately, the thrumming so loud that it annoyed you.

“My guards tell me that they caught you fleeing the scene of the crime.” Aleksander said and if Arken Visser had known the General better, he would have understood by the calm tone of his voice that his fate was sealed. It was death, and nothing else.

“Yes, I followed them!” Visser nodded his head.

“Followed whom?”

“They come from the other side of the Fold,” Visser explained, pleading eyes flitting between you and Zoya, “From the start, they seemed…just, a bit off to me. So when they left our stage, at the fete, I followed them to see what they were up to,” Aleksander gave him a mocking nod, as if he believed a word coming out of his mouth, “And by the time that I walked into the room, they were gone and…” Visser’s heartbeat skyrocketed, beads of perspiration appearing on his temple, “Saints, it was…unspeakable. So I ran…”

You had to admire the man’s audacity, spitting out lie after lie in front of the Darkling. Either he was completely unaware as to what Aleksander could do with a stroke of his hand, or, the more likely option, getting away with things had turned him bold and brazen.

“How much of that is true?” Aleksander asked, the question directed at you and Ivan.

“He did cross the Fold with the others.” Ivan spoke in the most casual manner possible, casting a glance at Visser as though the latter was nothing but a troublesome pest who needed to be squashed immediately.

“Everything else was a lie.” You shrugged your shoulders.

Aleksander turned to look at Visser again, a weary gaze on his face. He hated liars and traitors with a burning passion.

“What?” The man stuttered, shaking his head, obviously perplexed about how Ivan and you had been able to tell, “That’s…no—b-but no…”

“Your heart gives you away.” Ivan said.

It was sort of wondrous, how people could wag their tongues all they wanted, cook up the most elaborate, fantastical stories but their bodies always gave them away. As their pulse quickened and their body temperature fluctuated, everything became crystal clear.

“Do you know we keep records of everyone who crosses the Fold?” Aleksander asked, “For the Winter Fete, we had ambassadors from Kerch, Novyi Zem, the Wandering Isle, but you didn’t cross with them, did you?”

Visser opened and shut his mouth like a goldfish, trying to force another lie out but it wouldn’t come. That was the thing about liars. People who played a role would eventually forget their lines.

“No,” He answered for Visser, his tumultuous rage slowly becoming evident, “You and your crew, you have another way.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean—”

“He does.” Ivan nodded.

“I’m an entertainer!” He exclaimed, agitated, “Oskar—Oskar Krepkov!”

“Yes, storytelling is such an underappreciated form of entertainment.” You scoffed, inviting a smile from Aleksander and Ivan.

Aleksander crossed over, approaching closer to Visser. The man shrunk back in his seat, knowing full well that the closer the General got to him, the lesser time he had to live.

Aleksander gripped his wrist tightly. Visser tried to free it, but the movement made the silver claw ring on Aleksander’s finger drag against his skin and he yielded with a hiss of pain. You’d seen that ring take out eyeballs of breathing men.

Aleksander yanked up Visser’s begrimed sleeve. Even under the dim light of the dungeon, the raised scars on the inside of his arm were jarringly visible. Many who crossed the Fold cut into their skin to keep tally of their survival and good fortune. Most had three or four, but his skin was obliterated with the raised scars.

You stared at Visser’s arm. The ones closer to his wrist were old and white, the ones further down clearly new judging from their inflamed nature. You could make out fifteen, maybe there were more.

You wondered what contraption the man possessed to enable him to cross the Fold fifteen times.

“Well, that is certainly entertaining.” Aleksander’s voice had an edge of mockery and ridicule.

Fear waltzed over Visser’s face like the flickering flames. He snuck another look at you and Zoya, his face twisted into the picture of misery and subservience. You knew what he was doing because others had done it before him.

He was hoping that the prospect of torture would repulse the two of you and you’d stop Aleksander. Zoya scoffed in his face. It was just his luck that he’d chosen to beg for mercy from two of the most unmerciful women in all of Ravka.

Alina would have probably stopped him. Told him something incredibly cliché like violence was not the answer in order to dissuade him. You wanted to say it wouldn’t have made a difference, that he wouldn’t have stopped but you couldn’t. He seemed willing to do anything for Alina.

Surety was not a luxury offered to you these days.

Maybe he liked her softness. Maybe he’d grown tired of your unsparing nature.

“You are the Conductor,” Aleksander said, his voice low and ominous, every syllable becoming Visser’s death knell, “Arken Visser, are you not?”

In the face of the Darkling’s rage, Visser’s gaze fell, betraying him. Aleksander moved away.

“You smuggle Grisha…out of my palace!” The scream echoed throughout the closed chamber and if you weren’t so used to his short temper, you would have flinched horribly, “You help them abandon the war effort.”

“No, I deal in legal indentures. I don’t mess with Grisha.”

“Lie.” Ivan supplied nonchalantly.

Not many would be able to lie to the fearsome General of the Second Army, get caught, and continue lying. At one point, bravery crossed over into stupidity.

“I don’t need him to tell me,” Aleksander said, “I had a spy. Nina Zenik.”

Nina, Nina, Nina.

You stiffened, hearing her name. It felt as though you’d failed her. If the Drüskelle managed to get her as far as the Ice Court, there would be no way to get her back. In the days before her departure, she hadn’t been concerned at all. She’d been on too many covert missions to let the possibility and implications of being a spy scare her anymore.

Of course, she hadn’t expected that Zlatan would ally with Fjerda, allowing them to wipe the port cities clean of Grisha.

This information was unprecedented to Visser. Surprise made itself evident on his face. Apparently Nina had done too good of a job concealing her identity.

“Last report we had from her was that she’d be crossing the Fold with the Conductor and three rogues from Ketterdam,” Aleksander continued, “What their mission was, she didn’t know. She was waiting to meet you all. Now poor Nina…has not been heard from since.”

A shudder ran through your body, making the hairs on the back of your neck rise up and you couldn’t be sure that it was because of the cold. It didn’t appear that this man was stashing Nina away in some hidden cellar. The alternative was far worse. The alternative meant Drüskelle. The alternative implied a witch hunt in Fjerda.

“Might that have something to do with you, Mr. Visser?”

“No,” The Conductor replied firmly, “I don’t.”

He looked up at Ivan to back him up, show Aleksander that he was telling the truth. It should’ve relieved you that the man had finally stopped lying. But as his heart rate slowed, your heart felt like it’d dropped altogether.

“See?” He said, when Ivan confirmed that he was indeed being truthful, “I don’t know what happened!”

“So you never met Nina?” You questioned, stepping out of the shadows and into the light.

“N-No, I didn’t have anything to do with her.” He replied, blinking rapidly.

“That’s interesting,” You nodded, “Because I know for a fact that Nina did reach the boarding house she was supposed to meet you at. And now you’re saying she didn’t cross the Fold with you. So something must have happened to her in the meantime.”

“I’m telling you,” He insisted, pulling against his restraints, “I had nothing to do with it!”

“But you must’ve gone to the boarding house in search of her,” You said, “So tell me what you saw there.”

He shrunk back, and even before the words had left his mouth you knew he was preparing himself to lie again.

“I didn’t…” He faltered, “I didn’t see anything. I don’t know what happened.”

“Yes, you’ve said that three times in the past minute!” You snapped, “But your heart sounds like it’s trying to break out of your ribcage so please, either tell me the truth or learn to lie better.”

Arken Visser clamped his mouth shut, staring up at you cautiously. You clenched your fist, nails biting into your palm. Nina had done nothing to deserve this and now she was only Saints knew where. You were angry at Visser for trying to conceal his serpent-like tendencies under the guise of an innocent man. You were angry at Aleksander for convincing you that Nina would be okay and you were angry at yourself for having been convinced so easily.

“With your permission?” You asked Aleksander through gritted teeth. He nodded, looking sort of amused.

All Grisha were amused by pain.

“W-Wait, what are you—” Visser’s words died in his throat with a sort of screech as you lifted your hands and clenched your fist. Visually, there was nothing in it but air. To Visser, it felt as though you’d reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.

He choked and gasped, trembling. His eyes went so wide that it seemed as if they would pop out of their sockets.

“If I hold on for a minute longer, your heart will stop beating,” You said, a phantom rhythm pressing against your closed fist as though you really could feel his heart beat in your palm, “So spare us all the blood and guts, I’ve seen too much of it today. Tell me what you saw before I pull your heart out through your throat.”

You let your grip loosen abruptly, palm falling flat. It was worse this way. The sudden rush of blood made one sick, their lungs burned because they felt like they couldn’t inhale enough air, their limbs felt too heavy.

He gasped and spluttered. If he’d been standing, he would’ve fallen to his knees long before.

You looked at Aleksander. He tilted his head a smidge, as if paying homage to your skills. He liked you best with your hands bloody. Usually it made you feel proud, you craved his approval like a child craved it from their favourite teacher. But now it just made you feel low.

He wanted the sun but you were just another torture device.

“Mr. Visser,” You sighed, looking back at him, “Please don’t waste my time.”

“Fine, okay,” He was still out of breath, “I went—I went to the boarding house. But Nina wasn’t there. Her room was all…well there were signs of a struggle. So I just left. I didn’t do anything to Nina, I swear!”

“My guess,” Aleksander spoke, brushing a hand over your shoulder as he came forward again, a silent order for you to step back, “You struck a deal with these three thieves from Ketterdam to kidnap Alina Starkov. But you have a stronger relationship with a certain West Ravkan general who has notions of ruling his own country. So long as the Fold separates him from us.”

Aleksander circled around Visser as a hawk did to its prey before swooping in. He patted Ivan’s shoulder, another non-verbal order to move away. Everybody except Visser knew what was coming.

As usual, the conversation had made its way back to Alina. You worried the inside of your bottom lip as Ivan came to stand by your side.

“So you made another deal. You put on a disguise, and you played at being assassin.”

Something seemed to change in Visser. His twitching jaw went stiff, the remnants of the panic which had seized him left his eyes. He was finally baring his true self for everyone to see. Now it wasn’t hard to believe that this was the man who had slit Marie’s throat from ear to ear and attacked Genya.

“That’s right,” He replied, voice surprisingly steady, “The prize to bring her back to Ketterdam was a million, split four ways. But Zlatan offered me the same number…to kill her.”

Your heart hurt and tears nearly pricked your eyes when you looked at Aleksander’s face. He seemed so furious, anger bleeding out of his very existence. The look on his face…he didn’t look angry as if someone had stolen his comrade. He looked angry as though someone had murdered his lover.

You fluctuated between gathering up the courage to ask him what had truly transpired between him and Alina and being too afraid. If you didn’t know, there was the slightest possibility that nothing had truly happened.

You wouldn’t be so scared to ask him then, your brain supplied unhelpfully.

“So, give me half that, I’ll get revenge for you,” Visser leaned forward, as much as his restraints would allow, “I can get close to Zlatan.”

For liars and cheaters, lying and cheating were chronic illnesses. If they switched allegiances once, it was more or less set in stone that they would do it again.

“Loyalty which can be bought is no loyalty at all.” You stated simply. Funnily enough, Aleksander looked at you before Visser did. He didn’t say anything but a curious, inquisitive look passed over his face.

Well, if the shoe fits.

Aleksander gave an inconspicuous nod to the three of you. Zoya was the first to turn away, looking more bored than anything else. Zoya wasn’t big on torture, never had been. She liked to face her enemies head on, taking no pleasure in fighting them unless both were on equal footing. You secretly admired that about her.

You wondered how many friendships you’d missed out on unknowingly. Upon your arrival at the Little Palace, the only person you’d been surrounded by at all times was him. Slowly Nina found her place within your life, but it had always been him. You’d go to him with everything, no questions asked.

It never bothered you before but for the past few months you’d regretted not making more friends. Now everyone had their set ideas about you and you had your ideas about them. It was too late to break down those notions.

The bad thing about having a single support system, you’d come to realise, was that when it fell, everything collapsed along with it.

Ivan walked away next, following Zoya closely. In a way, you could strangely relate to him. His loyalties were so deeply grounded that they scared you sometimes. You were the same way, but again, the past few months had begged to reconsider a lot of your beliefs.

You hesitated for a few seconds, watching Aleksander and Visser.

“Go ahead, moye serdtse.” Aleksander said firmly without turning to look at you.

Shooting one last vitriolic look at the Conductor, you made your way down the long corridor you had entered through. The hem of your dress dragged along the dry floor, making the faintest rustling sound.

Behind you, Arken Visser would soon drown in the thickest of shadows. It would curl around his neck, force its way down his nose and throat and choke him to death.

The early hours of the morning were so peaceful. The sky was still dark, the entire palace was silent. It was ironic, how the only people awake during such an hour were those who were in the deepest turmoil, the least peaceful.

The long hours were beginning to catch up to you. All the incessant worrying, all the pent up hurt weighed so heavily on you that it felt like your knees would give out any second.

You shut the door of the bedroom behind you quietly, pressing your forehead against it. The cool wood felt like a soothing balm to your heated skin.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you were sure you had never looked so lovely. Every jewel, every lock of hair was still perfectly in place, the kohl under your eyes hadn’t smudged a bit. But your heart had shattered inside your body, into a million different sharp pieces of glass. It felt as though they were stabbing you from the inside out.

Was it an inherent talent all women had? The ability to look perfect on the outside while breaking inside?

With flickering consciousness, you took everything off absent-mindedly. All the finery landed in a heap on the floor. You looked at it sadly, knowing that despite how beautiful the clothes were, you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to wear them again. They were forever tainted with the memory of today.

Pulling your hair free from all its complicated twists and turns, you reached for the necklace you’d forgotten on the vanity. You pressed the cold pendant to your forehead and then to your lips, praying for the light at the end of what seemed to be a very long, dark tunnel.

Outside, the sound of the door opening and closing was heard. You quickly slipped the chain around your neck, tucking it under the silken layers of your robe.

Half of you didn’t even want to look at him, but the other half, the naïve half, would always gravitate towards him like a bee towards nectar.

He stood near the window which overlooked the grounds, seemingly deep in thought. He glanced back at you when you appeared, looking as though he wanted to say something. Ultimately he didn’t, turning back again.

A room’s distance amidst the both of you felt like an ocean.

“I am sending a team to look for Nina,” Aleksander finally said, “They will leave tomorrow morning.”

“Shall I go with them?” You asked, letting too much enthusiasm bleed into your voice. A chance to actually take an active role in finding Nina along with the added advantage of stepping away from Aleksander for a few days couldn’t have come at a more opportune time.

A few months ago, you would’ve blanched at the idea of being separated from him.

“No,” He replied, turning around, “You’re coming with me to find Alina.”

You scoffed, a sad, mirthless amusement taking over.

“What?” He questioned, clearly annoyed.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me,” He came closer, “What is it?”

He was the one who’d gone and ruined everything and now he was acting as though you being enraged about it was a shortcoming on your part.

“Nothing, Aleksander,” You replied firmly, “What’s the point of telling you anything? I’ll say I want nothing to do with Alina, you’ll give me a lecture on how she’s the Sun Summoner and how she’s so special. I’ll get upset, you’ll get upset with me for being upset, and then we’ll go to bed angry at each other.”

He seemed stumped at your words, grappling for an appropriate response yet coming up empty.

“In the morning we’ll wake up and start this all over again. So forgive me if I’m exhausted.” You said. You couldn’t even raise your voice to put up a decent fight anymore.

“I want what is best for all of us.” He replied as you moved away to pick up your papers from his desk. They were mostly new trade agreements or concerned letters from ambassadors about West Ravka’s secession which you hadn’t gotten around to looking at yet.

“Alina is a means to an end, you know this. She’s a way for us to get what we’ve always wanted, to rule Ravka together. To protect Grisha.”

“Is she?” You asked in a quiet voice, gathering up your pages, “Do you make a practice of shoving your tongue down the throats of all your pawns?”

“Stop this,” He commanded in a loud voice, “At least look at me!”

“I can’t,” You shook your head, turning around, “You cannot imagine how much it pains me to lay my eyes on you.”

Running a hand through your hair absent-mindedly and trying to smooth out the tangles, you suddenly started when something brushed against your foot. You frowned, looking down to see what it was.

A bouquet of beautiful blue irises. You picked it up, recognising the flowers to be from your own garden. They were chemically engineered by Alkemi to bloom all year long, normal irises couldn’t survive the harsh winters of Ravka.

“What’s this?” You questioned, holding up the bunch.

The expression on Aleksander’s face shifted from one of annoyance to thinly veiled embarrassment. His mouth remained shut and you raised a brow in confusion, attempting to ask him again but you cut yourself short as it all became cleanly apparent to you.

You wanted to slap yourself across the face for thinking, even for a moment, that the flowers were kept there for you to stumble upon, a stupid apology of some sort. They were never meant for you. Just like everything else, the flowers, picked from your garden, were meant for her.

With a loud scoff, you threw the flowers onto the table, your fingers smarting as if the thornless stems had pricked you.

“Why do I even try anymore?” You gave him a half-smile.

“Milaya—”

“Please, let’s stop, alright?” You pleaded, “I’ve been up since dawn and it’s almost dawn again. I can’t do this right now. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He looked like he wanted to put up a fight but you didn’t give him a chance, bypassing him to go back into the bedroom.

You laid in bed, looking up at the ceiling, unable to even cry. The oppressive feeling in your heart may have subsided if you’d let your tears out but you just couldn’t. The only respite from it all was that you were so bone-tired that you soon drifted off into a fitful sleep. You dreamt of icy Fjerda, watched the ice melt under the sunshine, and blue irises bloom where there had previously been layers of frost.

He never came to bed.

Despite all the revelry which had continued until late last night, everyone was out on the training grounds by six in the morning.

You could hear Botkin bark out instructions and reprimands alike, as you sat at the desk by the window, absent-mindedly reaching for the steaming cup of tea. Your eyes roved over the letters and trade agreements. Contrary to expectation, you enjoyed this part of your role. It was calming because of how mundane it was.

Some of the trainees were as young as ten, just learning the ropes of hand to hand combat and how to control their powers. You couldn’t even really recall being a child. You hardly had the time to be a child when you were ten, too busy trying to survive.

Aleksander was standing near the fireplace, hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he frowned over a map. You still hadn’t talked about the implications of last night. Fidgety with anxiety, you tried to focus on your work.

You were so afraid of facing the fact that you may have truly lost the love of your life that you kept your mouth shut. Every time you sat up straighter in your seat, having managed to gather up the courage to ask him, it subsided again. This game of mental tug of war was getting incredibly tiring.

Apparently the only thing stronger than Zlatan’s promises of breaking away from the old country’s traditions and rules was Alina Starkov. People had made it clear that they would side with whoever had the Sun Summoner. And currently they thought that Ravka had her. They thought she was safely sheltered amidst her fellow Grisha in the Little Palace.

Only her fellow Grisha had absolutely no idea where she was.

Novyi Zem had sent more Jurda along with their usual shipment to commemorate the joyous occasion of the Sun Summoner’s discovery. You kept the acknowledgement of the trade aside for Aleksander to sign later, drawing out more paper to write a graciously worded note of appreciation, along with falsely saccharine words of the glory the Sun Summoner would bring to Ravka, and by extension to Novyi Zem.

Fedyor walked in, hurriedly taking his ushanka off. He gave you curt nod, though none of the amusement that had been on his face yesterday was visible now.

“General,” He announced, “I found a lead on her.”

Aleksander’s entire demeanor changed at once. Though you tried to ignore it, it was hard not to take notice. He immediately abandoned the map with urgency.

“And where is my Summoner?”

My Summoner. It was as though he didn’t even care that you could hear his words. You tried to remain unaffected on the outside.

“Oh,” Fedyor seemed taken aback, “Uh…No. Nina Zenik. You asked…”

Again, it was difficult not to take notice of the way he seemed to deflate.

“Yes…speak.” He commanded.

You moved your letter aside, listening to Fedyor with rapt attention.

“She was abducted by Fjerdans,” Fedyor spoke, his brows knitted together in a frown, “Put on a ship with other Grisha captives, bound for the Ice Court.”

And so the worst had come to pass. You weren’t surprised, just disappointed and regretful that what you had fervently hoped against turned out to be true. Your hand seemed to itch with anticipation. It felt wrong that you were comfortably sitting here while she was stuck in a ship, on her way to be persecuted unfairly. He’d made it pretty clear that your talents were to be utilised to find Alina and not for saving your friend.

“Someone must’ve given her up.” Aleksander responded.

“Zlatan,” You replied, “I heard news of Fjerdan delegates being present at his last rally.”

You’d only met Zlatan once. The golden-haired general hadn’t been quite so enamoured by power a couple years ago but then that was how politics worked. Too fast for anybody’s liking.

“Well, they have a witch hunter in their ranks,” Fedyor said, looking unnaturally dismal, “Matthias Helvar. He has been clever in tracking Grisha. I want him dead as much as I want her back alive.”

“What you want is irrelevant. Where are they now?” Aleksander sneered.

You resisted the growing urge to roll your eyes. Nothing…nobody mattered except him or what he desired. That was the way it had always been. The only change was that in the past you’d been okay with it. It didn’t bother you to follow his lead, share his opinions. But now? Something akin to your conscience, a characteristic you’d believed you’d lost long ago, pricked up at his words.

“They hit a storm front,” Fedyor explained, not moved by his rebuke, “We…We lost track of the ship after that.”

A lead gained and then promptly lost.

Breathing in deeply, Aleksander ordered, “Reach the Western coast. Go as far north as you can, Arkesk if you can make it. Bring back any Grisha you find, and barring that, you bring me one of theirs.”

You would expect nothing less from your lover. There was nothing he did better than revenge and retaliation. Resting your chin against your palm, trying to ward off the fatigue yesterday’s events had left you with you caught Fedyor giving you an uneasy glance.

You sat up straighter again, a defensive frown already on your face. Had you fallen so low in the hierarchy of things that Fedyor wouldn’t say whatever it was that was bothering him in front of you?

“There is another thing, General.” He finally said. Aleksander turned around, an eyebrow raised in question.

“The, uh…” Fedyor seemed to struggle for a moment, giving you another side-eyed look, “Well, we have received some word that the Drüskelle have called for the execution of…” He closed his eyes, as if it pained him to even utter the words, “Well, uh…” He finally looked you in the eye, “You, moya soverennyi.”

“What?” You blurted out in an ungainly manner, not even truly registering the implication of his words. Aleksander looked at you with a deep frown.

“There’s been a bounty out for her capture for years,” Aleksander said slowly, “As there is for you, Ivan, or I.”

“It’s—Saints…” Fedyor mumbled under his breath, “It’s not a bounty anymore, moi soverennyi. They have somehow caught word of Alina wearing your colour at the fete, and chosen to believe that that means you’ve renounced her,” He looked at you apologetically but you’d more or less gone numb by then, “They’re considering it sacrilege against their god, Djel, to let her live. There is to be no capture, it is a kill on sight order.”

Even Aleksander, who always had something to say, had gone silent.

You gazed at Fedyor blankly. His words seemed to swim around in your head, sounding rather distant, as if someone had stuffed cotton inside your ears. Or as if he was talking about someone else and not you.

One small, seemingly insignificant decision taken by Aleksander had brought your life down. It was clear that he hadn’t anticipated this happening, neither had you but you’d had a premonition at least. He still couldn’t understand why black was not just a colour in Ravka.

Quietly, you pulled the letter back in front of you, lowering your eyes to all the words which seemed to be dancing around in circles. Aleksander dismissed Fedyor curtly.

Your hand found the pendant, playing with it for a second before venturing further up and slipping under the high collar of your kefta. You’d spent a great deal of time this morning wondering whether you should give up the black kefta for good, revert back to your red one that you hadn’t worn in years. Ultimately you still wore the black, knowing that if you decided to give it up now, it would only fan the flame of rumours and gossip.

But it didn’t sit quite right, didn’t feel as comfortable as it had even two days ago. Your ego had taken a bruising, and your brain was constantly battling the age-old question of whether survival mattered over the loss of self-respect.

Your fingers found its destination, a long scar on the side of your neck, raised at one end where the wound had been deepest, and then melding into your skin in a thin taper.

With the passing of the seasons you’d paid it increasingly less attention, but it was there. There seemed to be a phantom sting as your fingers passed over it.

“Say something.”

You looked up at him, hand falling away from your neck. His face was set into a grim expression, lips pressed into a line.

“What do you want me to say?” You asked quietly, truly intrigued as to whether he expected you to comfort him in the face of this situation, “The damage has been done, hasn’t it?”

“No,” He replied vehemently, “Nothing will happen.”

“Please don’t make me question your intelligence by wondering if you truly believe that.” You said, putting the half-finished letter aside again with the intention of leaving the room to get some fresh air.

“Moye serdtse—"

“Stop it!” You pleaded, whirling around like a tornado, “Stop that! Just like always you cause the damage and everyone around you has to pay. And this time it’s going to be me.”

“I have never let anybody lay a hand on you,” He grabbed your wrists, holding you in place, “And I never will. Do you not trust me?”

“How can I trust you?” You made an incredulous face, “You’ve made me feel inferior to Alina for months. Yes, she’s the Sun Summoner, and yes, she’s important but I am your lover! You can’t seek solace in my arms at the end of the day and also vilify me in front of an audience.”

“We have known each other for years,” He said, “And you would throw all of that away over a simple miscalculation?”

You scoffed, shaking your head and pulling your hands out of his grasp. You stepped away as they slipped through his.

“You still think this is a “simple miscalculation”?” You asked, baffled by his feigned innocence, “Did you even hear Fedyor? My existence is now sacrilege for a group of religious fanatics. I don’t know what that translates to for you, but it sounds like my head is about to be on a pike!”

“I think that’s an overreaction—”

“Oh, and just so you know, it takes a mistake of a second to overturn years’ worth of trust.”

That was the cruel thing about trust and confidence. It was so hard to build up, like painstakingly building a pyramid by laying brick upon brick. But when it crumbled? That pyramid which had once seemed so solid, fell like a house of cards.

“None of this,” You kept going, “None of it would’ve happened if you hadn’t handed out the kefta like it was a party favour. If you’d just known how to keep it in your fucking pants!”

“Be mindful of who you’re speaking to,” He replied, his calm and composed tone forming such a strange juxtaposition to yours, that you fumbled for a second, “As I said, I would never let anybody harm you.”

“Except when you did.” You gave him a wry smile, pulling down the collar of your kefta to reveal the scar you’d been thumbing at minutes ago.

He looked affronted, and then went a bit pale. His shoulders sagged as he eyed the old wound, seeming almost regretful. You would’ve believed that he felt an ounce of remorse if you didn’t know that the General didn’t feel those things.

The skin around the scar was pinched and damaged. It had been too deep, the healer had barely managed to bind together the severed tissues underneath the skin but the cut had left a lasting impression.

“You cannot fault me for that.” He finally said, seeming fully composed again but the slight twitch of his jaw gave him away.

“No,” You shook your head, releasing the garment from your grip, letting it conceal the blemish again, “I have only myself to blame.”

The cold winds originating from the north felt like they were blistering your skin to the bone. You drew your cloak around you tighter but it did practically nothing to ward off the chill. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, teeth chattering.

“Go walk with the Inferni,” The General suggested, not for the first time, “You’re practically turning blue.”

“I’m al-alright.” You responded stubbornly, though your cold-induced stutter gave you away.

He shook his head, a small smile etched on his face. The cold seemed to have no effect on him. If you hadn’t been so focused on trying to survive, you would’ve rolled your eyes. The Darkling, infallible as always.

Os Alta was cold, definitely colder than Ketterdam. The journey from rain to impromptu snowfall and hail took getting used to and even now you slept buried in a cocoon of blankets. But this? This wasn’t the kind of cold which made you want to stay in bed. This was the kind of cold which sawed off your fingers and toes with frostbite.

Eager to prove yourself to him, you trudged through the snow-covered valleys of Chernast, pretending like you weren’t on the verge of passing out from the low temperatures.

The party had been walking for hours and even though your lungs were burning from inhaling cold air, you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t allow yourself to show weakness in front of him, or in front of the rest of the group. If he’d already heard the whispers about you and how you didn’t deserve to have his favour, you couldn’t stop it. But you damn well wouldn’t prove them right.

You snuck a gaze at him. He was making his way forward with his head held high, sure-footed and agile. Favour was such an absurd word to associate with a man like him. He was so unyielding, so impartial that it seemed laughable that he should have any sort of soft spot for you.

You were too tired to sustain your body heat using your powers anymore. You turned to look at Nina, walking a couple feet behind you. She didn’t look nearly as frozen as you, but then she’d grown up in Ravka. She was quite used to the cold. Her proximity to the flaming hands of the Inferni also probably helped.

She made a gesture towards the General and then wiggled her eyebrow when she caught you looking at her. You laughed, despite your pitiful state, shaking your head and turning around.

He’d heard your low giggle, looking between you and Nina curiously. You looked up at him, smile still lingering on your lips.

“What do we do when we see the boar?” You asked, though you knew what you must do. In theory, anyway.

“You kill it,” He said, “Not with your powers. With a weapon.”

“It’s a stupid boar,” You replied childishly, trying to stop your teeth from chattering long enough to get the words out, “Out of all places in Ravka, it wants to camp out in the coldest one.”

“I’ll just owe you a long vacation in a tropical paradise then,” He shrugged his shoulders, “You can choose where.”

You flushed, the rush of blood to your ice-cold cheeks a weird sensation. This was why the rest of the Grisha thought he favoured you. He’d say these things, that seemed so uncharacteristic coming from the General of the Second Army.

Or maybe it was the fact that he was training you personally after that altercation with Baghra. You were quite happy to not have to attend lessons with that old hag.

Or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he never denied you. You simply thought it was because you never asked him for anything outrageous. Nina thought there was more to it.

“Thank you,” You whispered to him, “For letting Nina come.”

You felt a little guilty now for having dragged her along to this barren hell but you hadn’t know then that it would be this cold. You just wanted a friend there.

“I wouldn’t dare separate you girls.” He retorted, his eyes shining with mischief. His lips curled into a smile when yours did.

The cold didn’t seem to bite so much anymore. It unnerved you, the way he made you feel. You didn’t hate the feeling but it was simply so foreign that you couldn’t make head or tail of it. He looked at you like you were precious, special, constantly told you so too. He said the mother that you’d never known had made you stronger than others. It was why you deserved that amplifier.

You saw him in a league apart from others, mainly because kindness and empathy at the hands of a man were so alien to you. He was breaking down the walls of your wariness steadily, no matter how much you fought to keep them intact.

You liked him.

“We should’ve come across the boar by now.” He remarked quietly, a touch of worry visible in his expression. There were two First Army trackers trailing after you, who’d first witnessed the wild boar but no one could see it now in the sheets of white snow.

Your drew the thick fur hood of your cloak over your head to shield your rapidly dampening hair. The fur felt soft and luxurious as it tickled the sides of your face.

The closer you inched to the Permafrost, the deeper your boots sank into the snow. Not only was the cold worsening, but you were inching dangerously close to Fjerdan territory. You’d never seen a Drüskelle up close. You felt for the dagger sheathed at your waist. If you did, you wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.

It was a special boar, no doubt. Few animals survived in such freezing weather. There was the occasional bear, and the white wolves that guarded the Permafrost but nothing else. An amulet made from its tusks would fortify you against any enemy.

The drooping branches of the fir trees were laden with snow, the only form of vegetation around for miles. Any moss that had once been present on the forest floor was long gone now.

“What will David make out of the tusks?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from how you couldn’t even feel your hands anymore.

“Whatever you want him to.” He responded softly.

“Well, I don’t want anything too obvious,” You shrugged, “Maybe a—”

“Quiet.” He held up his hand, silencing you. You blinked, surprised at the sudden interruption. He was squinting at the trees in the distance, his face screwed into an expression of intense concentration.

The boar was much larger than you’d expected. A thrum of hesitation ran through your body. This wasn’t going to be as easy as you’d thought. There was also the matter that you’d never killed anything before and a magical boar didn’t seem to be a good starting place.

Its tusks glinted in the afternoon sunlight, sharp points of ivory, a sharp contrast to its dull, brown skin. You brought your hand to the hilt of your dagger, flexing experimentally around it.

“Ivan.” He raised his hand and gestured quietly. The Heartrender came up to the General with nimble steps, a bow already strung on his shoulder. No one was as good an aim as Ivan in the entire Second Army.

“You see it?” He asked in a low voice.

Ivan nodded, and then said, “I’ll have to get closer to shoot it.”

“Only injure,” He repeated his instructions, “Don’t kill it.”

“Da, moi soverennyi.” Ivan whispered, slowly making his way towards the boar which hadn’t moved from its position thirty yards away.

You waited with bated breath, scared to even lift a hand to brush your hair away from your face. The General’s eyes were fixated on Ivan’s form, glinting in the rays of the sun.

The woods weren’t an ideal place to be caught in after dusk and the sun was already halfway down the Western sky. Ivan’s back was hunched into an awkward posture as he approached the boar cautiously.

Suddenly, a twig snapped. Anywhere else it would’ve been a barely discernible sound but now, in the haunting silence of the icy forest, it sounded as though someone had set off a firecracker.

Then, all hell broke loose.

The boar, alerted by the sound and catching sight of the hunting party, made a deep, hollow sound and charged forward. Ivan barely managed to throw himself out of the path of danger but stumbled in the deep snow and fell, his elbow emitting a sickening crunch as it smashed against the thick trunk of a towering conifer, the sudden jerk making a shower of snow rain down on him.

Nina’s high shriek pierced the air as she too jumped out of the way clumsily. Aleksander moved away too, unable to use his powers to kill the boar as that would ruin its very purpose. You flattened your back against a tree, watching with wide eyes as the boar got away.

The animal, clearly not used to seeing strange people, stopped for a second. Then, as quickly as it had charged at you, it took a sharp turn and pummeled through the woods.

The healer who was accompanying all of you rushed over to Ivan, who let out a low groan as he attempted to straighten up against the tree.

Aleksander’s eyes fell on you, a hint of veiled worry, or what looked like it anyway, swimming in them.

Having had a few seconds to regain some of your composure, you pulled your dagger out of its sheath and raced after the boar. Cries of your name from the General and Nina mingled in the air, shattering the peace of the forest.

You didn’t remember much about being young or playful, but you could recall this one time when you’d chased after a puppy and almost fallen into a swift river. You were seven at the time. This was similar to that, in that rushing after a wild boar in a maze of a forest was also stupid.

It was hard to run in the soft snow but you kept going, your eyes somehow keeping track of the darting animal. You hadn’t thought this through. There was no way you could take on such a large animal with a knife. And your special skill set of powers drew the line at animals.

What sounded like rapid footsteps snatched your attention away from the boar for a split second. You whirled around, looking a bit like a madman with dagger clutched in hand and waving high in the air like a standard. No one was behind you. No woodland creature, no stranger, not even the Darkling or Nina. Just the quiet woods, the trees deadly silent.

The mistake of that one moment of hesitation cost you your potential amplifier. The boar had disappeared. Dejected and confused, you paused, looking around and realising with some fear that you were well into Fjerdan territory, with no idea how to make it back to the hunting party.

You turned around, following the remnants of your boot prints. The snowfall had increased in intensity, most of the marks were half concealed already.

Again, a pattering of footsteps was heard. Muffled by the snow but agile.

Tightening your fist around your weapon again you turned around.

A wisp of a man entered your periphery before your eyes closed and a pained gasp left your mouth as you fell to your knees. Agony, coloured in shades of red and black like your kefta, burst underneath your eyelids. Your dagger was snatched away from your grasp.

The snow was so cold to the touch that it burned. You tried to move your hands to summon your powers but it wouldn’t work. Your attacker cleverly stayed outside your line of vision.

No, not attacker. Attackers. You could discern two voices, heavily accented and speaking rapidly in a foreign tongue. A hand made its way around your throat, yanking your head back roughly. You struggled blindly, twisting and turning in an attempt to free yourself but to no avail. The other man grabbed your wrists tightly, as though he was trying to shatter your bones through his grip. He shackled your wrists in a unique mechanism which kept your hands apart using a log. Pushing too hard against it meant risking a dislocation or fracture.

Even through the haze of pain splitting your skull open, you knew you’d fallen into the hands of Drüskelle. One of the men came into your line of vision, staring down at you with insurmountable hatred and confirmed your suspicions.

“Drüsje.” He spat, his rough, calloused hand colliding with your bleeding face.

“I was so scared,” You said, sitting down on the chaise lounge, covered in expensive violet and gold brocade, “I didn’t know what to do. In theory, I thought I could take them on but in the face of danger, all my courage disappeared.”

“You had barely been training for half a year,” Aleksander replied, taking a seat beside you, “You stood your ground.”

You had no energy to push him away, push yourself away, storm off, nothing. You were so tired. His body emanated heat and you recalled how good it had felt to jump into his arms, consequences be damned, after being freed from the clutches of the Drüskelle.

“I never told you this,” You stared at the burning fireplace, not even blinking, “But when they captured me, they ripped off a piece of my kefta. They said they would hang it up in the dining hall of the Ice Court for everyone to see after they killed me. And I don’t know why but that…that was more humiliating than being beaten into a pulp.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He questioned softly. You noticed his hand twitch slightly and then dart back into position, as if he wanted to reach out and touch you but refrained.

“I wear my kefta with a great deal more pride than others. I don’t fully know why, it’s one of those things you can’t accurately put into words. But I suspect it has something to do with the fact that it was kept away from me for so long. I finally felt like I belonged, like this was my home. Belonging is addictive, it’s a far more potent drug than people give it credit for.”

You turned to look at him but he was looking at the fireplace now. The sun was so bleak outside, barely there, mimicking how you felt.

“So you see, seeing Alina in that kefta was a little bit like making room in your home for an unwanted guest,” You said, strangely calm despite your melancholia, “Like when mold creeps into the walls and kills you from the inside.”

“That was never my intention,” He replied, “I never meant to hurt you.”

You smiled to yourself, a private joke, “That is exactly what you said when I was captured.”

You’d been stashed against the rough bark of a tree like a forgotten sack of potatoes for what felt like hours. The snowfall had only worsened as the sun set. Every breath you exhaled curled in the air like thick smoke.

The Fjerdans, used to the cold as they were, also seemed to be struggling. The fire would keep dying out because of the onslaught of snow from the sky and it was impossible to trudge farther till the weather improved.

Currently, your chances of being slaughtered in the Ice Court and freezing to death were equally viable.

There were bruises blooming on the skin of your wrists from how much you’d struggled to free yourself from your restraints. The cuffs were very sturdy and you couldn’t bring your hands within a foot of each other thanks to the contraption.

The Drüskelle had been speaking to each other quietly, but even they had fallen silent, trying to conserve their energy against the cold. Anytime you’d made your existence known by struggling, shouting, trying to break free, they had steadfastly ignored you. As if you weren’t even there.

Had it been hours? Must be, the moon had overtaken the sun in the sky. Tiny particles of ice crystals were hanging onto the ends of your damp hair, glinting in the moonlight.

For a long time you’d kept tears at bay but now they filled your eyes. You’d find a home, your people albeit in small quantities, but still. It was so painful to have everything torn away from you when you finally had something to lose. Something happy, something yours.

The tears were kind of a relief as they rolled down your cheeks, warm against your chilled skin.

You blinked, expelling the tears and clearing your blurred vision as you sat up straight. A shadow seemed to have darted between the cluster of trees in the distance. You focused your eyes on that spot for minutes, but detected no movement. You slumped down along with the hope in your heart.

One of the Drüskelle, having noticed your sudden movement and taking it as an indication that you were trying to plot an escape moved to sit closer to you. It took everything in you not to shy away from the man.

Six months was not long enough to forget Ketterdam.

The thought of having to combat with potential wild animals alongside the cold was not a welcome one.

It seemed improbable that you were getting out of this alive. What was it that the Drüskelle had said? “Djel comenden.” You weren’t fluent in the Fjerdan language by any means but this one you knew. "Djel commands it to be so". Their god commanded them to take your life. Funny how one religion had saved your life and now another was about to end it.

It seemed like a childish fancy to believe that the General was scouring the snow-laden plains looking for you but it made you hold on to the life that seemed to be slipping through your fingers. This life which had been so full of anguish but had been fashioned into something worth saving by him. It was quite clear now, in the face of obvious death, that you adored him.

What a strange thing…love. No, not love. Was it love? How would you be able to tell, you’d never experienced it before.

You prayed to all your Saints, everyone you could think of, offering them a bargaining chip in exchange for your life.

‘If I get to see him again, I swear I’ll never be afraid of love ever again. I’ll show him that I love him and I won’t be scared.’

You just wanted to see them again. Everyone, not just him.

So much of you was a part of them.

Every time you saw someone eat waffles, you thought of Nina. The way you sometimes smiled with your head ducked down and your lips pressed tightly was borrowed from Genya. You associated ill-timed jokes wholly with Fedyor, fatherly disapproval with Ivan. Even scowls and scoffs with Zoya.

What a horribly sad way to die. Cold, alone—

The twang of a bowstring rung out through the deathly silent air. Both you and the heavily-built man next to you perked up. He turned to his partner with a worried look on his face. His partner, whose striking feature had been his brilliantly blue eyes, keeled over without any warning, landing on the snow with a soft thump. An arrow stuck out from his neck, drowning the snow in red. His eyes were blown wide open and completely devoid of life. His finger twitched sickly before his body sagged.

The other man wasted no time in pulling you in front of him to use as a human shield. You went limply, having lost all your energy.

The shadow from earlier, appeared from behind a tree, taking the familiar form of Ivan as he stepped into the sliver of moonlight. Never before had seeing the grim-faced Heartrender filled you with such exaltation.

More shadows appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Nina’s face was screwed into a mix of worry and relief. And the General…well, he looked angered beyond comprehension.

Relieved, a chuckle of disbelief escaped your mouth. You tried to lurch forward until you felt a line of cool metal pressing against your neck. The Drüskelle’s thick arm had wormed its way around your throat like a huge python and a shiny dagger pressed against your throat threateningly.

“Vronche.” The man cursed, spitting out the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Are you hurt?” The Darkling asked you, ignoring the presence of the man completely. You shook your head, as much as you could anyway with the dagger digging into your throat.

“Let her go.” He turned to the man calmly, sounding almost bored. His voice rang out true and clear, puncturing the silence of the night.

“I don’t think so.” The man answered, his accent thickly enveloping the words. He had positioned your body directly over his, ensuring that the General couldn’t use his Cut on him without slicing through you too.

“You’re surrounded,” He replied, “Look around you. You will never make it out of this alive.”

The man twisted his head around, first left then right, and found that he truly was circled by Grisha.

“Why is this girl special?” He hissed, pressing the knife into your skin harshly, “What can she do?”

A frightened whimper died in your throat. You could feel warm, sticky blood starting to drip down your neck. The wound wasn’t deep enough to kill but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t soon turn fatal.

“She isn’t.” The General replied, eyeing the trickle of blood.

“Lögnare!” The soldier spat, “You wouldn’t have waded through this storm for just anyone. You have killed a holy soldier of Fjerda. She must pay with her life, an eye for an eye!”

“General…” The word slipped from your mouth involuntarily, the intonation of it sounding like that of a scared child calling out for their parent.

His eyes flickered to you, and then away. Doubt crept up in your heart, would he really let you die? But he’d come this far in search of you!

“No, she’s precious,” He laughed, “It hurts you to see her hurt.”

“Is that what you think?” The Darkling laughed right back, chilling your blood, “Kill her for all I care. I’m not here for her, I’m here to kill you. You might as well kill her and get your revenge because either way, you are not leaving with your life.”

He wouldn’t even look at you. He was selling your life away and he wouldn’t even look at you.

The Drüskelle looked around again. It seemed even he’d understood that today was the last day he’d have air in his lungs. He’d made peace with it, it seemed. But you hadn’t. You weren’t ready to die, not like this.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared to kill.” The General mocked.

You closed your eyes.

“Djel comenden!” The man whispered harshly in your ear again.

There was searing pain, a horrible ringing in your ears, and then black.

“I would have never let you die.” Aleksander said, gripping your hand tightly.

“How would I have known that?” You asked, hating the way his fingers wrapped around yours so perfectly, as if his body had been created to love yours, “I hadn’t known you loved me then.”

Letting you bleed out even if it was for but a moment was a necessary part of the plan he’d hatched. The moment your body had crumpled, no longer shielding the Drüskelle, he’d severed the man cleanly in half using his Cut.

The healer who’d healed Ivan’s arm, enabling him to shoot that first arrow, had worked her magic over you, closing the wound on your neck. You hadn’t felt that, or Nina’s hot tears falling onto your cheeks as she hovered over you, or Aleksander’s fingers brushing your hair back from your face.

You hadn’t opened your eyes again until you were back in your bed in the Little Palace.

“It’s hard to think about that day,” You said, “It was so horrifying but then again, it gave me you. I don’t know if one thing made up for the other but…”

The sky outside was a silvery black. It was a clear night, no clouds to hide the stars from view.

It was a little mind-boggling to have closed your eyes when it was night and then opened them under the haze of nightfall again. It seemed as if only a minute had passed.

But a whole day had gone by.

A sort of fatigue clung to your bones, a result of having been sedated for so long. You walked over to your mirror with the unsure steps of a toddler, as if you’d been reborn. Maybe you had.

An inflamed scar, coloured in pale pink ran straight across your throat. The healer couldn’t take the scar away.

You gently lifted your fingers to it, touching it gingerly, testing out if it still hurt. Feeling nothing, you pressed down harder. The raised, mutilated skin felt gruesome under your touch and you recoiled for a second, disgusted by your own body. Your face seemed fine, not horribly disfigured like you were scared it would be. A thin red line ran over the corner of your lip from where the Drüskelle had struck you.

The promise you’d made to your saints before having your throat cleanly slit rang in your head. But how were you going to tell him anything now that you’d seen he would’ve sacrificed you so easily?

For the next few minutes you paced around your room, stared in the mirror multiple times, looked up at the ceiling in hopes of divine intervention and ultimately arrived at the conclusion that you had to see him. For what you didn’t know, pretty sure that any confessional courage had left you.

The palace was quiet, it was just past midnight.

There were Oprichniki stationed outside your door, which was a very new occurrence. Surprised, you blinked at them.

“The General has asked you to stay inside.” One of them informed you curtly.

“Well, I’m going to see him so I suppose it’ll be fine.” You replied, only now realising how hoarse your voice sounded.

They looked hesitant but made no effort to stop you.

You quickly realised traipsing through the halls of the palace in your nightgown as if you were a heroine in a gothic novel was not a situation you were fond of being in. The Oprichnik outside his door went inside to announce your presence, before allowing you into his room.

The room was shrouded in darkness, a few candles burning in holders. You’d only been in his room twice or thrice before, which in itself was a lot. Most people spent their entire lives in the Little Palace without ever having seen the inside of the Darkling’s room.

“I’m glad to see you’re well.” He said softly, standing near the doorway of his bedroom.

“Am I?” You asked, shrugging your shoulders and bring a hand up to rest against your throat.

“I can have Genya fix that scar if you want.”

“I wasn’t talking about the scar,” You replied, stepping closer to him, “And I don’t know if I will have it removed.”

The General seemed much softer on the outside than he usually did under the candlelight, but you could still hear his voice, welcoming the Drüskelle to kill you. It sounded far away, as if in a dream but that nasty scar on your neck reminded you that it wasn’t.

“What’s wrong then?” He asked.

“I should’ve died,” You answered, the words seeming strange in your mouth, like burnt caramel, something which you expected to be sweet but it made you wince with its bitter taste, “He—He killed me. You bent the laws of nature bringing me back but no one comes back from that the same.”

“You didn’t die,” He said, standing in front of you now, “Even I can’t bring back the dead.”

You felt broken on the inside. Like your insides were starting to crack like a mirror. Your skin felt too tight, your senses felt heightened, and you didn’t feel like yourself. And yes, maybe it would fade, maybe it would be gone by tomorrow morning. If that happened, good.

But what if it didn’t? What if it stayed?

“Would you really have let that man kill me?” You asked, tilting your head up and demanding an answer of him, “What if the healer couldn’t reach me in time?”

“I…” He looked down at the carpet, his face moulded into a faintly painful expression, “I never meant to hurt you. I don’t think I could ever let anyone else hurt you either.”

Your throat was closing up, making it hard to breathe. You tried to swallow around the imaginary block in your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Why?” You asked, voice cracking midway.

He smiled, and it was a sad sort of smile, as though he’d heard that question from others before you and hadn’t had an answer to it then and didn’t have one now.

He raised a nervous hand and pushed back a lock of hair behind your ear. And he said, “Don’t you know why?”

“I’m not used to hoping about these things, General.” You whispered, encircling his wrist in your hand, feeling the dull drumming of his pulse pressing against your fingers.

“Since we’re both clear on how much you mean to me now, may I entrust you with a secret?” He questioned, brushing his knuckles over your cheek.

You nodded, feeling intrigued but also a little alarmed. Secrets were the most highly traded and precious currency in Ravka. And to hear a secret coming from the mouth of the most powerful man in the whole country? You felt undeserving yet strangely proud.

“Names are very powerful,” He continued, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, “And I don’t give mine to people easily. But I wish to present you with it, so if you will have it…it’s yours.”

You stared at him with wide eyes. How absurd on your part to fall for a man without even knowing his name. This moment, this would forever change the course of your life. If anything ever went wrong, this was a secret you would have to pay for with your life.

He continued to look at you expectantly.

“Yes,” You nodded again, breathless, “Yes, I shall have it.”

The words had come out before the brain had rationalised them.

He smiled and leaned in. You could feel his breath against your lips. Involuntarily, you closed your eyes, trembling in anticipation. Or was it fear?

“Aleksander.”

“Aleksander?” It came out as more of a question, a curious, surprised inflection at the end.

“Say it again.” He urged.

“Aleksander,” You breathed out, feeling strangely overcome by an emotion you had no name for, “Aleksander.”

You started a little when he pressed his lips to yours, taken aback despite the tremendous build-up to this very moment. He hesitated, trying to pull away, taking your stiffness as a sign of rejection. You looped your arms around his shoulder suddenly, pulling him closer.

It was a desperate kind of kiss, not reserved and subtle like between adults but frantic and breathless like between a boy and a girl. Two people who’d kept their feelings at bay for so long now clinging onto each other, reveling in the taste and feel of the other.

The first man you’d ever loved, loved you back.

“We were always different than other people, no?” You asked, giving him a tight-lipped smile, “Other people call their lovers their heart, or their soul but you…you are my strength. And that makes more of a difference than I shall ever be able to express.”

“And you’re mine,” He insisted, “You always have been. You know this!”

You shook your head, freeing your hand from his grasp. It fell away, like the crumbling walls of the home you’d built with him.

“I used to know it. Now, I’m not so sure. But I hope this once, that you’re right and I’m wrong,” You tried to smile, to cover up the tears welling in your eyes, “Because living in a world where I don’t have you, is not a world I wish to live in.”

“You don’t—” He struggled to string his words together, “You don’t have to live in a world like that. I’m yours. I only need Alina to destroy the Fold so I can give you a home and a life that isn’t rife with violence all the time.”

He reached for your hand again, pulling it to his mouth and brushing his lips against your knuckles.

The truth was, you didn’t come out of that near-death experience the same. You came out stronger, but also crueler. Rougher. Full of a thirst for vengeance you didn’t understand but chased after.

You came out like the dagger that had nearly taken your life.

What hadn’t you done for him? Killed, tortured. But also created a life for not just the two of you but all your fellow Grisha. Fought to keep them alive, fought so that they could get the respect they deserved. At times, fighting for those things had driven you down very dark lanes. But you’d questioned nothing, acting out of blind obedience and love.

Now something you’d never felt before was gnawing away at the insides of your mind, eroding every ideal that had once existed. Something akin to regret.

“It might be impertinent to demand something of the General of the Second Army but I’m not demanding this from him,” You said, squaring your shoulders and exhaling deeply, “I’m asking this of my lover. From Aleksander, not from the Darkling. Fix this. Please.”

He turned away to look through the window, the sounds of his Grisha engaged in training still floating in. It seemed cruel that the world should carry on as it always had while your life came to a painful halt.

“I want things to go back to what they were like. Before her, before any of this. You owe me this much.”

He didn’t say a word. You hated the silence. The firewood continued to splutter as it burned to a crisp.

“I’ve always chosen you, Aleksander,” You said, “Above everyone and everything, myself included. Don’t make me choose between you and I again because I’m not sure I’ll choose you anymore.”

"Is it insensitive for me to say "Get your shit together, so I can love you?""

Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift ; Renegade

#tag list #sinners and saints #reblog

39 notes · View notes