#Aleksander Morozova; threads
@mysticaltwoface “I feel peace with you.”(Alina/Time Misplaced!Aleksander)
HE TURNED HIS HEAD ever so sharply. the man had a lot of apprehension and a lack of trust, especially since many thought he was the Darking and tried to kill him for such. “ You ----- you make me feel the same,”
10 notes · View notes
IT TAKES A MOMENT ------he has been speaking ( or perhaps preaching is the better word ) at length about plans and duties and destinies. and while max is likely not as engaged in the conversation as she could be, there’s a sense that this is mostly for his own benefit, anyway.
but something in the monologue snags her attention, and she trips over the last minute or so to try to hone in on what it had been. they’d all heard the stories, but to see it --- hear it --- and understand that here in this being who’d lived many years longer than max can comprehend exists such a human weakness... she almost laughs.
❝ oh my goddess, you’re in love with her. ❞
send 💬 for randomly generated dialogue ------ @ofeden || aleksander
2 notes · View notes
i want my life back // from alina to aleksander // @feyrae
how the sunbeam chafes beneath the collars weight, how she squirms within the scaly cuffs. freedom she demands. her life she declares taken. but where once affection bloomed in his gaze, where once her voice brought forth his humanity - now — now he stifles it. she will be his tool, she will be his weapon, since she would not become it willingly, then unwillingly it will be. a sneer marks pretty features, the audacity of beauty lines an ageless face, dark eyes flash with emotion best left unexplored.
‘ your life back? alina alina —.. your life as fodder for the canons? your pathetic little tracker? sleeping around and never even noticing you? who do you think you were alina? anyone? you were potential left to rot in darkness. you were power and beauty left to molder amongst the underbrush. i have raised you to my side, i have given you everything that befits your radiance. and when i asked for your power, for your loyalty — you turn me down? ‘
he is looking at her now like a worshipper who finally meets their god and they are absolutely lacking. like the child who chases fireflies and thinks they’ll catch a star and instead find an insect trapped in grimy hands. she demands her life back — when he cannot see she had one to get back to to begin with. it is almost pity in his gaze, he steps towards her — finger brushing her jawline. knowing how her power surges to his touch, knowing how she once felt to his touch.
‘ i am trying to make the world a better place for our people alina. would you not make the sacrifice for them if they asked? you would not let me use you without force — you have made me your villain. so do not plead as if i am your friend. ‘
3 notes · View notes
a quick starter from MARYA for ALEKSANDER ( @aleksling )
they had said he might remind her of koschei, but marya does not see the proof of it, save for the darkness. “you think you are the most powerful piece on the board, but it is the men who think they are the most powerful of all who often fall the hardest.” a brow lifts, her arms fold, the blood-red gems in her hair almost burning in the firelight. “you are not the only one at war - - my husband’s kingdom has been at it longer than even you have lived. so.” her head tips, becoming at once the general she has made of herself, shaped by magic and sheer force of circumstance. “why should we commit any of our army to your cause?”
3 notes · View notes
𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 : 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 . though this was true , the universe had a twisted sense of irony . for shadow survived despite his light being snuffed away . the sun summoner . his fated enemy became much more than that . love was more dangerous than hate , he soon realized . years spent together , only to end with the strike of an arrowhead . it pierced alina’s heart but split his in two . it was then that the fold was created . if his light was gone , so shall everyone else’s . nonetheless , he was pulled back from the darkness each time he slipped . the light shined on him again &&. again . they would need to start over each time , him explaining to her the past lives they had together , but then it would end too soon . alina was continuously taken from him .
it had been decades without any talk of a sun summoner . his concern was increasing with each year that passed . what if she wouldn’t come back to him this time ? his choices had left him unworthy of the saint . aleksander was losing hope up until he caught a glimpse of her . far away from him , standing aboard the skiff &&. heading straight into the darkness he created . it had been a week since the events that transpired in the fold . a week since the world was blessed with another sun summoner— little did they know that the sun &&. shadows were the same wielders as before .
alina wasn’t speaking to anyone , clearly shaken by the sudden changes . aleksander had given her more time than he wanted . having her so close without being with her . . . it was torment . he had finally given in to his urges &&. walked through her propped door , ❝ miss starkov ? ❞ he had tested her , saved her from the ambush , but they hadn’t spoken . not for an extended period of time . ❝ how have you been adjusting ? this has been quite a change . is there anything i can do to make you feel less like a prisoner ? ❞ words recalled her inquisition from when they first arrived at the little palace . darkened orbs started into hers . the passion unable to dismiss . perhaps this was the time where they could remain together . they would come out victorious together , rather than ripped apart .
@myuuzupunk for that reincarnated lovers thing!
3 notes · View notes
‘ you disappoint me alina, ’ he said gravely. a twinge of grief noted his voice too, but that was less important to him or to any one else in the grand scheme of things. for too long he had begged for a chance to be understood in a starless universe, and time after time he found there was no bout of hope for him. or his kind. perhaps that was the price of eternity. alina starkov, he had thought, could have been the one. the one to understand, to see the world as he saw it and feel the piercing grip of loneliness the way he had. but alas, she was willing to waste it all away over semantics. so be it. ‘ that is dangerous, you know, disappointing me. ’ lounging in his black seat, the darkling gave a lethargic wave of his hand, claw-ring gleaming, almost as if he were bored. bored and bitter. ‘ i would have thought you would know better than that. ’
♡ 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 / 𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙰 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙺𝙾𝚅. @solkorolcva.
3 notes · View notes
Draw your swords, pt. 13
Summary: Terrified of losing Y/N, the Darkling lets his defenses fall.
Warnings: angst, slight fluff, sexual content
Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine // Part ten // Part eleven // Part twelve
“Stay with me”, the Darkling trembled as he rushed back to the camp. He held her body close to his chest, her head slumped right where his heart beats thunderstorms in her name.
She’s slipping away, he can feel it. The injuries she suffered and the power she used weakened her irreversibly.
He should be angry with her, enraged, but he had no strength to spare for violent emotions. His heart couldn’t bare much more than the pain he found himself drowning in. It wasn’t the pain of his own wounds, rather the pain of her parted lips and ragged breaths that came like final gushes of air her lungs released.
“HEALER!” He shouted, hoping, praying to the Saints he never believed in before.
“HEALER!” There was something in his screams for help, an unimaginable pain behind it.
Y/N’s fingers twitched, her chest rising in a strange manner; what should expand with an inhale suddenly draws in, a paradox he had seen in dying soldiers.
“HEALER!” It was the kind of scream that went straight for the heart.
Everyone tensed, following the Darkling – a man who never showed genuine emotion other than rage. His call for healers felt like a cry from the heart and soul that stretched across the foundations of who he is. The anguish tore through him as he saw a healer run toward him.
Letting out a shuddered breath in relief, he collapsed to his knees. “Not me!” He growled as the healer tried placing her hands on him, “Help her! Save my wife!”
Nodding, the healer looked down at Y/N with wide eyes. Another healer arrived too, then another, and another.
The Darkling refused to let her out of his embrace as two of the healers tried to take her away. “No!”
“We have to take her”, the first healer insisted. “She doesn’t have long and we have to act fast and that’s not going to happen while you’re clinging to her!” Eyes wide, she covers her mouth as it dawns on her who she’s speaking to. “Respectfully, General.”
Staring at her with raw suffering, Aleksander licked his trembling lips. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her temple instead of her forehead – forehead kisses in this moment would feel as if he’s kissing her corpse before her final rest.
He couldn’t stomach that thought.
“If you die, I’ll never forgive you”, he whispers.
This isn’t how it’s meant to be, how it’s supposed to be. He could never believe anyone ever loved anyone the way he loves her.
Nothing ever made him so frightened as the thought of losing her.
“Take her”, Mal tells them. Looking down at Kirigan who seemed incapable of standing back up on his own, he realized he had to take over.. “And send someone for your General. Send everyone for the wounded in the field.”
Aleksander looked up, jaw clenched and eyes swimming in tears he has yet to shed.
“I’m not leaving”, Mal quipped. “She’s my General.”
Y/N wasn’t able to scream, despite the pain darkening her mind. She tried to focus on her breathing, on staying alive. The only awareness she had was of Aleksander’s arms around her – she felt his scent. When he touched her face, when he tried to gain her attention, she couldn’t open her eyes. Her ears kept ringing, mixing with a rumbling inside his chest. She managed to blink her eyes open once, just one more time to see him, but all she managed to get was a glimpse of his chin and beard.
She wondered how he’d look without it, if it would make him seem boyish, softer. Maybe it would have erased the burden on his shoulders - they may be wide, but they shouldn’t have to carry all that weight alone.
Suddenly, his scent was gone. She tried to reach for him, but her arms could not move, hanging freely instead. Cold seeped in, clinging to her insides, wrapping itself around her heart.
Slowly, her agony had faded. The pain gradually lifted, dissipating like fog. For a moment, she wondered if this is what death feels like – no more pain? No more suffering? Being alone and cold?
Despite everything, if she had a choice, she’d embrace the pain. If pain means she would return to him, to his warm arms, she’d gladly suffer.
Dizzy, confused, she felt herself being pulled up into reality. The disjointed haze receded enough for her to make sense of the world around her. Her eyelids feel heavy as she opens her eyes, the edges of her vision flickering. Blinking fast, her eyebrows knitted as her vision blurred.
‘Aleksander’, she wanted to call, but couldn’t say a word.
How odd it is that he’s the last one she thought about when she thought she’d die and he’s still the first one to come to mind when she wakes?
She no longer felt cold. He always had the ability to keep the cold away.
Sniffling, she jerked her hands away as she became aware of another’s touch. Sitting up on a table she was laid upon, she pulled herself aside before looking to the one who touched her earlier.
“It’s just me”, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “I needed to see you.” His voice is soft, sweet like honey.
Scoffing, she narrows her eyes at him and the cup of water he held out for her to take. Her mouth is dry, her throat like sandpaper. She may be angry with him, but the water he held out felt more important than their fight.
“Are you in any pain?” He asks, watching her drink all of the water in one go. “I could have them come and take it away.”
Letting out a loud sigh, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Raising an eyebrow, she licked her dry lips.
“Can they take you away?”
Snorting, he suppresses a smile. As long as she’s capable of annoying him, she’s going to be fine.
“What were you thinking?” Threading his fingers through his hair, Aleksander frowned. “You could have died.”
“Would have saved you a lot of trouble in the future”, she quips. Standing, she stumbles.
Feeling his hands on her waist, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Even now, when she’d like nothing more than to walk away, her body reacts to him. Looking up at him, she inhales sharply as she sees the tears in his eyes.
“I’m scared”, he admitted and she blinked.
“Of what?” She frowned, “Me?” Does her power frighten him? Because it frightens her.
He shook his head, “Of me”, he looked at her. His hands trembled as they touched her skin, “I’m scared of hurting you.”
“I’m scared of you hurting me, too.”
Dropping his hand, he takes a step back. “I don’t think I’m capable of ever hurting you.”
“Tell that to my neck”, she remarks. Her hand brushes over where his hand had tightened its grip just the night before, fixing his gaze on him. He seemed to regret it.
‘Good’, she thought. ‘I hope it haunts him, because it will haunt me.’
“I apologize”, Aleksander swallows thickly. He can’t remember the last time he apologized to someone. A part of him questioned if he ever apologized for anything he’s done in his unusually long life. “I had no right to act the way I did.”
“You once told me I could choose the way to punish you if you ever hurt me”, she takes his hand, intertwining their fingers.
Aleksander nods, “I’m a man of my word.”
“What’s your name”, she asks. “Real name.”
His eyes locked on hers like magnets of different polarities. Isn’t that exactly what they are? She’s his polar opposite in every way, fated to attract.
“Aleksander Morozova.” He uttered a name long forgotten; a name he wanted to forget.
Aleksander was a weak boy who failed everyone that cared for him. He was soft, young, naïve and a damned fool for ever believing Grisha would ever be free. Even now as he elevated their status, Grisha had to serve a human – the Tsar.
Her eyes held barely contained anger. As her hands clasped, a few stray flickers of light appeared on her fingertips. Unclasping her hands immediately, she raised her chin up. “I want to know everything. Tell me your story.”
“And when will I hear yours?” Darkling demanded, swiping his thumb under his lower lip.
“You seem to mistake this for negotiations”, she maintained eye contact defiantly. “Last night you told me to either go back to the Palace or to cross the fold and return to my father. It’s a choice that would easily mean I can choose to stay with you or leave and never look back.”
Placing a hand on his chest, Y/N smirked. “You can either tell me the whole truth or watch me leave.” She spoke through gritted teeth, “Don’t push me unless you’re willing to lose.”
Cupping his left cheek, she allowed a luminescent glow cast a light on his handsome features. She was angry, so angry and tired and her own power often terrified her. For once, she wanted to use it for her own benefit rather than hide it.
“What good will it do?” Aleksander’s bottom lip quivers as her light illuminates tears collecting in his dark eyes. “You’ll hate me as they all do. Even my mother saw me as a monster.”
“I’ve seen what you really are. And I never turned away…what makes you think I will now?”
She felt his jaw clench under the palm of her hand as he swallowed thickly, “You would if you could see my heart, all of it.”
Exhaling through her nose, she shook her head. Her eyes soften, her lips parting. How could she ever be indifferent to his suffering? She wished she could be colder, to leave him in tears and not look back. Hearing his words, his belief that he’s unlovable tugged at her heartstrings.
"Have you no faith in me?"
In a fight, they’re lethal, but around each other their armor is gone.
“I’ve waited for you for centuries. I dreamed about you for hundreds of years before I ever saw your face. I longed for you, missed you, died and lived for you.” Taking her face in his hands, Aleksander bends. His forehead meets hers as his nose brushes against the tip of hers.
“Ever since I laid eyes on you, my dreams have been clearer, focused on you. And in my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you’re whispering ‘where have you been’”, his eyes overflow with tears as he continues with a fractured smile. “I say, ‘I’ve been lost, but I’m here now’.”
Swallowing thickly, he felt as if his heart was breaking. “You’re the only person who has ever been able to find the real me. You saw me underneath all the darkness.” Reaching for her hand, his fingers tremble. “I was waiting for you without knowing it. I’ll make up for all the mistakes, for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.”
“So why is it so hard for you to be honest with me?” She whispers, her hands trembling as they hold onto his shoulders.
His frown deepens, “Why weren’t you honest with me?”
“You once joked and said I’m no Inferni”, she shrugged. “You were right about that. My mother was. Father never knew about either of us. Your turn.”
“I was honest”, he sighs. Stepping back, he frowns. “I told you my name, I answered your questions about the black heretic.”
Reaching for him, she felt her heartache intensify once his tears began to flow freely across his cheeks.
“Don’t”, he recoiled from her touch. She wrapped her arms around her own waist, hurt by the rejection.
“It’s not easy for me to talk about my past. It’s as if I’m cutting myself open, letting the ugliness spill out. It’s not painless.” Swallowing thickly, Darkling’s eyes widen as he tries to hold back more tears from escaping him. “It would have been simpler to close myself off and find an unremarkable lover who’d never dare defy me, but I keep taking the risk because I want to be with you and I hope that one day you will feel the same way about me.”
“I want”, she stopped, tucking her hair behind her ears.
His voice was quieter, “What do you want? I’ll give you everything.”
“I don’t know”, she replied honestly. “I’m hurt, Aleks. You hurt me after you promised to protect me.”
Running a hand across his face, wiping his tears away. He averts his gaze. Watching her break because of him deepens the cracks in his poorly stapled, bleeding heart.
“What do you want”, she looked to him with a weight in her chest. How can loving someone hurt so badly even when the love is reciprocated?
“Never mind what I want”, he turned away. Facing her now would have chipped away at his fragile sanity, so he did what a coward would – he hid.
“You asked what I want”, she placed her hands on her hips. “I want to know what you want.”
Shaking his head, he let out a breathless chuckle. “You”, he smiled. “I’ll always want you.”
Closing the distance between them, she closed her arms around his neck. Before she could reach for him, he gripped her by her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Wrapping her legs around his waist on instinct, she got lost in the rush of blood to her head when he pinned her against the table behind her. He paused, searching her eyes.
Whatever he was looking for, she hoped he found it.
“I don’t own you”, his eyes flicker to her lips as she sinks her front teeth into the soft flesh of her bottom lip. “I never did. Human or Grisha, you always owned me. I was just too blind to see it.”
Brushing his lips against hers, Aleksander smiled in resignation. His eyes are so different in moments like these, softer than she ever imagined eyes could be.
“Your silver tongue won’t get you far”, she struggled to keep her eyes open with his lips a whisper away. “But you’re free to try.”
She felt his burning gaze, finding it hard to concentrate on much besides breathing. He observed her, capturing her soft, naturally charming and appealing nature. She’s genuine and sweet, the reason why everyone’s head turns when she walks into the room.
How did he not realize it before?
She’s the sun.
She always was.
He always did squint angrily at her like he does with the fireball in the sky.
Y/N’s hands ran up and down his chest as her lips claimed his - passionately, roughly, determinedly. Without a word, she started to unbutton his kefta, her cold fingertips brushing his warm skin - until she lost patience and ripped the bottom part wide open, pressing her palm against his chest as he broke the kiss.
“Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrows in concern.
“I’ll be mad at you tomorrow. Kiss me”, she ordered, drawing a smile on his lips as she pulled him closer, her lips reattaching to his, her teeth sinking into his lower one.
Pushing him onto the floor, she didn’t waste time. Her bottoms were down so quickly he hardly had time to take a proper breath before she unfastened his pants too.
Heaving, Aleksander could hardly get enough of the view on top of him - her beautiful mouth opening in pleasure every time she sunk down on him, her eyes rolling back into her head, her hands placed over his chest to keep herself steady. She speeds up, prompting his loud, uninhibited moans that drew an honest smile upon her lips. He trusted up and into her as his high hit fully, taking her by surprise. She gasped, his thrust giving her an unexpected release as she clenched around him.
Gasping for breath, she laid on top of him. Y/N was very aware of his arm around her as it pulled her close, his hand on her hip, giving it a light squeeze. He leaned into her, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her temple, making her tingle with anticipation of something more - something she shouldn’t think about after their argument.
How can she trust his change of heart has nothing to do with the fact she’s the Sun Summoner? How can she ever trust him at all?
Clearing her throat, she pulled herself off Aleksander. “Put something on, someone might come in”, she told him as she secured her pants back on. She could hardly look at him, afraid he’d weaken her resolve. She couldn’t forgive him so easily, even if her heart ached for him.
“Let me in”, a voice from outside the tent made Y/N look to the entrance with a frown.
She crossed the distance swiftly, her hands ready in case she had to use her sword. She goes to place her hand on the hilt only to find her sword is not on her.
It’s a good thing that’s not her only weapon.
“Hey!” She shouts at the Grisha as they pulled someone away. “Stop!”
“General?!” Mal laughs as he manages to look back at her, fighting against the Grisha.
“Mal?” She chuckles, glad to see he’s still alive.
“Leave him alone!” She orders, feeling a presence behind her. She didn’t need to look to know it’s Aleksander. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t in the mood for anymore talking.
“You’re alive?!” Mal goes in for the hug, but his eyes catch a glimpse of Kirigan’s glare and he slowly backs away. “We need to regroup.”
“How many have we lost?” She frowns.
“You’re Grisha now”, Aleksander speaks up. “You don’t have to fight for the humans.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she scoffs at him. How could he even think she’d give up on her people now?
“That’s not something I’d like. I enjoy my humanity.”
She was the flame who lit his life on fire and while he was burning, he wanted to thank her for it and ask her to stay a while longer. Darkling nearly chuckled at the thought of calling her fire, but she is and he craves the burn.
The Darkling wanted Y/N to be the one addicted to him, in equal measure as he was addicted to her. He wanted to give her a reason to stay with him, if not for love, then for lust. He’d find a way to her heart in the meantime and knowing they’ll have a forever comforts him, but he needed to have her in every other way until then.
He knew he could make her truly happy if she’d let him and he wasn’t about to let her go.
Not without a fight.
Watching her walk away with the soldier, he clicked his tongue. Mal, whoever he is, poses a threat he needs to handle.
A/N - I struggled so much writing this chapter, hope you guys like it. I’m probably gonna pass out now, I’m exhausted. xx
Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl @yagorlemmalyn @gonehopelessgirl @fefethecoffeeaddict @naughtynecromancer @poison-of-the-ivie @strawb3rrydr3ss @supersouthy @theilliterateironman @evyiione @kimoranelson03 @wizardwheezes @woodsabby6 @liajiah @its-carlerrr
614 notes · View notes
We Are Eternal
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader
Summary: Your husband’s closeness to Alina makes you jealous, but she is nothing to him...
A few weeks had passed since the Sun Summoner had arrived at the Little Palace, and the Winter Fete was in full swing. You stood at your husband’s side, his hand in yours, both draped in your black keftas, yours made of fine silk, Y/G/C thread woven in intricate patterns, Aleksander’s black corecloth, black thread signifying his status as the Darkling. “You look beautiful,” he whispered in your ear. “My Y/N, you are radiant.” “Thank you, Aleksander.”
The Inferni, Squallers, and Tidemakers began their show: flame, wind, and water flying above the guests’ heads, making them gasp with delight. When a rainbow appeared in the mist, Aleksander chuckled, and you looked up at him. “Your Summoner?” Alina Starkov had captured your husband’s interest; her power making it possible for him to expand the Fold. But she was far too close to him for your liking, and you couldn’t help feeling jealous that another woman was taking so much of your husband’s attention.
Your husband kissed your temple, releasing your hand. “I have to go introduce Alina,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” “Alright.” Aleksander stepped onto the small stage, introducing the Sun Summoner. He plunged the room into darkness and returned to your side, taking your hand once more. He brought it to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss, and Alina raised her hands. The room was suddenly bright, as if it were noon. She was glowing, both from the use of her power and the light she was summoning, and you looked to your husband.
The look on his face was once you’d seen before; when he looked at you, when he told you he loved you, when he proposed, when you exchanged your wedding vows. You felt your heart fall, and you looked to Alina, only to find she was looking at Aleksander, a similar look on her face. You went cold, applauding along with the crowd as her demonstration ended. Some fell to their knees, whispers of Sankta Alina falling from their lips, but you looked straight ahead.
Alina left the stage, a smile on her face. “You were amazing,” your husband praised her, putting his arm around her shoulders. The logical part of your mind told you he was being friendly, congratulating her on a job well done, but the rest of your mind was screaming, jealousy and anger coursing through you. “Excuse me,” you said, not looking to see if Aleksander heard you, and fled the ballroom. You found yourself in the war room, not entirely sure why, but glad to be alone for a moment.
But Aleksander had heard you, and he’d noticed your distress immediately. He didn’t say a word to Alina, just set off after you, leaving the Sun Summoner alone in the crowd. Aleksander followed you through the corridors, and when you entered the war room, he entered after you. “Y/N?” he called, catching your attention. “Are you alright?” You turned to face him, brow furrowed. “I thought you’d be too busy parading your Summoner around to notice I left.”
Aleksander rounded the table so he was standing directly across from you. “Of course I noticed, Y/N, have I done something to offend you?” You breathed deeply, leaning on the table. There were a million ways you could tell him what was wrong, most of them involving guilt-tripping or raging at him. But you knew that neither of those options would resolve the issue at hand, so you sighed, settling on getting straight to the point.
“You’ve gotten quite close to Alina,” you said, using the Sun Summoner’s given name. “I have,” Aleksander agreed, stepping closer to you. “I know it sounds silly, but I’m jealous. I’m jealous that another woman looks at you like she does, I’m jealous that she’s so close to you, I’m…” Aleksander took another step forward, taking your hands in his. “And what, darling?” “I’m jealous of how you look at her.”
Your husband fell silent, gaze trained on the floor. “I see how you look at her, Aleksander. You look at me like that; when you asked me to marry you, at our wedding, when you tell me you love me. It hurts, Aleksander, and I can’t help but feel like you have feelings for her.” The Darkling felt his heart crack in two, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest. “Y/N, my love, milaya, no. No, no, no, I could never love her, never.”
He loosened his arms enough to tip your chin up so you were looking at him. “Y/N, I never intended to make you feel that way. Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see the love of my life. My powerful, intelligent, beautiful, perfect wife. But do you know what I see when I look at her? Her power. I see an otkazat’sya who is just that, nothing. Her power will allow me to enter the Fold and expand it. Once that’s done, she will be nothing and you will still be my beloved wife. We are eternal, Y/N, she is nothing.
“You mean the world to me, Y/N. Nothing else matters, and nothing else ever will. Not the Sun Summoner, not anything.” You were crying, and Aleksander brushed your tears away, bending to press his lips to yours. You leaned into his embrace, and he deepened the kiss, arms around your waist, chest flush to yours. “You are my world,” you whispered when you pulled back, face only inches from his. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Aleksander.” He kissed you again, one hand moving to your hip. “You have no need to apologize, my love,” he responded.
And his lips were on yours again, this kiss more heated than the previous ones. You gasped when Aleksander lifted you onto the table, still kissing you. He kept one hand on your hip, the other moving up to cradle your head. “Aleksander,” you breathed. “What about the fete?” “Screw the damn fete,” your husband replied, now kissing his way down your neck. “Let me kiss my wife.” “Aren’t we eternal?” you teased, and he nipped the skin of your collarbone. “We are eternal, but that doesn’t discount my desire to kiss my wife.” You let yourself go, losing yourself in your husband’s arms, content in the knowledge that you were his, and you were eternal.
312 notes · View notes
Grisha Funerals and Ravkan Rites
This started as a response to @yototothelalafell 's question about Grisha funerals but turned into a thing, so I'm releasing this into the ether. Tagging @lightfornight and @thewillowbends since they were a part of the original conversation.
We get a full Grisha funeral at one point in the book series. I'll keep the whos and whats vague, but there will be a spoiler for the end of Ruin and Rising at the very end so skip the second to last paragraph if you don't want spoilers.
The Grisha burn their dead if they have access to the body, and it's not a mass slaughter situation where every body is dumped together and burned for sanitation purposes. It's heavily implied that most Grisha do not get a proper funeral because they die in war camps, disappear in enemy territory or their bodies are not salvageable. Grisha and non-Grisha alike watch the body burn, and those closest to deceased give eulogies.
The standard prayer differs between Grisha and non-Grisha. Non-Grisha say, "May the Saints receive him on a brighter shore," and the crowd responds with "May the Saints receive him." The Grisha believe in the Small Science, not saints, so they say: "[Dead Grisha's name] returns to the making at the heart of the world. He will always be with us.” And the Grisha in the crowd respond with “As he returns, so will we all.” It's telling that the Grisha response is more fatalistic. They treat it as a given that they will all die fast and hard. The Grisha don't even reserve a special color for mourning clothes, which implies that non-Grisha Ravkans do, and they have no time for rituals after the funeral because they're perpetually grieving some recent death. No one has time to dwell. Still, there seems to be some level of ownership in this admission of death. It's kind of like how "No mourners, no funerals" developed into a hopeful phrase for the slums of Kerch when it had a gruesome origin. Poor people can't afford funerals there, and the average joe says good riddance when a criminal passes. Instead of falling into despair over this, the poor of Ketterdam used it as a remindered that they needed to take their glory in life. A reminder to never let themselves get killed on the job. The Grisha have resigned themselves to death, but here, death is not the absolution of duty, but the next step in protecting their own.
The Grisha's body is burned to ash and then made into a brick, which is then used in the walls protecting the palace. Thousands of dead Grisha make up the walls, and one character describes it as their ghosts looking over the new generations. Depending on how literal stuff like this is, there may be a level of animism involved in Grisha belief systems, especially if you consider the making at the heart of the world to be a divine essence that feeds into everything, creating a natural order others can tap into. At least some part of the dead person's spirit would linger in their remains as part of their connection to the natural world. Some part would also pass into the afterlife because multiple characters refer to one, so that belief must be prevalent among all manner of Ravkans. The books don't explain how the belief in an afterlife mixes in with saint worship (besides the Fjerdan Saint of the Newly Dead in The Lives of Saints) or the Grisha belief in the natural world.
The desire to make a Grisha's death count by turning them into something else also pops up in an individual Grisha's personal grief process. She plants a flower for each comrade she looses and is distraught that she just ran out of room in her garden but knows more deaths will come. There seems to be a consistent thread of Grisha wanting to surround themselves with visual reminders of dead comrades. To feel like their deaths served a purpose and that a peice of them lingers on.
Also, I have to wonder who started the tradition of making a wall out of dead Grisha bricks because that just screams Aleksander Morozova. I can imagine him, tired of all his closest companions dying, making them into a fortress so that their deaths wouldn't be for nothing. A little peice of them will always be there, reminding him that he isn't really alone. He can visit them any time he wants. They just can't answer him.
Don't look at me. I'm not crying. You are!
Other related funerary stuff includes a lot of references to cemeteries and graves, so burial is at least a common funerary practice among non-grisha Ravkans. We have no information on how often it's used compared to cremation or if there's any restrictions, religious or otherwise, that determines which method a non-Grisha has access to.
RUIN AND RISING SPOILERS FROM HERE ON OUT!
All this stuff makes me wonder about the Darkling and fake!Alina's funeral. The dying Darkling is adamant that Alina have his body burned and not buried because people would desecrate his corpse. If cremation and transformation into a brick is the typical Grisha funerary practice then does the Darkling think his people hate him so much that they would not allow him the usual resting place? He and fake!Alina are burned in the same pyer. He may have been a disgrace in the eyes of the current rule, but Alina's well-loved at this point. The Grisha would want to cement her into their wall. Does that mean they just scooped up both ashes into one and made that brick, allowing the Darkling to be a part of his beloved Little Palace after all? Did they deny her brickification because there was too much Darkling in it? Did they burn Alina down to ash but removed the Darkling when he was just charred bones that way the resulting brick would mostly be Alina with just a hint of Darkling? I never thought I would debate the acceptable amount of person in a brick, but here we are.
Anyway, that's what I've been able to suss from the books. Hope everyone enjoyed my TED Talk on Grisha funerals.
92 notes · View notes
a snippet of the aforementioned darklina fic i’m starting!
BURN THEORY - A DARKLINA RUSSIAN SPY FIC
Aleksander Morozova meets her at Moscow International Airport, he shakes her hand, he looks like a proper spy. A black suit with not so much as a thread out of place, and shades that made him look not only sexy, but as he chatters to her in rapid Russian, it feels good to speak her own language with someone who understands her needs.
Aleksander was the regional head of the FSB. Which made him roughly a step below the head of the FSB. She doesn’t know why she wasn’t flagged at JFK Airport, she should have been, but she suspects that Mr. Morozova had smoothed things over with a few lines of code.
“Thank you, by the way, for—ah, making my flight home a peaceful trip.” Aleksander beams at her.
“Anything for a colleague.” He says affably.
A colleague. She looks him up and down, and realizes Aleksander is not the typical bullheaded, misogynistic, epic piece of shit she’s used to when it comes to Russian men. He’s a whole other league of spy. She likes him, but as he’s her boss she suspects she’ll have to stomp down that particular desire.
Aleksander seems happy, and they drive through Starbucks, and get dopio macchiatos. The coffee is bitter, but the milk is creamy, and frothy. She hums in pleasure as she sips it.
“So what was America like?” Her new boss asks.
“A lot of cheap, disgusting beer and even more bad vodka.”
ao3 profile (subscribe to be notified when this posts)
51 notes · View notes
It happened on the war room table. They were kissing, caught up in the rush of the winter fete. Alina didn’t know who started it. But his lips were on hers, he was cupping her face in hands as if it were the dearest, most precious thing in the world to him. She didn’t know when he first became the subject of her desires. It had always been Mal for so long. Mal occupied every memory. Consumed her daydreams, hopes, and fears.
But she was on her own now. For the first time, she had someone who was separate from the little world that they’d built together. Someone who talked to her about changing the world and made her feel like she belonged.
As they kissed, she pulled away for a moment.
His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What’s your name?” she said. “I can’t very well shout The Darkling out if….” she bit her lip, blushing. AO3 LINK RATED E FOR EXPLICIT
HERE THERE BE SMUT. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.
He smirked and pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re quite precious, Miss Starkov,” he said, “Aleksander. Aleksander Morozova.”
“Aleksander,” she repeated, with a smile, “it’s so….”
“Regal?” he said. “The name of Kings, you know.”
She laughed. “I was going to say normal. I don’t know what I expected.”
“Well, you can see why it's rarely in use,” he said, and he kissed her again, this time on her neck, “do you want this? Tell me now, Alina, and I’ll stop….”
She reached forward and pulled his neck towards her, threading her fingers through his hair. “I want this,” she said firmly, “I want us.”
He grinned roguishly, then picked her up and placed her on the table. “Stay still,” he ordered.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“You’ll see,” he said.
He disappeared underneath the skirt of her dress, and then he was working her underwear down. His fingers were cold against her thighs as he did, and they were still her favorite thing that she had ever felt on her skin.
The Darkling wanted her.
The most powerful grisha was going to make love to her.
To fuck her.
When her underwear was pulled down enough she felt…. oh, saints….it was his tongue, in between her folds, doing devious things to her. Alina clenched her thighs around him, and moaned his name, “Aleksanderrrrrrrr….Aleksanderrrrr…” She gripped the war room table, trying hard not to fall off, and then it wasn’t his tongue on her anymore.
It was his fingers, first tracing the inside and outside of her thighs, making her shiver, and then he inserted them inside of her. First one, stroking her folds, and then another. “Can you take a third, my Little Saint?”
She moaned in response, and he stuck yet another.
“You are positively dripping for me,” he said, “tell me, Alina, is this your first time?”
She froze, and he had pulled out of her, his head out from her skirts and looking directly at her with his probing dark eyes. “I’m not…um…” she blushed. “No. I’ve never done this before. Does that change things?”
He smiled. “No, Little Saint, that makes this better. It makes it special. I will be your first, and I will be your last.”
She shivered and watched as he undid his pants. He pulled them off, and then his cock was before her. It was not the first one she had seen. She had, after all, been a soldier and sometimes accidents happened.
Like the time she had accidentally walked into Mal’s tent to find him tumbling one of the village girls from where they’d been stationed at.
“What?” he asked.
“Something I should do for you? To make you feel good?” she asked.
He smiled and made it so that there was little to no space between them. “Take it in your hands,” he told her.
Hesitantly, she did, and it was long and hard in her hands.
“Do you feel how ready I am for you, my darling girl?” he said. He reached out and stroked her cheek, and she realized that his fingers were still wet and sticky from being inside of her and making her feel all of those delicious things. “Stroke me,” he told her.
She did, watching him grow under her touch. The Darkling clenched, and a moan came from him. “Alinaaa…..” She liked it. She liked knowing that one of the most powerful men in Ravka was coming undone under fingers. He reached out and gripped her shoulders tightly as her touch seemed to make him lose control.
“I need you,” he rasped, like a man in need of water, but in this case her, “I need you now.”
“Yes,” she whispered, cupping his face, and pulling him in for a kiss.
He raised the skirts of her dress, and her legs were bare to him. He spread her thighs a little by moving her foot with his, and then--------
Then he was inside of her.
All of him.
He did not take her slowly. He gripped her tightly, hugging her as if she was something precious he had lost and now found. He filled her up with his cock, and he rocked his hips against hers, so hard that she nearly lost her balance on the war room table again. Alina held onto him, clinging for dear life. And then, and then…..
The cheesy thing would have been to say there were stars. But no, her body clenched around his, and there were sunbursts. It was brilliant and heated, her toes curled, and her thighs wrapped around him as she called out his real name. “Aleksander!”
She could feel him, inside of her, and then dripping down her leg. “Did we…” she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, holding her chin in his hand, “but maybe. Would it be so terrible, a child with me?”
She shook her head and pressed her forehead against his. “No, it wouldn’t be so terrible,” she said, “perhaps some love coming from this room is what this war needs.”
He smiled and kissed her again. “When I take you the next time, it’s going to be in my bed. On black sheets, Miss Starkov.”
She laughed as he picked her up, carrying her bridal style out of the room. And the second time she made love, it was, indeed, on black silk sheets.
76 notes · View notes
@adventurelcnd ❝ shut up. i really thought you were gone this time. ❞ alina for aleksander
AU War with
War. War was harsh. The war had come to the Little Palace, a bomb going off, killing the King and Queen when they they took the Darkling’s carriage the night of the Fete. Launching an attack on West Ravka the barges of East Ravkan Soldiers entered into conflict with West. Retreat was called by the General, sending Alina away, promising to come back in dramatic fashion as their hands broke apart when she was pulled away.
Now he crept outside the fold, marred and scarred by he held onto the severed head of the West Ravkan traitor general, “ The Rebellion --- is finished.” He said, not directed at Alina, no it was a soldier iterating his mission complete, before he collapsed into the woman.
8 notes · View notes
an angsty 50 for darklina, pretty please?
50. Beyond the Veil
She hears him for the first time at dusk at the autumn equinox, the very moment when the days tip over into darkness, rushing toward the domain of the Starless Saint, Ravka's endless cold winter nights and heavy snowfalls. She's put the chickens out to their coop, and she's bending down to make sure the latch on the cage is secure -- there have been too many foxes recently -- when the voice comes. She thinks it's just the wind. And then she doesn't.
She drops the bag of feed and straightens up, whirling around, her heart pounding in both terror and-- well, there's no other word for it, hope. "Aleksander?" she says, looking at the empty meadow, the line of twilit trees that border the farm. "Aleksander, is that -- is that you?"
He came to her before, after all, regardless of physical distance or emotional estrangement -- their secret meetings in the dark of his old chambers, now hers, in the heart of the Little Palace. Death is different, but perhaps for the most powerful Grisha who has ever lived, not eternal. Alina wipes her hands on her apron, waiting. Speak to me, she wants to say. Tell me that you're there. That you're safe.
Alina, the wind sighs again. It does sound like him, or maybe that is only her wishful thinking. You left me no choice, she wants to shout at him. I would have done anything -- anything -- to save you, but you forced my hand. She can't regret that the Fold is gone and Nikolai has become king, that Ravka has a chance to make amends for what it has gone through, but Alina remains profoundly unsettled about her own part in it. She knows that the man who kissed her so tenderly was also the tyrant who would have unloosed the volcra on every one of Ravka's enemies, real or imagined. You cannot reckon with the sum of Aleksander Morozova's life and leave out the poison and the destruction and the hatred, as well as the idealism and fervor and heroism. I had to kill you. I had to.
And so, here she is. On the farm with Mal, her Sun Summoner powers relinquished, the wider world believing her to be dead, the future that she always said she didn't want. How has this happened to me? Alina tries to be kind to her younger, traumatized self, the girl forced into a war she didn't want and didn't understand, the burden that was heaped on her shoulders far before her time, and which would have buckled anyone twice her age. All the hungry eyes, the desperate hands, the plaintive calls. Sankta Alina, Sankta Alina, help us, help us. It was never something that one barely-grown girl should be asked to bear. No wonder Alina cracked. No wonder she fled, back to the idea of the one place she had always felt -- however wrongly -- safe.
The farm is... fine. As farms go. Mal is still Mal, sometimes. But you can't go back. You cannot pick up the threads of an old life as if nothing has changed. Alina's hands curl and ache in longing for her vanished power, the ability to matter -- she threw it out with the rest, too frightened to understand what it meant. But Aleksander knew. Aleksander tried to tell her, to warn her, even in his clumsy and damaged way. There is no one else in the world like us, Alina.
Her head starts up; she isn't sure if that came from her memories, or if the ghost of him -- or whatever is here, haunting her -- said it instead. She peers at the shadows in the fields. Is that peculiarly man-shaped thing -- is that him? Or just another of the strange creatures that gather by twilight, and should not be looked at too closely?
"Aleksander?" she says aloud, into the stillness. "Aleksander, please, are you there?"
She would give anything to hear him answer. Anything at all.
There is only silence. The bloated red sun disappears behind the horizon. The wind blows cold, and Alina Starkov -- no more, no less -- feels more profoundly alone than she has been in her entire life. And with that comes the simplest and most difficult of realizations.
She has made the wrong choice. Her time is not done. She needs to go back. She needs to find what is hers. Her power and her dark prince alike, and make it better than it was before. Is that not the entire premise of history, the arc of the universe? They are not simply doomed to a repeat of the disaster that came before, mindlessly following the same dark path to the same shattering end. They can make it right, and raw, and real. Aleksander Morozova may yet achieve his dearest dream after all, theirs. Alina only needs to be brave enough to face it, and, she realizes, this time, she is ready.
You and I are not done, she tells the shade of the Darkling, wherever and whatever he might now be. I'm coming to find you.
[spooky season fic prompts]
27 notes · View notes
baby aleks angst for baghra // @talesspin
the boy has had many names, he is nameless, he is lost. shadows war within him and he cannot help but feel he is losing. only his mother remains a constant, but even she feels distant. dark eyes brim with unshed tears as he bundles tighter with the blankets she has given to keep him warm. she goes ahead, to find a place for them, but he must stay hidden. like a fawn trapped in the tall grasses waiting for the doe to return. there are no deities for the boy to pray to. they will out last deities. there is a shudder as he drifts to sleep. waking to nightmares, waking to her sitting across the room by a fire she has dared to build. aleks surges from his blanket cocoon to launch at her, arms slipping around her form. he is too old to love her so much. he must be a man. he must be someone great. but for now - he would like to be her aleks. he would like to be a boy safe in her arms again.
‘ mama !--- you’re back! ‘ she’s back early. his breath catches.
‘ was there no place for us there? mama? ‘
2 notes · View notes
Following in the lovely footsteps of @jomiddlemarch @vesperass-anuna and @helenvader, I am also adding my bit to @ana-kareninas' prompt “petition to let aleksander morozova have a nap”.
It is the children's laughter that wins the argument. (It always is.) They have painted kites; a flying menagerie of the fantastic and the mundane, but the most prominent feature is the overwhelming collection of soaring black shapes threaded within the vibrant shimmering blues of dragon's scales and the oranges and yellows of carps, swimming valiantly overhead.
A girl with hair like ripened wheat and cheeks like slices of red plum explains in exasperated tones that it is not a rabbit ascending upwards, but a rabbit's shadow. She brings her hands together, a bit clumsy, but enough to demonstrate a fat hare sitting on its haunches, ears twitching, a puppet made from the warping of light.
This was a child's first toy, not a rag doll, ('Cloth is meant to be warn, not to indulge in jappery') or a tin soldier ('Coin is to feed that pit you call a mouth, boy'), but shadow given life. The children of the Little Palace need not live like tramps or vagabonds. They need not worry about the weight of a pack or the number of steps they might take between the sun's greeting and the sun's farewell, but Aleksander still shares with each of them this treasure that cannot be bought.
Now that he turns his attention to the sky, he recognizes many of his animal companions, their black silhouettes dancing on the wind. His zoo has grown considerably over the years and while he is still caught within this cataloguing, he is tugged, not unwillingly, but with a small show of protest, onto the ground (it is in the displeased set of his lips, his eyes are poorer actors).
The grass is a soft caressing hand pressed to his cheek; there is a more calloused one entwined with his fingers. He squints into the bright sunlight, watching this parade of paper creatures with drowsy amusement. His lips betray him. A traitor's turnabout, corners lifted into an admittance of happiness.
He is floating like the kites, cocooned in the summer's warmth, and just before he plunges into a river of dreams he hears, 'Come sleep, O sleep, the certain knot of peace'. The voice of the beloved the final soporific.
Thanks to the wonderful @lightfornight for the idea of Aleksander's shadow puppets.
And thanks to Sir Philip Sidney for his 39th Sonnet, because it would not be Darkolai without poetry.
21 notes · View notes
Rules for Requesting | Asterisk * denotes SMUT | Send a Request
MINORS DNI. YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO COPY, REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY STORIES.
Started: 31/05/2021 / Last Updated:24/06/2021 / Total Works: 41
Manasamu Mariyu Raktamu
Rudhiramlo - Yugantaram 2020
Blood for Blood - Margazhi in Mahishmati 2019
Part 1 - Adbhuta Prema* (Two-Shot) / Part 2 - Agni Charmam* (Two-Shot)
Malai Nera Mayakkam*
Jwala Kiritam* (Ongoing) - Co-writer @heyifinallyhaveablog
Part 1 - Rahasya / Part 2 - Asāntripti / Part 3 - Vibhajana / Part 4 - Nēda / Part 5 - Yuddham Sharanam / Part 6 - Nāsanam / Part 7 - Samarpana / Part 8 - Pralaya
Part 1 - Idī Premā / Part 2 - The Pink Sweatshirt / Part 3 - Sahōdarulū
Part 1 - Vadinamma (Two-Shot) / Part 2 - Hickies (Two-Shot)
Tumblr Prompts - Threads of Gold
Bhalla-Du Headcanons - What is the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other? / Who says I love you first? How did it happen?
Who initiates kisses?/ Who reaches for the other one’s hand while driving?/ Who cooks at 2 in the morning?
Tumblr Prompts - Mantravidhya
Tumblr Prompts - Of Scars and Battles
Tumblr Prompts - Ranabandham
Diriliş Ertuğrul/Resurrection: Ertuğrul
Crawl unto dying stars*
Who does the hands-over-the-eyes “Guess Who” thing? (Halime)
Who says I love you first? How did it happen? (Ilbilge)
Who puts the fork in the microwave?/ Who licks the spoon when they are baking brownies? (Ilbilge)
What are their nicknames for one another? (Aykiz)
What are their nicknames for one another? (Aslıhan)
Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer? (Aslıhan)
When they can't sleep, what do they do? (Aslıhan)
Hold my body down* (Breakfast Smut)
Kuruluş Osman/Establishment: Osman
Osman Bey/Bala Hatun
Who licks the spoon when they are baking brownies? (Professor Gazi AU)
Shadow and Bone (T.V)
Aleksander Morozova/Kirigan/The Darkling
Who falls asleep while watching a movie? & Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile?
Say My Name! (Poetry)
James Buchanan Barnes
The Witcher (TV)
Geralt of Rivia
Game of Thrones (TV)
Musings at three
Iss pyaar ko kya naam doon(Desi TV)
Arnav Singh Raizada
Fat bitches die faster
35 notes · View notes
for zoya nazyalensky, @molnitsa.
‘ the black heretic . . . ’ he was saying, ivan looming like a needle at his side. his face was wiped clean of an expression, save for the dark shadow over his lids and the faint pinch of his brows. a girl among the other training grisha, one with more attentive blue eyes and a record for perfection, stood before him, attention plastered to his word. how many times had he repeated this story? he couldn’t remember anymore who knew and who didn’t. he could not recall her name, though he’s sure he’s seen her by the little palace before. having lost his thought for a second too much, the darkling’s quartz gray eyes find her face. he blinks, remembering his words. ‘ the black heretic went unchecked. it’s how he accomplished what he did. ’ smoothing out his black kefta, he felt the weight of ivan’s restlessness grow twofold against the girl and her admirable audacity to stop the commander in his tracks. the darkling paid him no mind. ‘ we cannot allow our enemies to blindsight us again. you understand, don’t you? ’
3 notes · View notes
Broken trust, pt.3
Part one // Part two
Summary: Meeting with his Sun Summoner again, the Darkling has a choice to make.
Warnings: angst, fluff
It’s been a long time since Y/N saw her Darkling. Some would say time passes quickly, but it dragged on so painfully slow that every second marked her with more doubt. Aleksander was her safe haven, the one she’d run to whenever she wanted to lift the weight off her shoulders but that wasn’t an option anymore.
She had reunited with Mal, but he couldn’t understand. If anything, he seemed cross with her for being a Grisha, for staying in Little palace for so long. He wasn’t shy to state how disgusted he is with who she became, to insult the kefta she wore when they first saw each other.
“The way you talk, the way you walk, even the way you look! I can hardly look at you, he’s all over you.”
She doesn’t wear that kefta anymore, the black contrasting the golden embroidery representing the light she was meant to be. A part of her ached for Aleksander, while the other part of her resented him. He made her love him, but how can she love what was built on a lie?
Somber, she shivered in the cold. Her arms wrapped around her knees which were tucked close to her chest and under her chin. The majestic stag Mal had taken her to find, the one she had a chance to kill but refused to, was now gone. She made sure it would retreat deeper into the woods after laying her hand on him.
None of it was important now when her troubled mind returned to the beginning.
She looked at him with a bashful smile, a flush creeping across her cheeks. He didn’t notice her yet, buttoning his shirt slowly while she began to sweat, unsure about coming into his room uninvited now. Clearing her throat, she sat at the foot of his bed, noticing him tense up before turning to her.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you”, she bites her lower lip, her voice shaky but not nearly as much as her heart.
A breathless chuckle passes his lips, his eyes instantly light up as he comes closer, a few buttons remaining unbuttoned at the top. It gave her a perfect view of his chest and she couldn’t help but realize this is the most skin she had seen on him since they met. A kefta left everything up to ones imagination and it may have served as a neat way to hide from the others, but she was grateful he didn’t wear one now.
“I’m merely surprised to find you so boldly perched on my bed”, Aleksander raises his eyebrows, amused as he comes closer.
Shrugging, she looks up at him through her thick eyelashes, picture perfect innocence etched in her angelic smile. “You seemed tense today”, she pushes herself further back on his bed, far enough to rest her back against the headboard.
Pursing his lips, he knits his eyebrows together, “Did I now?”
Nodding, she taps her thighs, “I’ll help you unwind. Come on.”
“How?” Aleksander’s lips part as she rolls her eyes playfully.
"Here! Lay down in my lap." She taps her lap two times exactly, seemingly unaware of Aleksander's eyebrows furrowing.
Tilting her head to the right, she gave him a pointed look. “Lay down in my lap so I can run my fingers through your hair.”
“Can I –“, Aleksander tries, but she’s quicker.
With a sigh, Aleksander clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why he was allowing her to speak to him in such a manner, much less why he was crawling over the bed to rest his head on her thighs. Yet he found himself on his back, his head securely in her lap and his gaze is on her and the self-satisfied smirk on her lips that had made his heart flutter.
Threading her fingers through his hair, she watched him intently. It was hard to accept just how handsome he is, how unique the black skies reflecting in his eyes are. She’d see an occasional star when he’d look at her, a twinkle in the darkness she peered into fearlessly day in and day out.
“Isn’t it funny how I can’t even remember the first time I heard your name?” She spoke softly, her thumb grazing his forehead. “You’d think we’d remember something that will make such a huge difference in your life.”
Aleksander licks his lips, “What matters is you’re here. Wherever you go in life, remember this moment, Sunshine”, he smiles in disbelief, “When you had a general putty in your hands for a night.”
She couldn’t help but grin, “I’m not leaving you. Not now”, leaning in, she whispers, “Not ever.”
Leaving a kiss upon his forehead, Y/N started to pull away.
“Wait”, he blurted out. “Don’t pull away. Not yet.”
“I won’t”, she beams at him, “We have all night.”
Scoffing, she shakes her head. In the end, she lied too. How can a man capable of doing such terrible things be so gentle with her? Were they cursed from the start?
That’s when she felt it once more – her airway closed, her eyes widened. She gasps for air in panic, clutching her throat when she feels the pressure in her chest become too much. She wanted to call for Mal who left to pee a little while ago, but she couldn’t.
And then it stopped.
Gasping, she falls to her hands and knees, drawing in quick, shallow breath of cold air that soothes the burning sensation in her lungs.
“Are you alright?”
The familiarity of his voice brought shivers down her spine, her eyes widening as she turns around so quickly she nearly topples to her side.
“I didn’t realize they’d be so harsh, I’ll have to reprimand them later.” Aleksander frowns at his heartrenders, nodding at them to leave them alone.
She shot him a cold look, "Did you kill him?"
Looking away, Aleksander lets out a heavy sigh.
Her voice thickens, choked with emotion, "Tell me the truth for once in your life."
"I love you", he snaps, "That’s a truth!"
Too often had Y/N spoke of love with Aleksander before, too often had she given pieces of herself away by telling him how she feels, but he never uttered the words before. She wondered if he was capable of loving her, if his admission of love was just a way to control her.
She stands, her heart beating so loudly she feared he could hear it too. Never before had the Darkling bared his soul as he did now, but taking him on his word would be unwise. And she wanted to believe him, saints, she wanted to believe every single word, but he’s supposed to be the bad guy and he wasn’t showing signs of remorse.
"Did it ever occur to you that you're hurting me too?" His voice cracks as she averts her gaze, the sight of him breaking her heart.
His eyes are brimming with tears, his hand reached out for her to take and for the first time since they’ve met, Y/N notices his fingers are shaking and not with the cold.
"With everything to win, the only thing I lose is you. How is that fair?" He uttered, drawing his lower lip between his teeth.
She turned her gaze away, jaw clenched, pity and anger gripping her in equal measure.
He comes before her, his lower lip trembling, "I would not be unkind to you", Aleksander persists. Cupping her face, thumb stroking her jaw, "I would never hurt you." He caressed her cheek, running his fingers down her vulnerable throat.
Pressing her lips together, she shakes her head slightly in order to resist the urge to look back at him or allow herself to quiver under his touch. Straightening her back, she looks him straight in the eye, refusing to break apart.
“But you did hurt me. I don’t even know who you are”, her voice is dark and low.
He leans down, his forehead resting on hers, “But you know me. All of me. You know the real Aleksander…Aleksander Morozova.”
Scoffing, she pulls away, “Wonderful!” Rubbing her forehead where she could still feel him, she turns to him with an incredulous look, “You lied about your name too!”
“Only my last name”, he states and she rolls her eyes at him.
“Because that makes it so much better.”
Sighing, Aleksander reaches for her hand and this time, Y/N doesn’t recoil from his touch and he can’t help but smile, encouraged to lightly tug, bringing her closer.
“Please come back with me. I know what it feels to be alone, to always feel empty on the inside. It's the only thing I know when I'm without you.” His free hand rests on her hip, bringing unexpected warmth along with it.
Y/N understood what he meant, being without him had ravished her. With him she was sunshine, the Sun summoner and a light in the darkness, but without him? She learned even the Sun can be eclipsed.
“Will you help me destroy the fold?” She asks, lifting her head up to meet his gaze. She loved the way he watched her with a longing smile and an oddly gentle look in his eye.
“It’s not that simple”, Aleksander replies, noticing her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, tortured as she nibbles on it. He wanted to do that so badly, to bruise her lips as they molded with his.
It felt like going through the motions as he spoke, her mind focusing on all he’s done. He killed people, he did it for her too. Is that his idea of commitment? Is killing in someone’s name a way to say I love you in his world?
“It is”, she swallows thickly. She trembles and shivers, then looks at him with pleading eyes. “You’ll either help be destroy the fold and the danger it holds or you’ll lose me. Is that what you want?”
Releasing her hand, his lips part. Aleksander takes a step back, his eyes narrowing. "They say I'm a traitor. They call me the black heretic. Maybe I am. All I know is that I did what I had to do to protect the Grisha from certain doom.” His voice is heavy, laced with anger and frustration Y/N had carried as well.
For a long time, she wondered if she was just the same as him, if he had dimmed her light, but she wasn’t. Never once had he looked into the mirror of his own soul and asked what different choices he could make, not for his own sake, but for the sake of others. In his story, he’s not the bad guy and if she could deny who she is, maybe he wouldn’t be a villain in hers either. But she can’t.
“Aleksander, please”, her hand rests on his left cheek, cold to the touch unlike the warmth he was used from her. “We will protect them together. The fold had killed plenty of Grisha for us to react too.”
His jaw clenches, “But their death can mean something. I made a necessary sacrifice, so if that makes me evil, fine!” His nostrils flare as he pulls her hand off his face, “Make me your villain."
Swallowing thickly, she turns away from him. “You’ll have to kill me if that’s your plan. Because I will destroy that fold, with or without you there to hold my hand.”
Nodding, he comes closer. His breath on the back of her neck is enough to make her hold hers, awaiting for his next move. She waits, giving him a fair shot now because he’ll never be given another one. But nothing happens. There’s no darkness engulfing her, he had not cut her in half.
When she turns around, this time he’s the one that’s gone. Covering her mouth to stifle a heart-wrenching sob, Y/N’s tears flood her eyes, falling like waterfalls.
Aleksander had walked away, his loyal Grisha following after.
“You did the right thing. She was holding you back”, Ivan states, further fanning the flames of Aleksander’s wrath.
Too quickly did Ivan find himself pinned to a tree with a hand wrapped around his neck tightly enough for his vision to blur, hearing his general’s words.
“You will never know the depth of what I just lost.”
541 notes · View notes
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader
Summary: Your parents have never approved of your marraige...
Y/F/N is your father’s name
Anxiety filled you as you fastened your black kefta, looking into your own eyes in the mirror. Your parents, who you hadn’t seen in years, had turned up at the Little Palace’s gates, asking to see their daughter. Your relationship with them was tense, to say the least. They disliked that you were Grisha, but learned to accept it, corresponding with you while you were in school at the Little Palace, welcoming you home when you visited. But when you’d started seeing Aleksander, they hadn’t hidden their disdain for him. And when you got engaged, they were furious.
“He is a heretic, Y/N!” your father had shouted, your mother sobbing. “He is dangerous!” But you knew their prejudice was blinding them, and when they sent back the wedding invitation, unopened, you were hurt but tried not to linger on it. You’d spoken to them a few times via letter since then, but the hostile, disapproving tone remained. And now, they were here, in your home, wanting to see you.
Aleksander came behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice concerned, brows knitted together. You breathed deeply, the facade of the general’s wife falling into place. “I think so,” you said, running your hands over the wool of your kefta, the black fabric embroidered with Y/G/C thread, lined with soft fox fur. Your husband turned you around, wrapping his arms around you. “You can do this, lapushka. You are strong, there is nothing you cannot do.” You leaned into his chest, letting your husband hold you for a moment.
When you righted yourself, you nodded, and Aleksander smiled. He offered you his arm, which you took, and he led you from your rooms. Your parents had been shown to a drawing room, and you felt your heart in your throat with every step you took towards them. When you reached the door, you paused, hesitancy filling you. “Y/N?” Aleksander asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Will you hold my hand?” you asked, feeling ridiculous. But Aleksander took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Every second, my love. I won’t let go.”
Once you nodded, steeling yourself, Aleksander opened the door, confidently striding in. Your parents looked up at the two of you from their seats on a silk couch, not speaking and unmoving. “It would be courteous to stand,” he said. “But we save the bowing for the king.” Aleksander stepped forward, offering the hand that wasn’t holding yours to your father. “Aleksander Morozova, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Reluctantly, your father shook his hand, then your mother, who looked outright disgusted.
Your husband led you to an adjoining couch, keeping his hand in yours, sitting only inches from you. Closer than would be considered proper in company, but these were your parents, and Aleksander didn’t give a damn what they thought. “So,” you said, keeping your nervousness out of your voice. “What brings you to Os Alta, mother?” Your mother bristled, as if offended by your simple question. “Can’t we come to see our daughter?” “You can,” you replied. “Of course you can. But I haven’t seen you in years. We’ve hardly spoken, you didn’t come to our wedding-”
“Oh, of course you bring that up,” your father said, rolling his eyes. “Why does it always come back to that?” Aleksander squeezed your hand, both to comfort you and keep his anger in check. “Y/N was crushed,” he said. “She wanted her parents with her on her wedding day, she was devastated.” Your mother scoffed, crossing her legs and sitting back. “Y/N knows perfectly well how we feel about… this.” She gestured between the two of you, her features those of disgust, and your heart fell.
Aleksander, though, felt his temper rise, and he leaned forward, still clasping your hand. “And what do you mean by ‘this’?” “Your marriage,” your mother said, as if it were obvious. “When Y/N turned out to be Grisha,” she said the word “Grisha” like it was poison, “We were tolerant, we put up with her freakish powers, we let her come home in that ridiculous coat, show off her pathetic powers, we were kind. But when she told us she was getting married, to the Black General no less, that was where we drew the line.
“Our little girl, however flawed, marrying a heretic.” The word sent a chill down Aleksander’s spine, and he grit his teeth. “Y/F/N and I have always despised you, and now our daughter has gone and muddied herself with you.” Aleksander stood, still holding your hand, shadows pooling in his free palm. “I would choose your next words very carefully,” he said, voice dangerously low. “You are speaking to the second most powerful man in all of Ravka, and I do not take lightly to people insulting my wife.”
“Y/N is our daughter,” your father said, though his voice trembled. “And I am her husband,” Aleksander countered. “She chose me, she loves me, and I love her. I would happily lay down my life for her, sacrifice anything she asked to see her smile, and I don’t think you could say the same.” The tension in the room was palpable, and you stood, tears pricking at your eyes, and Aleksander wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Something to say, Y/N?” your mother sneered, and you drew yourself up to your full height. “Never come back,” you said, letting your sorrow show. “Leave, and never come back. Leave me and my husband alone.”
Aleksander didn’t wait for your parents to answer, he gently led you from the room, hurrying down the corridors back to your rooms. Tears were blurring your vision, but your husband steered you in the right direction, and when you heard the door click shut, you broke. Their words were cruel, yes, but they were your parents, and deep down, you loved them. Aleksander pulled you tight against his chest, rubbing your back as you cried.
He led you to sit on the sofa before the fireplace, pulling you into his side, still keeping his arms around you. “I know,” he said, rubbing your back and kissing your forehead. And he did know the disapproval of a parent, Baghra had shown him more than his share of that. “Shh, milaya, I’m here. You’re alright, let it out.” You sniffled, tears slowly subsiding, nuzzling deeper into his embrace. “Can you look at me, beautiful girl?” You lifted your head from your husband’s chest, turning your tearful face to his.
“There we are.” Aleksander cupped your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “My Y/N, my love, I’m so sorry.” He tipped your chin up to kiss you sweetly, wishing he could take your pain away and carry it himself. “I know it hurts, my darling, but you will get through this. You always do, because you are strong. And I will be here for you, always, Y/N. My love, I am yours for eternity.”
You only nodded, snuggling closer to your husband, and he smiled, pulling you closer yet. “I love you, Aleksander,” you whispered, and he tipped your chin up to kiss you again. “As I love you, my beloved.” You sat in comfortable silence in your husband’s embrace, his arms around you, your head on his shoulder, hand rubbing your side soothingly. Your heart ached, your parents’ words still ringing in your ears, but you knew the pain would fade. It would take time, but as long as you had Aleksander, you’d be alright.
218 notes · View notes
Hey🥺♥️ I saw that you were doing the ship game and asked me if you could ship me with one of the grishaverse🥰
my name is kim, i'm 19 years old. I've lived with depression for a long time, some days I feel like I don't exist. Nevertheless, I always try to get the best out of myself. i am aries, love reading and writing my own stories. i love the dark and the rain. OH and i'm a Slytherin 🐍💚
hi Kim! you sound like the coolest person ever! know that you are loved, and I am so so so proud of you<3
I ship you with Aleksander Morozova!
You're literally the only person who truly knows who he is. Not the Darkling, not the Black Heretic, but Aleksander—a boy ruled by his ambition, and now, by his love for you.
Being around you is peaceful to him. It calms the chaos in his mind, eases the weight of his dreams. You understand him, understand what he wants, and why he wants it.
You're the one person he would give the whole world up for. Baghra told you as much—told you that he'd never seen him act like he did around you. She told you that you brought out Aleksander, the boy he'd tried to bury under layers of darkness.
You would lay with him in his chambers, a tangle of limbs and threaded fingers, listening to the rain splattering against his window pane, and he'd tell you stories from his childhood, because with you, he doesn't have to bury them anymore. He doesn't want to bury them anymore.
And you would turn those stories into poetry, turn his life into folklore. You wrote them all down in a notebook—the story of a boy who wanted to change the world. And when you gave it to him, he wanted you to read it out loud. He wanted to hear the tales of his past on your tongue.
You'd never seen him cry, but that was the day you did for the first time.
5 notes · View notes