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#alina as the apple of aleksander's eye
jomiddlemarch · 1 year
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touching each forehead, breathing a soul into each immeasurable other
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“The problem with wanting,” Aleksander paused, touching her cheek very lightly as if it were a choice and not the consequence of how they had come together, touching her cheek as if she would not recoil and so to spite him, she did not recoil, “is that it makes us weak.”
Candlelight trembled around them, the sense of his shadows as powerful as their actual presence. Alina held her breath, her eyes focused on his lips, curiously more sensitive to him through the tether than she might have been should he have been standing before her in the flesh. He would kiss her next, she was sure of it, and also as uncertain as she’d been when the Fjerdan assassin had tried to murder her in the field twelve miles out of Os Alta. He must and he wouldn’t, not if she listened to the words he said, if she heard the timbre of his voice within her mind like a bell tolled across the sea as a warning of a storm. Or a fire.
She would taste smoke when he kissed her, the fragrance of destruction, of autumn leaves bright a second time in an early evening.
He leaned closer—and pressed his lips very gently to the center of her forehead, a gesture without any carnal desire, the tenderness given as a blessing. He kissed the scar above her brow, whose provenance remained unknown, an injury survived. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the look in his, and he kissed her closed eyelids, even more delicately, first the left and then the right, his hand still cradling her jaw. Next he kissed the apple of her cheek, the slight roughness of his beard against her more compelling than any profession of adoration. He murmured something, some word of endearment in Ravkan so old she could only just recognize it as the most distant echo of the language she spoke, his intonation grave and pure. He kissed her temple and spot beside her mouth where she dimpled when she smiled, each caress filled with a tremendous warmth and the most generous affection that asked her for nothing, praised her for everything, that conveyed respect and delight without any demand or condition.
“I don’t want you,” he said.
“You don’t,” she said, as evenly as she could. He saw the self-control she mustered to keep the remark a statement, not a question.
“I love you,” he replied. “That is something beyond want, beyond need.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said. He would argue now, that he had given her ample evidence of his uncompromising devotion, had shared himself in degrees unfamiliar to anyone else living, had made love to her with a near-abandon and sought her with an unflagging determination; he would make excuses for the stag’s collar and the Fold, excuses for himself and excuses for her. He would argue and she would stop him with her mouth on his, taking the words from his tongue with her own ravishing.
“I know, moya dusha, I know and I carry that, the way I carry the wounds on my face, my hand,” he said. “I hope you will stop needing to believe and will begin to feel. To know that whatever mistakes I have made—and there have been too many—that I have loved you throughout, so thoroughly I could not always have recognized it, as I could not always be aware of the blood in my veins, the thoughts that I would dream when I dared to sleep.”
“A pretty speech,” she said. She tried to sneer and failed, the words uttered with more despair than she would have liked him to have noticed.
“A pack of lies is what you mean, but I cannot find a way to make the truth truer,” he said. “I would ask you to consider, for your own safety, those you have decided to join forces with, their motives, their actions and the consequences thereof—”
“Because you’re so much better? So much kinder and gentler?” she snapped.
“Marie, Pavel and Polina are not here to speak for themselves, but they died for you and the Little Palace, at the hands of the ones you call allies,” Aleksander said. “You have told me yourself of Orestev’s choices. Nikolai is the best of the Lantsovs but true only to himself, absent when the people have needed him most. It may take more to kill you than an otkazat’sya, but Grisha, Summoners such as we are, are not true immortals. I have trusted the wrong people myself. I have paid the price in my own blood and in the breath of those I loved most dearly. I would not have that for you. Become a Sankta if you will—don’t become a martyr.”
“You’re not being fair,” she said. He touched her cheek again, brushed back the hair coming loose around her face. No one had ever looked at her with such an expression before, knowing and care inextricable, Alina herself precious.
“I’m sorry I haven’t made a world for you where that matters,” he said. “I tried, Saints know I’ve tried but I failed. I didn’t want this for you—”
“I’m not a child,” she said.
“You are my beloved, whatever I am to you,” he said. “I’ll leave you now, but you have only to call for me and I will answer.”
“And if I don’t call? If I never call?” she asked.
“I will still wait for you. Waiting in a world you live in is nothing to me—I waited so long in the world before you came, when you were only a hope, not Alina,” he said, smiling at her. His dark eyes shone, perhaps with tears. The tether made it difficult to ascertain, though she tasted salt in her own mouth. He began to retreat, the space between them opening, his image losing definition.
“Don’t,” she said, her impulse made into a word, a gesture with her palm outstretched, the one that would take his injured hand. She hadn’t stopped herself, finding, when she considered it, that she didn’t want to.
“Don’t go.”
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the-element-siren · 2 years
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Darklina prompt idea
Based on my love of all media things royal, keeping vague so you can get away with whatever period you want to write this in
Aleksander Morozova, the crown prince has always been the apple of the Queen's eye. She adores him and his sister Ulla despite a frosty relationship with their mother. Her late son, Danila and Baghra were married out of political necessity, otherwise she would have found her only son a wife capable of actual kindness and sincerity. She and the late Prince Consort whisked the children away when they witnessed some of Baghra's cruelty toward the child.
Aleksander has spent his life devoted to service to his country, wether it was in military combat or philanthropic endeavors. But he has neglected the one most important duty of a prince: finding a wife, settling down and producing heirs to the throne. So far all her attempts at matchmaking have failed. If the girl in question doesn't hold a spark with him, an "emergency" at his estate will pop up. And after her mistake with Baghra, she will not force him into a political marriage. But him unmarried at the age of 30 worries her.
Her hopes are dashed until her ambassador to Shu Han, Egor Starkov and his daughter are brought back to court. Alina is the granddaughter to a high ranking court official at the Shu court and was foster for a few years in Ravka at the Safin estate. She is a shy thing but something tells the Queen that she would be perfect for Aleksander. So enlists Ulla to help her, Ulla becoming friends with Alina and adores the idea of getting her as a sister
Subplot ideas if you want them
If you do a modern version, Alina is in Ravka to attend grad school and is introduced to the Queen by Genya at a royal event. Genya and Alina were sent to the same boarding school for their secondary education
This works with either one: Aleksander has actually met the Starkovs during a diplomatic trip to Shu Han. He and Alina become fast friends and have kept in touch for years through letters/emails
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part-timewonders · 2 years
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apple (darklinaprompts fill)
original post here: https://twitter.com/silverfires_/status/1564044694983622657
ao3 post here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41171007/chapters/103678740
Alina teases him for it, but Aleksander writes their grocery lists on paper. Every Saturday morning, before they go to the farmer’s market down the road, he takes an inventory of everything they have in the house, writes down the missing groceries on his little notepad, and tucks the paper into his breast pocket.
“That’s why all the women there stare at you. You’re a DILF without a child,” Alina laughs at him as they walk hand-in-hand to the market stalls. She giggles more at Sasha’s confused face. “You really didn’t notice? Last week, the woman who accidentally bumped into you and nearly knocked over all the fruit at that one stall? Or the one at the bakery stand who so desperately wanted your opinion on the croissants even though the owner was right there?”
The honest truth is that Aleksander was too busy staring at his wife, the glow of her cheeks as she brought a bag of apples to the register, the swell of their baby hidden under the cotton of her sundress, to notice anyone else in the vicinity, let alone remember that someone had bumped into him last week. He doesn’t even remember his own name half the time as soon as he catches a glimpse of Alina smiling or laughing or even just walking around their house, one hand on her rounded stomach like it’ll all disappear if she doesn’t hold on tight.
Just two more months before they’ll meet their child. He’s hoping the baby will have Alina’s eyes, personally.
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lovelornlovestruck · 5 months
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Royal Rava University Chapter 5: Alina Starkov
Five
Alina Starkov
            When she was younger, they said she had “anger issues”. Sometimes, her anger got the best of her. It was why she tried to hard to put on a happy face. So that she wasn’t filled with rage. Rage from being an orphan, rage from missing her parents, rage from everything being so, damn hard. In this particular instance, Alina wasn’t certain where the rage had come from. Aleksander, pretending to give her the scholarship under the guise of it being from the goodness of his heart.
            The fact that she’d had no idea he was a professor at the college.
            Or, that now she had to sit in a lecture hall every day, and pretend that she hadn’t lost her virginity on her professor’s desk. Which was incredibly difficult when he stood up there with that same, smoldering gaze that made her wet in between her cunt. Alina punched him hard enough that Aleksander bled on his crisp, white shirt.
            “Fucking Saints!” he exclaimed. “Damn it, Alina! I’m going to have to miss class and go home and change.”
            “Good,” she said sternly.
            “Good?” he glared at her.
            “What game are you playing at?” she demanded.
            He furrowed his brows together. “What are you talking about?”
            “You gave me that scholarship. I know you did. I also know Mal is part of your family somehow. If he’s your son so help me---”
            Aleksander blanched. “Fuck, no!”
            “No?” she said.
            “No,” he said firmly. “He’s actually my…uncle.”
            Alina made a face. “How…how’s that possible?”
            “My grandfather is a creepy, old fuck. Mal’s mother was his secretary. Put two and two together.”
            “Well, it seems the rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
            He rolled his eyes. “You’ve no idea how wrong you are about that. Besides, Luchik, you and I are an ancient promise waiting to happen.”
            Alina crossed her arms over her chest. “What does that even mean?”
            “Ah, well. You’re in the class of myths and legends. You’ll find out. We’re all about discovering the truth here.”
            “I thought it was about the metaphors.”
            “There can be truth in a metaphor.”
            “That doesn’t sound right.”
            “It is a terribly good thing that you’re in college then.”
            She scowled. “Are you always an asshole?”
            “Only when it makes you so nervous that you clench your thighs together with desire…”
            She glared, and stood with her legs parted. “I’m not clenching my thighs together.”
            “I think you should let me check.”
            “I just punched you,” she said, “and you…. you want to check my…to see if…”
            “I can deal with the broken nose later,” he said, “I’m deadly curious about something else at the moment.”
            She huffed. “We’re in a classroom.”
            “We’ve been here before. You had no problem with it the last time.”
            “I didn’t know that you were going to be my professor the last time that happened. I didn’t know this was your room the last time that this happened. I thought you were my best friends weird…. I don’t know.”
            “Nephew,” he said.
            She grimaced. “Don’t say that. That makes it worse somehow.” His grey eyes sparkled as he looked at her. She very much wanted to punch him again. Alina clenched her fists. “I don’t know what you think is going to happen, but…”
            He was down on the ground. “Did you purposefully not wear tights so I could get a glimpse of your thighs?”
            Alina sighed. “I didn’t know that you were going to be here. I didn’t know anything. You…you pretended to be someone you weren’t.”
            “It’s hardly lying. I merely left some things out of the conversation. Besides, haven’t you always wanted to know who you are, Alina?” he asked.
            She paused, clenched her jaw, and stared down at him. “What are you getting at?”
            He had started to lightly trace her legs. As she shivered at his touch, Alina actually regretted not wearing tights. Perhaps it would have prevented this. A little. Or maybe…oh…. he had licked her thigh. She bit down on her lip, hard. So hard that she had broken the skin on there.
            “Haven’t you ever wondered where you came from?” he said. He stood up, and straightened himself. “There’s always a sliver of truth in legends. The Grisha existed, and if you believe the religious texts from The Apparat, they’re where Saints come from. You struggle with your weight, and I believe, Malyen said something about you having sleeping issues?”
            Alina frowned. “You and Mal talk a lot more then he said you did.”
            “I have to keep track of the family assets.”
            “Mal is not an asset.”
            He shrugged. “Be that as it may, I have an interest in the boy. You are his friend, so I have an interest in you.”
            She clenched her jaw again. “You don’t have the right to have an interest in me and what do Grish have to do with my family or me being sick?”
            “Have you heard of wasting sickness, Miss Starkov?”
            She tilted her head to the side. “That was something that happened when Grisha weren’t allowed to use their powers.”
            “Yes,” Aleksander said, “and what were the symptoms of wasting sickness?”
            She furrowed her brows. “Loss of appetite, unusual tiredness….” Alina took a deep breath. “I thought the Grisha didn’t exist anymore.”
            “They exist. They simply got better at hiding. And your origins, Miss Starkov, could very well be attached to them.”
            “My parents were soldiers. They died in an attack from Volcra.”
            “Yes, but they were both orphans too. They joined the military because they had no other option. It allowed them to get schooling…you…you think they might have been Grisha?”
            “There’s a strong possibility,” he said, “you see, what history forgets, what my family makes people forget is that the Morozova’s come from a Grisha settlement. Keramazin. The same orphanage you and Malyen strangely ended up in. Coincidence, or magic?”
            Alina frowned. “You…you…”
            “Are you willing to embrace the possibility of magic in your life, Miss Starkov? Because if you are, I can give you answers you—” he kissed the right side of her neck “---never----” he kissed the left side, and she shivered “---dreamed of.” Then he cupped her face, and kissed her deeply. Alina whimpered as he did.
            He brushed back a strand of her hair. “What do you say?”
            “Yes,” she said, breathless, “yes.”
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destiniesfic · 3 years
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Agree that OoT Aleksander would be into the whole debauched Sankta Alina thing but how about in RoW he has this line "I will give them salvation until they beg me to stop" RoW certainly argues that he gets very, VERY into the Starless Saint stuff post-resurrection. do you think he plays into that persona/side of him at some point to OoTverse Alina? Also do see you a scenario where he would actually say that line to her (in an actual convo or during sexytimes)?
Regardless of whether or not this was meant to be a prompt, anon, it’s a prompt now (in conjunction with one I saw on Twitter). 669 words (nice), Timeless ‘verse, and it’s NSFW 🔞 immediately so it’s all under a cut. Bone apple tea.
Aleksander’s moan broke the quiet of our dacha in lake country like a stone skipped across the surface of a pond. He sat at the foot of our bed, running his hand through my hair. We didn’t always start this way, with my mouth on him, my head bobbing up and down between his thighs, but as we took advantage of these slow post-centennial days away from Os Alta, where we talked little and did much, and as I learned more, I was coming to relish this. The way his breath hitched, his combing fingers. The noises he made. The expression on his face when I looked up at him through my lashes. His need, the swelling urgency of it. His vulnerability, although he would deny it.
The only reason I didn’t get on my knees more often was because he became insufferable when I did.
“There are some who would worship me, you know.” He slid his hand around to cradle the back of my head. “Like you’re doing now.”
I pulled back. “I am not,” I began, indignant.
“All men like to be worshipped,” he said. He pushed my head down again. I wondered at what point I should remind him I had teeth.
But I didn’t wield cruelty as well as he did, and I liked his moaning too much. I liked the way he kept his hand in my hair, like he might be lost if he let go of me, if he didn’t keep hold of the reins. He gave a sharp tug when he was close. Sometimes I pulled away with the warning, but not this time. This time, after having had a little practice, I swallowed what he gave me.
“Alina,” he marveled, breathless, panting. It was worth it. It was all worth it. I leaned my head against his thigh and looked up at him, watching as the tension ebbed from his body. Not all men could be called beautiful, but my husband could. My husband. The ring, the proof, was on the hand resting in my hair.
Once he caught his breath, Aleksander pulled me up by my shoulders. When I closed my eyes, thinking he might lean in and kiss me, he tossed me over the side of the bed instead, and I pitched forward onto my stomach. I squeaked in a very undignified way. A lot about sex, I had quickly realized, was not very dignified.
I knew where this was going. He was not like most men, or so he said. Most men wouldn’t be ready for another round so soon. It took Aleksander almost no time to bounce back, and he was smug about that, too. Worst of all, his arrogance was founded. All of the sounds he’d made and the pulling of my hair had affected me, and the long fingers he was already using to stoke my arousal never missed their mark. I felt like I was melting.
“Forget worship,” I said, my own fingers scrabbling for purchase on the coverlet. “I’m—ah—oh, Saints—”
“Yes?” he asked, as he pushed my nightdress all the way up to my waist. His voice was as cool as ever, like I hadn’t just taken him apart.
“I am going to curse your damn name.”
“Prayers and curses are two sides of the same coin.” He sounded so pleased with himself. I hated him so much. I wanted him so badly. “But only one will get you what you want.”
His fingers withdrew, leaving me smoldering. “Aleksander,” I managed, half a snarl, half a plea.
“What do you want, Alina?” he murmured. He gave me another long, slow stroke with his fingers, and I whined. “Mercy? Salvation? Whatever I might give you?”
I didn’t want to say it. I nodded.
This time he really took his hand back, placing it on my hip. His voice, the icy trickle of a mountain spring, made me shiver. “Then I will give you salvation,” he said, “until you beg me to stop.”
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sheikah · 3 years
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𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚
@darklinastories on Twitter has daily one-word prompts for micro fics. Today's was "jealousy" and I came up with this to procrastinate packing ♥
Sometimes Alina drops in on him through the bond, standing at the periphery of this life he's leading without her, this war he's fighting against her.
She most often finds him alone and frazzled, sulking over a map in the war room, running those long fingers through unkempt hair.
But on some nights he's at supper, expressionless as he picks at a plate of herring. Other times, he's by the lake observing Second Army training exercises. Or at the stable, rubbing down his stallion until its ebony coat glistens like polished marble.
On such occasions Alina notes Ivan at his right hand, muttering news and observations into his ear, the Heartrender's trademark scowl firmly in place.
But it isn't just Ivan, no.
Increasingly, Aleksander is found the company of some willowy Inferni with green eyes and a ready smile. She might as well be a courtier for all her simpering, the way she touches his forearm when she speaks, her early arrival at meals to claim a seat beside him. Aleksander inclines his head to her politely in greeting. "Katya," he calls her.
This is what you wanted, Alina reminds herself fiercely. To be free of him.
So why do her fists clench at the tinkling sound of Katya's laughter, at the almost-smile on Aleksander's lips when the girl produces a shiny apple from her kefta pocket, a gift for his horse?
Ordinarily, Alina would hide from him on these impromptu visits, convincing herself they were some form of reconnaissance.
Today she appears squarely in his eye line, interrupting his afternoon chat in the barn with his Inferni lackey. Alina knows he sees her when he inhales sharply, dark eyes widening, his throat bobbing on a swallow. He holds her gaze as he offers Katya his arm, escorting her back to the palace. To a life Alina forsook.
It's Mal's voice that disturbs her reverie, the squeeze of his hand bringing her back to herself. It should be reassuring, grounding, a reminder of what she's fighting for. But his skin feels cold on hers, and the ridges of his scar against her newly-smooth palm make her shrink away.
He's saying something about Nikolai, and David's newest contraption. Something that could turn the tide in their favor.
But his words don't even register. Alina’s mind is still miles away, on the Darkling's scent, clean but masculine. Heady and strong. 
She’d breathed him in the night of the fete, panting into the embroidered shoulder of his kefta as he trailed sucking kisses down her neck. The scratch of his beard, the press of the table behind her thighs as he shoved his body roughly against hers.
How many others had he kissed that way? Was he kissing that insipid Inferni right now? She's biting her lip hard enough to bleed.
"Alina!" The volume of Mal's exclamation is finally enough to cut into her awareness again. His face swims into focus, a disappointed frown creasing his forehead. He shakes his head at her, dropping her hand and backing away until she's alone again.
Alina takes a shuddery breath, eyeing her surroundings and finding that the shadows in the corners of the room have taken on an alluring quality.
She should go after Mal. She doesn't.
Jealousy, she thinks, is her most formidable opponent yet.
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corrieander · 3 years
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The Sun Also Rises: Chapter 12
A Shadow and Bone time loop story
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When Alina snuck into Aleksander’s tent that morning, he’d already had breakfast brought.
He was reclining in the desk chair, and Ilya Morozova’s journal was open in his lap again.
Alina felt a little awkward as he looked up at her. Despite their arrangement last night, she had not actually expected to spend the night with him, but the reset had not happened until nearly morning, as far as she could tell.
The food gave her something to focus on. “Good idea, saves trouble,” she said, not quite looking him in the eye. She stood by the tray and picked up a slice of apple. “This is new.”
He observed her. “I thought you might like it. You seem to enjoy fruit.”
“Anything sweet,” Alina admitted. She perched on the stool but then stood back up. “I—uh, I slept last night. I mean, I remember sleeping, which I normally don’t. I guess your experiment partially worked.”
He nodded, taking a sip of tea. “I was curious if you’d be aware of it.” He smiled a little, but seemed to be in a contemplative, not flirtatious mood.
“But we still reset. Did you feel when it happened? Were you able to learn anything?”
Aleksander sipped his tea again. “I did learn something.”
She took another three pieces of apple, cradling them in her hand. They would go brown if someone didn’t eat them, might as well be her. “And? You’re being very cryptic again.”
Aleksander set down his cup. “I chose to go to sleep, but I think I know how to end this spell.”
Alina froze. He knew how to stop it... but he’d chosen not to?
“I need a little more information, a little time to plan, and... I need to know that you’re ready.”
“And if I’m not?”
“Then,” he took a deep breath and released it. “Then we wait. I have ben alive for hundreds of years. I know how to wait.” His eyes shadowed. “I may not be entirely ready myself.”
The Fold lay between them. Ravka and its future lay between them. Leaving the safety of this day would change everything.
Alina glanced at his desk and noticed that he had a map spread out there, a map of Novokribirsk. If the Fold shifted West, that is the first city it would swallow.
She recognized the map as one that the Senior Cartographer had been working on before the Crossing. It had population data of the various regions of Novokribirsk. The cartography team were supposed to finish it on the other side.
It was also where General Zlatan was beginning to rally a rebellion.
Was that the city Aleksander would destroy first?
And yet he had chosen not to end the loop when he could.
Perhaps there was hope.
“I see,” Alina said. A lot was encompassed in the look they exchanged.
They both ate a little more in silence.
Alina wiped her mouth and fingers. “I don’t know that I want to find out whatever you discovered last night... but we are partners in this, aren’t we? So you had better tell me.”
He nodded. “I was planning on it, but I would have to, anyway. You are the one who has the information I need to end it.” He suddenly gripped her hand. “I don’t want to lose you, Alina.”
Alina nearly replied, “Then don’t do anything terrible,” but she stopped herself, even though it was true.
He was rarely this vulnerable. “I don’t either,” Alina said. “You’re the only thing that’s made these months—years?—bearable. I won’t throw it away.”
He huffed. “I believe you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t decide—with pure and noble and stupid motives, I’m sure—to destroy me.”
Now Alina smiled and allowed herself to reply saucily, “I’m honored that you think I’m strong enough to take you on.”
He laughed and squeezed her hand once more before releasing her. “I didn’t mean destroy me like that, though it is probably true. I meant that you would leave.” His expression had grown normal, but his eyes were bleak. He went on, “I think you’ll need to put the gauntlet on, and then I will try something.”
He unlocked the chest and handed her the gauntlet. It fit so smooth and snug against her arm that she could wave her arms about or even use her left hand without it sliding off. She slid it on and rolled her shoulders, feeling the powerful promise of the amplifier sink into her anew. Every time it seemed to happen a little faster.
He also took out her notebook and flipped it open to the third page or so.
“Would you read aloud what you wrote here?” He pointed to a sentence.
Alina narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you trying to embarrass me?” She’d written some things about him and how he made her feel that she wouldn’t relish reading aloud.
“No, be serious, minx.”
Alina held up the book and read. “If only I’d made it to the Little Palace the first day, I would have the whole library to search for information. Instead I have the Darkling’s bookshelf and a camp full of ignorant soldiers, and the Fold looming uglier than even the Grand Palace...”
Alina looked at him. “This part?”
“Have you ever seen the Grand Palace in Os Alta?”
“No. I guess I just imagined...” she frowned. “You’d think the Grand Palace would be beautiful. I don’t know why I compared it to the Fold.”
“Perhaps because I find it one of the ugliest buildings in Ravka?”
“Do you?” Alina had a sudden vision of an overdone, architectural eyesore. She frowned.
He nodded. “If I’d gone there with you, I would’ve told you so.”
“But we’ve never made it to Os Alta.”
He took the notebook and tossed it on his desk. “Last night I kept you from resetting three times. Each time I had a... vision, I think, a shred of a memory. I want to try to unlock the rest of it.”
He cupped his hands around her face. “Do you trust me?”
“Well—”
He kissed her, and at the same time, she felt a jolt of his power. She didn’t know what it was—not his shadows—more like a surge of his amplification. The gauntlet seemed to sing along with it, but instead of causing Alina to light up, something else was happening. The surge was directed in a very particular way, into her mind and deep in her head.
It... hurt.
Alina jerked away from him.
But she was no longer in his tent. They were in a large, fancy room with a round table with maps and figurines marking armies and kings and territories. There was a hand-painted globe nearby, long draperies on the windows, and ornate chairs.
His hands were still on her face.
Where...? Alina thought. How...?
But as if in a dream, her body continued to act and speak and move without her. Alina felt separated from herself, as if watching a play.
Aleksander lifted her onto the table and kissed her again.
A memory, Aleksander’s voice said. But I don’t know what happened next.
Aleksander appeared next to her, but their memory selves were unaware.
“Um,” Alina said, as their embrace grew warmer. “This is awkward.”
A knock at the door startled Alina. They watched as Aleksander went to the door, but came back to kiss her once more and Alina smiled. “You look...happy.”
From his memory, Alina heard what they said at the door. “Marie?” Alina asked. “Who is that?”
“Shh,” Aleksander said. “We need the rest of it.”
He took his leave of Alina.
“She’s—I’m wearing black,” Alina said. “I’ve never looked so fancy in my life. When is this? Why don’t I remember?”
He just shushed her again. An old woman pushed her way into the room, and Memory Alina jumped. “Baghra?”
“My mother,” Aleksander confirmed.
The conversation continued, harsh words of warning and coming enslavement. Aleksander’s fists clenched. “Insufferable old woman.”
“But... it was true, wasn’t it? That you were going to use the stag.”
“Yes, but look how she twists the rest of it. She says that I made the Fold as if it were my plan, not a horrible accident. Look how you—how she believes the worst.”
Alina did not want to argue with him. It was true that this Alina—considering the embrace she was in very recently—did flip quickly to running away. “She didn’t—she didn’t have months of rumination and a drunken night in Poliznaya to come to terms with it all,” Alina whispered.
Baghra was still talking. “My son is arrogant—he does not even destroy all this evidence of his past lives. He no longer questions himself. He has no equal, no partner. He doesn’t even value the lives of his Grisha. He will never destroy the Fold while he can use it. Yet how many of his Grisha have died in the Fold?”
“And otkazat’sya, too,” Memory Alina said.
Baghra looked at her blankly. “Yes, well. I have lived too long to care what happens to the butchers.”
Memory Alina’s mouth flattened to a thin line. “No wonder he learned to despise the lives of those less powerful than him. You taught him to do it!”
Baghra slapped her. “Insolent girl. You don’t know who you are speaking to. Pay attention. He will use the stag to control you and expand the Fold. Get out of here. Never come back.”
“But now you’ve warned me—I’ll be on guard. I can change what happens. There has to be another way.”
“You think to match wits with my son? You’re more an idiot than I thought. Your powers may match his someday, but he will not give you time to become his equal. He will collar you long before that.”
Both versions of Alina rubbed their throat.
Aleksander didn’t look at her.
Memory Alina wasn’t done yet. “Then... time, I need time. What does he need? There must be some way back—don’t shake your head at me, you hateful old woman.” Alina caught her hand when Baghra would have slapped her again. “He is your son. Look me in the eye and tell me there is no hope.”
Baghra looked at Alina for a long moment, then wrenched her arm free and turned away. “I am no harder on him than I am on myself. Is there some path that might give him a chance to be different? Maybe one in a million. Do I think you or I can achieve it? Am I willing to bet Ravka on it? No. It would be to throw a spear and strike a single hair at a thousand paces.”
Alina’s eyes hardened. “Then it’s not hopeless. You have been alive even longer than him. Think. Are there no other options? Something to protect me from the stag until I can convince him not to do it? He will trust me eventually. I just need time.”
Baghra’s lip curled. “Did he tell you what a lonely boy he is? Did he tell you he loves you? That you complete him? He is manipulating you.”
Aleksander looked like his teeth would break if he clenched his jaw even tighter. “For the record, I haven’t told you any of those things, and I sincerely doubt I said any of them to that Alina.”
Alina took his hand. “You didn’t have to.”
Aleksander ripped his gaze from his mother to her.
This time Alina shushed him. “Let’s find out the rest.”
Memory Alina was beginning to wilt. “Alright, he probably was manipulating me... but that doesn’t mean it was all fake. I need time...”
Baghra raised her hands and shadows flooded the cellar room. “Go or I will strike you down myself.”
Both Alina’s glared at her. Memory Alina raised a hand. “I can protect myself now.”
Baghra began to laugh. “You think that light show you did tonight can protect you? If I or Aleksander wanted to, we could cut right through it.”
Memory Alina was obviously furious, but was also obviously afraid
She backed down.
Alina winced as she watched herself flee down the stone corridor.
With a sudden jerk, Alina was back in the tent with Aleksander. His hands were still on her head, but he released her at once.
She stumbled backward and sat on his bed. “That was—That was—the future? I’m so confused.”
He rubbed his forehead and came forward, kneeling in front of her. “No, not the future. There was one iteration before all this—but neither of us remember it. The same way I was not remembering at first, you are only just now getting back your memory of the first time we truly met, of the path we took that time.”
“Then... then how did this happen?” Alina waved her hands around wildly. “Baghra?”
“There were two more memories I caught glimpses of.” He grimaced. “Sorry about this, enacting the first moment seems to work.”
He put his hands on her throat, as if he would choke her, and she felt that same surge of his power. It hit her gauntlet and ricocheted, hitting her mind like a pickax.
She tried to jerk away.
But this time Alina was in another tent. The Darkling’s hands were around her throat, though again, Alina seemed to slip to the side while watching what happened.
The Darkling wasn’t choking her, he was running his hands over the—the bones protruding from her chest.
Alina shuddered. “Aleksander?”
I’m here. He appeared once she talked to him. I’m sorry.
They watched it play out and Alina couldn’t help the horror that was creeping over her. It was one thing to hear Aleksander’s plan, it was another to see it happen. Her fingers couldn’t seem to leave her smooth collar bones.
But she already knew this wouldn’t happen. He’d fashioned the gauntlet for her.
Memory Aleksander was... unhinged at receiving what he had always wanted. The power to achieve his retribution, to fulfill his plans, transformed his face to a mask of cold triumph. She’d like to say she didn’t recognize it, but she was fully aware that her Aleksander could become him in the twinkling of an eye.
He explained his plans for the king, he threatened Mal.
Then the Darkling held out his hands to Alina. “The only thing that is more powerful than you or me, is both of us, together. After the display today, I will train you to use the amplifier. This is... just temporary, Alina. I have to deal with General Zlatan before there is a revolution.”
Her Aleksander rubbed his mouth, self-consciously. “He’s not wrong.”
Alina slapped the back of his head.
“I mean—obviously this was badly done. He’s an idiot for thinking you’ll forgive him just like that. But—Zlatan is a problem.”
They missed the end of the confrontation, but the memory continued after Aleksander left.
Shadows grew in the tent, and they were crowded with Alina in a small dome of shadow, leaving her guard outside. Into it came Baghra, looking worriedly over her shoulder.
“I have only a few minutes or that idiot will realize this isn’t the General’s doing.”
Memory Alina gasped. “What are you doing here?” Hope came into her eyes for the first time in a while. “You have to help me get away from him.”
“It’s rather late for that,” Baghra snapped. “You were supposed to disappear, but you didn’t. I may have thought about what you said. About time. My father, the bonesmith, he brought my sister back from the dead. What is avoiding death if not cheating time? I have an idea—a use of power no one has ever attempted. But the theory... is viable.”
“What—what would it do? I don’t think he’s going to kill me, I don’t need to be resurrected.”
Baghra cackled. “You might need it more than you think. This working would give you more time with him, time to see if you can find that one path where my son can be reclaimed.”
“Then—yes. Whatever it is, let’s try it.”
“It is no squaller breeze or inferni flame, chit. This working is irreversible. It requires far more power than I have.”
“Use mine!”
“I can’t use yours. It’s all bound up at the moment,” Baghra glared at Alina’s chest. “Even if it was, it may not be enough. I need both your and Aleksander’s power. Even that may not be enough.”
“Then... then...”
“I will hide on the skiff, with the help of your tracker friend. He doesn’t die easy, that one. I respect that. I will find the moment. Be ready.”
“What do I do?”
“You die, both you and Aleksander.”
“I have to—to kill us both?”
“It is the only way to set off the working. You must trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” Alina said coldly. “But I am willing to try anything.”
With a shudder, Alina and Aleksander landed back in his real tent. He took his hands away from her neck carefully. He rolled back on his heels, still crouching before her.
Alina swallowed. “I guess we did it.”
He raised a hand to run it through his hair, Alina flinched.
Aleksander froze. “I didn’t collar you.”
“I know.”
He rose to his feet and poured water from a pitcher for both of them.
“Do we even need memory three?” Alina asked. “We know what happened.”
He silently handed her the water and Alina drank thirstily.
“I need to know. The last memory...” he glanced at the map of Novokribirsk. “I need to know. I’ll wait till you’re ready.”
Alina felt sick to her stomach. It was not just seeing the memory, it was knowing that she still couldn’t trust that her Aleksander would not go a similar direction. Not exactly.
But they were throwing that spear, trying to hit a hair at a thousand paces. Who was she to think she could set him on the path?
“Not today,” Alina said, stumbling to her feet heading for the door to his tent. “I don’t want to see the last memory today.”
Aleksander caught her wrist before she left. “Where are you going? To him?”
Alina closed her eyes, unable to meet his and see the other version of him. “He’s my friend. If you can’t give me that much freedom, ask yourself how you’ll feel if—if I leave forever.”
Aleksander released her and Alina ducked out of his tent and ran toward the First Army tents.
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amiramorozova · 3 years
Text
Dual Summoner and the Darkling pt. 50
Glossary: nichyev‘ya - nothing(s)
After we walked for so long I noticed it was getting late as he led us to a hotel. I questioned if we were staying there but he seemed to be focused. The man at the front seemed to be motioning up as we all went up there and I thought this was odd. As I looked back I noticed the man was just looking the other way as we made it into a room. It was dark and there was an eeriness to this.
"Why are we here?" I asked, he seemed to be focused on something in the corner as I watched. He'd been here before it was clear to me something had changed in the fold as I saw creatures walk out from the shadows. My skin crawled at the sight of them, they were shadows with nothing but forms and probably mouths. "We're going to wait for Alina, so I can thank her." Aleksander said, the sounds of the Grisha backing up as Aleksander gave a motion for those things to stay in the corner while he led me to a seat. I hadn't taken a chance to notice they were all in regular clothes. 
So these things he got from the fold? I thought 
Aleksander took a seat while waiting and he pulled me down where I was sitting in his lap and laid my head down. "As long as you side with me, the nichyev‘ya will never harm you." Aleksander whispered in my ear. I felt a sense of peace being near him but I wondered what happened to him while we were away from each other. The Aleksander I knew was in there somewhere and I needed to reach him but I wasn't feeling safe with those things.
We were there for a while before the sound of footsteps coming up the room was evident. I realized Alina and Mal must have been in this place. I'd known they were in Cofton and now Aleksander wanted revenge. "Aleksander, don't hurt them too bad." I begged, "Mal could be a useful tracker to help." I felt a shift in Aleksander as I must have had a good point, I couldn't see him very well but being in darkness like this with those things in the corner was not helping either.
When the door opened the Grisha who were working with Aleksander grabbed Alina and Mal, Ivan had a knife to Mal's throat as Alina had used light but it was useless. Aleksander picked me up and set me in the chair as he walked out. "Hello Alina." Aleksander said as my group stayed by the wall. They wouldn't move unless I motioned for them to do so. "Search her for any weapons and take them." Aleksander said as those Grisha were following his orders. "How did you find us?!" Alina demanded as he showed her the golden hairpin. 
"You and my wife leave an expensive trail." Aleksander said as she tried to get free. "I don't know where Amira is, she parted ways with me after we got here!" Alina said as Aleksander nodded and put his left hand on his right as the shadows left around me revealing me in the chair. "I found her first, being taken care of by someone connected to Baghra." Aleksander said as I was glad to get out of the shadows. "But I am not here to kill you Alina, even though you tried to do that with me and take away Amira's dreams of freedom and a family." Aleksander said as I just sat there. "No, I am here to thank you."
"Thank me?" Alina asked as Aleksander smirked and walked over to me as shadows surrounded us and he expanded his shadow protection to my guard group as I merely listened. The sounds of those things moving was evident, the fear in the other Grisha was evident and somehow I knew my group was safe. "You risk our people to those nothings?" I asked as Aleksander looked at me "They know who to go after." Aleksander said 
I had to sit there waiting as the fight was going on, the sound of the sun easy to tell but I was scared. I looked at Aleksander as I saw this was taking a lot out of him and tears formed in my eyes. "Stop this, please." I said as I got up and went over to him, placing a hand on his cheek. "Please. I can't bear the thought of you dying over these things." I said as he looked at me. For a second I thought he'd say no, he'd refuse my request but he put a hand on my cheek as he kissed me. I hadn't felt his lips against mine in two weeks. It was what I missed the most.
"This is for us." Aleksander said, "Just these two for now, we need to catch up but we need to get moving on the sea whip." the second amplifier of Morozova's amplifiers, I remember we talked about doing this together as I nod. When the shadows were released around us I saw that thing on Alina biting into her as he smirked. "Thank you Alina, for this gift." 
I looked at Alina, seeing her in pain. It made me feel bad as she fell unconscious and Aleksander made a hand motion as the nichyev‘ya backed off leaving to wherever he'd had it. He made a motion to his Grisha who were scared as he led me away. We kept walking for some time as we came to one of the better places and he walked in leading me to the room. He looked at my guards who'd followed motioning to the other rooms. "they're rented for the night. Tomorrow, we board the ship I paid for to take us to find the sea whip." Aleksander said 
As he led me inside, he let my hand go as he took off that shirt that didn't suit him. I saw him reach for his coat and his kefta but I walked over and made him look at me. I took in the appearance of faint scars on his skin as I carefully traced them. "You were hurt by the volcra." I said as I saw they were healed by a healer but still faintly there. "It's not your fault this happened, I thought Alina would understand the cause." Aleksander said 
You knocked me out when I could have helped. I thought
"At least you were safe during this whole thing, someone carried you off the skiff I assume." Aleksander said as I turned from him remembering what he did. "You killed west ravkans, the royals won't trust you now." I said as he sighed "Nothing a heartrender can't fix." Aleksander assured me. I removed the cloak revealing my kefta since I'd never parted with it even though it was an eyesore. "I see you kept your kefta, you really do look stunning but you probably must miss your parents, your brother and your cousin." Aleksander said as I turned around and looked at him. "Don't talk about them like they haven't heard. A heartrender can change the emotions and thoughts of a human but not Grisha!" I said suddenly angry
When I thought about it, what was I angry about, the actions he had done. No, I knew that was coming and blood was going to be shed. He was alive and it'd been two weeks before he found me. I was the one who talked Alina into using the golden hairpins knowing that it would lead us to him. I needed him to be by my side when things got bad, I had come to rely on him and maybe that was what bothered me. A year ago, I relied on no one and I was a loner who took pride in doing things her way, and now I wanted nothing more than to drown out the world and lay beside him. 
"You're angry, you have every right to be but it was not easy to get to Novi Zem." Aleksander said as I sighed just wanting to go to bed. All my outfits were back at the little palace and the kefta and jewelry was all I had of him for two weeks. I walked over to see he had a double bed and a private room so he was paying a lot for these rooms. Laying down it was peaceful and I laid there for who knows how long before I put the cloak on deciding to go out. Aleksander had followed me as I walked down the path as I had a few coins from Nico as I stopped by my favorite pie place and got one. "How are you doing Ms. Silina?" The baker asked, "Much better now, thank you." I said as I paid for the pie and when I turned around he was there looking at me. "You have a favorite pie?" Aleksander asked, "mhm, it's apple pie." I said as I walked out of the place. 
On the way back, I saw a dog run over to me and put his paw on my leg as I handed Aleksander the pie as I kneeled down. "Hi, well aren't you cute?" I said as the dog licked me and I laughed. I heard a man run over as the dog got behind me and I stood up seeing the man had a whip. "You found my dog, thank you miss." The man said as he went to reach for it but I moved where he couldn't. "Are you abusing this animal, mister?" I asked as I was prepared to out myself if I had to for an animal. I heard the dog whine as he looked at the man and I could just tell that this dog was probably better off with me.
"That dog doesn't listen to a thing I say, what makes you think you can do any better girl?" The man said as I noticed Aleksander didn't like the way this man talked to me. "I am capable of many things sir, but this dog ran to me when it was escaping you. I hear it whine and I can tell it's in fear or you've been mistreating it." I said as I saw Nico had come out to look for me. "How much for the dog?" He asked as he had his earnings for the day and the man looked back as he named a price. Nico tossed him a bag with Novi zem coins and motioned for the guy to get going as he looked at me. "Dog is yours Amira, better train it before we leave the area." Nico said before he walked away
I looked down at the dog as I kneel before realizing this dog was a five-month-old puppy. "You have to name the dog, Amira. The man didn't give you a name." Aleksander said as I nod looking at the sweet dog. "Shadow." I said as I stood up. The dog got up and wagged its tail as I smiled but looked at Aleksander. "Shadow, since the dog is black." Aleksander said as I led the way and Shadow followed while Aleksander walked beside me. "You wear black and control shadows." I reminded him.
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We were in that hotel for a couple more days as Aleksander had to make sure the boat was secure and I had to make sure that everything was ok with Shadow. I was able to get a collar for her after we'd figured out that she was a girl and I made sure that my symbol was on her so they knew the Dual Summoner was her owner. When we boarded the boat I wasn't sure about this but I was going to make the best of it. 
Aleksander led me to a cabin and I was to stay there until we left shore. Shadow stayed with me and when I felt we were sailing for a while things got worse. I eventually had to run to the side of the ship and vomit. Aleksander went over to me as he looked at me and I looked at him. "You're getting sea sick? It's uncommon." Aleksander said, but as we were on that ship for days and Nico helped with Shadow he started to become suspicious. It wasn't just the boat going back and forth like when we'd came here or the food, just the tiniest thing made me sick. 
Nico was the first to approach me and he thought about it "Are you getting morning sickness?" Nico asked as I looked at him confused. "You're getting sick on the sea. I don't think it's sea sickness Amira. I think you're pregnant." Nico said as I sat there on the side of the ship listening as I thought about it over and over. I'd had small signs in Cofton of things making me sick and now it was worse on the sea. 
I'm expecting our first child? I thought 
TagList: @lifeisingrey,  @houseoftoomanyfandoms
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mcheang · 3 years
Text
Shadow And Bone episode 5 recap
Spoilers alert
Mal is sent to deliver news of the Stag to the Darkling.
Kaz disguises himself as oprichnik. I thought I saw Pekka but nvm
Wow, Marie and Nadya really have become Alina’s friends if they aren’t just her tour guides and meal buddies. No, they are actually sharing love gossip. I was never sure of their friendship in the books. But honestly, their friendship seems more solid than Alina’s with Genya. We have so few episodes of them seen together, so there is not enough time to develop a real friendship. But we do get to see David. And no wonder Genya likes him.
Though I am not impressed with the gloves he made...
Alina tells Genya she plans on wearing the black kefta onwards but Genya warns her of powerful men.
Alina convinces Genya to sneak out and see the shows with her. Jesper realizes Alina is half-Shu. Not sure why that matters beyond that nobody knows what she really looks like, beyond asking First Army who knew her.
The crew make plans. Jesper will secure their way out. The Conductor will secure Alina since he knows how to enter the Grisha-locked room she will visit.
Alina visits the war room, which is apparently connected to Kirigan’s bedroom. Kind of public for a bedroom, ain’t it? Anyway, Alina kisses the General. Wooo!
At the fete, romance occurs. Jesper is getting passionate with a stableboy. Ivan and Fedyor are apparently more than colleagues <3 and David apparently likes Genya if the secret glances are anything to go by.
The Darkling and Alina give the demonstration, leaving several nobility kneeling before Sankta Alina, or just giving her respectful gestures, including Inej.
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oprichnik Inej
Of course the Apparat has to ruin the night with his crazy faith talk.
Mal reports finding the stag but refuses to tell Kirigan its whereabouts until he sees Alina. Kirigan demands proof that they are friends, so Mal admits Alina’s fav flowers are blue iris (I would have said apple blossom). Yeah, Kirigan wasn’t happy with the request.
Baghra learns that the stag has been found and sends her oprichnik Durast to kill Mal and his companion. (She can order their deaths but not Alina’s? I guess she wants the Fold destroyed, or else she would not have hesitated...) But Mal escapes and kills the fabrikator.
Alina arrives at the room she is to wait in before the fete dinner, only she is killed by the Conductor. Well, there’s a surprise! I was not expecting him to be working for the West Ravkan General Zlatan. Though it’s not surprising both don’t want the Fold destroyed. Genya arrives and survives a bullet thanks to her kefta, but she can’t save Alina, who turns out to be Marie.
And Kaz knew there would be a double, because he scouted ahead and saw there were two black keftas. He suspected the Conductor couldn’t be trusted because he saw him with Zlatan. They try to escort Alina out but General Kirigan intercepts them. Not to mention now they have a suspicious inferni on their trails and split up. He follows Kaz.
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General Kirigan gives Alina blue irises (Ok, it sucks that he won’t let her see Mal but this looks so good, like actual courting! Still this is wrong because he is using Mal. Just ask Alina what her favorite flowers are. Don’t use Mal.)
The Darkling takes Alina to the war room and they pretty much proceed to make out. Love this so much! Of course Ivan interrupts to report the attack. The Darkling doesn’t tell Alina but has guards posted around her until he returns. And of course he sneaks in an extra kiss or two. I mean, I know the matter is serious, but this is still hot.
Baghra then arrives via secret passage and instructs Alina to follow her. Baghra explains that Kirigan is the black heretic and he wants to expand the Fold against his enemies. Baghra gives proof via her own shadow powers, proving she is his mother. Baghra instructs Alina to see her trusted Grisha and let them hide her, but Alina decides to hide by herself. Can’t blame her. She can’t trust anyone now.
Kaz gets the upper hand on the inferni, but as the inferni is about to deliver a fatal blast of fire, Inej kills him, which really messes her up into stillness.
Alina escapes into the trunk that is on Jesper’s escape vehicle, which Jesper finds hilarious, especially as his comrades arrive to report their failure.
Aleksander returns to the war room and finds Alina missing, he searches the grounds. Baghra tells her son she has murdered the tracker and that Alina is gone. Aleksander warns Baghra that Alina matters more to him than she does, and that he will exact vengeance if Alina is hurt.
Mal was eavesdropping on mother and son and leaves. Alina is no longer there, he has no reason to stay.
While I am admittedly touched Kirigan cares about Alina’s wellbeing, it is also disturbing how he threatened Baghra, you can see her looking hurt as he does so. T.T
I do so love Inej’s faith.
Wow, Genya can fight! You go, girl! But poor Marie!
Why is the Darkling back to Alina so soon? Done interrogating that fast?
It’s kind of sad that Alina is ready to turn on the Darkling so quickly just like that. But despite whatever romance was building, he and Baghra are still almost strangers to her.
Does Mal think the Darkling wanted him dead? Nah, he still needs the stag.
OMG I just realized that it is possible the Darkling would have just let Mal see Marie!
The only time I felt for Baghra was when Aleksander threatened her, and we see the hurt in her eyes because we see how she loves her son. Though honestly, her plotting to kill Mal and not saying Aleksander was once a brilliant boy who just wanted to save their kind was unwelcome. What happened to the woman who wants her son to be saved?
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darklesmylove · 5 years
Text
you are not nothing | alarkling
after the events of ruin and rising, aleksander comes back
***
I felt it the moment he allowed me to. It felt like breathing for the first time in years, a soft hum reinstating the tether between us and mending the jagged hole his death had torn from the very fibers of my being.
He was alive.
Mal rushed over to me in worry when I collapsed to my knees, the basket I had clutched in my hands falling and spilling the freshly picked apples all over the wooden floorboards. "What is it, Nastasia, are you okay?" he fell to my side, using my alias seeing as we were in earshot of children. I couldn't reply, the revelation far too heavy to let roll off of my tongue. For a brief moment it felt like I might have shattered to pieces, but slowly, with the intake of a few deep breaths, I collected myself. "I just got spooked, I'm fine," I cleared my throat, not meeting his gaze as I picked up the apples and carefully placed them back in the basket. He eyed me uncertainly, we both rose back to our feet in tense silence. My teeth sunk into my lower lip when he took a step closer, his handsomely roguish features becoming swathed in shadow. "Whatever it is, you know that I'm here for you, Alina," he murmured, his lips grazing against my forehead before, hesitantly, he turned, walking back out to the garden where the children were waiting for him.
My hands clenched at my sides.
***
I felt it the first time he visited me. The tether vibrated and I was too weak to stop it, cradled in the gentle clutches of a half asleep state.
Dimly, I registered the feeling of his eyes, though mine remained shut. His gaze roved over me, and even if he was nothing but a projection of his true self, the intensity of it was nearly tangible. My skin heated, but I kept my eyes closed, silently refusing to acknowledge his presence.
After the minutes start to drag on, my hand reached out for Mal, lacing our fingers together over the covers. Mal shifted in his sleep, but didn't wake.
The feeling of his stare vanished almost immediately.
***
He came to me silently for many months, both of us stubbornly refusing to say a word.
***
When he spoke to me for the first time, it felt as if every broken, shattered part of me was healed with the mere sound of his smooth, cool voice.
"Alina."
Reluctantly, I allowed my eyes to lift from my sewing to where he was sitting on the velvet chair across from me. The crackling fire illuminated his shadowed features with a weak glow, somehow making him look even more alluring than I had remembered.
"What do you want from me," I finally sighed, silently proud at the casual, bored tone I had managed. My gaze dropped back to the garment I was carefully stitching, methodically weaving the gold thread along the hem of the white dress. He was silent for so long I thought he had gone.
"You're playing house."
My head snapped up, an unexpected rush of anger rising in my throat at his snide judgement. "Yes, I am playing house, meanwhile you were supposed to be dead," I snarled, my lip curling slightly. He raised a brow a calculated measure, his silver eyes holding a silent challenge.
He knew as well as I did that I would never admit my anger was solely because if I hadn't even been successful in killing him, that settling for this life and losing my powers was all for nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
"You really think a dagger killed me? I'm hurt that you believe me to be so weak," he spoke mockingly, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. They were so long that the shift in position brought him dangerously close to touching me. I tucked my knees in towards my chair, shooting him a sickly sweet smile. "I'm so very sorry to have hurt your feelings," I sneered, my words dripping with condescension, "It's not like I tried to stab you through your heart or anything. I'm truly sorry about that too, by the way."
He laughed, a dry, raspy chuckle that made my skin warm with the soft caress of it, an ache crawling up my throat in response. My fingers tightened around my sewing needle. All these years later, and he still had an effect on me that I was powerless to suppress.
"I'm touched by the apology, my Alina," his lips twitched upwards slightly, his head tilting to the side in an almost playful manner as he evaluated me.
It was infuriatingly comforting seeing him this way again, as if he had never left. As if he hadn't been gone the past five years. As if his absence hadn't made me feel like an empty shell of myself for so, so long.
Anger at my thoughts made my hand jerk just a measure too aggressively, the needle I was gripping stabbing through the soft flesh of my finger. A soft curse fell from my lips, I dropped the needle and inspected the blood already beginning to pool on the pad of my thumb with a faint prickle of pain.
I hadn't sensed his shift in movement until the very moment his hand closed gently around mine, sending a shock of electricity up my arm. My eyes shot up to meet his as he ran his finger gently over the raggedly torn cut, a delicate stroke that ghosted over my skin and left goosebumps in its wake.
An icy talon trailed down my spine in an involuntary shiver, a longing so deep and desperate clawing at my chest it took my breath away.
"You know that you will always have a place beside me, Alina, no matter how many times you fight me," he murmured in something like comfort, his grey eyes flickering.
Pain was thick in my mouth, it felt like my chest was collapsing in on itself.
"You said I was nothing."
The words tore from my throat in a soft, broken sob, accusation and loathing and emotions far too complex to even explain tinging my words. Because he was right, I was nothing without my power and I truly felt like nothing without it. Silent tears trailed down my cheeks, my head falling against his hard chest as he took me in his arms. It was sickeningly comforting, his smooth voice whispering unintelligible words of solace, his slender fingers stroking gently through my hair. Not even the dim thought of Mal could have pulled me away from him in that moment as I grasped the fabric of his kefta, holding onto him as if I would physically shatter if I let go.
Gradually, his touch moved from tangled through my hair, lightly cradling my face with soft fingertips. "You are not nothing," he spoke edged with a husky rasp, and when I finally looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes were dark with some indiscernible emotion, something somewhere between apology and longing.
"I'm not the Sun Summoner anymore." My lower lip trembled. "There's nothing else I can give you that you would want, Aleksander. So please, just go away."
His grip tightened around me, an echo of the desire that he felt at the use of his name running hot through my veins. He stilled for a moment, his eyes shutting briefly. The flickering fire cast long shadows down his face, warming his normally pale pallor with a soft glow.
My erratic breaths had finally evened out when he spoke again.
"My powers are gone too, Alina."
The soft confession rendered me frozen, speechless.
The word was almost strangled as it left my lips in hasty response.
"How?"
His eyes were chillingly haunted in the gray slate of their depths.
"I don't know, Alina. Because we are bound together? Because there is no dark without light? It's because of everything single thing I have been telling you since the very beginning, that our lives are intertwined and there is nothing either of us can possibly do about it."
Every word he uttered dripped with a mixture of loathing and longing.
A flicker of startling recognition made me tense.
I had managed to take everything from him and yet he still wanted me. And he hated that.
But.
He wanted me.
The thought left me reeling with something like exhilaration. For the first time in my life, someone actually wanted me. Not the idea of me like Mal, or the possibility of a political alliance like Nikolai, or merely because of my powers like Aleksander once had.
"What do you want from me then," I murmured, finding myself leaning into the hard curve of his body as if he was a force of gravity I couldn't possibly escape even if I tried. He paused, his head tilting slightly to the side, his eyes thoughtful and contemplating. Slowly, gently, his fingertips trailed down my arms, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Before I could pull away he found my hand, winding his fingers through mine.
"I want you, Alina. That's all I want, because you're all I have left."
His tongue trailed over his lower lip, indecision flashing in his eyes.
"But I find that, somehow, I'm okay with that."
Every fiber of my being screamed at me to pull away when he leaned in, that I loved Mal and that I was content with my simple life at this orphanage.
But I didn't.
His soft lips brushed against mine light as air, a measure of hesitancy and reluctance present in the way he held me, as if even this slightest measure of vulnerability of allowing me to choose repulsed him. My mouth moved against his almost instinctively, I let out a quiet exhale at the familiar, pleasurable taste of him. His hand burned at my hip, my body arching into him as my fingers wound through his silky curls. I had forgotten what it had felt like to allow myself to give into his pull, the press of skin and whisper of breath nothing remotely like anything else I had experienced before. His tongue trailed over my lower lip, parting my mouth open and eliciting a soft moan. The words came out before I could stop them.
"I missed you so much, Aleksander."
It was nothing more than a sigh, a soft breath into the kiss, but I knew he heard me.
His grasp tightened, he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over mine. "Come with me, my Alina," he murmured, "No thrones. No lies. We can live together forever, just the two of us, solnishka."
My chest ached.
I had never wanted something so badly. And yet, hesitation was still thick in my mouth. How could I trust him after everything, how could I forgive him after everything?
But he was right. Even with the loss of my powers, I still hadn't aged a day in the past several years, our tether was still as strong as ever, we were undeniably bound together. And he would be all that I had left in time, regardless of what my feelings were.
"Just... I need some time," I breathed, almost a shudder.
His jaw tightened for a brief moment, his lips finding mine again with the slightest hint of desperation.
"Then I will be here when the time comes. Always and forever."
My eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips to my forehead once more before, silently, he vanished.
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shirewalker · 6 years
Text
Makin’ Whoopee - A Grisha fic
Summary: Prohibition Era. Alina goes alone to The Fold, a jazz club that still somehow serves alcohol. When the seductive owner, Aleksander Morozova, sees through her apple juice trick, Alina doesn't have a bone in herself to resist the magnetic pull of his silver eyes and soon she finds herself tangled knee deep in Morozova's arms.
Pairing: Alina/Darkles
One-shot
Rating: Explicit
AO3
Excerpt:
“Enjoying your drink?” A cool voice said.
She prepared her favourite ‘leave me alone’ glare, only to have it wither and die when she took a look at her interruption. A tall man looked her way, his body all lean muscle that looked far too good in his black tailored suit. His hair was pitch black, casually combed back, but it was his eyes that took her breath away without so much of a warning. Calling them grey would be an offense. They were silver, a deep pool of liquid silver that called for her like a siren called for a lost sailor. And Alina found it nearly impossible to not fall into those eyes and just… get lost.
MORE?
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jomiddlemarch · 2 years
Note
Darklina + “You forgot to say the magic word.” Please and thank you :)
“You forgot to say the magic word,” Aleksander said, his tone lightly chiding. The expression in his dark eyes suggested Alina needn’t fear any more severe scolding. There had not been the slightest hint of harshness since she had confided in him on their journey to Os Alta and it was difficult to recall the imperious fierceness that had animated his features when he’d used his talon ring to free the light within her. He had been most careful in how he spoke to her, the words he chose, but though her childhood had given her minimal experience of the same, she could only see that he cared for her, though to what degree and in what manner she wasn’t sure; did he mean to dote upon her like an uncle, chaff her as a friend, or could this be his way of sweethearting? 
“Merzost?” she offered. Dared. He laughed, surprised and pleased, without any of the frustration that occasionally colored his voice when her latest shatranj gambit succeeded and he saw his defeat looming on the inlaid board. Still, the term had an import she knew she did not fully grasp, stirring something within her as she uttered it, like a match struck, and she saw how that altered the light in his eyes.
“Please is the customary response, but we can discuss merzost if that if what you want, Alina,” he said. “If I have not been clear, let me say, you may ask any question of me and I will answer you.”
“Will it be the truth?” she said, before she could stop herself. He moved closer to her, close enough he might touch her if he reached out, though his hands rested in his lap, impossibly elegant.
“I think it must be,” he said.
“Why do you say it like that? You think it must be? What does that mean?” she asked.
“Because that is what you want,” he said. “Isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” she said, a little taken aback. She couldn’t imagine General Kirigan speaking so to anyone else at the Little Palace. “Yes, it is.”
“Well, then, you shall have it. You shall have anything you want. Everything you want,” he said and now he did reach out, grazing the apple of her cheek and then the lock of hair that was always the first to come lose from whatever coiffure Genya arranged. “That’s what it means and that will not change—”
“Even if I countermand your order for pastila and solozhenik and make the kitchen send up a pot of suutei tsai and golabki?” she interrupted.
“Even if you have trounced me soundly at shantranj, even then, Alina,” he said. “Though I do not see why we might not have all of it.”
“You’re extravagant,” Alina said, uncertain if it was judgment or delight she conveyed. He nodded in response.
“You’ve discovered your appetite since you came here,” Aleksander said, pronouncing the word appetite with none of the approval of a fond uncle or playful friend. “I will see you satisfied.”
“Please,” Alina said softly. Only that, knowing he would understand
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jomiddlemarch · 2 years
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There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time
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“If your shoes pinch, I can send for Genya. She’ll have another pair ready in a few minutes,” Ivan said, after watching Alina fidget, fuss and finally raise herself on tip-toe, one foot behind the other in what was an unacceptably precarious posture, though the marble railing of the gallery was high enough to keep her from plummeting to her death in the ballroom below. She might only have been maimed by such a fall, landing on one of the elaborately gowned ladies of the Imperial court; a silk skirt with a number of taffeta petticoats would soften the impact enough to allow Alina to escape with a broken hip if she twisted the right way mid-air. If he mentioned any of this to Fedyor, his husband would shake his head at Ivan’s allegedly morbid catastrophizing, which Ivan would insist was simply part of the position as the General’s chief of security. He was not seriously worried about Alina tripping and catapulting herself, but something about the angle of her neck, the way her hand had repeatedly touched the gold fillet at the back of her head, that slender little ankle hooked behind the other stirred something in him. Not pity, not fondness, but there was something of both in the nameless feeling that had led him to speak.
“Oh, the shoes are fine. Lovely. Please don’t bother Genya, she’s done so much to get me ready for tonight. I expect it’s rather a waste, but there’s no use throwing slops to a sick sow as they say,” Alina said, revealing quite a lot. Ivan allowed himself to smile slightly at her choice of idiom, one popular in the rural farmlands of the south.
“They say good kopeks after bad here in Os Alta, because they don’t know the value of a pig. Or the hard work of farming. The otkazat’sya here are all merchants and guildsmen, given to gambling and usury,” Ivan said. “Not much like Keramzin, I imagine.”
“No,” Alina said quickly, then paused. “I suppose not anyway. I don’t know much about Keramzin besides the orphanage. It might have just been something the woman who ran the place said, Ana Kuya. She had a saying for every situation, I used to joke to Mal that she’d written them down in a great big book but Mal said—”
“He was your friend, the one on the skiff,” Ivan said when Alina broke off and made no attempt to resume speaking.
“He was. He’s in the First Army. A tracker. He’d laugh to see me here tonight, like this,” she said.
“Like what?” He suspected he knew what she meant but it was better to let her talk.
“Like a fool, trying to pass herself off as an elegant lady, Tailored and gussied up. Plain, scrawny Alina parading around in a silk kefta and gold slippers, acting like she belongs at the Imperial court,” she said, all in a rush as he’d anticipated. She was even glowing a little around her fingertips as she gesticulated.
“You are Grisha, not one of those silly otkazat’sya women. Sheep, the lot of them,” Ivan said.
“But they are nobles, the Tsar’s nobles, the daughters and wives of the best families,” Alina said. Was she genuinely scandalized? Ivan shrugged to keep from laughing; that he would do later, when he told Fedya about this before they went to sleep.
“And the Tsar is only an otkazat’sya with the most money, who’s fooled them into bowing down to him. He cannot command the wind or the rain, the tides or the flames on a hearth, nor heal the smallest wound,” Ivan said. “They are not worth any adulation, not from a Grisha and certainly not from the Sun Summoner.”
“It’s not just that,” Alina muttered.
“No? What it is then?” Ivan asked.
“They are all so beautiful, so splendid and grand and graceful—all their silks and lace and velvet ribbons, their jewels and combs, they all look completely at ease, natural, like flowers, roses and lilies and orchids. And I look like a Shu drab who’s stolen her mistress’s castoffs, no matter how long and hard Genya worked on me and it was hours, Ivan, hours!”
He had to smile then. She’d never called him by his first name before.
“Genya is a perfectionist. The length of time is not a reflection on your features or complexion,” Ivan said. Alina raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical and for once, he could see her charm.
“I wouldn’t mind so much for myself but I’ll going to embarrass him,” Alina said.
“You mean General Kirigan,” Ivan said. “That you will shame him in front of the Imperial court.”
She nodded, the misery in her eyes, her pinched lips, the slump of her narrow shoulders in the black silk kefta, the weight of the Corecloth lining visible as it hadn’t been before. He felt her heart beating in her chest, the quickened pace of being found out.
“He would never be ashamed of you, to be seen with you,” Ivan said. “Not even if you looked as wan and plain as you seem to imagine and not like a fresh little wildflower amongst all these forced hothouse blooms.” If Fedya heard him now, Ivan would never hear the end of it…
“You’re just saying that.”
“I prefer to tell the truth,” he said. “It’s easier to keep track of than lies. Lies are tools. Telling you a lie would serve no purpose.”
“But I’m nothing like those women,” she said.
“You’re nothing like anyone. You’re the Sun Summoner and you’re the only Grisha to survive  to adulthood outside the Little Palace with their power suppressed in at least a generation. You’re an orphan who made a family for herself and a mapmaker who found her way home,” Ivan explained. “You must know how he looks at you. How he feels about you, how deeply he cares—”
“How deeply?” she asked, bold then, as she often was, but he knew what she risked to ask him the question.
“Without measure,” he said, unwilling to say anything more, to speak before the General had told her for himself.
“He hasn’t said—”
“He won’t see anyone but you when you enter the ballroom,” Ivan said. “I am not exaggerating for effect, I’ve had to plan for an extra security detail because of it.”
“You’re joking, you’re laughing at me,” Alina protested.
“He signed off on the additional oprichniki himself,” Ivan said.
“He did?”
“He’s General of the Second Army and the head of the Little Palace because he is most astute about risk and vulnerability. He would not allow his pride to endanger either of you,” Ivan said. The General had given him a long look when Ivan put the paper in front of him but he hadn’t argued.
“Thank you, Ivan,” she said. She straightened up and lifted her chin which meant he’d finally convinced her.
“You don’t need to thank me for telling you the truth,” he said.
“That’s your opinion,” she said, with some of the smartness she used with those she was closest to. He did not dislike it. “And that’s not why I thanked you.”
“No?”
“No. I thanked you for being kind when you didn’t need to be,” she said.
“I’m not often accused of being kind, especially not when I don’t need to be,” he replied.
“Who in their right mind would dare?” Alina said, finally, merrily, laughing.
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jomiddlemarch · 3 years
Text
Point and Click
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5. “Spanish? No French, no Russian?”
“State university? Perhaps I should be glad you insisted on a bachelor’s degree at all, Aleksander—"
“Ah, photography. I suppose you fancy you have an ‘eye,’ don’t you, dear?”
“Lu’s parents find this arrangement…acceptable?”
What his mother said, upon meeting Alina, was actually, “How do you do? I’m Barbara Morrow, Mr. Kirigan’s mother and Mila’s grandmother,” but Aleksander wasn’t fooled. He’d be getting an earful, likely including everything he’d imagined her saying along with an acerbic guilt-trip about how little contact she’d had with her only grandchild and how he’d have no one to blame but himself when Mila was a surly teenager who wouldn’t listen to a single adult after he let an incompetent nanny raise her. What he said in the moment was,
“Aleksander. Alina doesn’t need to call me Mr. Kirigan.”
His mother smiled tightly at the comment and shrugged. All the grey linen and cashmere she was wearing shrugged with her. Possibly, this was salvageable. Possibly, Alina wouldn’t be very offended.
“It is your house, after all, and you are her employer. Far be it from me to judge how you treat your staff, Sasha. I personally prefer to maintain strict boundaries so that everyone knows their role and doesn’t…overstep. Especially in the home, people can get easily confused about what they may do or say.”
Alina was going to hand in her notice before the end of the conversation. And who could blame her?
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Morrow. I’ve never found titles necessary to understand my job’s responsibilities. Whatever anyone calls him, I know this is Mila’s Papa,” she said, gesturing at Aleksander. “Does she call you Baba or Nana? I once babysat for a little boy who called his grandmother ‘Gremlin,’ so I know sometimes it’s the child who picks the name—”
Aleksander coughed slightly, to mask his laugh. He’d never heard Alina speak in such a purposefully pleasant tone and realized she’d never used anything other than her regular speaking voice with him since her interview.
“Grandmother,” his mother answered.
“Mother, that’s not true,” he said.
“Well, it’s what she should call me.” Alina smiled brightly and Aleksander suddenly thought how much Lu would like her. How hard she’d be rooting for Alina in what Lu certainly would have called the latest Battle of Barbara.
“We’ll work on it. Mila’s so smart and she’s picking up Spanish and Mandarin so darn fast, I bet we can have her saying grandmother before you leave. How long are you staying?”
“I hadn’t decided on that yet,” Barbara said, turning to face Aleksander which left her back to Alina, who resisted any impulse to stick out her tongue or grimace. “She’s quite pert—you realize Mila will imitate her. You want your daughter to be impertinent with perfect strangers?”
“First of all, you’re not a perfect stranger. You just introduced yourself to Alina, who, I might remind you, is standing right here. Secondly, I would be overjoyed for Mila to have Alina’s confidence, intelligence and eloquence—”
“Enough, Sasha,” Barbara said, waving her hand around, her chunky gold rings catching the light. “I can tell you are working yourself up into a whole monologue. I’d hoped to be shown to the guest suite by now, offered a glass of water—it’s a long trip and I’d like to rest before dinner.”
“I can give Mila her dinner at the regular time if you’d rather eat later,” Alina offered. To Aleksander, politely but pointedly not to his mother.
“We’ll eat at the usual time,” he said. “Mother, do you want to join us? I can make you an omelet aux fines herbes and a green salad later if you’d rather.”
“No, I’ll cope with chicken fingers and sliced apples,” she said.
“It’s pasta e ceci with a fresh loaf of bread tonight,” Alina said. “But if you want chicken fingers, I could try to make some, I think there’s enough panko in the pantry—”
That time, Aleksander did laugh, his mother narrowed her eyes, and Alina gave the smallest shrug. It didn’t look like she was going to quit anytime soon.
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jomiddlemarch · 3 years
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After the Sun comes out how it alters the World
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In the distance, a thousand miles away and just outside the door, there were sounds of the guests, dignitaries and Grisha and the music of the Royal orchestra playing a khorovod, the Queen’s favorite, a gentle melancholy melody rivalling any valse or menueta. There was gaiety and liveliness, an excess of candles and lace and the flutes of chilled white wine from the lush vineyards of Krym and Sakartvelo. She had prepared for weeks for it and now all she cared about was before her, in a room scented with blue irises.
“So lovely, milaya,” Aleksander said against her throat, one hand at the small of her back, the other cradling her cheek. Nothing had made her uncomfortable since she’d kissed him, not the hungry look in his eyes or the edge of the table he’d lifted her onto, nothing until that word.
“Wait,” she said and he drew back, leaving one hand lightly steadying her. He was very still, as she noticed he became before he called forth the shadows but there was no darkness in the room other than his eyes and she did not feel the light within her answering him.
“Wait or stop?” he asked. “Whatever you want is all right.”
“Wait,” she said and saw he hadn’t been honest; it would have cost him something dear if she’d said stop though he would have done it and counted the price a counterfeit polushka.
“As long as you like, beautiful,” he said. The tenderness of his smile might have undone her except for the endearment.
“You keep calling me beautiful,” she said. “It’s not true.”
“Did Genya tailor you for tonight?” he asked. “Is it that?”
“No, or very little. Nothing a little beet-juice and kohl couldn’t have managed,” Alina said.
“Then tell me,” he said.
“Is this,” she gestured at the space between them, letting her gaze linger on his lips and then his eyes, letting him see her own need for him without naming it, “is this because you think I’m beautiful? Because I’m not and I don’t deceive myself. I can’t and I can’t allow you to.”
“Do I love you because you’re beautiful?” he said, as direct as when he had only been General Kirigan, all command and stride, ready to strike down any threat to any Grisha but most especially anyone who posed a threat to her. “Is that what you’re asking me?”
“Yes,” she said, willing herself to candor without shame, feeling the weight of the imperial filet Genya had pinned to her braided hair, the gold thread embroidering the kefta and the silk shift beneath it.
“I don’t love you because you’re beautiful, though you are, Alina,” he said. “You aren’t beautiful because I love you, though I do.”
“Then what—”
“I love you because you are Alina, yourself. I am in awe of the Sun Summoner and I honor her as my peer. I respect the cartographer of the First Army and I very much like Miss Starkov, who never forgets her friends and is loyal and kind and sharp as a whip. I love Alina because she is my dearest, my heart’s desire who had forgotten what it was to have a heart, to desire, to hope,” he said, each word offered up without the least affectation. This was his real voice, the one which had cried out in pain and greeted his beloved in the quiet of a snowy dawn.
“What do you hope for?” she said softly, reaching out her hand to stroke his cheek, to touch the collar of his kefta.
“That you will tell me not to wait anymore,” Aleksander replied. She tilted her head to one side, then nodded. He took her back into his arms, holding her more closely even than he had before, kissing the apple of her cheek, her temple, her throat, and finally her mouth, a different kiss, long without the promise of ending, ardent and unrestrained, letting her feel the shadows rising in him and darkness behind the shadows, the grief that was tearless, voiceless. She tasted it all and gave him the light she carried, allowing him to see beyond it, beyond the Saint and the soldier, the woman who knew she was the only end to the long night for one man, who knew in the long night, he was the one she wanted. When there was a knock at the door, he pulled away only to shout Not now and then swept her up into his arms and carried her to the room whose door had always been closed. When he called her beautiful again, she only drew him back to her and said against his lips more Sasha more. She did not have to ask again.
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