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myhairpintrigger · 4 months

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Grieving for the Living (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) Part 5

The entirety of a capricious and treacherous marriage between the Darkling and the Lantsov princess.

read previous parts here!! part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

hi just popping in to say i love u guys always and longer. thank u for 400 followers, i could just kiss all of you!

word count: 8.5k

warnings: everything is cannon typical. unhealthy relationship dynamics are ahead, too.

taglist: @il0vebeingdelulu @mellowarcadefun @budugu @eir964 @arwensloanebarnes @marytvirgin @chaoticcoffeequeen @claire-loves-music

“I had a dress made for you.”

This was the first time your mother had directly spoken to you since you left Os Alta. She stood in the doorway of your room holding a large white box and she smiled at you.

It wasn’t a pleasant smile by any means. It was one of ambivalence and nervousness. You had half a mind to hiss at her like a cat to see her go running down the hall, but you didn’t.

Instead, you mirrored her smile and you set your book down upon your lap. You sat in the far corner of your room on an overly cushioned chair, legs crossed stiffly in front of you.

“I didn’t expect that. I just planned on wearing one of my old ones to the party.” You hummed and folded your arms over your chest.

Your mother, as vain as ever, had insisted on an engagement party for Nikolai and Alina, even whilst you were in hiding. You thought it to be in poor taste that a social outing was all she could think of in a time like this, but you truthfully didn’t expect much else of her, either.

“Yes, well, we have to look our best, don’t we? It’s really a lovely dress. It’s lilac, with lots of pearls. You love pearls.” Your mother said with a proud smile.

You eyed her and sent her back a half smile of your own. In the months she’d spent without Genya Safin tailoring her, it seemed she had aged years and years. Her skin was thin and wrinkled like old parchment and there were little spots on the backs of her hands. Her eyes seemed to have sunken in a bit, as well, and her hair was greying rapidly, losing the blonde that Genya had so often given her.

“You’re right. I do love pearls.” You replied emptily and slowly rose from the chair.

You strode towards your mother and you noticed that when you were within a few feet of her, she took a couple steps back as if you were going to attack her. You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

You reached out and lifted the lid from the box on your bed and you dropped it aside so that you could pull out the dress. It was a big, heavy piece of clothing, and just when you thought you’d gotten it all out of the box, it kept coming. Finally once you’d pulled the entire gown out of the box, you pushed the box aside and it clattered on your floor. You laid the dress out on your bed and examined it.

It really was a lovely dress. It was nearly as big as your wedding gown, which had been ridiculously large. The skirt was a lovely shade of lilac with swirls and designs embroidered into the shimmering fabric, embellished with little pearls. The bodice must have been what weighed the dress down so drastically, because it was an intricate piece of work. Pearls and other beads were sewn into the fabric so densely that you could hardly see the purple fabric underneath it, and the sleeves were two dainty little cuffs that would surely rest just off of your shoulders.

You turned to look at your mother and you blinked a few times.

“You had this made for me?” You asked incredulously, gaping over at her, “I’m shocked you would give me the time of day.”

Your mother looked a bit guilty and then she shrugged, “Well, it was not my idea, to be honest. It was Nikolai’s. But I was the one that told them which color to use. And to use pearls! Because you love them.”

You gave her a weak smile and then you turned towards her completely. Perhaps this was an olive branch. The beginnings of a bridge that would bring you back into your family’s good graces.

“Thank you, Mother. Why don’t we go have some tea? Or take a small walk? We still have almost an hour before we have to get ready for the party, and I-“

Your mother’s face became pinched, as if she’d eaten a sour fruit and she held her hand up to silence you.

“I’m afraid I must decline, and it’s for the best. I’m sure I’ll see you at the party and have my fill of you for the day there.” She said primly and then nodded to the dress, “Anyway, thank Nikolai for that.” She said airily before she gave you a nod and quickly scurried out of your bedroom.

You pursed your lips at the interaction and you moved to close the door behind her. Once it was closed, you turned back to look at the dress on your bed. You stared down at it with an apoplectic sneer and you let out a little scoff.

You had half a mind to wear one of your black dresses, just to see what she’d do about it. She’d probably faint and claim that your mind had been completely possessed by the Darkling. You snorted humorlessly and then shook the idea from your head- no matter how appealing.

A knock sounded at your door and you almost groaned, the desire to be alone consuming you rapidly. You shuffled over to the door listlessly and opened it up to see Nikolai standing in your doorway with a big grin on his lips. He shouldered past you and walked into your bedroom and he let out a low whistle.

“I see Mother has brought your dress to you. Isn’t it nice?” He asked and looked down at it, examining the gown with an approving nod.

“It’s pretty. I didn’t expect it.” You answered and watched your brother while he studied the dress.

“Well, I had her have her seamstress throw something nice together for you. Honestly, with any luck, you’ll completely upstage her. I’d like to see that.” He said and turned towards you, the same grin still on his lips.

You stared back at him and then shrugged, “She might behead me if I did that.”

Nikolai waved his hand dismissively and then he clicked his tongue.

“Try as she might, I do believe you’ve always upstaged her. Even when you were much younger.” He replied and sat down on the edge of your bed.

“Don’t tell her that.” You mumbled and sat down on the edge of the bed right next to Nikolai.

Nikolai reached over and gently patted your shoulder and he let out a long sigh.

“Listen, I know you’ve not been very happy these last few weeks. I won’t pretend to know exactly why but I have theorized a bit,” he began and then he folded his hands in his lap, “I worry about you often. I know things have been difficult for you, but I’m here for you. And you know, if there’s anything I can do for you, I’m always willing to do it. You’re my little sister, you’ve been my best friend since you could walk. I’ll protect you at any cost.” Nikolai finished and then he turned to look at you with a small smile.

You looked up at him and you let out a little sigh, giving him a slight nod.

“Yeah. I know. And I appreciate it. I appreciate you. Everything is just so… loud, right now. Can’t have a moment of peace, not even when it’s silent.” You murmured, sounding distant in your own ears.

“Peace isn’t really obtainable. At least, in my experience. But finding comfort in the midst of unrest may be the closest thing to it.”

You wondered what your brother meant by that. Nikolai spoke two languages; one being charming sarcasm, and the other being riddles. It was always one or the other. This seemed to be another one of his metaphor ridden riddles.

“Nothing in life is really easy. Happiness doesn’t come easily and neither does comfort. You’re going to lose things, you’re going to get hurt, you’re going to have to make hard decisions and even harder sacrifices, but no matter how hard it gets, you must keep writing your story. You might be miserable doing it and you might feel like you’re fighting a losing war, but whatever. Life goes on.” He finished and then he gave you another smile. A soft, genuine smile.

You returned his smile, even if you didn’t really mean it.

“Life goes on.” You repeated and he beamed, patting your knee a couple of times.

“Indeed it does, little sister.” He said and rose from the edge of your bed.

“Why don’t you start getting ready for the party?” He suggested and then strode towards your door. He stopped in the doorway though and looked over his shoulder at you.

“I mean it, y/n. Life goes on.”

As he left your room, you felt a frown cover your face.

You weren’t so sure he was right.

When you strode into the party, you were already nearly an hour late. Your dress was heavy and it took you and one of your mother’s servants nearly twenty minutes to get it on. Every moment you were late after that was your own fault. You didn’t relish the idea of a party and you didn’t want to be seen by people.

But of course, eyes would wander and they did.

When you walked into the large room, chatter seemed to quiet. Not entirely, but enough to make an indication that something was happening, causing heads to turn towards you.

You squared your shoulders and walked straight into the crowded room, not sparing any of the staring guests a second- or first- glance. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of your curiosity.

The very small train of your gown dragged rhythmically behind you as you walked through the crowd and shoulders past a few bystanders who didn’t have the mind to move out of the way for you. You set your sights on Nikolai who stood with Vasily and your mother and you walked towards them. You pressed your lips together and did your best to make your expression as stoic and impassive as possible.

Nikolai was the first to look up at you, and a warm smile covered his face. Vasily looked up at you next and then finally, so did your mother. She regarded you the same way you would regard a particularly sour piece of fruit- with a pinched expression and a particular distaste.

As you approached them, your eyes traveled over your mother. She looked… aged. Life without a Tailor hadn’t been treating her well. You’d remembered her being so beautiful when you were a child. None of that beauty remained. You wondered if it was simply age that had made her seem so displeasing to look at or if it was the way she had been acting towards you. Whatever it was, it hardly bothered you.

“There she is! I was wondering when you’d come down!” Nikolai beamed and he plucked a glass of champagne off of a tray carried by a passing waiter and he passed the dainty cup to you.

You took the glass from his hands gratefully and you took a small sip before you cleared your throat and glanced at your mother through your periphery. She was still staring you down.

“I was under the impression this was to be a small affair.” You remarked airily.

Nikolai seemed to think the same thing as you because he nodded and looked around the room with a small bit of disdain on his face.

“Yes, my thoughts exactly. How many guests did you invite?” He asked, his fingers tapping at his palms.

Your mother gave a passive, smug smile and she shrugged, “Vasily got a little overzealous with the invites,” she started and then glanced at your eldest brother, “Now, I don’t entirely agree with your Caryeva set, but I admit, that sort lends a certain air of festivity.” She praised idly, giving Vasily an approving smile.

You scoffed, and you swore you heard Nikolai do the same, but much quieter.

There was a moment of silence amongst the four of you, and you looked around at each member of your family. Your mother looked at ease, Vasily seemed a bit drunk, and Nikolai’s brow creased with worry. You frowned.

“Nik, what’s the matter?” you asked, taking a step closer to him.

“He’s revealed our location to the gamblers and freeloaders he calls friends.” He snapped and then looked at Vasily with an incredulous annoyance.

Vasily looked at Nikolai through his drunkenly heavy eyes and he sneered a bit.

“That’s rich coming from a pirate.” He remarked, his words slurring ever so slightly, “you make yourself ridicul-“

“The Darkling lives!” Nikolai shot back, cutting Vasily off.

Your mother placed a dramatic hand over her chest and then she eyed you suspiciously. You rolled your eyes.

“We are at great risk if our location is compromised! You’d sacrifice us all for your pride and stupidity.” Nikolai continued, his eyes meeting yours.

“You overreach, you little bastard.” Vasily slurred back, and he clapped a clumsy hand on Nikolai’s shoulder before he turned to face the majority of the crowd, “A toast!” He announced, cockily, before marching off to the front of the room.

Your mother placed her hand on Nikolai’s arm and gave him a small, apologetic smile before she caught your eye. When your gaze met hers, her smile melted away and all that was left on her face was a resonant disgust.

You brushed off her glare. You were done feeling sorry for yourself over things you couldn’t possibly control, your mother’s disdain being one of those things. What were you trying to prove anymore? And to whom were you trying to prove anything to? If your mother wanted to scorn you, then you could scorn her right back. You smoothed down your dress and gave her a saccharine smile.

“Mother, isn’t it too bad that Genya Safin isn’t here? You are in dire need of refreshment.” You cooed. Her brows furrowed together, but you would never know what she would have said, because Vasily boisterously began his toast.

“I’d like to share some words about my brother,” he began and motioned towards the three of you, “Nikolai!” He crooned and then took a sip of his wine, “Yes, yes, we all know he’s pretentious… condescending… a man of the people. But!” Vasily remarked and you glanced at Nikolai who rolled his eyes warily.

He glanced at the table of drinks in the corner and then back at you, giving you a small nod towards the table, mouthing ‘let’s go’. You took a few steps towards him while Vasily droned on.

“He has some hidden qualities, too. His intended should-“

Just as you took your final step towards Nikolai, the sound of shattering glass turned your attention up to the ceiling. The entire domed skylight had collapsed, and thick, smoky tendrils of shadow invaded the room at a rapid pace. As soon as they crashed into the ground, they shifted into humanoid forms. They had no eyes, but mouths with rows of serrated, crooked teeth, and they rushed forth and began to attack everyone in their path.

Glass fell from the crumbling remains of the skylight above your head and bits of it rained down into your hair. You shook your head rapidly and looked at Nikolai, bewildered. Nikolai looked back at you and he grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him, along with your mother. Gunfire and screams were the only things you could hear besides the occasional snarl from the shadow creatures. Guards were attempting to shoot at the creatures, but the bullets went right through them. The creatures knocked over tables and sent partygoers flying through the air as they moved around the room. Across the room, you saw Vasily dive behind an overturned table and you grasped onto Nikolai’s shoulder.

“What is this?” You asked, in a panic. You feared you already knew the answer.

“They must be the nichevo'ya David spoke of. Which means the Darkling must be close by.” Nikolai said sharply, keeping his hand on your arm protectively. You felt faint and you grasped his shoulder tightly to keep from stumbling.

“Nikolai-“

“We have to get out of here. Most importantly- we have to get you and Alina out of here.” He stated and you looked to the opposite side of the room. Alina and a few of her Grisha all stood behind a table that rested on its side, and all of them were doing what they could to fend off the nichevo'ya.

Gunfire still rang out around you and Nikolai spun around to look at you, his face pale.

“Run. Go. Right now. Get out of here. Grab a horse if you must but get out of here. I will find you, I swear it, but get out now. Before the Darkling comes.” Nikolai ordered and you gave him a clumsy nod before you grabbed the skirts of your gown and darted out from behind your brother. You ran along the wall, away from the creatures and the crowd and you had nearly made it to the door when a nichevo'ya materialized in front of you.

Your eyes widened and before you could scream, the creature lunged at you. You held your arms up defensively and waited for a blow that never came. You wondered if you had died for a split second, but you still heard screams around you. You slowly lowered your arms to see the creature standing in front of you, unmoving. If it had eyes, they would have been fixed on you as you stood before it. You took one step away from it, to gauge whether or not it would stop you, and when it didn’t, you turned on your heel and ran straight out into the hall. You dashed down corridors and around corners before you came to the front doors. You pushed them open ferociously and you barreled out the door, only to come to a skidding halt.

The grounds were surrounded by Grisha in their brightly colored keftas. You looked at them cautiously, only to realize that you didn’t recognize a single one of them.

Confused, you watched them all take slow steps closer and closer. They all looked fierce and determined as they moved in on the building you stood in front of, and it took you longer than you cared to admit to realize that these were Aleksander’s Grisha.

Before you could even turn to run back inside, they parted down the middle and through the crowd strode the man who had played on your mind every single day for the past months on end.

You stood, frozen in place. You wanted to run, but where could you run to? If you ran inside, you risked death by nichevo'ya, but if you ran anywhere out here, one of the surrounding Grisha would easily stop you. You were trapped.

He walked towards you with determination and as he got closer you could make out his facial features. His hair was the same; dark and gracefully pushed away from his face. His eyes were the same, too, so dark that they could pass for black. But there was something different about his face now. On the flawless pale skin of his lovely face sat three, thin, ink black scars that ran down his face at an angle.

From the volcra, you realized, and took a step back as he approached you.

You tried to stand tall and strong against him, but the second he came within three feet of you, you scurried backwards and held your hand out to stop him.

“Don’t come any closer.” You forced out, not pleased with how shaky your voice had become.

He didn’t listen.

He stepped closer and grabbed your wrist, moving your hand back down to your side. A beautiful, longing smile grew upon his face, as if he had just returned home from the longest of wars and he dropped your wrist, instead taking your chin in his hand.

“My beautiful wife.” He breathed, staring down at you. You pulled away from him and you shook your head.

“No. I am no longer your wife.” You spat, backing up against the closed doors behind you.

For every step you took away from Aleksander, he took one towards you, until you were trapped between him and the door.

“How curious, then, that you still wear your ring.” He murmured and looked down at your hand.

You swallowed hard and looked up at him, fear seizing you with a thousand hands.

“Don’t look at me like that. I am not here to hurt you, my love. I’m here to collect what’s been taken from me.” He cooed and reached out to brush his fingertips across your jaw.

His touch was so gentle; so loving, and you nearly found yourself instinctively leaning into it. It took all of your willpower to keep your head straight.

“And what might that be?” You demanded, clasping your hands behind your back.

He gave you another smile, but this smile was akin to one that you’d give a child after they said something completely outlandish and silly.

“You, of course. And the Sun Summoner.” He answered, moving his hand away from your face, reluctantly.

You snorted and stared up into his eyes challengingly, “I’m not an object to be collected.” You retorted and grasped the door handles behind your back. Perhaps if you could get back inside, you could find another way out. Another way away from him.

As if he expected this from you, he reached out and grabbed onto your wrists and pulled them in front of you, holding them in a tight grip.

“No, of course not. But I have so missed you, and despite what you may say, I think you’ve missed me as well, little Princess.” He murmured and then leaned down to kiss your forehead, keeping your wrists in his grip.

“I will not go. I will never follow you again.” You stated, shaking your head a few times.

His hands were freezing cold against your skin and the even colder metal of his own wedding ring made you want to shiver.

“I was afraid you’d say something like that.” He sighed, shaking his head as if he were dealing with a petulant child.

He turned around and nodded to one of the Grisha behind him, and a man quickly made his way up to the two of you. He wore a bright red kefta and a stony expression. Aleksander looked at you with regret in his dark eyes and then he shook his head once.

“Let me go, at once.” You whispered and tried to pull away from him.

“You can come with me willingly or my Heartrender can put you to sleep and make you come with me. I would prefer willingly, my love.” He said softly, brushing his thumbs back and forth across your wrists as he held them.

You shook your head.

“I already told you I won’t be coming with you.” You said sternly, staring back into his eyes challengingly.

He let out a sigh and leaned forward to kiss your cheek once before he dropped your wrists and nodded at his Heartrender.

“Then I suppose you’ll make me do this the hard way. I’ll see you when you wake, my dear.” He said, as if it pained him so.

You moved to grab the door again, but before you could, the Heartrender at your husband’s side raised his hands and suddenly you could only see black.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. You had been slipping in and out of consciousness, though. Unless you had been dreaming. Sometimes you’d see people over you, other times you’d hear muffled conversations, but nothing was clear.

When you were finally awoken, it was slow. You felt your body waking up first, and your muscles felt stiff and unused. You became vaguely aware of the feeling of fingertips, brushing comfortingly across your face, over your cheekbones, across your jaw, along the bridge of your nose. The action was calming, and you felt blissful, as if you were waking from a peaceful nap.

Only when you opened your eyes, did reality strike you, hard and fast. There was hardly any light in the room you were in. It was dark and it was a bit cold, but you noticed there was a blanket covering you to your shoulders. You laid upon a bed that felt like it had hardly been slept in, and you flickered your gaze over to the side. There Aleksander sat, on the edge of the bed. His calloused fingers were still moving affectionately over your face and a small smile formed on his scarred face. You stared up at him, unable to find words to express your newfound disgust.

“There she is. There’s my lovely girl.” He purred and he brushed his thumb across your bottom lip before pulling his hand away from your face with a reluctance that you had never seen him use, “I’ve so missed your voice, little love.”

You stared up at him, silent. There was the faint sound of conversation out in the hallway and there were hurried footsteps, and it was the only noise that floated around the two of you for a long time. Your eyes traveled his face. His once perfect skin was now marred with three, black scars. If it wasn’t for the skin that was raised around them, you would’ve thought them to be drawn on. His hair was swept back as always, and he, of course, was dressed in all black. You examined his scars once more and told yourself you were glad he had to suffer, but you were ashamed to feel little aches of sympathy in your chest at the sight of where he had been wounded.

“Feeling shy, I see.” He commented and then reached down to brush a bit of hair away from your forehead.

“Not shy,” You found your voice, staring up at him, “I have nothing to say to you.”

He clicked his tongue with a sharp tsk, “I saved you from certain death and persecution and you’re angry with me? Oh, my love, see sense.” He breathed.

You slowly sat up, your joints popping and cracking as if you hadn’t moved in years. As much as you hated it, he was still absolutely breathtaking. You’d secretly hoped that the volcra would’ve mauled him beyond repair, but you had no such luck. He still stared at you with those beautiful, dark eyes, and you shifted uncomfortably.

“I do see sense, and that’s why I have nothing to say to you.” You whispered, shaking your head.

“Perhaps you’re just a bit embarrassed.”

You scoffed.

“Embarrassed by what, Aleksander?”

He smiled. He seemed to relish his name leaving your mouth and you made a mental note not to use it further to deprive him of such satisfaction.

“Embarrassed that I was right and you were wrong. What did I tell you, little love? I warned you that you would return home to hatred. Did I not?” He asked and gazed over at you, his hands resting on his thighs.

You looked down at his hands. There was a large, black crater of a scar on the back of his hand and you wondered what had happened there. The veins around this scar were all black, looking poisonous under the skin. You fought back a chill.

You never answered him, but he let out a soft sigh and he reached out to gently take your chin in his hand. You pulled away and turned your head away from him entirely.

“Poor girl. You’ve finally had your first taste of persecution. Tell me, how does it feel?” He asked and reached out to grab your chin again. He turned your head towards him carefully and he stared into your eyes, “How lonely has it been? To lose everyone you thought loved you because of their fear? Their judgment?“ he asked.

You dared to look him in the eyes finally and you wished you hadn’t. Despite his words, his eyes were uncharacteristically soft. He looked at you as if you were something he cherished, something he loved endlessly. You wondered if he was capable of faking that. There was a desperate trace of longing in his gaze and you watched his lips twitch downwards just slightly, a change so subtle that if you were anyone else, you may have missed it.

“It doesn’t matter.” You finally answered, dropping your gaze away from his.

He let out a sigh and let go of your chin before he reached out and grasped your hands. His skin was just as cold as you had remembered it to be, if not colder now. You wondered if he felt the icy chill that was his skin.

“If you had just stayed by my side, you would’ve never felt lonely. I wouldn’t have let you. Not a single day would have gone by where you felt anything less than loved. Adored. Worshiped, even.” He whispered, looking down at your joined hands. Of course you knew that.

You looked down at your hands, too.

There was such a stark contrast when you looked down. His hands were scarred and they were strong, with traces of black swimming in the veins just beneath his fair skin. He wore his wedding ring on his finger still, but on the correct finger, whereas you wore yours on your middle finger where it was ill fitting. Your hands were smaller than his, and your skin was unmarked by scars; smooth. You had the hands of someone whose life had been easy. He dropped your hands and he plucked your ring right off of your middle finger before sliding it onto the correct finger, and although you felt you should have, you didn’t stop him and made no move to correct it once he let go.

You kept your eyes on your hands and he slowly stood up from the bed and let out a small sigh.

“You can live in denial, but not forever. You’ll find it’ll be far easier if you let me in rather than fight me.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on top of your head, “For what it’s worth, I’ve missed you, in every way a person can be missed. I’ve missed your presence in the mornings, I’ve missed your smile, your laugh, even your attitude I’ve found myself missing. I know that deep down, you’ve missed me too. Otherwise you would have rid yourself of that ring long ago.” He observed and then he placed his hand on top of your head, smoothing your hair back.

“You don’t hate me, you’ve just had your mind filled with the lies of martyrs. You weren’t meant to be a martyr, y/n. You weren’t meant to sacrifice your happiness just because it was the ‘righteous’ thing to do. You were meant to be a queen. Deny that as you may, but I know it to be true, and perhaps somewhere in that pretty little head of yours, you do too.”

He knelt down at the side of the bed and looked up at you with a soft, understanding smile. He seemed so pleased to be looking at you.

“I do love you. I will never turn you away. When you’re ready to accept that, I will be here with open arms.” He murmured and placed his hands on his knees as he looked up at you.

You stared down at him and you shook your head slowly.

“And what if I never do?”

He smiled, but didn’t say anything. He rose up from his knees and he wandered across the room towards the door. He opened it up and paused before walking out into the hall.

“I’m a patient man. The word ‘never’ is so wasted on such a mortal girl. You’ll change your mind, and when you do, I’ll be there.” He said softly before exiting the room, leaving you alone in the dark, his words sending a chill through you that you couldn’t get rid of, no matter how far under the blankets you slid.

You had been given free rein of the strange little sanctuary that the Grisha siding with Aleksander had thrown together. It wasn’t very interesting, by any means, and your days passed slowly. Very, very slowly.

You had yet to see anyone that you knew, though. You recognized a few faces from the Little Palace, but beyond that, it seemed like everyone you knew had either died or taken to the other side. With no David or Genya, or even Ivan around to entertain you, you’d taken to making the acquaintance of an Alkemi boy named Vladim.

Vladim couldn’t have been very old, perhaps nineteen at the most. He was always tirelessly working on little things in his makeshift laboratory, but when you asked about them, he always answered you the same.

“I don’t think you’d have much understanding of the subject matter, and alas, I don’t think the Darkling would be very pleased if I discussed it with you.” He would say, almost word for word, every time.

He wasn’t overly friendly, but you could tell that he appreciated the company in one way or another.

You had done your best to avoid Aleksander during the day, and you were usually quite successful in that endeavor, but you couldn’t avoid him at night. He didn’t give you your own room, he simply told you that you’d share his and left it at that. Arguing with him would’ve been futile. His skirmish with the Fold and with his newfound shadow warriors left him with a certain roughness that you’d never known him to have before. There was a certain ruggedness to him now, a certain edge that made the hair at the back of your neck stand up. He had always been hungry for power, but now he was ruthless. He had always commanded respect, but now he forced it. He seemed to be slipping into madness, slowly. He used to be a sharp, shining sword, cutting fast and without much pain. Now he was like a worn, serrated knife. It worried you, but you tried to push that down as far as you could. You shouldn’t worry about him. Let him destroy himself, it wasn’t your problem.

So why did it feel like it was your problem?

You tried to remind yourself daily that his destruction wasn’t your responsibility and that he was bringing it upon himself, but it became increasingly harder and harder to remember that.

Every night ended the same, though.

You’d lay in his bed, as far onto your side as you could possibly get, and you’d always pretend to be asleep when he finally came in. He’d shuffle around the room silently for a while, getting himself ready for bed, and then he’d lay down on his side of the bed. Like clockwork, ten minutes later, he would move towards you as if he were being pulled by strings like a puppet and he’d wrap you in his arms. He would whisper promises to keep you safe in your ear and he would run his fingers through your hair. Murmurs of proclamations of love would also be uttered into your ear, and he would whisper your name as if it were scripture.

You wondered if he knew that you weren’t really asleep, which led you to wonder if he even cared.

He would oftentimes press his lips to your temple and stay there for a long time before pulling away. Some nights you would really end up falling asleep in his arms, and other nights you would stay awake and he would eventually let you go and he’d tuck the blankets around your body, just as you liked them. It took you by surprise the first time he did that, because you didn’t expect him to remember such small details.

Tonight was seemingly not much different than the other nights. His arms were circled around your waist and he had his chin resting on top of your head. He had fallen completely silent and had been for quite a while now, his tender whispers ceasing quite some time ago. You knew better than to believe he had fallen asleep, though. You could see it in his face daily- he didn’t get much sleep. Not anymore. You frowned slightly at the thought and you nearly shook your head, catching yourself at the last second.

“I’m not a fool enough to believe that you are asleep right now, my love.” His voice was low and you felt his arms tighten around you ever so slightly.

You didn’t say anything, but you opened your eyes and pursed your lips, biting anxiously at the inside of your cheek.

“I know perhaps you take me for a fool, though. Maybe you’re right to. I’ve been foolish with you. Lied to you. Treated you like you were a pawn. If I’m being honest with myself and you, though, I should admit that earning your love was my greatest achievement. I don’t think I’ve lost it, not fully, at least, but perhaps my greatest loss has been making you question that love that you had so graciously given me.” He spoke, his voice taking on a strange and sentimental tone. He seemed to think for a moment before he tapped your waist with his thumb, “Have I?”

You blinked a few times, not bothering to look up at his face. You doubted you would’ve seen it, anyway. The room was pitch black.

“Have you, what?” You finally replied, hands balling into fists as you pressed your nails into your palms.

“Lost your love?”

Your brows knitted together and you frowned, “Yes,” you answered immediately, but you were immediately struck with the pain of guilt in your chest and you suddenly shook your head, “I mean, no. No, I don’t think so.” You choked out, “I don’t think you could. Not entirely, and I hate you for that.”

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them, though you weren’t sure what you regretted more; admitting that you still loved him or admitting that you held contempt towards him for the way you felt. The admission left a sour taste in your mouth, yet you felt as if a hundred weights had been lifted off of your chest. The relief juxtaposed with the sour taste of shame on your tongue was jarring and you pressed your lips together as tightly as you could, as if to create some kind of seal that would prevent you from speaking further.

He seemed to mull this answer over for a while, staying silent for more than just a few moments. You could picture his eyes, even though you weren’t actively looking into them. When he was lost in thought, they seemed even deeper than they already were, and oftentimes you felt that was an impossible feat.

Finally, he spoke.

“I can understand your hatred for the inner conflict you must be faced with. I haven’t exactly made this easy for you.” He replied, his voice calm and completely even, “If I could stop this all right now, I would. But I can’t, y/n. No one is going to look out for the Grisha except for me. Not even Alina Starkov.”

“You don’t know that if you never give her the opportunity to try, Aleksander.” You insisted, voice barely above a whisper.

“No, but I do. I do know that. She’s too young. She knows nothing of the power she wields and she knows not how to use it, she couldn’t even begin to grasp the importance of power. It’s simply a new toy to her. Something to play with until she tires of the novelty,” his hand traveled along your back as he held you and you felt him take a silent inhale, “I find myself wishing so often that it was you.” He murmured, lips finding your ear.

You didn’t understand what he meant, so you furrowed your brow together and you shook your head.

“What do you mean?”

His lips hovered over your ear and you felt the tip of his nose in your hair, sending unwanted shivers down your arms and over the back of your neck.

“I would give anything, anything, if it meant you could’ve been my Sun Summoner.” He whispered, his arms tightening around you frantically, as if he were afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t keep you close. And perhaps you might.

You weren’t sure what to say. You weren’t even sure how to feel. You had always compared yourself to Alina in one way or another during her time at the Little Palace, though you’d never wished her gift upon yourself. You had never even thought to. His words made you feel cold in the very pit of your stomach and you bit down on the inside of your cheek sharply. Alina and Aleksander would go on to make history. They would make legends. The Sun Summoner and the Shadow Summoner. The Sun Saint and the Darkling. In a hundred years, people would pray to beautiful statues of Sankta Alina, Aleksander would be written into Grisha history and Ravkan legend. But in a hundred years for you? You’d be a name on the Lantsov family tree. Always royal, never reigning. Perhaps someone distantly related to you a hundred years from now would make a pitied remark about how Queen Tatiana and King Pyotr the Third married their poor daughter off to some wicked man, but no one could ever confirm it. It was simply oral history. You would be lost to time, whereas time would be lost on them. They’d be living their second lifetime and you would be nothing but bone buried deep in the dirt. You squeezed your eyes shut at the thought and instead of speaking, you shook your head.

You felt his hand slide up your back and over the back of your neck until it was nestled in the hair at the back of your head, holding you securely against his chest.

“Not because I wish you were Alina, no. I could never wish for such a thing. I wish it was you that could stand by my side, that it was you that would be my equipollent partner. I wish I didn’t wake at night in a cold sweat at the thought of you being so… mortal. I couldn’t care less if you had the power of the sun at your disposal, I could only care that you lived a hundred years at my side.” He said quietly, his voice quivering at the end of his sentence.

Of course Aleksander had proclaimed his love for you many times before, but he had never done so in such a manner. You had never even seen him cry, never heard his voice falter.

A shaky breath from his lips drew your eyes upwards. You very slowly pulled your head away from his and you looked up at his face. Though the room was dark and only lit up by the faintest of moonbeams filtering through a crack in the curtains, his eyes were still visible, darker than the dark around you, yet still shining as if they had thousands of stars in them. They sparkled with the threat of unshed tears and before you could stop yourself, you were lifting your hand towards his face. The moment your hand made gentle contact with his cheek, a single tear spilled out over his bottom lash line and rolled down his cheek gracefully. You’d never seen a tear fall gracefully before. He brought his own, scarred hand up and laid it on top of yours, holding your warm palm to his cheek. You could feel the raised skin of his scar on your hand and it was such an odd contrast to the smooth skin surrounding the scars.

His eyes slowly closed, but he didn’t let your hand move from his face. His breathing was erratic as if he were trying to hold back cries and he moved as close as he could to you without ending up on top of you.

“Your brother… Alina Starkov… Your mother… Father… none of them can offer you happiness. I can, darling. I can.” He whispered, his voice trembling, and for a moment, he wasn’t the Darkling. He was just a boy named Aleksander who had slowly lost everyone he could have ever cared for.

“But at what cost, Aleksander?” You asked softly, using all of your strength to enforce an armor around your heart. But you had deployed cracked armor.

“I don’t care what the cost is. I’d let a thousand men burn, I’d let armies fall, I’d ruin kingdoms and countries alike, I would kill countless if it meant that you would just stay. With me.” He breathed, another small tear escaping from the corner of his eye.

The sight was a powerful blow to your futile attempt at an armor.

No. He’s killed so many people for the selfish drive for power, and he hides it underneath the guise of what’s best for Grisha. You couldn’t stay.

“I don’t wish to see anyone burn. I don’t want armies to fall and counties to fall to ruin, I don’t want you to dedicate death to keeping me by your side, Aleksander. You made your choice and you chose power. I made mine and I chose the right thing. I can’t stay.” You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince, though. You or him?

His palm pressed against the back of your hand and he held it tightly against his face.

“You are the only light I’ve ever known, the only salvation I’ve ever been given. I’ve watched lives come and I’ve watched them pass, and I find no grief in it. I’ve spent my fair share of time grieving for those I’ve dared to care for and I’ve condemned it, I’ve sworn to not allow myself the luxury of grief again. So tell me why I’ve spent each day that I’ve loved you grieving for someone who has yet to draw their last breath? I grieve the loss of you that has yet to come. I will choose power day in and day out because I will never stop searching for a way, for a power, that can keep me from losing you.” His voice was weak, but it was determined and it was sincere.

Your mouth fell open just slightly as you listened to him and you very slowly brushed your thumb against the skin underneath his eye.

His eyes slowly flickered open and he stared down at you, his lips set into a frown. The unshed tears in his eyes and the look of terror and sorrow on his face made him seem much more human than you had ever seen him, likely ever.

Right now, he was just a man. A man gifted with too much power and bothered- no, burdened- with the threat of everlasting life. He wasn’t the Darkling and he wasn’t a Shadow Summoner. He was Aleksander, and he was trembling underneath your hand.

“To say that I love you would be so weak and listless, but to find stronger words, I’d have to start making them up. So, at the risk of sounding weak and listless, I love you. To the end of it all, whatever lies beyond that, even.“ he swallowed hard after speaking and you found your own eyes filling with tears. He wasn’t just saying he loved you, he was silently begging you to love him in return.

His actions and his quest for power wasn’t preferable, and you weren’t even sure if it was forgivable. Maybe it wasn’t, you weren’t sure. Could you find it within your heart to forgive him if he had begged you to? You weren’t sure of that, either. You found it strange how many months ago, it was you that was begging him for love, but now he was the one staring into your eyes, pleading without words.

It would hurt a lot to choose him again, because eventually you knew that for whatever high you would be on now, it would be a devastating low one day.

But it would hurt just the same to tear yourself out of your husband’s arms once again, this time after hearing him confess all that he had tonight. How could it be possible to love someone yet despise them all the same? He was always able to make you give in, and you resented him for that, but he also was the only one that understood you now. He understood what a fall from grace felt like, what it was like to have an entire nation turn their backs on you, how it felt to lose the faith of everyone you cared about.

His eyes and his beauty and his soft words always had you making mistakes before now, and you realized that the only way to not make these mistakes was to be far away from him. But you weren’t far away from him right now and you knew that you were bound to make a mistake again, in fact, you were hurtling towards that mistake right now.

A single word rolled off of his lips:

“Stay.”

The answer that begged to leave your mouth was antithetical to the decision you had made to run away from him in the first place and you felt guilty. Guilty for wanting him, guilty for not wanting him. To give him the affirmation he and you both wanted was to betray your country and your family. But they’d already betrayed you. You could almost hear Nikolai telling you that two wrongs didn’t make a right and that you were stronger than this.

But you didn’t think you were. You couldn’t be.

His fingers slid in between yours as he held your hand to his face and his eyes locked onto yours, daring you to give him the one answer he’d been searching for.

So you let it roll off your lips, no louder than an exhale:

“Okay.”

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