#drüskelle!ivan au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stardustmorozov · 1 year

Text

All The Things We Hide In The Dark Chapter 3

Pairing: The Darkling x Reader

A Beauty and the Beast AU

Part 1 Part 2 AO3 Link

Summary: Chased by Drüskelle and out of options, Reader (You) seeks refuge in the remote Little Palace which is rumored to be haunted by a beast and his ghosts. But he is not the only one who hides dark secrets…

Warnings: slight body horror? (idk Aleksander has a nightmare and it feels nasty), man does not know how to communicate feelings or how to cope with having human companionship in over a fuck off long period of time, (lemme know if I forgot something)

Word count:

A/N: Soooo.... it has been quite a while since I posted the second chapter but now it is finally here! I am pretty happy with how this chapter turned out so I hope Y'all enjoy it! A/N: And a tremendous shout out to @dreamlandcreations for beta reading this chapter for me!

When Aleksander had lost his sense of up and down, he did not know. The distinction between left and right, back and forth not more important than that he knew he was coming apart at his seams. His shoulders, back and hands tearing themselves open to give the overwhelming power, that had taken hold of his body, an outlet.

Only for the shadows that curled around him to find a way back into his body, pushing past his eyes back into his head, past his lips, inside his lungs, making him unable to breathe. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't escape the nightmare that surrounded him. Never.

Startled awake by the lack of air in his lungs, he wasn't sure if he was still trapped in the nightmare as the shadows around him were coldly pressed to him, prickling his skin as they slowly dissipated along with the erratic pounding of his heart.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he wondered if the strange girl was still in the palace.

Part of him wanted her to be gone. He had been trapped here for centuries and he didn't need the painful reminder of his mother’s curse. Neither did he want to think about how the mysterious girl could go wherever she wanted, not confined to the walls of the palace like him. Because, in spite of the sprawling size of the palace, after a few centuries the walls had slowly started to cave in on him.

His body heavily protested when he tried to get up and somewhere in the back of his mind he wished that he wouldn't wake up anymore, to be free of the nightmares that plagued him every night. To be eternally at rest.

He muttered a slew of curses under his breath as he willed himself to get up. The cold of the room that greeted him not very different from how the shadows that clinged to his body at all times.

On better days, they were barely visible and he could almost forget that he had been trapped in the palace by the spell that had been put over him. Until Ivan or Zoya would inevitably find him, their physical state a harsh reminder that the people he'd tried so long to protect had been robbed of their power in his search to expand his own.

The cold structure of his mask laid rigid on his face, a stark contrast with the soft and malleable Kefta around his body.

His mind drifted back to the girl, wondering if she'd left. The image of her fearful face as she disappeared out of the heavy oaken doors making his heart sink into his stomach.

Perhaps his loneliness was getting more to him than he wanted to admit.

He wondered why she had stayed in the first place, he hadn't exactly been welcoming to her. The sound of her frightful running footsteps ringing in his ears. From what gossip he'd overheard from the other wisps, the entrance door had locked itself shut. Others had told tales of the windows doing the same.

Refusing to open. Refusing to let her out.

Her words echoed in his head.

I gladly would have left. If every way out didn’t keep shutting itself right in front of my face.

It seemed more like a hopeful dream than reality and wondered if centuries alone had finally driven him to madness. To have him hallucinate a companion to alleviate the painful emptiness of the palace now that he was near the end of his days? He could only guess.

But then, even if he had been making her up, the wisps should not have known of her presence.

The shadows that follow him clung to the walls as he passed through the hallways, as it had become a habit these days, the windows and their views still the same as they were centuries ago.

Mountainous hedges still lined the outsides of the gardens; neatly patterned flower beds laying barren, waiting for someone to put new seeds in them; Bushes that had grown far out of control sprawled out over some of the pathways and somewhere where the apple orchard had to be was nothing to be seen but a mess of trees that had stopped bearing fruit long before the reality of the curse had settled into him.

Yet there was one thing that managed to catch his eye.

From the far corner of his field of vision he caught three shapes, leisurely strolling over the gravel paths in what little sun had decided to show itself today. Or at least, one of them was. The other two figures, whom he now recognised as Fedyor and Genya, simply floated beside the new guest.

Or resident, if she too was now bound to the walls he'd spend so much time between.

He shook his head at his own wishful thinking, memories of small groups of people seeking shelter in the stables coming back to him.

They were never rich or looked to have any money on them. Always seemed like they were minutes away from freezing and more often than not, dressed in what could easily be mistaken for dish rags.

He'd never dared to get close to them, always staying far enough that even the normal, conversational tone would only reach his ears like whispers. His shadows had always been intimidating to others; Even when he could control them.

People had always referred to him as odd in all sorts of senses of the word. None of them had ever been kind, but he'd learned to live with it. To brush off every insult they hurled at him like snow on his coat. Yet there was one he had never been able to shake. Perhaps because it told him how he felt about himself, perhaps for reasons he would not reach for.

Monster, they would call him. Hideous, inhumane, incapable of any good deed or intention.

His scars stung under his mask at the thought. Another painful reminder of what he had lost in his desperate search to protect the Grisha. To protect his people.

He watched the trio from his high position at the window, his face only inches from the cold glass as he observed every move and he couldn't help but to be fascinated with the girl between the wisps, shame creeping up his face when he realised he never had the decency to ask for her name.

She laughs along to a joke either of the wisps told and a fleeting thought makes him wish to know what it sounds like. Yet as soon as he tried to get a hold of it, the idea was gone.

He watched for what could be mistaken for hours as Ivan's formless wisp floated up next to him.

"Barely a day here and she's already stolen the hearts of the two best informants we have."

There was a bitter tone to his teasing lilt. "I can't say if I find their hopefulness foolish or not."

"We've been waiting centuries," Aleksander simply said, "Someone was bound to show up one day."

"Funny she should have come here the very same night we were locked into this place."

"Did she?"

He hummed in confirmation and Aleksander was surprised that he still kept track of it after a good millenia had passed.

He tried to suppress the feeling of anger and distrust that rose to the surface at the implication of Ivan's words. But it was impossible to hide as his shadows coiled and curled around him like angry waves as they rapidly filled the hallway, threatening to swallow the wisp of the man beside him.

His eyes returned to the trio in the garden where they had taken to the shade of one of the dying willow trees. From his position he couldn't exactly see what they were doing, but seeing Genya and Fedyor fly around her excitedly only made him more curious.

Yet Ivan's words burned in his mind.

He didn't want to believe she'd stoop that low, but then again, she'd locked him in here, hadn't she? What would stop her from forcing someone into his arms?

Shadows started to creep in from the edge of his vision, the gilded edges of the window already covered in the black tendrils as he tried to put the idea aside.

He wished she'd cursed only him, for the rest of the Grisha to go unharmed. If at this moment it only meant he could check with Fedyor if the girl had indeed been telling the truth. But she had robbed all of them. Of their power, of their physical presence. Of their lives.

They were not dead, but neither were they truly alive, only occupying that weird space between the living and the dead.

With a heavy heart he turned himself from the window, back to the path he was going. Why he hadn't thought of his mother being behind this, he did not know. What he did know was that it was foolish to have hope. To have the slightest inclination that he might be freed from this place.

Perhaps the centuries of loneliness had indeed turned him into a fool.

He didn't see the girl for the rest of the day. In part because he refused to look for her, the other part avoiding her. He knew the palace didn't agree, having learned to read the moods of the building after all the time he spent between its walls.

"Disagree all you want, but she's not the person we're looking for," he quietly muttered under his breath, paying no mind to the few wisps he passed.

The shift in atmosphere was the palace's answer. Still disagreeing with him.

At times he hardly thought the palace had gotten a will of its own and had instead inherited that of his mother.

Which once again became apparent when he found himself in front of the garden doors. He'd long given up on trying to open them, the locks immediately shutting on themselves when he only reached for the handle.

A cruel way to separate him from the rest of the world, but perhaps for the better now that there was a new visitor. His stomach twisted as he once again watched the girl interact with Fedyor and Genya. It had been too long since he'd seen them like this. Laughing with each other without a care in the world, and of who might be watching.

But then there was also the inevitability that one day, she would leave. Leave this accursed place in search of better fortune and he couldn't say he blamed her.

Part of him wished he still cared enough to at least try and open the garden doors, the other part snidely reminding him they would still lock themselves as soon as he touched the handles.

Shaking his head, he turned away from the scene before him, squashing the spark of hope that tried to rise within him again.

There would be no end to his confinement. Not until time would finally wear on him enough that death would be a mercy granted to him.

And even if his mother had sent her here to free him, he doubted she could truly love him.

Once she learned what he had done. To Ravka. To the Grisha.

History proved that time and time again. At kindest, they called him an idealistic fool who got drunk on his own power, at worst, they called him a demon. A monster sent to deceive and destroy them all.

He turned away from the doors to make for his office, far away from the garden and even further away from the girl that raised false hope in him every time he saw her.

Perhaps it would be the best for them both if he stayed as far away from her as possible. To keep them both safe from the corruption that he seemed to take with him wherever he went.

The following few days he managed to avoid her pretty well. Only a few times nearly stumbling into her as the palace seemed hellbent on making them meet. Even if it was just in passing, Aleksander would have none of it. Love had only hurt him in the past, whether that be by the people he held close or by others who hurt those people and it would not heal him now.

But just like the mind of his mother, the palace was a tricky thing and it took the building only so long to figure out how to get the general and the new guest to meet again.

He'd mostly kept to his own office and his private quarters, occasionally taking a long stroll through the winding halls of the palace, purposefully making it difficult for the palace to get them in the same room again.

It was about a week after he'd decided to avoid her that he needed something from the library, wisps coming and going around him, some accidentally passing through him, though he hardly felt the difference anymore between them and the shadows that clung to him.

The library seemed to be empty, thick layers of dust coated the books on the shelves. The silence so thick Aleksander could swear he could touch it some days.

Quietly he moved over the pathways, scanning the books for the title he was looking for.

His movements were suddenly halted as someone crashed into him. In a flash of panic he wondered if someone had broken into the palace. To kill the monster hiding behind its walls. What he found instead was the girl who had arrived a few days ago.

He only realised his shadows had started acting up again when she started apologising for not paying more attention to her surroundings.

"It is okay," he reassured her, "I wasn't paying attention either." It felt strange to hear those words leave his lips. Even when he was still human, he hardly apologised for anything to anyone, yet the loneliness of the palace seemed to have changed him in ways he never thought of.

“I see you’ve taken an interest in the history of the Grisha,” he said as his eyes fell on the books she’d nearly dropped when they’d crashed into each other.

“My mother was Grisha. I thought I could perhaps learn more about what she could do and who her people are. Should be a lot easier now that I don’t have to look over my shoulder constantly…”

A wry smile twisted over his face. If it were up to the palace, she would have all the time in the world. Not that he would tell her that, it had probably already taken her more than enough courage to let Genya convince her to stay when the palace had locked her in, he wouldn’t ask her to muster it again with the revelation that she would be stuck here with him for far longer than either of them planned on being.

“Is there a particular title you are still looking for?”

“The Lives Of The Saints, sir. I tried asking Genya, but she wasn’t of much help unfortunately. I suppose there are downsides to being a formless wisp when you can’t touch a book.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that as he remembered David and Zoya going through the same issue when they couldn’t read their favourite books anymore.

“Well, if memory serves me correctly, it should be here.” he said, fishing a slim, dusty book from one of the top shelves, pleased when he indeed turned out to be correct.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you. I hope you find what you are looking for as well.”

She disappeared quietly between the shelves with a last goodbye, leaving him alone once more.

“You like her, don’t you?” Genya chuckled from behind him, his shadows lashing out at hearing her voice.

“She is the first human being any of us have seen in a good milenia. I can’t say that I don’t find it hard to remain indifferent to her.”

“Still not entertaining the thought that maybe, just maybe, she might be here to lift the curse?”

“You know that is a foolish hope Genya. She wants to be here just as much as any of us do. She’ll leave with the first chance she gets.” His heart grew heavy at the thought. A grief clawing at him that he could not simply free the Grisha confined to the palace and leave him with the fate he deserved.

“General, you know just as well as I that she can’t. She won’t leave. Not before the curse is lifted anyway.”

“You know she will once she discovers what happened. What really happened. She won’t stay and if she does, I refuse to believe she will do so because she wants to. She will stay because this accursed place will make her.”

And because no one can love a monster like me, he thought quietly to himself. Without another word, he turned around to leave the library, too angry to care about his shadows enveloping the aisle or to look for the book he wanted to read.

When the evening came, he was still stewing in his anger. As much as he liked both Genya and Fedyor, they seemed to have been completely taken by the ridiculous notion that she would save them.

He could tell the walls were scolding him for such a thought and that maybe he should’ve been more open to the possibility of being freed before it had to resort to more desperate measures. To not let him be able to scare her away.

“General? She has prepared dinner for you andherself in the kitchen.” The quiet voice of one of the servants alerted him, the shock of it suddenly piercing through his train of thought alarming him. It was a bad habit he seemed to have developed since the arrival of their guest, one he really had to kick to the curb if he somewhat wanted to keep the illusion that he had a certain amount of control over his shadows.

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Prepared food. It was something that had become a distant memory over the years. Time stood practically still between the walls and had completely eliminated his need to eat. Yet the mention of her making something for herself, no for the two of them, made his stomach twisting like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

He quietly wondered what sort of food she’d made. Being on the run often didn’t allow for fancy meals or long cooking times and from what he remembered when he was a child, food consisted mostly of old bread and nearly gone bad meat and cheese. If anything, it was a miracle he’d lived long enough to see the creation of the Fold.

The kitchen, for the first time in what should have only been yesterday, smelled sweet of the warmth of a fire, a finely cooked broth and he could swear he picked up on the scent of roasted meat.

“I see the cooks were generous enough to teach you one of their recipes.”

“They did. I didn’t really think anything would still be of use here after sitting unused for so long, but I was pleasantly proven wrong. I hope you’re hungry, because there is a lot,” she strained as she lifted the heavy pot away from the fire.

He had to admit that it did smell good, which either meant that they’d kept an annoyingly close eye on you and the food or that you were quite good at this; Probably to the cooks’ dismay.

To his surprise, Aleksander found that the food put in front of him was far tastier than anything he could remember from when he had last snuck into the kitchens for a snack when the rest of the staff had turned in for the night and the thought made him bitterly aware that even the memory of good food had become distant and foreign to him.

He tried not to let the feeling show too much, even if it was probably in vain but he continued to eat, hoping he could at least not make her think she did a bad job on the preparation of their meal.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before he asked: “How has your search into Grisha history been going?”

“Well, I’ve been learning a lot. Small science is a fascinating subject. Though, I do wish there were sources about it with less of a bias against Grisha since they all seem to describe it as some arcane sort of witchcraft.”

“I am sure the other Grisha here would be more than happy to help you distinguish myth from reality.”

“Oh they are. It is kind of my own ’fault’, for lack of better wording, that I can’t really grasp what it really is and does from text books and word of mouth alone. Not that it stops me from trying to understand it anyway.”

A soft warmth filled his chest upon hearing her words. To know that she still wanted to learn about the Grisha even when both history and her own ability to learn were trying to work against it.

“But how did this place come to be exactly? I always thought the Little Palace was a fairytale Grisha parents would tell their kids so they would sleep soundly at night. To an extent anyway.”

Aleksander’s heart twisted in his chest. “The Little Palace started as a dream of a shadow summoner not long before the creation of the Fold. They managed to work their way up into the Ravkan court of the ruling dynasty at that time and over an extended period they got enough support to have the place built, though it took a few decades for the construction to be completed.

Since then it has served as a refuge for Grisha fleeing the violence and condemnation they would have to face elsewhere.”

He could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to make sense of his words. Sooner or later she would ask the inevitable question of how the Grisha here ended up as wisps except for him and he had to admit to himself he did not have a good lie ready. At least not one that would remove her probably growing suspicion on what was going on.

He could sense his shadows curling nervously in the air and cursed himself for not having a better grip on either his emotions or his shadows.

“Sensitive topic?”

“It is not exactly one of the things I like discussing the most, no.”

“I understand. History has uhhh… not exactly been kind to shadow summoners.”

By her reaction to him, he knows his shadows are intimidating her and a voice in the back of his head tells him he should probably comfort her; He knows that if he did she would keep asking questions about the palace, what happened to it, and by extent what happened to its Grisha residents and to him; Why he seemed to be the only human being in the place while the other Grisha resembled his shadows more than their own bodies.

His frustration clung to the walls as he tried to clear his head. Why did she make him feel this way? Why could she so easily reach into him and touch exactly what he was afraid of she would reach when he had spent more time than he cared to remember building walls around himself to ensure that would not happen.

He cursed at his mother for his predicament, for locking him up; For taking his control over the shadows; but most of all he cursed her for what she did to the Grisha in the palace and for the false hope of that impossible promise about true love she’d given him.

@blissfullybarnes @stuckysdaughter @hagarsays @ohsorandomlyme @bat-revival @littlebobree @profoundme444 @psychomanias @joossieisdabomb @thecatempire @hummelmia @kahlanmars @intothesoul @sarcasm-n-insomnia @jack-napier-2008 @phantomofmoon @marvelmusing @idaofinfinity

#Aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #beaty and the beast au #aleksander kirigan x reader #general kirigan #aleksander morozova #shadow & bone

65 notes · View notes

winterkoya · 2 years

Text

just enough

aleksander morozova x wife!oc , aleksander morozova family au , aleksander morozova x original female character

summary: Alina’s arrival at the Little Palace forces Irina to realise she might care about her husband more than just enough

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of smut

part two , part three , part four , part five

masterlist

***********

“Anya! Eric! Come back here!” Irina called, running after her youngest children, two toddlers that were determined to avoid their bedtime and instead chose to make their mother chase them through the Little Palace.

“You have to catch us first, Mama!” The five year old girl giggled, running alongside her younger brother.

Irina was racing across the main hall, she was only five steps away from grabbing the hand of the three year old boy, when she saw something that made her stop so abruptly she almost fell. Her husband was there, giving strict orders to the guards arround them, alongside a pretty, although scraped, young girl. ‘Alina’, she thought. That must be the girl her husband had written to her about. The Sun Summoner he had recently saved from the merciless hands of the drüskelle. She looked up towards Aleksander. He was back home.

Her marriage with General Kirigan wasn’t a fairytale one. As the daughter of the King and Queen of Ravka, she had been asked to marry the leader of the Second Army as a peace offer between the citizens of Ravka and the Grisha. Aleksander hadn’t been too happy about it either, but he knew he wasn’t in the position of bearing the consequences of being unwise– or selfish. It was either marrying the pretty, dutiful girl or gaining another enemy the Grisha could not yet afford to fight. He would destroy the Ravka nobility when the time came to it.

“Moya tsarévna.” The guards chanted when she approached them, lowering their heads as a proper greeting for a member of the royalty.

Irina straightened her posture and placed her blonde hair behind her ears, acknowledging the welcoming with a kind smile and a slight head bow. She was a princess. Being the epitome of grace and exemplary manners was her job, after all.

“Princess.” Alina said, courtsing.

“Lady Irina is just fine.” She replied with a small laugh, helping the girl back up. “You must be Alina, Alina Starkov, is that correct?”

“I– I am.” Alina stuttered, admiring the woman’s gentle features.

“I gather you’re a cartographer. We have a wonderful library here, should you be interested in continuing with such a delightful craft. Ivan,” she called, looking over her husband’s shoulder, “make sure Genya attends her. She’ll help you get settled for now, and ready every morning.”

“Thank you.” Alina said, wholeheartedly.

Irina smiled back at her, but then she heard the sound of tiny footsteps dashing towards them, and so she quickly extended her hands to grab the hands of the two toddlers running between them.

“Got you!” She laughed. “Now, you must go have a bath, both of you, and after that is bedtime for you little monkeys. And no more running away, is that understood?” She said, kindly, but sternly.

“But Mama we want to play–

“Children.” Aleksander’s voice echoed through the hall, in a grave tone– but not mad. He had yet to speak angry words to his children, and he wasn’t planning on doing so anytime soon. “Do as your mother tells you and go to your room. Now.”

The kids, who barely had time to smile due to their father’s arrival before realising he was actually scolding them, finally calmed down.

“Fine, Papa.” They both chanted, not trying to escape their mother’s hold anymore.

Irina looked up to Alina’s face, smiling. “It was a pleasure meeting you, I hope we see more of each other soon.” With one last glance towards Aleksander, she left towards the dormitories, with two little heads walking by her side.

“Why doesn’t Kira have to come with us?!” Anya complained. The five year old was so much like her father, not only in looks, but in personality as well. Anya didn’t ask, she demanded.

“Because,” Irina answered, putting a strand of the girl’s brunette hair behind her ear, “your older sister has already taken her bath and is now waiting for you, in your bedroom.”

As Irina said this, the three of them entered her husband’s war room, where the only two entrances to the kids’ room and her room were. She found Kira, her seven year old peacefully reading in her bed, with her nightgown already on and her golden hair neatly tucked into a braid.

“There you are!” Kira smiled, jumping from her bed. “I just heard a guard saying that Papa is here, is that true?” She asked, looking at her mother with hopeful eyes.

“Yes he is,” she said, as her kids started to giggle with happiness, “and I’m sure he will come soon to wish you all goodnight, but first you two need to have a bath.”

“But Mama, we want to play with Papa first!” Anya protested.

“Play with Papa! Play with Papa” little Eric started to chant, following his sister’s whines.

Irina once again lost control of the two toddlers as they started to dance around the room singing about all the things they wanted to play with their father. Irina was tempted to let them get away with it and just call it a night, she was too tired after the long day she had had with them.

“No one gets to play with Papa unless they’re bathed and with their nightgowns on.” Someone said behind them. Irina turned around to see Aleksander standing against the doorframe with a small smile on his lips. The three kids jumped off their places and ran to meet their father, who seemed happy enough to see them.

Irina knew she was lucky. She might be stuck in a loveless marriage, but she knew she had got it easy: Aleksander had never done as much as raising his voice against her, he had never spoken ill of her behind her back or taken a mistress. In bed, he always asked for her consent first and afterwards he would always hold her against his chest until she peacefully drifted to sleep. He made sure other grisha respected her and severely punished anyone who disregarded her. He did everything a husband was supposed to do for his wife. Except for loving her.

His demonstrations of love were scattered and superficial: had only ever gone as far as a kiss on her temple after making love, holding her hand in a room full of people he didn’t trust, or the three ‘thank you’ he had whispered to her after giving birth to their children (which had almost felt like a promise of love. Almost.) Hardly something more than that.

But Irina had learnt to be okay with it. And so what if her life wasn’t the fairytale she had always dreamt about? She had three children she adored and a husband to share that love with. She was grateful for their mutual respect every single day. He liked her just enough, she liked (loved) him a little bit more than what she considered wise. The important point being, they liked each other enough. Saints knew most of her friends would call themselves fortunate if their marriages were anything like hers. She didn’t have one thing to complain about. And yet, sometimes, she found herself wanting to hear her husband saying he loved her more than anything else.

Irina smiled at the way Eric was sitting on his father’s shoulders, and how Kira was trying to explain to him the book she had been reading, loudly speaking as to raise her voice above her siblings’ screams. Hating to be the bearer of bad news, she yelled, hoping someone would pay attention to her , “Anya, Eric, you have played with your father enough, now please go to the bathroom.” Irina pleaded, taking the boy in her arms.

Her husband saw what a hard time his wife was having trying to get the kids to behave, knowing he was mostly the cause of the children’s distraction, and so he decided to help her:

“Tomorrow we can keep on playing but only if you do as your mother says and go have a bath.” Aleksander said sternly, which managed to get the two kids walking towards the bathroom on their own.

“Thank you.” Irina muttered, grateful for his help. She leaned towards him to help him out of his kefta. “I’ve been running after them for like an hour…you could use a bath as well, you know. To clean the journey off.” She added, partly because she knew how long he had travelled to get home, and partly because of the smell coming from his coat.

“I think I’ll get on with that.” He agreed, walking in the opposite direction, towards their shared room.

Irina bathed her kids, making sure that they were properly cleaned and washed. She let them play a bit, allowing them to splash water all over the floor, and then she tucked them in bed. She kissed all of them goodnight and as she was turning all the lights off, she heard Kira’s voice. “Mama, what about our story?”

“We went riding today, then you’ve had your lessons, we visited Grandmama… aren’t you too tired?” She chuckled.

“We’re never too tired for a story!” Anya giggled.

“Okay then,” Irina gave in, sitting at the end of Eric’s bed, “you shall get half a story today.”

“Why half a story?” Kira asked, as she and her sister jumped from their beds to go lay beside their brother.

“Because this is the story about a boy who fell in love with the moon, and then he took something from her. Something that has yet to be found”

Kira laughed warmly at that, for the girl loved stories more than anyone else has ever loved stories.

“Once upon a time, many, many years ago,” Irina started, “the moon had a voice. A beautiful voice, so serene that could make even the most stubborn children go to sleep, and yet so alluring that could convince people to declare their love for someone. At night, just before bedtime, everyone would climb to their roofs and tell the moon their biggest secrets, or to ask her for advice. Because the moon had been in the sky for such a long time, she was wiser than the sun and the stars, (who were a little silly, so it was mostly mischievous kids who talked to them, asking their advice on how to create chaos.)” Irina narrated, tickling the three of them, resulting in their giggles.

“And as many years ago, a boy named Jex fell in love with the moon. He would find the tallest building everywhere he went just so he could be the one speaking closest to her. He told her about his day, and in return the moon would tell him about all the secrets hidden in the sky. The way certain stars could help him find the path home when he was lost, how shooting stars were actually messengers bewteen suns (and that’s why they’re such show offs) , and how, if he focused hard enough, he could find particularly chatty stars who liked showing stories.

(“Are those constellations, mommy?”, “Almost, Kira. Constellations are the ones that recite poetry, easier to spot in the sky but much more difficult to understand; chatty stars merely tell stories.”)

“And then suddenly, one night, she wasn’t there. The moon hadn’t come out. Jex spent a whole night and a whole day crying, until, on the second night, he saw her again. The moon had returned. But he was so scared of losing her once more, he thought he could ask the moon for a present, something that would remind him of her even during the nights she wasn’t there. And so he talked to the moon, and the moon told him that she had nothing to offer but her voice as a gift. And so one night, following the moon’s strict instructions, he trapped her voice inside a jar his mother had made for him. And so the next day, he spent it entirely listening to the moon. It wasn’t until the next night he realised what a big mistake he had made. Because you see, the moon had only taught him how to trap her voice, not how to return it. So Jex carefully took care of the jar, so afraid to drain the moon’s voice forever that he would only listen to it when he was desperate for some advice, or desperate for some company. And then, when he was very, very old, he hid the jar in the brightest star in the sky, hoping that, someday, someone would be able to return the moon her voice back.”

“But Mama, why is it half a story?” Kira, the only one that was still awake, asked her.

“Because, legend says that if you know the right star, and you ask her to return the moon her voice, she will gladly give it away, should she find you worthy of it.”

“Mama, do you know how to talk to stars?”

“No I don’t malyshka, I don’t think anyone knows how to anymore.” Irina said, faking disappointment. “Perhaps the rivers, or the seas. But they’re difficult to talk to, they’re far too stubborn.”

“Maybe Papa knows.” Kira whispered. “Because he knows how to speak to the shadows, maybe he can ask them to speak to the stars for us.”

“Maybe.” Irina whispered back. “But, we will have to ask him tomorrow. Now go to sleep, we have a big day ahead. Learning to talk to stars is no easy job.” She kissed the girl on her temple, and left towards her room.

Irina was startled to see her husband waiting for her, under the doorframe of their room. “Saints, you scared me.” She laughed, closing the door behind her.

“I apologise,” he smiled, “I was waiting for you so we could go to bed.” He lied, not willing to admit he was listening to her story. As someone who has lived a hundred lives, there weren’t many things in the world interesting enough to intrigue him. He had heard every song, read every book, and most certainly knew every tale by heart. But somehow Irina always managed to come up with a story that lured him enough.

“So,” Irina said, taking her dressing gown off, looking forward to Aleksander telling her about last day’s events, “is it true? Is Alina truly the Sun Summoner?”

“She is.” He said, taking his place on the bed, tucking the bedcover over his bare chest.

“How was it?”

“It was splendid.” He said, his vision lost behind beaming memories. “It was the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen.” He looked at her with an apologetic look on his face. “One of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I’m happy everything turned out alright and that she got here unharmed.” Irina smiled. “By the way, why did Ivan and Feydor arrive here so much later? Are they fine?”

“I had Alina ride with me.” He explained. “I figured no one would dare attack her again with me by her side. Protecting her has to be my– our biggest concern now. She’s the answer to all of our problems.”

“Their problem or yours?” Irina said in a small voice, failing to look at him in the eyes.

Aleksander stared intensely at his wife, taken aback by her comment. It wasn’t usual for her to remark about such a matter. She usually liked to pretend he was nothing but a normal grisha, leader of the Second Army, yes, but mortal. And he was happy to play along, to spare her mind as well as his.

And so he decided to simply brush aside her comment, not only to avoid a difficult conversation, but because he had learnt the bad way how much of a toll it took on him to think about his wife’s mortality, not that he would ever confess that to anyone. He realised he also was the happiest when complying with Irina's little game.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, hastily changing the subject, “ your mother and father have asked us to meet them in the Grand Palace for a small… demonstration of her powers.” Aleksander added, with a small trace of disgust in his voice. He was probably the only person who disliked the King and Queen more than Irina herself.

“Oh, no.” She whined, covering her face with her hands. “Can’t he just take your word for it?”

“Irina, you know I’m the last person whose word the King would trust.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just looking forward to spending the day with the kids instead of having to get them ready for such an event. And I prefer a two week notice before having to meet my parents.”

“They don’t have to come.” He sighed. “You don’t have to come either, if you don’t feel like it.”

“I do have to go, I’m the princess and your wife. It’s my one job.” She looked at him. “You’re right, we could leave the kids here, though.” She added, biting her lip. “But I’m just… scared to leave them alone. Even more now with Alina here, knowing how many people are after her. I just feel more at peace when you’re here as well.”

Aleksander glanced at her with a sympathetic look on his face. “I’ve already told you, even when I’m not here, my guards have strict orders concerning your safety. And, as much as I hate the old bat, Baghra is here too. No one would dare touch them. I’ve made a vow to protect you and them and I don’t intend on breaking my promise.”

“Thank you, Aleksander.”

“It’s my job.”

Irina leaned over to kiss him, an action very much welcomed on his side. He might not love her, he told himself, but he wasn’t fool enough to reject a kiss from the prettiest woman he had ever laid his eyes upon. She left one last kiss on his cheek, and stroked his face with her soft hands.

After that, each turned their lights off and proceeded to try and get some sleep. Irina rolled over and rubbed a hand on his arm, which he grabbed and put over his chest. It was their routine now. One of the small love gestures Irina was very grateful about. Feeling safe, it didn’t take long for her to fall into a deep, dreamfree sleep.

• • •

Morning was a typical affair for Irina. Aleksander was no longer in bed when she woke up, as usual. She washed her face and put on comfortable clothes just in time to see Eric scuttling towards her.

“Good morning mayo solnishko .” She greeted him, with a big kiss on his cheek. “Let’s go get breakfast, shall we?” Irina lifted him over her hip and darted towards the war room, where she was surprised to find General Kirigan and his right hand in. The two abruptly stopped talking when they saw her come in. “Good morning.” She said, hesitating on whether to smile or not.

“Lady Kirigan.” Ivan saluted her. He then softened his gaze to look at the toddler in her arms. “Hello there, Eric.” Ivan was a man of few words, Irina knew as much, with a stern face, but he had always been kind to her and her children. He always offered to watch over them whenever she was busy planning an event, and for that she was very grateful.

“Hi.” The little boy answered with a tiny voice.

“Someone’s shy this morning,” Irina chuckled, “you must be sleepy still.”

“Lady Kirigan, do you want me to call for breakfast?” Ivan offered.

“No, that’s all right. I’ll go down myself, you don’t need to worry. I don’t want to interrupt your business. Please,” she said, “go on.”

Irina had barely exited the room when she heard Aleksander’s voice. “Make sure Genya arrives at Alina’s bedroom early. I want Alina to be perfect today.”

“I thought Alina wasn’t in control of her powers yet.”

“She isn’t. But she has me.” General Kirgan answered, smugly. “Make sure to tell Genya she has a black kefta made. Not for today’s demonstration of course, but I doubt this is the last one she’ll have to do.”

“But sir, no one else is allowed to wear that colour.”

“Because no one else is the Sun Summoner, Ivan.” He declared. “I want her and everyone else know that I’ve finally found an equal partner.”

Irina felt her stomach twist at her husband’s words. ‘Hunger’ she thought. That she was probably just hungry and that’s why her stomach felt so upset. Embracing Eric with a little more strength than before, she headed towards the kitchen.

• • •

After making sure all of the kids were playing under the safe care of Lilia, a healer that occasionally babysat her children, Irina went towards her room to change into a proper attire.

She was stunned to see her husband already dressed, ready to go to the Grand Palace. He was wearing his black kefta, and he looked as handsome as always.

“Oh, you’ve already changed.” She commented dryly, glancing towards the dress Genya had left on the bed for her. It was a beautiful, midnight blue gown that matched her eyes.

“I have to go make sure Alina is ready for the demonstration. I’m escorting her to the palace.” He said, while helping her get out of her clothes. Irina felt that hideous twist on her stomach again. “I’m going down now. Why, is something wrong?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, of course there’s nothing, I just… I thought Alina wasn’t able to use her powers yet. Are you sure a demonstration now is wise?”

“She can’t, that’s right, but it’s not a problem. I’ll be her amplificator.” He answered, stressing that last word in a weirdly alluring manner.

“Oh.” Irina might not be grisha, but she understood enough. And she knew what an intimate moment the amplification could be. She pursed her lips and covered her body with her undergown.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” He asked her, with an intriguing look on his face. It wasn’t like his wife to be so rigid.

“Of course I’m feeling right.” Irina blurted. She turned to let Aleksander help her button the back of the dress. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re just helping Alina.” She added, in a small voice.

She heard her husband snort a mischievous laugh, as if he had found something entertaining about her comment.

“What?” She snapped.

“Radnaya, are you jealous of Alina?” The General asked, with a cocky smile on his face, which made Irina feel her heart flutter.

Irina tried her best to put on a disbelieving look on her face. Was she? Could that upset feeling in her stomach be due to jealousy?

“Oh, please,” she lied, briskly smoothing her dress, as to try and hide the unsettling feeling growing on her chest, “you and I both know we’re way past feeling jealousy for one another.”

“Is that so?” He teased her, letting his fingers linger around her collarbones after putting a beautiful diamond necklace on her.

“Yes.” She lied again. “You can spend all the time with her attending to her, helping her, whatever. I couldn’t care less.”

He suddenly stopped caressing her skin, and backed away a few steps. Irina tried to figure his expression out, but she couldn’t put any name on it other than uncomfort. When in fact, he was trying to hide his hurting as much as she was trying to hide her caring.

“Fine.” Aleksander said, upset. What he thought to be harmless and lustful teasing between the two had turned into the first real bicker they’d had in some time. “I’ll go down and escort Alina, if you excuse me.”

“You’re excused.” She murmured.

Aleksander left with heavy steps, leaving her all alone with a heavy heart while she put on her heels. How dare he tease her about such a thing? Most importantly, how dare she break the unspoken agreement her husband and she had made all those years ago about caring just enough about the other?

She couldn’t feel jealous. Because being jealous meant that she cared. That she cared more than what she was willing to admit. All those years of convincing herself that her husband could never hurt her, because she would never care enough. But there she was, feeling like a fool for upsetting Aleksander with such emotions that –as unreasonable as she realised they were– had made her snap in a completely uncharacteristic way for her. Was it really a young girl all it took for her to realise she might care more than ‘just enough’ about her husband?

Thankfully, a knock on the door saved her from dwelling on such poisonous feelings. “Ivan?” She exclaimed.

“Lady Kirigan, sorry to disturb you. But the General has asked me to escort you to the palace, since he’s busy getting the event ready.”

“Oh yes, thank you, Ivan.” She stood up and intertwined her arm with the grisha’s. He walked her around the castle, until eventually they walked past Alina, accompanied of course by her husband. They seemed to be eagerly discussing words that she didn’t get to hear. Irina glared at her husband, but she still managed to give a kind and genuine smile to Alina. Poor girl didn’t have to suffer the consequences of her insane –and completely unfair– jealousy of her. “Good luck.” She whispered to her.

Ivan walked with her towards the Grand Palace, where they announced her arrival, followed by everyone bowing their heads to greet her. She climbed up the stairs to where the King and Queen were sitting.

“Mother, father.” She addressed them.

“Hello, Irina.” They saluted back, as she stood behind her mother. “And where is that husband of yours?” Her mother asked mockingly. “Unattending you, now that he has a new toy to play with?”

“Mother,” she sighed, “yes. He’s escorting her here. As the leader of the Second Army, it’s his job. And she’s not a toy, mother, her name is Alina. And she’s the Sun Summoner. The one that will free us all. Give her the respect she’s due.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see about that.” The Queen stated, as the main doors opened, to let Alina and General Kirigan, followed by their army of grisha, into the salon.

Aleksander proudly stuttered alongside the young girl, who was wearing a golden laced veil over her face. The grisha behind them stopped on their tracks while the two of them approached the stairs. Aleksander nodded at the girl, and Alina shoved the veil back, allowing the Queen and King to see her face.

“I thought she’d be taller.” Out of all the meaner things her father probably had to say, Irina was happy he chose such a harmless one.

“I thought she’d be shu.” Of course it would be her mother who put the poor girl on the spot like that. Irina glared towards her. “Well, I guess she’s shu enough. Tell her.. Oh, I don’t know, good morning.” The Queen added, motioning towards the translator behind her.

“I don’t actually speak shu,” Alina said, defensive “your Highness.”

“Then what are you?”

Irina could see the confusion and fear on Alina’s face, struggling to find the answer that her damn mother had made her.

“She is Alina Starkov,” General Kirigan stepped in, in an attempt to save her from the humiliation, “the Sun Summoner, moya tsaritsa.” Irina was happy he had done that, since she felt bad enough for the girl. “She will change the future. Starting now.”

He raised his hand to summon shadows, immersing the room on what it looked like the inside of a dark veil. The room was so dark, Irina could barely see what was in front of her. But she could see enough. Her husband was so close to Alina, his lips were almost brushing her ear. He whispered something to her, and then offered his hand to her.

The second he touched her, a thousand beams of light emerged from her, so bright that everyone in the room had to either squint their eyes or cover their face. The two of them were left inside a massive orb of light, so glaring that the King had to stand up to believe his eyes.

As soon as Aleksander dropped Alina’s hand, she stopped glowing and the room was filled with nothing but natural light and a soaring round of applause. “Bravo, bravo!” People were exclaiming.

“How long will she need?” The King asked eagerly.

“Destroying the Fold will be no easy feat.” The General said, walking around the girl. “She alone may not be able to do it. She will remain with me at the Little Palace to train… undisturbed.” He looked at her wife, so quickly that no one could possibly notice. But Irina did. Was he enjoying making her suffer?

Irina’s stomach twisted again at her husband's words, trying to remain indifferent in front of him. When will she be able to free herself for the monster that was growing in her?

“Then train her quickly.” The King threatened him. “Our wars have been a noble pursuit, but this chatter from the West about becoming a sovereign nation, that needs to stop. The sooner we are one country again, the better.”

“Agreed,” the General said, “moi tsar.” He proceeded to grab Alina by her hands and whisper something to her that Irina did not hear. He smiled at her, turned around and stormed towards the exit.

Irina felt her heart drop. Wasn’t he going to escort her back into the castle? She glanced around, but Ivan was nowhere to be seen. Fine. She didn’t need a prince to help her walk down some stupid steps, damn all the protocols that had made her life miserable since she was old enough to speak. She proudly lifted her dress high enough to stop it from touching the floor and headed down on her own. She kept her vision towards the front, to avoid seeing the pitiful stares directed at her from other members of the court, and gracefully left the Grand Palace.

Once inside the Little Palace, she stormed towards her shared bedroom, and not even the nanny saying the kids were down in the kitchens making a mess stopped her from facing her husband. Her blood was boiling. She could deal with jealousy. She could deal with him flirting with other women. What she was not willing to deal with was disrespect. They didn’t need to love each other, they didn’t need to do as much as liking each other, but they both would always have the decency to respect each other. They would never make the other one look like a fool in front of others. That was their pact. And he had broken it.

“You couldn’t even help me down the stairs?” She mumbled, once she entered their room. She hastily threw her heels off her feet, and walked towards him to help him out of his kafka.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I knew you were still upset at me, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“That’s no excuse and you know it.” She spatted.

“Oh I do apologise, I didn’t realise you needed help walking down a couple of steps.” He hissed.

“Saints, Aleksander, you know this isn’t about the stupid stairs. Of course I can manage a couple of steps on my own. It’s about the gesture. I’m a princess, my one and only job is to wait until someone holds my hand and escorts me down. You made me look like a fool back there. You couldn’t bother to help your wife back into the castle because you were too focused on helping Alina.”

“Alina again, what’s your problem with her? She’s the Sun Summoner Irina, of course she’ll get all the help she needs, from me or any other grisha in this palace. Why are you so bothered with that?”

“I am not bothered with that, of course I’m glad Alina is getting help, and I want nothing more than for her to feel comfortable here, I just… I…

“Oh Irina, would it just kill you to admit you’re jealous of Alina?”

“Yes! Yes it would kill me, Aleksander!” Irina gasped, her eyes covered in a gleam that could only mean tears were about to roll down her cheeks. “My whole life I’ve been nothing more than the fool princess who dreamt about a life out of a fairytale. But this is the real world, so instead I am the fool that agrees on an arranged marriage because it is my duty and I am the fool that pretends to be happy about it every single day for the sake of my children and my honour. But I refuse to be the fool that falls in love with someone who will never love her back.”

Aleksander resented the words coming out of his wife’s mouth. Out of all the things he had ever thought of calling her, the word fool had never crossed his mind. She was fierce, because from the day they were married, she had kept her unspoken bow to remain faithful to her duties. She was a loving mother and a caring wife, and the kindest person he had ever met. She was smart, and unafraid to speak her mind in favour of the ones who didn’t have a voice. She was gentle, yet witty; her words could disarm men with the same agility his shadows slaughtered them. She was uncommonly bubbly and didn’t mind laughing at herself.

He wouldn't call her perfect, but simply because shadows were the only thing he considered worthy of being described as perfection. At night, however, with her naked body against his, during those blissful seconds when the overload of emotions forced him to be truthful to his thoughts, he considered her to be a pretty good contender.

It started with an unconscious smile on his lips after one of her jokes, with the yearning to see her eyes become half moons every time she laughed, with the sour feeling of loneliness every time he travelled. It wasn’t until he found himself missing her in one of his journeys that he realised he might be falling in love with her. So he quickly made sure to step on such weakening feelings, and he grabbed the word love and locked it away, without realising he had merely hidden it behind the pretence of caring, as an unintended way to protect himself. Because caring led to disappointment, but loving… loving led to losing. And he had learnt the hard way that he didn’t like losing.

“You are so sure of that?” Aleksander said, closing the gap between them.

“Y– yes.” Irina whispered, letting the tip of her nose touch his.

“My darling, have I really been such an awful husband you can’t even phantom the thought of me having feelings for you?” He murmured against her ear. Irina closed her eyes, and he did so as well, feeling the wetness of her tears on his cheeks. “Wouldn’t you believe me if I told you that every day I get to call you ‘my wife’ I am thankful for that, and that I am grateful for the children you’ve given us and that there’s no one else I would rather come back to?”

“I do believe all of those things, Aleksander” she whispered against his lips, “because out of all the things you mentioned, you didn’t mention ‘love’”.

“Some words are more meaningful when taken for granted.” He said, brushing his lips against hers.

‘Not this,’ Irina thought, ‘I really want –no– I really need to hear you say it.’ But it was too late. She had already given in to her husband’s gentle caresses, to his intoxicating touch, as she always did. Because if her husband couldn’t say he loved her, she was happy enough pretending this was his way of showing her.

********

author’s note: thank you for reading! i just finsihed watching shadow and bone and i had to write this! should it become a series? i appreciate all feedback <3

436 notes · View notes