Chapter Text
Alina was coming back. She hadn’t specifically told him, but the Darkling could feel it. He felt it when he’d awaken from his troubled sleep, holding his pillow close to his chest. He could feel it watching the young Grisha train.
Nikolai didn’t believe him. “Morozova,” He’d say. “She won’t be coming back for a long while, or maybe even ever,”
The Darkling only scowled.
In the time that passed, he and the Grisha Triumvirate developed a respectable alliance. They had begun trusting each other, if it could be called that.
Alina would be shocked at the chess games he and Nikolai would occasionally play.
Well, he thought, she’d see soon enough.
----------
Alina watched the candles in the windows of the houses they passed. Still, on horseback, she was trying to get her and her soldiers to the palace as quickly as possible.
That, of course, meant travelling in the dead of night, much to Petya, Maya and Meera’s disgust. But Alina was relentless, insisting they get to the safety behind palace gates.
It wouldn’t be much longer now, less than an hour.
Her heart thumped in beat with her horse’s hooves, quickening with each passing second.
----------
The Darkling woke with a start, his pillow, as usual, clinging to his chest.
Alina Starkov was back in Os Alta.
He got up with a start, not really knowing where he was going. He wandered through the halls, finally making his way to the stables, where candles burned and people’s chatter could be heard.
Quietly, he stepped inside, getting out of the cool air.
“Alina,” The Darkling said, stopping in his tracks.
For there in front of him, stood Alina. She wore a red tunic and brown boots that went up to her knees. Black stockings and her black cloak with her hood covering her white hair.
She stared at him, his robe a contrast to her clothes.
“Did you wake up just for me?” Alina asked playfully, tipping her head to the side. The horse beside her neighed softly, and she reached up to pet its nose, whispering soft words of comfort.
“Maybe,” He said quietly, moving forward and reaching for a horse brush. Alina smiled at him, grateful for his help.
She would never admit it, never say it out loud, but a part of her had missed him. Truly missed him. Their visits at night were not the same as now, seeing him fully, hearing his breath going in and out. In and out.
Alina didn’t know, but he felt the same way. It took all his strength not to reach over her and embrace her close to his chest, begging for her never to go away again.
They worked together in silence, with only the sound of their brushes smoothing the horse’s hair heard. Alina took the left side, the Darkling on the right.
She took this opportunity to properly look at him. Even though it had only been a year and a half, and he didn’t age as normal people did, he looked older. Maybe it was the dark circles under his eyes or the grim set of his mouth. Or maybe it was his hair, now curling at his shoulders when it had once been cleanly cut and parted neatly to the side.
But he still looked like the confused boy she had stabbed on the skiff that day.
Aleksander . Not the Darkling.
She shook her head, moving her brush up the horse’s back.
“Did you know they call you the Starless Saint?” Alina asked.
“What?”
“You’re the Starless Saint. The Saint With No Stars.” She had heard whispers of those names in the taverns they had stopped in back to Os Alta, not knowing they meant him .
“I never thought I’d be referred to as ‘Saint’,” He remarked.
“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Aleksander,” Alina laughed, then stopped.
Aleksander .
“Are we back to Aleksander, then?” He asked, not looking up.
She breathed out, resuming the path with her brush. “Yes,” She said unevenly. “For now, yes,”
Aleksander didn’t even try to hide his smile.
----------
The palace was amok the next morning, Alina’s arrival causing various levels of chaos for everyone. Nikolai only laughed when he saw her.
“You sure do know how to make an entrance, don't you?”
“I’d say you do it better, your Highness,” She replied.
Nikolai smiled and reached to hug her. She clung to him, giving him an extra long squeeze.
She was glad to be back.
It seemed her little Summoners were even more glad to be there. They loved the Summoner’s pavilions and the books in the library.
And they all loved Zoya, much to her annoyance.
But she still showed them begrudging kindness, because she was Zoya.
Alina had explained to Nikolai that her Summoners would be allowed to learn more than she could teach them, and if they ever wanted to leave, they’d be allowed to.
No more child soldiers, just like she’d promised.
Two weeks passed, and they slowly settled into a new routine at the palace.
Alina barely saw Aleksander in that time, only at the Triumvirate meetings, and even there he barely met her eye.
In truth, he simply didn’t know what to say to her. Seeing her like this, in person, was wildly different than their nighttime visits.
For one, they were surrounded by people, watching them anxiously.
Where would he even begin to say what he wanted?
I’ve been trying, Alina. Can you see that I’ve tried?
Then he chastised himself, he sounded childish and desperate.
They were all in a meeting. Him, Nikolai, Alina and the Triumvirate. Zoya and Nikolai were arguing about something, as they usually did. David was staring at the patterns on the ceiling and Genya was trying desperately to moderate between the King and Zoya.
Alina was staring directly at him, and he was looking everywhere but her. Her eyes bore into him, taunting him to look at her. He massaged his fingers over his temples, feeling a headache coming on.
Aleksander didn’t know what they could possibly be arguing about this time, unless it was the Fjerdan problem to the north or even the Shu Han one to the south.
He had many things he wanted to suggest doing, but all of them would be shot down and probably land him in the dungeons.
“Enough!” Alina interrupted. Zoya paused briefly, and Nikolai’s finger stopped wagging in front of her face. “What even is the original issue here?”
“The Fjerdans,” Zoya replied. “The Fjerdans and their affinity for killing Grisha,”
“Alright, Nikolai what was your solution?” Alina asked slowly, as if she were speaking to a child. Aleksander laughed silently.
Nikolai frowned. “Invite the druskëlle and Fjerdan nobility to Ravka for Grisha demonstrations. While they’re here, they sign a peace treaty,”
“Honestly, Nikolai, do you think that would work? They’re druskëlle for Saints’ sake,” Zoya snapped.
“I have to agree with the General there,” Aleksander piped in.
“Quiet, Morozova,” Nikolai said. “We have the Soldat Sol ,”
“Absolutely not, Nikolai,” Alina said, shaking her head. “The Soldat Sol will not be used as...as bait.”
“Any other suggestions, then?”
“You could marry a Fjerdan,” Alina said simply.
Nikolai choked. “I’d rather marry a Shu girl,”
Genya smiled thoughtfully. “That could be arranged, I suppose,”
“No!” Nikolai shook his head vehemently. “I still have a country to stabilize.”
Aleksander cleared his throat. “Actually, a ball may not be such a bad idea. As a start,”
“Need I remind you you’re the reason I have to clean up this mess of a country?” Nikolai asked.
Aleksander’s nostrils flared. “Well, if you had given me a chance to show what I wanted to do with the Fold-”
“Not this again,” Alina groaned.
“The Fold was the only thing keeping our enemies at bay. Now, it’s free rein of Ravka, is it not, virtually nothing to protect it?” He asked.
He did have a point. A small one, but it was there.
“Still your doing,” Nikolai grumbled.
“How is a ball going to help us?” Zoya asked, eyes narrowing.
“Mortals enjoy the frivolous things,” Aleksander said, smiling slightly. “They like to dress up and show off, get too drunk, dance and do things they regret.”
“Saints, you must be fun at parties,” Genya said.
“Alina can answer that,” He grinned wickedly, teasing her.
Alina blushed violently, coughing.
She was going to kill him.
“Right, we’ll send out invitations for three weeks from now, then?”
----------
Zoya and Genya watched the two Summoners and Alina’s students from across the field.
Genya noticed they either stood too far apart, or too close together. Their hands would brush against each other and they’d pull their fingers away, a deep red painting both their cheeks.
Genya thought it was funny, the way those two danced around each other. Zoya just found it annoying.
“10 rubles he makes a move on her at the ball,” Zoya huffed.
“15,” Genya giggled. The ball was tonight, in a few hours. She had been running around for the last three weeks, making sure everything was ready. Zoya just grumbled her way through it, opting rather to hide out in Nikolai’s study. She had been spending quite a bit of time in there lately.
Aleksander always watched the Summoner children with curiosity. They followed Alina around like ducklings after their mother.
She loved them dearly.
“They’re coming to the ball tonight, aren’t they?” Aleksander asked.
Alina nodded. “They’re excited about their golden keftas ,”
He smiled. “I’m sure they would be,”
She turned to look at him, peering at his unruly, uncut hair. “You need to do something about that hair,”
He frowned. “It looks fine,”
“Yes, if you want people to think you rubbed your head against a wool blanket. Look at it! It’s sticking up everywhere,” She made to run her fingers through the tousled mess, trying to get it to lay on one side.
“Stop! Stop!” Aleksander said, ducking out of reach. “It looks normal, I’ll just comb it,”
“Combing it isn’t going to help,” She replied drily.
“And what is, may I ask?” He huffed.
“Cutting it,”
“Nikolai doesn’t allow anything that could even be remotely considered a weapon near me,”
“Well good thing I’ll do it for you,” Alina said, reaching for his wrist. He paused, but didn’t pull away.
“Lead the way then, Miss Starkov,” He smiled, chin jutting out slightly.
After making sure Zoya and Genya would look after Meera, Maya and Petya, Alina dragged Aleksander back to the Palace, never once letting go of his hand.
----------
He wouldn’t sit still. He’d fidget, droop his head or just plain not shut up .
“Aleksander, stop moving,” She hissed. They were both kneeling down on the bathroom floor of his chambers, his head bent over the edge of the bathtub so Alina could wash his hair.
“Maybe if you stopped getting soap in my mouth!”
“Maybe if you stopped constantly talking!”
“Or you could let me wash my own hair,” He gruffed.
She ignored him, dipping her hand back in the bathwater to rinse the foam from his head. His hair was soft, and the blackness shined so much it looked blue.
“Up,” She whispered, wrapping a towel around his head and leading him to the stool. It was set in front of the mirror, so she could see what she was doing.
He scowled as Alina fluffed his hair with the towel, trying her best to dry it before she brushed it out. It hung well past his shoulders in wet curls.
“Now you really have to sit still,” She said, bending down and squaring their faces together in the mirror, “Or else I won’t apologize for an uneven cut.”
“Alright,” He laughed, holding eye contact with her reflection.
Alina picked up her scissors and began to cut quickly and expertly, lifting strands between her fingers and cutting across neatly.
“You’re good at this,” He remarked.
“I was a soldier, I used to cut Mal and the boys’ hair. And my own,” She replied, stiffening up a little when she mentioned Mal. To the average person, they wouldn’t have noticed anything. But Aleksander was no ordinary person.
He brought his hand up to hers, catching her wrist in midair.
They stared at each other in the mirror, the air seemed to change, charged with something.
“I’m...sorry about Mal,” He said hushedly. “And for...brushing his death off so easily. It..Stuff like that doesn’t phase me much anymore,”
He swallowed, drawing her hand down to his level and placing a quick kiss on her wrist, above her vein.
“Thank you, Aleksander,” She breathed out. “I...appreciate it,”
“Death never gets easier,”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t,”
“Especially not when you’ve been alive for hundreds of years, and hundreds more to come,”
“I’ll be here with you, for the rest, at least,” She said, picking up her scissors again.
“I suppose you will be. There is no one I’d rather have at my side,”
“If I get my powers back,” Alina said shortly.
“You will,” He replied confidently.
She paused, set down her scissors again and stared at his grey eyes reflecting back at her. Then she pulled his head back, so he was looking up at her instead. Her fingers were twisted in his hair. Their noses bumped against each other, and she quickly leaned down to kiss him.
He startled under her, before grazing his fingers along her jawline, inviting her closer.
“At least kiss me properly, Miss Starkov,” He breathed when they pulled apart. His neck felt sore.
Alina grinned, coming round to sit in his lap to kiss him again.
The scissors were long forgotten.
----------
Her kefta scratched her skin, more so than it ever did.
Maybe because Alina felt like a fraud.
She was no longer a Grisha, not in the traditional sense, no matter how much she listened to Aleksander’s reassurances that her powers would come back.
She twisted in front of the bathroom mirror, the blue kefta swirling around her legs. The sounds of the ball were muffled behind the doors, but the thought of returning made her throat close.
It wasn’t bad, per se, but the conversations with the various delegates from Fjerda and Shu Han exhausted her.
“And will we be seeing the Sun Summoner perform tonight, then?” A big man from Fjerda had asked. Alina thought he looked like a lumberjack.
She had mumbled some sort of excuse, and slipped from the ballroom, finding herself in the bathroom.
And she felt that part of her still missing - her sunlight that had made her happy, something that was wholly hers.
There she was dancing about in a blue Etherealki kefta , when she had no powers to her name.
Petya, Meera and Maya were doing a fantastic job - smiling politely at the delegations and sending little sunbeams across the room, awing everyone.
Alina had protested they're being there, she hadn’t wanted her little soldiers to be used in a war they had no part in, but they had insisted.
She suspected it was the excitement of their new keftas, but she didn’t object, especially after seeing their happy faces.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Alina?” Came a soft voice from the other side.
Aleksander.
“Yes?” She called back.
“You’ve been in there for twenty minutes,”
“Are you keeping tabs on me, Starless Saint?”
Alina could practically hear his eye roll. “No, but that Fjerdan ambassador started speaking to me when he always bothered you , and I realized I hadn’t seen you in a while,”
“So,” She teased. “You’re saying you missed me?”
“Saints, Alina,” Aleksander groaned.
She walked to the door and pulled it open, to be met with his handsome, sharp face and fresh haircut (thanks to her). His black kefta looked slightly rumpled at the collar - as if he had been nervously tugging at it. Still, he wore his small satisfied smile.
“Hello,” Alina said awkwardly.
His fingers came to her chin. “You look pale, solnishka , you need some colour in your cheeks,”
“Perhaps we should kiss again, that would certainly ‘bring colour to my cheeks',” She blushed, thinking of just a few hours earlier.
“Perhaps we should,” His hold on her chin tightened, lifting her face. “But after I have a dance with you,”
She startled. “A dance? Weren’t you the one poking fun at mortals and their dancing just a few weeks ago?”
“I make exceptions for certain people, Alina. Besides, that way we won’t have to talk to all those brainless Grisha killers,”
“ Oh , so that’s the real reason,” She replied, linking her arm at his elbow and directing him back to the ballroom.
He scowled.
The band in the corner of the room began a slow waltz, and Aleksander led her out onto the floor, nearing the middle. She placed her hand in his outstretched one, and his other came to rest comfortably at her waist. When the music swelled, they moved.
Unbeknownst to them, Genya stood watching at the side with David. She noticed the way Alina reacted to the Darkling’s touch, and how he looked at her like she was the sun. Which, she supposed Alina was.
“It was bound to happen, you know,” David said matter-of-factly.
“What was, dear?” Genya asked, focusing on the dancing bodies of Alina and the Darkling.
“ Them ,” He motioned. “Light and dark. Sun and shadow. The universe demands a balance,”
She nodded slowly. “And they are that balance,”
David nodded. “Now that he’s...changing, well,”
“Zoya and I have a bet going on. 15 rubles he makes a move on her tonight,”
He frowned. “Where is Zoya?”
Genya looked around, the various gowns and coloured keftas blurring together as people danced and ran and laughed. But Zoya was nowhere to be found. Or Nikolai.
She giggled. “Probably everywhere at once,”
Back on the floor, Alina and Aleksander were waltzing slowly. Well, he was dancing and she was desperately trying to keep up and not trip.
“You’re good at this,” She said nervously.
“Centuries of practice,” He whispered, leaning in.
Her cheeks flamed. “Not here, Aleksander,”
“Of course not. But after, yes ,”
She tightened her grip on him. “I’m proud of you, Aleksander. You still have a long way to go but...I’m proud of you,”
He inhaled sharply, not saying a word. But his eyes spoke enough. In those silver eyes that were once hardened and cold, a new soft vulnerability lay in them.
Something that may once have had a name.
The music ended with a final crescendo, and Aleksander practically dragged her off the floor and to the side, casting shadows so they’d be hidden from anyone.
She pushed him against the wall lightly, and steadied her hands on her chest, trying to calm her breath.
“Oh, Alina,” He whispered, framing her face with his hands, and resting their foreheads together.
They didn’t have to say anything, it was perfectly fine to stand in silence, away from the ball behind them.
----------
Zoya had a problem. A big problem.
She had been enjoying herself at the ball, until she realized the King was nowhere to be found. She last saw him speaking to a Shu ambassador, animatedly talking about boats of all things. It had been safe to leave him be so she could go find a drink, in peace .
But when she returned, the Shu ambassador had found a new conversation partner, and Nikolai seemed to have disappeared.
Then Tolya told her the King had fled the ballroom, his black scars flaring up.
Of course, the demon would decide to come out tonight of all nights.
She had to find the Darkling and maybe even Alina. She’d need their help.
Zoya found them behind the crowd of people in the back of the room, of course staring like lovesick puppies. Honestly, if they didn’t properly do something about them, she would.
“I need your help,” She said shortly once the Darkling picked himself up. The effect Alina had on him was far too obvious, he looked as though he’d sink to his knees for her. Revolting.
“It’s Nikolai. The demon,” She continued.
The Darkling looked annoyed. “ Now ?”
Zoya thought he had no right to be annoyed, not when he was the one who-
But it didn’t matter, not now, she’d have time to be angry with him later.
They quietly made their way out of the stuffy ballroom, Genya joining them. Tolya said he looked like he was heading up to the Eastern Tower. They shuffled along. Once they got to the door of the Eastern Tower, Zoya heard low groans.
“He needs our help,” Alina said, worriedly, reaching for the door.
The Darkling grabbed her hand tenderly. “Be careful,” He said softly. She smiled weakly at him, but cautiously pulled open the door.
It was dark, with only moonlight streaming through the window, and Nikolai’s dangerous, cascading shadow lining the floor. His hands were as black as ink and his fingers looked like claws. His eyes matched, and his wings unfurled like a hawk.
He did not look like Nikolai, Alina thought. And she was afraid.
Nikolai turned to them, not seeming to recognize them. Zoya stepped in front of her, attempting to coax him with a soft voice, demanding the Darkling go find the chains.
But it was no use, Nikolai growled and began stalking dangerously towards Zoya before baring his claws towards her throat.
Alina cried out, her fear getting the best of her as she leapt in front of Zoya.
There was too much commotion, too much yelling. Too much that she was feeling inside.
Before Nikolai’s monster could reach her, she let out a shriek, as if her own body was melting in itself.
And then light erupted from Alina’s outstretched palms.