Work Text:
The Lantsov emerald bought them more than enough to work on the orphanage.
Alina never had so many splinters in her life, and Mal teased her, and kissed all her sores. They spent day in and out fixing everything. They tore down the tree where Ana Kuya had hung. They erased every memory of the Darkling and his terror. New windows were put in, and they stripped out the floors.
There was something rewarding about hard work. She wasn’t weak, or strong, but she got it done. Some nights they slept on a huge pile of fur in the middle of a haphazard empty room, with Misha curled up between them. They spent the summer with holes in the wall covered only by a piece of canvas.
It took a year and a half of backbreaking labor. Alina missed the sunlight, but she marveled at her new short hair, white strands hidden by scarves draped over her head. Mal’s curls had grown out and framed his face every which way, and his beard was filled in. She studied her calloused hands and muscles that developed on her arms.
But after countless hours they stood with Misha in front of the new door and let him paint designs on the frame.
The orphanage was rebuilt, and filled with new memories.