Chapter Text
He thinks he will get used to it eventually. He got used to everything else, after all. He got used to being feared for who he was, being hunted, being hurt. He got used to death in all of its many faces. Seeing fellow soldiers cut down next to him, losing friends, comrades to illness, to despair, to madness.
No-one knows better than him that everything numbs over time. And so he expects for the cold to get less piercing as well. It comes with the shadows, his mother told him once. It is the price for being part of the darkness. A cold that infuses every part of his being, that runs deeper than his bones, that holds his very soul in its grip.
Sometimes, when he can’t help himself, he wonders what it must feel like to be warm. He remembers how he tricked himself into believing he felt it in Luda’s embrace. Only the barest hint of it. The light of a single candle. And yet he hung to it with all his might, this single spark of warmth in his otherwise cold existence.
After she is gone, there is only the cold. Every minute of every hour of every day, he feels it. Apart from his shadows, it is his only true companion as the centuries drag on. He never numbs to it as he thought he would. Every day it bores into him anew, leaving him shivering.
There is a time when he gets so desperate as to ask an Inferni for help. It takes some convincing, but in the end she agrees to burn him. He expects the pain, but he hopes, fervently, that there would be at least a little warmth in it. But he is wrong. There is nothing. The Inferni’s light fails to warm him even a little.
He never tries anything quite so foolish ever again. He never quite makes his peace with it, but he accepts that there is nothing he can do. He will live his life in the shadows and in the cold. Every night he lies awake shivering in the dark, no matter how many blankets he piles atop of himself. He is too cold to sleep. In the end, sheer exhaustion claims him and the whole thing repeats the next day.
Sometimes, he basks in the summer’s sun and imagines what it would be like if he could actually feel it on his skin, if he could be free of the all-consuming cold even for a moment. Then he shakes his head angrily, shaking off such foolish notions. He is a creature of the dark, and the sun is not for him.
“Your sleeve. Please.”
Her gaze flits around, looking for a way out. There is none. Aleksander fights down the hope threatening to bloom in his chest. He can’t let himself get carried away. There is still a chance that she isn’t the Sun Summoner. He will know for sure in a moment, one way or another.
She makes no move to lift up her sleeve, so he grabs her wrist. And gasps. The sensation is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He can’t place it at first, but then he realizes what it is. She feels warm. Heat radiates from where he touches her skin, creeps up his arm and, impossibly, unbelievably, warms his chest.
He closes his eyes and an involuntary sigh escapes him. Is this what it feels like to be warm? He forces his eyes open again, staring with something like wonder down to where his hand touches her arm. He realizes that his grip on her arm has tightened considerably and she is starting to squirm.
He tries to get back to the task at hand. He needs to test her, needs to find out if she really is the Sun Summoner he has been waiting for. But the warmth seeping into his skin is incredibly distracting. He can’t help but wonder how it would feel to embrace her, to feel her warmth all around him instead of only through this small point of contact.
It takes all of his immense self-control, mastered over centuries, to keep himself from simply drawing his arms around her and pulling her close. He barely manages to fight the urge down, mindful of the people around them. He has a reputation to uphold. He can’t just go around hugging people.
With his free right hand he slowly lifts up her sleeve, in the process drawing his hand a bit more over her skin than strictly necessary. He can’t help himself, the warmth is like a drug and he is helpless against its pull.
He tests her with his ring and the light emanating from her is truly magnificent to behold. After all this time, he has finally found the Sun Summoner. She stares at him, her eyes wide in shock. He draws his thumb back and the light dies, but he can’t make himself let go of her. He holds onto her arm with both hands as if his life depends on it. The feeling of warmth spreads through him, chasing the cold from every part of his body. Ironically, he shivers at the sensation.
“Everybody out,” he grinds out, voice hoarse. The tent empties around them, but he hardly notices, his entire focus on the woman in front of him. She continues to stare at him with a fearful expression, frozen in place. He isn't sure if she is afraid of him or if she is rattled by the discovery of her powers.
“You’re hurting me,” she says and he consciously loosens his grip again, but still can’t make himself let go. He draws closer to her. He can feel the heat radiating from her, not only where he touches her, but everywhere. He tries to pull away but can't bring himself to do it.
“Um,” she says and he wonders what she must be thinking of him right now. He really should let go of her arm, but the feeling of heat coursing through him is simply intoxicating. He bites back a moan. I’m finally basking in the sun, he thinks a little manically. He desperately tries to keep in the laughter that is trying to spill out of him. She probably thinks him mad already.
The first person in centuries whose impression of him actually matters and he makes a complete fool of himself. He knows he should be angry with himself, but it is really hard to make himself care. For as long as he can remember, he has felt the dreadful bone-deep cold. Now, his eternal companion is absent for the first time in his long life.
They stand rather awkwardly, with him clutching her arm with both of his hands. She is tense, probably wondering what has gotten into him.
“I’m sorry,” he says and wonders how long it has been since he last uttered those words. “I realize my behaviour must seem rather strange to you.”
He is finally starting to get a little angry at himself. He usually has much better impulse control than this.
“Um. Are you alright?” she asks hesitantly, looking down at his hands. He realizes that he is shaking slightly, the sensation almost overwhelming. He doesn't have the faintest clue what to reply to her. It has been a long time since anybody has asked him that particular question.
He finally gives up the fight, and lets go of her arm in favor of drawing his arms around her. He pulls her as close to him as humanly possible. She tenses even further in his arms and he is well aware that he is throwing carefully laid out plans made over centuries out the window. She is supposed to see him as the intimidating and powerful General of the Second Army and not whatever sorry picture he presents himself as right now.
But it is rather difficult to think about his plans when he feels truly, completely warm for the first time in his life. He already dreads the inevitable moment when he will be forced to step away from her and the cold will creep in once more.
“You know, some people around here think you’re kind of scary, but I don’t think anybody warned me that you are quite so .. cuddly.” She tenses further, probably remembering who she is talking to. “Sir,” she adds hastily. He chuckles. Cuddly, indeed.
“Is this some sort of welcome for new Grisha? Trying to show them that you’re not as scary as people think? I don’t want to criticize your methods, but maybe it would be better to wait until people know you a little better before you hug the living daylights out of them. Sir.”
She is babbling, obviously nervous. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to let go of her. It is one of the hardest things he ever makes himself do. He feels the change immediately, but to his surprise, impossibly, some of her warmth lingers, even after he takes a step away from her.
She looks up at him, confused, maybe a little frightened, but she still gives him a small, hesitant smile and he knows in that moment that he is doomed.