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Sometimes, her dreams were not her own. This truth was only realized in a clarity given in waking up from a dream so vivid, you could still taste the smell of grass, gaze being much taller than she had grown to be. She wondered sometimes, if this was something everyone else had happened and simply forgot about.
Mal seemed to laugh off the idea when she brought it up, of how his dreams were too bizarre to ever call vivid, and always his own.
( “ Maybe it’s just your imagination. You were always the more clever of us. “ A smile, a forcing bile down at what must’ve just been poorly chosen words; there was no way he meant it in a cruel way, after all. )
The dreams were much too vivid to be hers, though, right? She had never seen such a vibrant blue to compare to the seas of which she had peered down at, from beyond a railing of a ship. Of all the intricacies of the buildings and clothes of Shu Han, of how she sometimes wished she had seen.
With every time she brought them up to someone she trusted, even the smallest amount, from Ana Kuya, annoyed to being asked such a whimsical idea, to Alexei, who listened to every detail.
It was nice, being listened to completely.
She knew he liked her, more than a friend definitely, and felt moderately bad for preening under the attention, but it was like the desire to be looked at, seen, was in her very skin. It was disappointing, seeing him shake his head, “ No, Li- Alina, but I want to hear a second more- I can’t have you having inspiration to be a better mapmaker than me. “
She laughed; oh, it was infectious, and for a second, she wished she had grown up with him instead. “ Right, right, of course. I wouldn’t imagine that. You could see, well, I could, all these fishes and even bigger creatures in the waters sometimes. I have some sketches of what I saw, somewhere-, “
“ Using our precious Charcoals for these fishes? “ Light toned, bumping her shoulder with his. Lovely.
“ Oh, fuck off. One second, “
Finally finding and pulling out the nice leather bound book, the nicest thing she’s owned– bought it with the small amount of money she was given as a Cartographer, pride in every glide of her hand that she touched it with– she pat it gently and opened it with the most care.
“ See, these. They had a white belly, I think, “ touching over the part she left blank on the underside while glancing back towards him and the book, “ and these dots– on the back, or whatever the top of this thing would be called. Huge, too. “
“ That’s… now, when you get to the True Sea and you see this creature, you better name it! “
“ Name it? “ He had to be joking, now making fun of her.
“ Definitely. I mean, you prophesied it. “
“ Ah. Fine! Fine, then, I will. Hmm, after you, then. “
The dreams were harmless, if only making her a bit more eccentric, rubbing her arms against cane hits that never met her skin. It was simply her being cautious, avoiding the older faces in the street, as she wouldn’t let dreams meddle her reality; it was a silly thing, really, to think that they would.
Until her first kiss was with one of the Second Army that was traveling with them, a young woman with brown hair and brown eyes, a Tidemaker who’s name was Valeriya. It was easy, developing feelings for her, when her dreams fed her this perfect and sweet romance with another Grisha, only in her dreams, she was a Healer.
“ Oh, saints. “
“ It’s nothing! “
“ Alina-, “
“ Nope! “
It was difficult to contest the superior strength and fighting training Valeriya had, yet she still tried, to hide her art; of her sleeping, beautiful. Oh, saints, she could feel her cheeks burning.
“ Please, please, let me take it with me. “
Oh.
“ What? “
It was her turn to get embarrassed, Alina would later think back fondly.
“ I– to remember you. It’s, um, my face, but– it’s your hand. It’s perfect. “
“ Oh. Okay. “
“ Okay? “
“ Yeah. “ Her laugh came naturally, wrapping her arms around her neck and kissing her girl, beautiful in her blue.
Many of her firsts were given to her, and given in return, only to receive a letter that caused her tears to sear a hole through the paper.
She had died in a battle along the border of Fjerda, in the service of saving quite a few of her comrades, only to rewarded with a pool of blood under her body.
That night, she willed herself to not remember her dreams; she couldn’t stand to see any face that could be reminded of the person she cared for.
Next time she saw Mal, begrudgingly brother, she hid the remnants of the letter in her things before he could see it. She knew he had male companions before, but this was different– and they never talked about her love life before.
( She was supposed to be in love with him until the day she died, they both knew. )
“ What’s this, Linka? “ It was her art, sketched messily out, of a fading memory of her. She needed to capture it, as she wouldn’t see the other piece she did again.
“ One of the Grisha, uh, stationed here. Or was, she– she offered me some money to draw her. Left before I could give it to her. “
A huffed breath, too violent for her tastes. “ Sounds about right. They are very self serving, aren’t they? “
She was silent, for longer than what was socially okay. She should agree, hold on to this thread that threatened to burn with any movement.
She should.
She won’t.
“ Well, we all are a little self serving, aren’t we? “ It was impossible to keep the edge out of her voice, annoyance at her always being on the back burner. Anger, of him mocking and belittling someone who had cared enough about her to be put as someone to notify of death.
“ Alina. “
“ I have to go turn in my assignment, anyway. “
“ Hey, stop, “ His hand immediately tried to stop her, to which she batted away from her person, almost storming away with her map and bags and torn drawing, the other still in his hand.
She liked the fire alongside anger.
The dreams, always present in her life, never went in order. Sometimes, she’d get a dream of being a teenager, sneaking to the top of a boat, admiring the sea creatures. Others, she’d get what she could only assume was the result of ptsd and war.
Bloodied snow, and everyone dead– all, but her.
These dreams, all she could do was scream and feel her heart twist in ways that wasn’t natural and feel darkness crawling and seeping around her heels, despite the fact that that didn’t make sense.
The more safe she was, the worse they got, she’d only learn this later, when she slept in a palace, made to protect people like them.
Surrounded by silk and everything lovely, she dreamt of being a child, whom couldn’t have faced more than seven whole summers. She was excited, she was going to meet her friend, of something that her mother didn’t allow her to have.
Not ones that were Grisha, anyway, but she didn’t understand, her mother. So she didn’t tell her about her friend, nor about where she was going.
The water was so cold.
“ No, no, no, Please! “
Please.
Don’t kill me.
I’ll protect you, please please please please–
Fear sharpened, weaponized, into a thin blade, made proxy by shadows, turned water red, ice soaking in the encompassing change of color.
She killed them.
They were going to kill her.
She had to.
A scream tore through her throat, distinctly young but male, only morphing into decidedly hers, when she saw the cream ceilings and decor. She couldn’t stop crying and shaking, hiding her face in her hands, bloodied, she was sure.
Feet shuffling broke her hearing and the moment she felt someone attempt to touch her, it was almost animalistic, how she bowed and recoiled from them, the grey-clad guard ( they want my bones, i can’t trust them, ) immediately withdrawing.
She hadn’t stopped her screaming, and it only stopped when the shadows pulsated, trailing after a man bathed in black. If she was in stable mind, she would’ve noticed the concern etched in his face, technically her General. How he approached her like she was a scared horse, whom had found a snake.
Maybe she was. Maybe she was the snake.
“ Miss. Starkov, “
She couldn’t stand seeing, so her palms covered her eyes again. Maybe she could blind herself, like she did those others.
No, that wasn’t her.
Was it?
“ Alina. “
His voice was so soft, a hand gently prying away hers, and she let him. The man who had everything more important to do then cupped her face with his other hand, “ Look at me, please. Breathe. “
Her eyes wanted to flutter close, to exist like this– this, strange, peace. It was a struggle, breathing in, breathing out, she was alive, and looking directly into his eyes. Truly, it was impossible, how beautiful a shade could be, black.
It was too much. It was too much as her eyes fluttered back closed and new tears sprung, though they were silent, and she felt herself be pulled against his chest to be held.
( the Black General, comforting a soldier from nightmares. No one would believe that. )
After an eternity, or maybe just a moment, he spoke again, in that soft voice that he probably used on his horses. “ Speaking helps, I’ve been told. The bad dreams. “
She never wanted to leave this moment, of comfort, of warmth. It was greedy of her, like of the moments she stole with Alexei, with how she had loved Valeriya, but she wanted it nonetheless. Croaking out, voice almost completely muffled by him, her reply was short. Promising. “ In the Morning? “
The response he gave was at first a hum, and then a hand, ever gently moving through her hair, calming. “ Try to remember it until then, and I’ll share mine. “
She wanted to ask, he had a bad dream too? But her exhaustion, both in her soul and in her throat caught up before the words could leave her. She’d have to ask in the morning.