Chapter Text
There wasn’t anything extraordinary about the unbroken field of green grass he stood in, but it was quiet. And Aleksander needed quiet.
It was a relief when he was finally able to leave Caryeva after dealing with a rather annoying nobleman. The snob chose to cause trouble by insisting the Crown pay a higher price for a new trio of horses, and it didn’t matter to him that the Lantsovs had already bought from him multiple times. In the end, the Tsar decided to send someone on his council to convince the nobleman to cease his dithering and deliver the horses for the promised price. It could have easily been done by one of the lesser members, but Pyotr insisted that Aleksander be the one to deliver his threat.
Perhaps the presence of the Darkling will convince this fool the Crown is not to be trifled with.
Those two days dragged like molasses, and by the time he had finally overseen the delivery and left, Aleksander had a terrible headache. Thankfully, by the time his traveling party arrived at Duke Keramzov’s manor just a day and a half later, the pain had reduced to a dull throbbing at the base of his skull.
After a grand but unnecessary welcome from the aging Duke - who mentioned that a trio of Grisha testers would be visiting his patron orphanage tomorrow - Aleksander asked where he might find some peace while his companions settled into their borrowed rooms. The Duke graciously pointed out a meadow just outside the orphanage, about an hour’s walk from the manor.
The meadow gave Aleksander what he was looking for, some peace and a place to let his thoughts wander for a while without anyone interrupting him. The quiet air, sparsely decorated with the whistling of the grass and the occasional birdsongs, eased the throbbing in his skull until the headache was a distant memory.
Unfortunately, it did nothing to ease the aching loneliness in his heart.
Aleksander knew the word for it: soulmate. But the existence of his counterpart was impossible to confirm prior to their discovery. No one knew if they had one until their skin touched for the first time.
And yet, he always felt there was some part of him that was incomplete. When he was a child, the idea of soulmates fascinated him. His desire to find his other half almost led to an early death in an icy river. After that, his mother forbade him from ever talking or even thinking about soulmates ever again.
There are no others like us, boy, she had hissed. Even if you do find a soulmate, they will die long before you do.
He had forgotten about soulmates for a long time after that until he met Luda. She wasn’t his soulmate, but that didn’t bother him. Neither did it bother her. A woman who preferred to make her own choices, her own rules, Luda refused to allow fate to determine who she spent her life with. And for a time, they were happy.
It was only when Anastas’ men gutted Luda in front of him that Aleksander felt as though his soul was being torn apart.
Shortly after that, he created the Fold.
Now, four centuries later, he wondered if this was the Saints’ way of punishing him for his sins: always to have a piece of him missing and never be able to find it.
The sound of footsteps trampling the grass roused Aleksander from his thoughts.
And then he saw her.
The girl was short, with tangled black hair falling down her shoulders, a couple of strands pulled back from her narrow eyes. She was carrying a small bouquet of blue flowers, likely picked from another section of the meadow. When she spotted him, her eyes widened with surprise. A normal reaction since she probably didn’t expect anyone else to come to this spot. But then the strangest thing happened. The surprise melted away, not into fear, but curiosity.
Aleksander was not wearing his kefta, just a cloak devoid of any personal insignia over his shirt and vest. But all of his clothes were black, and it was widely acknowledged throughout Ravka that black was associated with the Darkling. It was considered bad luck to wear all black unless you were in mourning; even then, strips of white were used to break up the all-black ensemble.
Logically, anyone’s stare would be filled with fear or greed, studying him like some rare beast. But this girl…she looked at him with wide eyes that sparkled with questions.
He was further taken aback when she started walking towards him, albeit slowly. When she finally stopped, the two were just a few feet apart.
“Hello.” Aleksander barely registered her quiet voice. He gently shook his head to bring his thoughts back to reality.
“My apologies, little one,” the words left his lips without him thinking about it, centuries of copying social graces making up for his disconnect from the rest of the world, “I wasn’t aware this was your spot.”
The girl’s eyes drifted downward, clouds covering her pupils, and for a moment, he feared he’d upset her. Fortunately, she spoke, and his doubts vanished.
“It’s not really my spot,” she explained, “I used to come here all the time with Mal, but lately, he doesn’t come anymore.”
This boy, Mal, was probably a friend of hers. A pretty lousy one, given her sour expression.
“I’ve never seen you before,” the girl changed the subject, “Where are you from?”
Aleksander took a moment to carefully choose his words; after four hundred years, he’d learned the best lies were half-truths.
“Os Alta,” he said, “I’m coming back from business in the South and had to take a rest here.” He didn’t mention the meeting with Duke Keramzov tomorrow. The older noble asked Aleksander for updates from the Southern Front; it was a logical request since Keramzin was situated close to the Shu Han border. Perhaps this girl was an orphan of that war.
“You’re from the capital?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you seen the Grand Palace library?” The question caught him off guard for a moment, but she continued. “I read somewhere that it’s the largest library in Ravka.”
In time, Aleksander answered, “Only once, but it is quite large indeed.”
The girl hummed in appreciation; perhaps she was envisioning bookcases from floor to ceiling overflowing with tombs of ancient poetry, maps of fantastic lands, and scrolls with forgotten knowledge.
“You like to read?”
“There aren’t that many books in the orphanage,” she said, “But sometimes I volunteer to help clean the library in the Duke’s house.” A frown crossed the girl’s face for barely a moment, but she quickly erased it. “Madame Kuya said since I’m not physically strong, I should make up for it by being smart. She said if I’m good enough, the Army will probably let me be a mapmaker instead of a soldier.”
“This Madame Kuya sounds like a wise woman,” Aleksander reasoned. Those words were similar to something he would say, that knowledge was just as powerful as a blade.
There was a pause in their conversation filled only with the gentle rustling of grass as a light breeze shifted. She was the one to break the silence.
“My name is Alina.”
A Ravkan name. Bright light was what it meant. It suited her, this little ray of sunshine, even if he’d only known her for a few minutes.
“What’s yours?”
He considered lying, considered using the false name he’d used for the last forty years. But something about her felt… he couldn’t put a word to it; the only way he could describe it was that it felt like home.
“Aleksander.”
Alina smiled, plucked one of the flowers from her makeshift bouquet and extended it out to him.
“Here.”
Aleksander stared at the bloom in her hand. Up close, he could see the streaks of yellow extending from the center, blending beautifully with bright blue petals that reminded him of Etherealki keftas.
Confusion must have morphed on his face when she offered this paltry gift. Alina explained, “You look like you need it more than I do.”
“What makes you think I need-” His question was cut off when she dropped the rest of the flowers, took his right hand in her left, and wrapped his fingers around the stem.
“I don’t remember a lot about my mother,” she said, “But I do remember her saying once that flowers can make someone’s day a little better.”
A quiet melancholy filled the air around them. Alina, seeming oblivious to the change, reached down for her flowers only to decide against picking them up. Instead, she plopped down on the ground roughly, letting out a small “oof” at the impact.
Perhaps sensing that Aleksander wished for peace, she remained silent with small fingers picking at the grass in front of her.
Aleksander watched with keen interest at the peculiar ways her hands moved. She had thin fingers that seemed to flicker in a sort of mimicry of his own Summoning style. It took him a moment further before his brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak -
Only to be interrupted when their quiet peace was broken by a woman’s sharp voice being carried into the air.
“Alina!”
She turned her head, and Aleksander’s gaze followed her toward the orphanage, which was closer than he realized. From afar, he could make out the impression of a woman standing in the front doorway.
“I should go.” Alina rose from the grass, brushed off her skirt, and collected the flowers she’d dropped. “It was nice to meet you, Aleksander.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond as she ran across the meadow, and he found himself too paralyzed to say anything. All he could do was look back at the iris clutched in his hand.
And for a moment, he wondered if that cold space in his heart was feeling warmer or if that was just a figment of his imagination.
Art by SpookyBeast on the Darklina Discord Server
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The following morning, Alina woke long before the other girls did. The sun was barely beginning to rise, a few rebellious strands of sunlight peeking over the hills. It was unusual for her to wake first; Anna Kustova had once complained that if there was no alarm, Alina was likely to rise long after the sun.
But it was blissfully quiet when she woke, a strong contrast to her other experiences. The orphanage was hardly ever quiet, and one of the first things Alina had learned when she first arrived four years before was how to fall asleep when she was surrounded by noise.
So the girl took a moment of silence to think about what had happened last night. It could have been a dream were it not for the bundle of irises that still sat on the windowsill by her bed.
The day before, Mal had promised her that they would go to the meadow after they'd finished their chores. But shortly after chores were done, some of the boys asked Mal to play with them. It was a recurring theme over the last two years. He had slowly proven that he was good at playing games, and the other kids had noticed. Meanwhile, Alina slowly withdrew into the few books that the orphanage had, further isolating her from the other children.
It didn't matter to the boys that Mal was half-Suli, as long as he looked Ravkan enough.
Alina had been prepared to go to the meadow by herself, but it still stung when Mal chose to play with the others instead of honoring his promise to her. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd spent with Mal in the last year. The year before that, she could count on two hands and still have fingers left over.
So Alina visited the meadow by herself, wandering amongst the golden grass when she came across a patch of blue irises. The bright blue petals reminded her of a pretty blue shawl from her mother’s chest.
One of the few memories of her parents that didn't involve fire, gunshots, and the cries of villagers.
Anna Kustova once said that the Fold had eaten her parents, but Alina still remembered enough of that night to know what had really happened.
Alina plucked some more flowers, even though she had no idea what to do with them. Someone would likely trample on them or throw them out just to hurt her. She wandered further into the meadow, listening to the wind rustle the long blades of grass.
And that was when she saw him.
Despite him sitting on the ground, Alina could tell this man was tall. He wore a dark cloak that made him stick out amidst the lighter grass. At first, Alina was taken aback by his appearance - no one else visited the meadow except for her and Mal. But slowly, surprise faded to curiosity as she studied him from where she stood.
He looked like an adult, but definitely younger than Masha, one of the orphanage staff, and she had just turned thirty. His short hair was brushed away from his face, revealing dark eyes and a trim beard. Alina had never seen him before in the village, so he had to be a traveler.
Curiosity eventually got the best of her, and she decided to approach this mysterious stranger.
Up close, she could now properly see his eyes, which widened slightly with surprise as she got closer. The irises were so dark that they looked more black than brown.
When he spoke, he was incredibly polite, answered all her questions, and listened to her talk as well. He didn't seem to mind that she was half-Shu, and he was genuinely interested in her love of reading.
Alina learned that he was from Os Alta and was just passing through on his way back home. So she figured that this man had to be someone important, based on how well he looked and the state of his fine clothes. Of course, it made sense that he was from Ravka's capital.
When he told her his name - Aleksander - Alina took a moment to look at his eyes again. He smiled when he spoke, but it did not reach his eyes. They reminded her of Duke Keramzov's. She had been sent to help dust the manor's library when she ran into the man himself, and the old Duke's eyes were devoid of warmth and happiness. Even though he smiled once, Duke Keramzov's eyes didn't light up; it was as if a lamp had burnt out for good.
Back at the orphanage, Alina had asked Anna Kustova about the Duke. The old matron explained to her that the death of Duchess Keramzov had affected the Duke greatly, taking a toll on his health.
Those were the eyes of loneliness, Anna Kustova had explained. While one could plaster a face and pretend they were fine, their eyes would still betray the truth.
Perhaps it was that memory of the old Duke that prompted Alina to take one of the flowers from her bundle and give it to Aleksander.
Or maybe it was simply because she wanted Aleksander's eyes to light up just once.
There was a flicker of something in his eyes as he held the flower, but Alina wasn’t able to stay long enough to see if it had worked. Anna Kustova called her shortly afterward.
Mal approached her after dinner but did not bother apologizing for not keeping his promise. Instead, he talked about their plan to hide in the meadow when the Second Army testers arrived, just as they had been doing for the last two years. Alina decided not to tell Mal about her visit to the meadow or the lonely man she had met there.
While lying in bed waiting to fall asleep, Alina contemplated further on her friendship with Mal. He was the first to approach her when she arrived four years ago. Little Alina had latched onto him when they met, reveling in the first feeling of warmth she’d felt since her parents’ death.
Once upon a time, Alina had thought Mal would be her soulmate.
But no matter how often they held hands, no sign of a flower appeared on her skin. And after the first time they hid from the testers two years ago, she started getting sick. Not terribly, but enough that running for long periods of time made her out of breath, and minor illnesses such as colds kept her in bed longer than the other kids. Mal, meanwhile, slowly began to branch off as he became more sure of himself, while Alina was left in the dark with her own self-doubt. The warmth she once felt around Mal began to fade until there was no trace of it left.
Last year, Alina thought of taking the test to see if she was Grisha. But one look at Mal, with his panicked expression at the thought of facing the Grisha - witches, he called them - and she took his hand as they fled to the meadow. A few months later, food began to taste like ash.
She would turn eleven in the summer. What was the point of staying here if Mal continued to treat her like an afterthought and there was no flower on his palm? If she stayed and continued to pine over him, would she eventually fade away? Would she end up like Aleksander? Alone and cold, desperate for the warmth of companionship?
With memories of Aleksander, his face appeared in her mind’s eye. And she felt a strong urge to draw his face so she would never forget it.
Slowly, she crept out of bed, not bothering to put on her shoes. Sneaking past all the other girls, Alina slipped out the door and trod carefully downstairs towards the library, where she’d hidden her drawing supplies. The sun was halfway over the hill when she entered the library and snuck toward one of the back shelves. Behind a couple of dusty almanacs that no one read anymore, Alina withdrew a sheet of paper she’d stolen from the classroom and a piece of charcoal from a drawstring bag. Then, lying on the rug, she began to sketch Aleksander’s face. It wouldn’t be finished by breakfast, but she could probably get a chance to finish before the testers came.
Alina allowed herself to think back to her meeting with Aleksander, letting the memory guide her hand as she moved the charcoal in tiny strokes. That meeting seemed to be the best thing that had happened to her that year. Even if he was an adult, he was kind and interested in her conversation. He didn’t judge her for how she looked, and Alina sensed that they were both lonely people. It was sad that she wouldn’t be able to give Aleksander the drawing when she was finished.
But if she was Grisha…she would end up in the Little Palace. In Os Alta.
Wouldn’t that be something! She briefly imagined walking the streets of Os Alta, wearing a pretty coat, and being happy to be considered important. She imagined meeting Aleksander there, giving him the drawing, and thanking him for the meeting that had changed her life.
Because it would change her life. When the testers would come, Alina would be in line with the other children, waiting to see if they were to be brought into a world of power and prestige.
And if she would turn out to be Grisha, then it might be a sign to leave Keramzin behind and start anew.