#Pro Darkling

[aleksanderscult]

Our evil manipulator, ladies and gentlemen

[itstwoamandimcursingyourname]

Aleksander never had any worldly possessions- just the bones in his hands and shadows he was afraid of throughout his youth. And then he finally found something(someone) who he thought the making made especially for him(His soulmate. His sun summoner. His) and she's the thing that killed him in the end. Not by any other hand than the ones he believed belonged to him was made for him to hold (hands he believed would comfort him, help him, save him) was he stabbed straight through the heart.

[black-rose-writings]

TGT and the Nikolai books in a nutshell.

[greensaplinggrace]

best thing about the darkling is that he's unrepentant though like thank god at least someone around here doesn't have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Baghra Morozova is one of the most selfish fictional characters ever written. Not only she possesses no empathy, she has never had an aspiration or an ambition in her life. This is probably LB's fault because she didn't give her a personality except being a bitter nihilistic pessimist, but let's discuss the harmful ideology she lived by and tried to install into his son and Alina. And how Aleksander refused to learn that lesson from her.

Wanting doesn't make someone weak, nor it is a problem.

Darkling's infamous words "The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak" is purely an echo of his mother's teachings. Because Darkling's whole source of strength and motivation since he was thirteen was the want to make a better world for Grisha. Or at least a world where they wouldn't be hunted and shamed for existing. After centuries of loyal servitude to awful rulers he managed to create a safe haven for Grisha, but even there, they were serfs.

There is no denying that Baghra was an intelligent, ruthless, powerful, cunning and unfeeling woman. Unlike her son, who was prone to sentiment even though she did her best to weed it out of him, Baghra was not particularly emotional even when she was young. I don't know if she had some sort of mental condition or she was just that kind of person, but she lived for centuries and never had a dream to become anything. Creation of her son Aleksander served only one purpose to her - so she would have someone like herself. Someone she could share loneliness with. Because I cannot call Baghra's and Aleksander's relationship companionship. She made that decision when she was young, and after raising him, she often left him to his own devices, but never actually let him out of her clutches. She abandoned her other children because they weren't Darklings. She did not want a family, she wanted a reflection of herself who she could have a conversation with. Aleksander should have just brought her the mirror from "When water sang fire" which could create an illusion of a person's reflection being sentient.

Anyway, back to the point. Baghra was a part of a prosecuted minority for centuries and never tried to make a difference. Nor did she support her son when he tried. I can understand how at first she was solely focused on survival and that mindset stayed with her, but after both of them were centuries old, why didn't she do something? She clearly didn't fear death. She is content to sit in her hut, stroke fire and spit venom for eternity. Which is funny, because she's supposed to be inspired by Baba Yaga from Slavic fairytales, but she reminds me more of Nacarqeqia, a stereotype of a lazybones layabout lit ash-raker from fairytales, who has capacity to do heroic things by outwitting the opponents, but chooses to sit by the dwindling fire and complain and daydream instead.

When your kind has been subjected to genocide for centuries, it's not "greedy" and "corrupt" to take drastic action.

Tolkien pushed the narrative I agree with, that war is always horrible and it's not something to be glorified, which lots of works in fantasy tend to overlook. I agree with Baghra that power corrupts. But like @aleksanderscult and @stromuprisahat have already discussed in their analysis posts (check out their work), Aleksander did not want power for himself or to lift Grisha above other people. He wanted his kind to have basic human rights. I don't understand what LB was trying to say. That fighting for freedom of your people is bad? And Baghra is convinced it's best to do nothing, because humanity is already too messed up and there's no point in trying. Some wise ancient advisor she is.

What actual humanitarians think about not taking action to help your people survive

Nobleman Ilia Chavchavadze was a Georgian public figure, journalist, publisher, writer and poet who spearheaded the revival of Georgian nationalism during the second half of the 19th century and ensured the survival of the Georgian language, literature, and culture during the last decades of Tsarist rule. (A.k.a "Saint Ilia the Righteous". Ironic, I know. Like Baghra's father, Ilya Morozova in Shadow and Bone. But I wouldn't compare them.)

In his publication "Letters of a traveler", Chavchavadze writes his inner monologue, where he worries about his country and contemplates what to do, as he returns from Russia to his homeland. He writes:

"I went out from my room and looked over at Mqinvari, which they call Mount Kazbek. There is something noble about Mqinvari. Truly can it say: the heavens are my head-dress and the earth my slippers. It rose in the azure sky, white and serene. Great is it, calm and peaceful, but it is cold and white. Its appearance makes me wonder but doesn't move me, it chills me and does not warm me — in a word it is Mqinvari /frozen/. Mqinvari with all its grandeur is to be admired but not to be loved. And what do I want with its greatness. The world's hum, the world's whirlwind and breezes, the world's ill or weal makes not even a nerve in his lofty brow twitch. Although his base stands on mother earth his head rests: in heaven; it is isolated; inaccessible. I do not like such height nor such isolation nor such inaccessibility." This is Baghra's life in a nutshell. Not bothering to engage, standing still, isolated for centuries. Her connection to making at the heart of the world, her gift, her life, wasted.

Aleksander is different. He's constantly in danger, he is dangerous but in a different way, he stumbles, crashes, redefines himself, pushes forward no matter what to achieve his goal. -

"Thank God for the desperate, mad, furious, obstinate, disobedient muddy river Terek! Leaping from the black rock's heart he goes roaring and shouting on his way. I love his noisy murmur, its hurried struggle, grumbling and lamentation. The river is the image of human awakened life, it is a face mobile and worth knowing.

Stand still but a little while and dost thou not turn into a stinking pool and does not this fearsome roar of thine change to the croaking of frogs! It is movement and only movement, my Terek, which gives to the world its might and life."

I hope we can all understand this metaphor and what it stands for, I believe I have explained enough.

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

The Demonizing of Change

A trend I've noticed in modern media is that many stories have the message of "protect the status quo". Whether it's a Marvel movie or a fantasy book, the fact that so often the villains are the only ones who fight to change society remains the same.

We all know the story: they were hurt by the system's flaw(s) and so they rose up to destroy that harmful system and in the process destroyed themselves. I'm not saying that this character type is wrong or bad (definitely overused imo), but the framing of the narrative and the protagonists is the issue.

The narrative typically shows the villain's first wrong doing to be the act of rebelling against the system. From the moment the person chose to reject the harmful system, they were in the wrong, or so the narrative frames it. Meanwhile, the protagonist may question and see injustice but they never fight it; it's just accepted and blindly defended. What's worse is the audience chooses to completely accept this telling and sides with the harmful regime the protagonist defends.

I find that some of the most drastic examples of these issues are Daenerys in GOT and the Darkling in the Grishaverse/SaB.

Daenerys Targaryen

One thing I want to specify before I go into this is that Dany's GOT ending is purely bad writing. It's not foreshadowed or justified in any way, so I'll be addressing how D&D tried to frame her past after S8e6 aired and how her antis interpret her.

According to D&D, we should see the beginning of Dany's "madness arc" from the very first season. Namely how she reacted to Viserys' death. While this isn't Dany rejecting a harmful system, her choosing to not defend Viserys (why would she??) is also her choosing to leave behind the cycle of abuse of her early life. It also sets the precedent of Dany killing/allowing the deaths of evil men.

Speaking of evil men, D&D also tried to paint Dany's campaign against slavery as a sign of her "megalomania and madness". This is where we get to the actual fighting against the system. Dany is leading a slave revolt and forcefully overthrowing the masters and the oppressive governments.

The way D&D tried to spin it was that Dany was wrong for using violence, and Tyrion's peaceful method was more successful. Except Dany did try peace in Meereen, it didn't work. She made concessions, she made agreements, she locked up her dragons and they weren't working. That's the whole point of her last chapter in ADWD.

However, the show chose to make it so Dany was failing because she was "too violent" and ultimately made the freedmen hate her. This choice, a clear deviation from the book, is the beginning of them trying to make Dany fall into the trope of "as bad as those you're fighting". In her fight to end slavery, she becomes as oppressive as the masters.

Which is just blatantly wrong. We see in the show that the freedmen are still free, they sit in her councils, they can come to her with their complaints and she listens. Dany is a queen, not a master. The show was already trying to gaslight its audience into believing the opposite of what they wrote. The same goes for her supposed violence. The violence she exerts is almost always towards the slavers, except when she executed Mossador for murder. That was her carrying out justice, why that was portrayed as a bad thing is beyond me.

The implications of the choices D&D made in adapting Dany's Meereen arc are very disturbing. They're basically saying that systematic and centuries old oppression should never be addressed with violence. The people who actively fight oppression are just as bad as the oppressors. If you can't magically fix a system that's been flawed for centuries immediately, you're a tyrant.

The choice to resolve the arc by having Tyrion come in with some great peaceful solution was plain stupid and sexist. We have seen in history that trying to unobtrusively phase out slavery doesn't work. By leaving the elite slave owners in peace, they are allowed to simply find ways to get around or wear down the changes. We see that in ADWD in Meereen by the way. Also the whole idea that a wise man had to come and fix the irrational woman's problem is so gross.

So basically: D&D took an arc about fighting oppression and learning that concessions only continue the cycle of violence and made it into a story about how violence is bad and you can actually just reason with slavers.

The disgusting ideas continue in season eight, where Dany torches KL for no reason and is put down like a rabid dog. Dany is the only character who wants to end oppression in this show. She's the only person to see and experience the suffering of the oppressed and chooses to do something about it. Season seven is full of her talking about leaving the world a better place and breaking the wheel. But in season eight "breaking the wheel" is turned into th deranged battle cry of her desired empire.

Let me restate that: the one character who fought to end systematic oppression is turned into the "true oppressor". Dany's desire to tear down the system that the entire show established as being unjust and awful is made into a sign of madness. Even in season seven, people were rolling their eyes at her talking about breaking the wheel.

Meanwhile, the protagonists of the show end it benefitting from the same system that tortured them the whole time. Westerosi society is shit, but the show ends glorifying the sexist, homophobic, classist, and feudalist kingdoms. They even laugh at Samwell Tarly when he suggests destroying the monarchy. All this sends the message that embracing the system is good, rebellion bad, and shut the fuck up if you're not happy.

Dany was reduced to a cautionary tale against fighting the system. I've seen people frame it as "seeking power is bad", but that doesn't make sense, as characters like Sansa actively seek power and are rewarded by the narrative. Dany's mistake was trying to change the world, rather than supporting it as it is.

The Darkling

The Darkling is a very different character from Dany; he's an actual villain. Aleksander is someone who has already reached the "become what you hate most" part of the trope, so he spends the whole story committing atrocities. The issue with his portrayal is the fact that the narrative and protagonists never address his very real reasons for fighting in the first place.

The grisha as a group are persecuted all throughout Ravka, they have been for centuries. The whole reason Aleksander begins his fight was to protect his people. By the time the series begins, the grisha are more protected, though only because they have become weapons of the state. That was only through Aleksander's mechanisations.

Aleksander became a villain in his attempts to save his people, making him a tragic character. So he has perfectly fallen into the trope, and, unfortunately, so do the protagonists. Alina and her allies all have seen and suffered under the cruelty of the Ravkan monarchy, however, they quickly dismiss just how awful it is. By the end of the story, the Darkling has become, in their eyes, the sole perpetrator of evil in Ravka.

There are no attempts made to rectify the constant damage done by the Apparat, in fact he's left to run free. Alexander Lanstov and Tatiana Grimjer are simply shipped off to a private island where they never are made to pay for the awful things they have done. There are no political reforms done to ensure the safety of grisha in the future; they're basically relying on the goodwill Zoya and Alina have bought with the people.

So basically, the minor villains who all had no reason to be completely atrocious receive basically no punishment from the narrative. Meanwhile, Aleksander, who had very valid reasons for wanting to overthrow the government, is ultimately given a fate worse than death. All his reasons for hating the Ravkan government and the power it has are ignored, even though the story set up that he's not wrong. The resolution of the story leaves the grisha just as, if not more, vulnerable to the prejudice and hatred of the world than they were before.

The narrative is communicating that Aleksander rising up for his people is worse than the centuries of corrupt Lanstovs. Aleksander is worse than the man who stirs up religious fanaticism and exploits the people through it. Yes, Aleksander did horrible things, but so did every other antagonist in the series, but he's somehow the worst because...well, he's grisha.

That's the only other difference between him and the others, aside from his motives. So either Bardugo is supporting the in-universe prejudice against grisha or she's saying rising up against an oppressive system is wrong. I don't expect her or any other author to have complex political and social commentaries in her story. However, she chose to create a world containing those elements and a main character who suffers from them. She chose to make the issues with the system have a prominent place in the story. And she chose to ignore them in the end.

Aleksander did awful things in the name of a just cause, this creates a complex moral issue that the story just never addresses. The established injustices and sanctioned atrocities by the Lanstovs are all ignored in favor of bringing down the dangerous rebel. That kind of message is pretty fucked up. Yes, Nikolai is a better man than his father, but what about his descendants? The propaganda of the Apparat and his church are extremely strong, it's only a matter of time before that propaganda once again starts turning people against grisha. The hatred of grisha is still embedded into Ravkan society.

Aleksander was the only character who was actually set on protecting and bettering the lives of the grisha. His original mission was still extremely important, no matter what he devolved to. The fact that the protagonists just blatantly dismissed just how dangerous Ravka still is for grisha is frustrating.

The treatment of both Dany and Aleksander by their writers and narratives show a hatred/mistrust of rebellion against the status quo, no matter how atrocious it is. The message of the trope is that people who fight against a system are worse than the system itself. I'm not saying that was Bardugo's intention (D&D I'm much less sure about though), but the way both the Darkling and Dany were written combined with the endings of the stories support that idea.

[darklinaforever]

Funny thing...Leigh Bardugo cannot do basic math. I saw on twitter ppl been pointed out how the trilogy's timeline makes Alina well over 17. The setting and time passage made alina closer to early 20s. She was eight or older when she got to the orphanage with wasting sickness draining her body already. She spends over ten years there. She has one full year of First Army training. So by the first page of the first book she is at minimum 19 if not early 20s. Then she spends like all of fall and most of winter in the little palace - and darkling is away at the frontlines most of the time. Leigh Bardugo not jotting down all the years, months, date references made a giant retcon in SoC. But the words in black&white can no longer be deleted. She just winged it and said 17 in SoC and it's all ppl care about - even when it makes no sense since Alina would have to be 4 years old when she arrived at the orphanage for that to happen. A four year old looks nothing like an eight year old

Yes. Leigh Bardugo really has a problem with math. Officially, it seems to me that in the original trilogy, Alina doesn't really know her age? And indeed, if we try to calculate, she is normally much older than 17 years old. I don't know why in Six of Crows we have a retcon about this. But in any case, it serves the antis well, except that even if Alina had really been 17 in the original trilogy, well the relationship still wouldn't have been grooming.

[dreamsuvivor]

Hear me out: the hot tall dark and mysterious vampire/immortal/other kind of mystical creature boyfriend will always be supperior to the boring basic “normal joe” bf, (no matter how toxic their relationship with the mc is). At least the toxicity is usually rooted in the fictional aspect of their relationship, (like their age gap, or idk killing somebody close to the mc). But the “normal joe”s are always just controlling and jealous in a very “every other guy you find on tinder” kinda way.

[is-today-tomorrow-in-nz]

The Many pitfalls of Grishaverse - Part 1

The Grishaverse had a very interesting premise but as we delve deeper into the trilogy and later the duology we see that it just stops there. There are no laws and limitations clearly mapped out to make the universe work. Everything is pretty much left up to the interpretation of the readers who has to piece together the information scattered throughout the books only to find out that they contradict a lot. This totally disrupts the immersive experience of the readers who are left scratching their heads because the premise no longer makes sense.

Let me share my analysis.

The Undefined Magic System:

Brandon Sanderson lays out three rules for creating a cohesive magic system. (a)An author's ability to solve conflict with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic. (b) Weaknesses, limits and costs are more interesting than powers. (c)The author should expand on what is already a part of the magic system before something entirely new is added, as this may otherwise entirely change how the magic system fits into the fictional world.

The magic in Grishaverse exists for the sake of existing.

The source of the power is called the Making but the rules and laws of it is not called out. The book vaguely says that the Grisha powers are something as integral as breathing and a Grisha who does not use it dies. And yet somehow, when something so inherent is stripped away from Alina, she continues to live without falling into sickness. It tells Grisha magic has limitations but somehow, it is used as band-aid to fix any major catastrophes within the universe. They entire magic system is conflicting and contradicting.

We do not know the abilities and the limitations of the other Grisha powers either. Eg: How high can a Tidemaker create a wave? can a squaller perfect a storm? why corporalki need their targets to be within their line of vision? Why do they need their hands for summoning? How does a Fabrikator operate?

None of these are clearly outlined. Instead, the books simply make vague claims that Tidemakers calm the seas and waves, heartrenders are put in one-way mirror cells so they cannot attack, Fabrikators create crafts which seems do not make sense in the 19th century. Do they conjure up weaponry in their sleep? So many questions and receive very little answers and vague statements.

Then there is this vague concept of merzost which seem to randomly pick the author's favourites and leave them with a slap on the wrist while her unfavourites are literally put through hell. Alina's power were stripped away for being against the law, Zoya's was raised to sainthood and Aleksander's was called corrupt.

Even if the Grisha magic is akin to molecular chemistry, understanding something and applying it are very different things. If that wasn't the case, then Grisha would be the powerful entities in that universe. And yet somehow they are victims of genocide.

Without actually establishing any of the above the author goes on the introduce 'parem' which makes the magic system even more chaotic. Why does the parem affect the Grisha that way? Why do they become addictive? Why does the parem allow the Grisha to conjure up something that can only be done via merzost. So simply a drug is all that is needed to create merzost level damage? Then if the addictive qualities are removed then parem can be used instead of amplifiers and merzost?

This unclear magic system, makes the world of Grishaverse constricted rather than making us believe in its vastness. It further weakens the plot, as the magic or rather science of the Grisha is the reason why conflicts exists within the said universe.

So LB created a magic system which is chaotic, conflicting, constricting and exists only to do the bidding of the author and not the story.

[daerklina]

I genuinely don’t understand why people want that soc spin off or shadow and bone season three because the writers were just…racist as fuck?

they made Alina asian, promised they’d explore her shu heritage but instead they erased her personality from the books to insert 378392910 scenes from kaz’s childhood, it’s literally not Alina anymore and the way they reduced her to a just ‘girlboss’ because male writer thought it was feminist and progressive 🤡 they erased her strong feelings for the darkling, they erased her ability to make a cut, they erased her humor, they erased her powerful speeches from the books.

erasure of the inej’s trauma…she literally couldn’t normally touch people for almost two books and saying ‘ I want you without armor, Kaz’ after what (a month? because s2 is so fucking rushed) after s2 started. that’s a serious theme and getting rid of her feelings about what happened to her, the depth of her trauma and erasing it just for what…? to show kaz’s flashbacks again? or to make her girlboss because male author thinks it’s feminist?

erasure of jesper’s trauma, his struggle with being grisha, accepting it etc. it took him a very lot of time in the books just to confess that he’s grisha to the other members of crows. he was ashamed because of it and he thought that this is a curse (also this is a key that canonically novy zem wasn’t that friendly to grisha. if this statement is wrong, correct me cuz I don’t remember shit what happened in those books sawry). and then in the show jesper magically accepted who he is, threw his struggles away in two minutes and then brutally kvllvd grisha woman who also had huge struggles, trauma with being a grisha.

THIS SHOW HAD DONE THEM DIRTY, AINT NEVER FORGIVING THAT.

(the only good thing was Alina not losing power as a member of oppressed minority)

[aleksanderscult]

Leigh Bardugo should become universally criticized just for the fact that she presented a victim of persecution and his actions as worse and more important to deal with than the genocide that takes place in that world.

She really said: "It's not the genocide we should worry about. It's that man and his efforts to stop it".

And people applaud her for it instead. Wow. You're all seriously fucked up.

[pr-olvdr]

i keep seeing a bunch of anti darkling posts and it's pissing me off. stop attacking people for liking a character. idgaf what he did to make himself a villain, the point is, he's a FICTIONAL CHARACTER. not a real man. people can like what they like. there's nothing wrong with that. if you like the darkling, that's perfectly fine. if you don't, that's also fine but QUIT TELLING PEOPLE WHAT THEY SHOULD AND SHOULDNT LIKE. my morals are not fucked up just because i like a villain !

[theweeklydiscourse]

The Darkling decided early on how much he would disclose to Alina about his plans for the coup based on a conversation they had on the way to the palace.

I like to look back at this scene from Shadow and Bone that takes place after Alina was seconds away from being killed by a Fjerdan assassin. She denies that she is Grisha, pointing to her plain and scrawny appearance for proof of her certainty and Aleksander responds with a remark about how Alina doesn’t understand what being Grisha even means.

It’s a telling scene because it shows just how surface-level Alina’s view of Grisha is. To her, Grisha are shiny, beautiful and strong and they are prioritized over the common folk soldiers she once belonged with. Of course, Aleksander knows that there is so much more to being Grisha than just beauty, but realizes that there’s so much to unpack with Alina’s statement he doesn’t even know where to start.

This exchange explains one of the reasons why he didn’t disclose his true plans to Alina, much less his ultimate secret. If Alina has such a shallow understanding of Grisha identity, she will also have a shallow understanding of just how much is at stake in this conflict. Alina is no ordinary Grisha, so it hasn’t quite sunk in that she has skin in the game and is more significant than she realizes. Her denial of her Grisha identity (despite obvious evidence proving otherwise) Alina is staunch in her assertion that she is just a normal girl. It is that same denial that tells Aleksander that Alina cannot be viewed as reliable just yet, time needs to be taken to teach her a better understanding of the Grisha first.

This next exchange is the second reason why Aleksander doesn’t tell her. Though Alina herself may not have said that superstition out loud, it still demonstrates how Alina was exposed to those views during her formative years. It raises his suspicion that Alina may hold some remnants of the Serf’s ideas and perhaps compels him to think ahead to assess if this could grow into a potential threat. He ABSOLUTELY cannot tell her the truth anytime soon if there is even the slightest possibility that she believes that he’s soulless and “truly evil”. If Alina snitched on him, his entire operation could be shut down for good and set the Grisha back decades. Not to mention the fact that it could get a lot of Grisha killed.

“You didn’t hurt his feelings.” Dear Reader, this was only the beginning of Alina denying Aleksander’s humanity in order to avoid taking responsibility for her prejudice and to avoid the complex reality of the situation. You can almost hear the incorrect answer buzzer go off in Aleksander’s mind as Alina tells him her answer, I can almost feel his pure disappointment through the page.

Because Aleksander poses an important question that reveals one of Alina’s central conflicts that will continue throughout the trilogy. Alina is still deeply uncomfortable with the idea of Grisha powers after spending her life among people who call them unnatural and strange. To the point that it wasn’t just the fact that the assassin was sliced in two that bothered her, but because of the magic that sliced him. Why on earth would he trust her with his greatest secret when she reacts with such hesitation? He was testing her to gauge how long it would be before Alina could be trusted as an ally to Grisha and received an answer that told him it might take a while. If Alina can’t handle her the idea of her own powers, she cannot be trusted with a secret that could determine the future of Ravka.

I don’t know about you, but I fully believe that Aleksander had every intention of telling Alina the truth, it’s just that prioritizing his personal relationship with her over the safety of his people was a risk he couldn’t take. This gets a bit muddled later on because Alina’s narration seems to care more about her personal feelings of betrayal than the consequences this plan could have on the country. She never takes a moment to look at the bigger picture and consider the consequences of her reckless actions.

I know that I’m just breaking the scene down and explaining what’s happening in it, but it truly is such an informative scene that hints at a potentially fascinating storyline.

[greensaplinggrace]

the darkling says “fine, make me your villain” because he is. what’s not clicking

[alannacouture]

They’re so cute together 💕

[batmanlovesnirvana]

— The name he buried

pairing : the darkling | aleksander morozova x sun summoner fem!OC

tags : some of my fave grishaverse accounts on here @stromuprisahat @aleksanderscult @is-today-tomorrow-in-nz @kasagia & @devoted-people-hater who asked to be added on the tags <3

words : + 2,6k

notes : sooo here’s a little snippet from my fic ‘Solar Børealis’ that I’ve been nervous to share (lol)... It’s one of the first scenes I wrote between Aleksander and Sunna, inspired by the iconic lines: “What should I call you? You must have a name. Everyone does.” and “Slaves do not have names.” (thanks to @black-rose-writings for the reblog and @yototothelalafell-deactivated20 for the original post!). Would love to hear what you all think, and if I managed to keep the Darkling true to canon. Hopefully he doesn’t feel too OOC!!! :) I apologize for any mistakes; English is not my first language.

THE FOREST lay in a veil of mist, hushed in a way that made every sound seem sacred.

The only break in the silence was the steady rhythm of hooves pressing into the damp earth, a soft pulse that echoed between the towering trees.

The air carried the scent of moss and rain, cool against their skin as they rode in a shared silence that stretched on, heavy yet unspoken.

Sunniva's eyes wandered toward him—the Darkling—General of the Grisha. His presence was unnerving in its quiet intensity, his expression unreadable, his figure almost blending with the deep shadows that clung to the forest floor.

Standing atop his black horse, he appeared as though he were a living part of the darkness itself, all sharp lines and mystery. His black cloak draped around him like the night sky, merging seamlessly with the world around him, making it impossible to discern where he ended and the shadows began.

It unnerved her—the way he seemed so ethereal, so impossibly perfect, as if sculpted from a dream she couldn't wake from. His beauty was unnaturally precise, a handsomeness that stirred something within her that she could neither name nor understand. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she quickly looked away, ashamed of the thoughts that fluttered unbidden to her mind.

Mammá would have scolded her, a disapproving frown creasing her brow. “Don’t stare at strangers, Nana,” she would say, her tone gentle yet firm. “It’s not proper for a Fjerdan lady.”

Yet, even when her eyes fell, they were drawn back to him, as if compelled by an invisible force. It was like trying to resist the pull of the moon over the tides—a futile effort, a gentle surrender.

Her curiosity gnawed at her, sharp and restless, refusing to be silenced by the quiet.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft yet cutting through the stillness, "What should I call you ?" The question hung in the cool air, fragile yet persistent, one she'd longed to ask since their first meeting. "You must have a name. Everyone does."

The Darkling didn't look at her, his gaze fixed ahead as he guided his horse through the narrow trail. His silence lingered so long she wondered if he would answer at all.

"Slaves do not have names," he said at last, his voice low and cold, but there was a weight to his words—a bitter edge that struck something deeper.

Sunniva blinked, taken aback by the statement. "Slaves?" she echoed, her dark brows furrowing. "You're no slave."

"Not now, perhaps," he replied, his tone as smooth as ice, though she detected a flicker of something beneath it. "But I was born into a world that would have seen me bound, powerless, just like them." He glanced at her then, his eyes like storm clouds on the verge of breaking, dark and turbulent, yet gleaming with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "I broke those chains."

She stared at him, her heart pounding harder. "And now you bind others in them?"

He laughed, a sound devoid of warmth. "Is that what you think, little saint? That I revel in control? In power over others?"

Sunniva stiffened, straightening her back as she shifted her position in the saddle. The way he uttered "little saint" made her feel small, insignificant. Instinctively, she brought her thumb to her lips, nervously biting the corner. But she wasn't about to retreat. "Well," she lowered her hand, as if suddenly remembering herself, "you rule through fear, don't you?" Her brows arched in challenge.

"Fear," he murmured, a faint smile curling at his lips, "is a tool. It maintains order, where kindness would invite only chaos."

"And what would you invite?" Sunniva countered, her pulse quickening. "What do you really want?"

The horses slowed, and the Darkling pulled his to a stop. He dismounted smoothly, his black cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. She hesitated, but followed, her boots sinking into the soft moss of the forest floor.

He stepped closer, his presence a looming shadow that consumed the silence between them. He towered over her, her head just reaching his broad shoulders, but she stood firm, crossing her arms in a silent attempt to show she wouldn’t be intimidated. His long fingers, adorned with silver rings, brushed the edge of her sleeve, the touch so light it almost felt unreal—yet it was enough to catch her breath.

His gaze, sharp and searching, roamed over her as the sunlight pierced through the leaves, turning her pale hair into threads of spun gold. His eyes lingered on the beauty mark beneath her eye, where her dark brows stood in striking contrast against her fair skin, and then settled on her eyes—deep green, like the heart of an untouched forest after the rain, harboring secrets she hadn't yet revealed.

She was a creature of contrasts—fragile and fierce, light and shadow intertwined. She looked like something otherworldly, a Saint made flesh.

And though he knew he should resist, the pull was irresistible—magnetic, a force beyond defiance. It ensnared him, hypnotic and inescapable.

Foolish boy, his mother’s voice echoed in his mind, but he silenced it. Her beauty—the gentle curve of her high cheekbones and the way the sunlight danced around her—made her seem untouchable. The lavender scent that clung to her was both intoxicating and haunting, lingering in his senses. Yet, there she stood before him, flesh and blood. Real.

"What do I want?" he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. His eyes drifted lower, tracing the scattered beauty marks along her neck before his hand rose to her chest, gently clasping the pendant that hung there. The sun-shaped charm caught the light, and his rough fingers moved over it with surprising tenderness, as though it held some profound significance.

"I want to change this world, Sunniva," he said, his tone tightening with fierce determination. "I want to tear it apart and rebuild it. I want to make Ravka safe for us—for the Grisha. To end its endless wars, to protect it from the chaos that constantly threatens to consume it. So no one ever has to suffer like we have."

She met his gaze, her heart hammering. "We?"

For a moment, something flickered in his grey eyes—something almost vulnerable, but just as quickly, it vanished. He stepped back, the distance between them sharp and sudden.

"I've lived too long to believe in naive dreams," he said quietly, his voice colder now, the warmth from moments before slipping away. "But you—you're still searching for hope in a world that has none."

Sunniva clenched her fists, holding herself back from moving closer. "Maybe hope is all some of us have left." Her Fjerdan accent, still softly woven through her voice, was like a distant melody—one that resonated with him, haunting and beautiful, as if it carried the weight of an ancient song.

The general looked at her for a long time, something unreadable passing over his features. Then, without another word, he turned back toward his horse, leaving her standing in the stillness of the forest, the tension between them thick enough to drown in.

Sunniva watched him mount again, her heart in her throat, pulse racing, but she couldn't leave the conversation unfinished. Not now.

She stepped forward, her voice more sure than she felt. "You didn't answer me! What should I call you? You have a name, don't you?"

The Darkling, still mounted, turned his head slightly. His eyes flicked back to her, the shadows around him seeming to deepen. "Names are for those who seek to be known."

"And you?" she challenged, her gaze steady. "You prefer to remain a mystery?"

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps you're not ready for the answer."

Sunniva's jaw tightened. She was tired of his evasiveness, of the way he danced around everything while making her feel like she was always one step behind. Stepping boldly closer, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance. "Try me," she challenged, then added, "or should I keep calling you Wrönche?"

For a long moment, he said nothing, simply watching her with that intense gaze of his, as though weighing her very soul. The silence stretched on, charged with the tension that had been building between them from the moment they'd first met.

Then, finally, he dismounted once more, the air between them crackling as he closed the space.

"I was born Aleksander," he said softly, the name slipping from his lips as if it were a secret long buried. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and unreadable. "But that name belongs to a boy who died long ago."

Sunniva's breath caught.

Aleksander.

It sounded so... human, so unlike the shadow he had become. She had expected something else, something distant, something cold. But this—this was a piece of him that felt real.

"Aleksander," she whispered, almost testing the name on her tongue. It felt intimate, strange. "Is that why you hide behind the Darkling? To bury that part of yourself?"

His expression hardened immediately, the softness vanishing in an instant. He stepped closer, his towering presence making the air feel thin. "Do not presume to know me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I am not someone you can save with a name."

Sunniva stood her ground, though her heart pounded against her ribs. "Maybe not. But I think you're someone who wants to be saved, whether you admit it or not."

The Darkling’s chuckle was low and dark. “Saved, she says,” he muttered, as if the very idea amused him. His gaze flickered over her, assessing. “What makes you think I need saving?”

Sunniva didn’t flinch. “Because no one chooses to live in shadow unless they’re trying to escape something.”

His smirk faded slightly, his jaw tensing. “You know nothing of what I’ve endured.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted, her voice soft but unyielding. “But I see the way you carry it—like a weight you refuse to set down.”

His eyes darkened, the forest seemed to dim with them. “You speak of things you don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think.” She stepped forward, daring to close the distance between them. “You think power will fill the emptiness, that control will erase the pain. But it won’t. You can’t outrun it.”

His jaw clenched, and for a split second, she thought she saw something raw flicker across his face—anger, perhaps, or pain. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

He leaned in, so close she could feel the chill radiating from him. "Hope is a weakness, Sunniva," he whispered, his voice like a dark wind curling around her. "It makes you soft, it blinds you to the reality of this world. You think you can change me? I've outlived hope."

"Maybe you have. But I haven't." Her throat tightened, but she refused to look away. "You're a pessimist—"

"No, realist." Aleksander's eyes bore into hers, the tension between them so thick it was suffocating. He was so close now, his breath brushing against her cheek, the scent of earth and something ancient lingering in the air. For a moment, she wasn't sure if he would push her away or pull her closer.

"Realist?" she scoffed, her voice trembling with defiance. "You've given up hope. That’s not realism, that’s surrender."

Aleksander's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer, the air between them crackling. "Hope?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Hope doesn’t win wars. Hope doesn’t keep our people safe. Power does."

She lifted her chin, refusing to back down. "And what about peace? What about all of this—" she gestured to the world around them— "Is this your idea of protection? Of safety?"

"I already told you Sunniva. I want to make Ravka safe for us. For Grisha," he said, his voice lowering, thick with frustration and something deeper, almost pleading. "I want to end Ravka’s endless wars, stop the bloodshed, and protect it—protect us—from those who would destroy us."

"And at what cost, Aleksander?" Sunniva's voice softened, the fight slowly draining from her. "How far are you willing to go?"

His gaze flickered with something unreadable, his face hardening into resolve. "As far as I have to."

The weight of his words hung between them, thick and unyielding, as if they had pushed a wall between them. Sunniva could feel the gravity of his conviction, the depth of his determination, and it chilled her to the bone. He wasn’t the type to back down—not when he believed so completely in what he was fighting for.

Then, just as quickly, he stepped back, the tension releasing like a snapped thread. Aleksander turned his face away, looking toward the trees, shadows playing across his sharp features. His voice, when it came again, was quieter, almost resigned. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I'm not afraid of you," Sunniva said, though the words felt like a dare.

His dark eyes slid back to hers, his expression unreadable. "You should be."

Sunniva’s frustration boiled over, her voice trembling with barely controlled anger. “I don’t even know why I care,” she spat, her voice tight. "This isn’t my land. Not my country. Not my people." She took a step toward him, her hands shaking. "But your soldiers—they came through my village. They took my brother, took others… and what for? They destroyed everything. My family, my home, my life—shattered, because of your people."

Aleksander’s gaze hardened. “Your brother was drüskelle, Sunniva. A killer of Grisha. He hunted us—”

“You can justify my brother. Fine. He fought in your war. He made his choices.” She cut him off, her voice rising, raw. “But what about my sisters? My parents? They weren’t part of your war! They weren’t drüskelle. They weren’t hunters. They were just… they were just living their lives, Aleksander! And now they’re gone, all of them, because your men—your war—came to our doorstep and swallowed them whole!”

He opened his mouth, but her words were relentless, spilling out faster than he could respond.

“My parents didn’t even know what a Grisha was! My sisters? They were just children. They didn’t care about the war, they didn’t care about your power, or the politics that go with it. But you sent your soldiers, and now they're gone. I’ve lost everything, and you expect me to stand by your people? Your country ? To trust you?”

Aleksander’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before he regained his composure, his voice low and fierce. "I didn’t order their deaths, Sunniva. I ordered the capture of the drüskelle. Your brother was one of them. Do you understand that? They hunted my—our people. They hunted me.”

“And what about the rest?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “What about my sisters? My parents? You may not have ordered their deaths, but they died all the same. Your war—your quest—it stole them from me."

“And what about the Grisha who died before your family? Your village? The centuries of torture and persecution?” Aleksander’s voice was tight with fury, his jaw clenched so hard it seemed his teeth might shatter. He was seething, each word a flame, burning through the cold between them.

Sunniva stayed silent, unable to find an answer, her throat tightening around the emotions she could no longer voice.

He stepped closer, the barely contained rage in his eyes flickering with something else—something deeper. “I didn’t choose this war, Sunniva. The drüskelle choose it the moment they came for us. I am trying to build a world where no more innocents—Grisha or otherwise—have to live in fear. Where your family, your sisters, would still be safe.”

Sunniva let out a bitter, broken laugh, shaking her head. "Safe? You think you're building a world where people like my family would be safe? No. You're just replacing one kind of fear with another. You’re trying to control everything. Maybe you think it's for some greater good, but all you're doing is leaving more destruction in your wake.”

His gaze turned cold, resolute. “I’m doing what I must. For Ravka. For the Grisha. Whatever the cost is.”

She stared at him, tears burning in her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re destroying lives in the name of saving them.”

For a moment, something flickered in his expression—regret, or perhaps the weight of his own choices—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. His voice was steely again. “If I don't, who will? The Grisha have been hunted for centuries. You think peace will come without a price?”

He swung back onto his horse, the leather creaking beneath him, but the tension was unmistakable—his jaw clenched tightly as before. Running a hand through his thick, dark hair, he ruffled it absentmindedly, the cold distance between them quickly returning as he resumed the mantle of leader.

Sunniva's chest tightened, her heart racing in her throat. “But what if it’s too late for all of us?” She pressed on, “What do you plan to do?”

The silence felt suffocating, the questions lingering in the air pressing down on her as she wrestled with the enormity of their situation.

His gaze shifted to the horizon, where dark clouds gathered ominously, casting a shadow over the landscape. “What needs to be done,” he declared, his tone firm yet lacking warmth.

Frustration bubbled within Sunniva, and she huffed in annoyance, angrily brushing the tears from her cheeks.

When he turned to her, the coldness in his expression was as stark as ever, and in that moment, she recognized the depths of his burden—the weight of loss and horror etched into every line of his face.

But before she could organize her thoughts or find the right words, Aleksander’s sharp retort cut through the air like a blade. He glanced back at her, his face set in a cold, unyielding mask, making it clear that he had no intention of softening his stance.

"You think I don’t understand loss? I’ve watched my people slaughtered for centuries. You’ve lost, yes. But so have I. So have most of us. Don’t you dare lecture me on the cost of war."

Sunniva’s breath hitched, her voice cracking with fury and grief. "You think your loss gives you the right to take everything from everyone else? You think that justifies all of this? You think it makes you different from the ones you claim to be fighting?"

His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "I’m not like them. I’m saving my people, my country."

Her laugh was bitter, hollow. "At what cost, Aleksander? You’re not saving anyone. You’re just creating more graves."

His eyes flashed, but instead of responding, he turned his face toward the trees, his voice icy, a final warning. "Again Sunniva, you don’t know what you’re asking for. And you don’t understand the burden I carry."

She took a step back, her voice trembling with finality. “Maybe I don’t. But I won’t carry it with you.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, his back to her, his grip tightening on the reins. When he finally spoke, his voice was sharp and cold, cutting through the air like frost. “Then don’t.” He spurred his horse forward, his words hitting like a lash. “Spare us both the trouble.”

She flinched at the harshness in his tone, but he didn’t look back.

Sunniva stared after him, her heart heavy. She was angry at him. At herself. At everyone.

The weight of it all pressed against her chest, suffocating, relentless. Maybe he was right, and that was what hurt the most. Each breath felt like a battle against a truth she didn’t want to accept, a truth that gnawed at her insides and wouldn’t let go.

Neither uttered another word as they rode through the forest, the silence colder than Ravka's harshest winds.

Yet, Sunniva couldn’t shake the sense that the battle wasn’t over.

She had seen Aleksander—just for a fleeting moment—beneath the darkness, beneath the icy armor of power and fear.

And now, she couldn’t let him slip away.

I didn’t know how to end it … and like I said, this is just a snippet :) I’m probably going to change/cut things later

Børealis : references the Aurora Borealis (Northern Lights), a natural light display in the Earth’s sky, often seen in high-latitude regions.

Wrönche : Darkling (a term used by the Fjerdans/Drüskelle during the forest scene in the first episode)