#Rejects: Aleksander

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TRANSMISSION 01

[TRANSCRIPT BEGIN

. . LOADING . . .

USER ID RECOGNISED: ALEK

ALEK: “Is this thing recording? Silvana?”

. . .

ALEK: “I'll take that as a yes. Hello. I am- shit, the bot's gonna spell it wrong-”

. . .

ALEK: “You won't? Great. No need to get hostile. I am Aleksander. I've got too much free time. The Doc's off doing… Grove knows what, and I'm bored. While the wifi here is shit, and accessing the internet isn't easy, I was assured the transcripts of these recordings would make it... somewhere.”

ALEK: “So… feel free to ask me anything, I guess. It's not like I've got anything better to do until the Doc comes and finds me again for whatever the hell she needs this time.”

ALEK: “uhhh…. End transmission.”

USER ID LOGGING OFF: ALEK

END TRANSCRIPT.]

[OOC: hey hey! This is a RP blog focusing on the older brother of one Oliver Rivera - who's blog can be found @hotcocoaCEO !

My Name's Lífþrasir, I use fae/faer pronouns primarily. My blog is @confusedgeckotree

This is for fun and may be a bit slow to update!

If you're curious, the URL is binary(I translated manually with my ASCII chart) for ALEK!

Aleksander is not traveling with the other rejects. He is... debatably aware of them?]

[aleksanderscult]

Hii girly, What do you think about Aleksander being sexually assaulted during his time in Os Alta? Specifically with this line in mind -

I just saw stromuprisahat make a post on this and don’t think you’ve made anything on it so.. I never even realised this line, it has shocked me so much

⚠️TW! Sexual harassment, sexual assault⚠️

Hello!

I actually vividly remember how disgusting the scene seemed to me when I first read it. And I was perplexed by how the author had meant the scene to be viewed as "funny".

How is sexual harassment funny?

If Mal was talking about a woman being cornered by a man instead, would that be funny?

No matter if someone is a man or woman, sexual harassment is serious and, unfortunately, is experienced by anyone.

It wouldn't surprise me at all if women of nobility had made unwanted advances towards him. He was a strikingly handsome man and looks are everything to a court. Of course I don't think the majority would want to make their move because he was a Grisha with frightening powers and a dark reputation but others wouldn't be that easily dissuaded. He was a serf. And serfs are meant to obey and please.

(also Alina was talking seriously in the beginning. Vasily's attempts to court her made her sick and she felt uncomfortable but Mal chose to laugh at the situation and mock Aleksander instead. Is that man and ship meant to be taken seriously?)

[stromuprisahat]

Echoes of Darklina

Six of Crows- Chapter 18

Kaz's chapter became more interesting than expected.

“Why would you care what I think?” He looked genuinely baffled. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I do.” And then he kissed me. It happened so suddenly that I barely had time to react. One moment, I was staring into his slate-colored eyes, and the next, his lips were pressed to mine. I felt that familiar sense of surety melt through me as my body sang with sudden heat and my heart jumped into a skittery dance. Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back. He looked as surprised as I felt. “I didn’t mean … ,” he said.

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 13

“... The people curse my name and pray for you, but you’re the one who was ready to abandon them. I’m the one who will give them power over their enemies. I’m the one who will free them from the tyranny of the King.” ... I gave a single shake of my head. He slumped back in his chair. “Fine,” he said with a weary shrug. “Make me your villain.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 21

... The moment his lips met mine, the connection between us opened and I felt his power flood through me. I could feel how much he wanted me—but behind that desire, I could feel something else, something that felt like anger. I drew back, startled. “You don’t want to be doing this.” “This is the only thing I want to be doing,” he growled, and I could hear the bitterness and desire all tangled up in his voice. “And you hate that,” I said with a sudden flash of comprehension. He sighed and leaned against me, brushing my hair back from my neck. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, his lips grazing my ear, my throat, my collarbone. I shivered, letting my head fall back, but I had to ask. “Why?” “Why?” he repeated, his lips still brushing over my skin, his fingers sliding over the ribbons at my neckline. “Alina, do you know what Ivan told me before we took the stage? Tonight, we received word that my men have spotted Morozova’s herd. The key to the Shadow Fold is finally within our grasp, and right now, I should be in the war room, hearing their report. I should be planning our trip north. But I’m not, am I?”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 14

Why did you go to Alina? Yuri buzzed away. Why seek her out? To reclaim his power, of course. The universe wanted to humble him, to force him to appeal to a pair of pathetic orphans like a beggar on his knees. Why did you go to her? Because with her he was human again.

Rule of Wolves- Chapter 21

“I want you to know my name,” he said. “The name I was given, not the title I took for myself. Will you have it, Alina?” ... “Yes,” I breathed. After a long moment, he said, “Aleksander.” A little laugh escaped me. He arched a brow, a smile tugging at his lips. “What?” “It’s just so … common.” Such an ordinary name, held by kings and peasants alike. I’d known two Aleksanders at Keramzin alone, three in the First Army. One of them had died on the Fold. His smile deepened and he cocked his head to the side. It almost hurt to see him this way. “Will you say it?” he asked. I hesitated, feeling danger crowd in on me. “Aleksander,” I whispered. His grin faded, and his gray eyes seemed to flicker. “Again,” he said. “Aleksander.”

Ruin and Rising- Chapter 9

[greensaplinggrace]

🔥s&b

darkling fans are the og antis actually. every time I see an anti post I remember an analysis I’ve already seen written by a fan of his that is not only more critical, but better at it. they’re usually more accurate to his character, to the text, and to the other characters as well. they’re usually harsher on the darkling, and they’re always incredibly efficient pieces of character analysis. I have never seen better and more accurate hate for the darkling than from the people that actually like him.

send me a 🔥 for an unpopular opinion (x)

[marvelmusing]

Conflict of Interest

Part of the Our Souls AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: The second Prince of Ravka shows an interest in you, which causes division between you and your dæmon. Aleksander offers you some comfort and advice.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

There’s a touch of worry in your stomach, as your eyes wander through the crowd of people surrounding you. Fabian is out of sight - an uncomfortable and unfamiliar experience for you. There isn’t any pain, so he isn’t currently in danger or under any threat, but you don’t like not being able to see him.

Then, there’s the somewhat familiar sensation of Fabian being touched by another dæmon. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. He must have spotted Aleksander and wandered off to greet Andromeda while you were talking to some of the older scholars.

But when you manage to find your dæmon, he isn’t coiled around the familiar form of Andromeda. Instead you find another fox dæmon, larger than Fabian, rubbing against him. Embarrassed by the behaviour of your soul, you hurry over and scold him in a low tone.

“Fabian, come here.”

A man places his hand on your forearm placatingly.

“No, leave him be. I don’t mind.”

Turning to look at the man, your eyes widen and your body burns in mortification.

“Moi tsarevich.”

He makes a dismissive gesture.

“Please, call me Nikolai.” His mouth quirks into a charming smile before you can offer any sort of protest. “I insist.”

The second son of the king, Prince Nikolai, is a known patron of education and knowledge, as well as travel and exploration. He has returned from his recent visit to Novyi Zem with golden hair and sun-kissed cheeks.

After giving him a small curtsey, you tell him your name and he inclines his head in a formal greeting before he looks down at your dæmon, still pinned between the paws of his own.

“Fabian. A handsome name for a handsome dæmon. Did your parents name him?”

Hoping he can’t see the heat spreading painfully over your face and down your neck, you shake your head.

“My father’s dæmon named him.”

“How lovely.”

Curiosity has your gaze flickering down to the prince’s dæmon. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the smirk that spreads over Nikolai’s features which makes you far too bashful to grasp the courage to ask for his dæmon’s name. He leans closer, dipping his head down to inform you.

“His name is Reynard.” When you turn and frown at him, he adds, “My dæmon.”

“Oh,” you stammer, flustered by his sudden proximity. At this distance, your eyes are level with his lips. “It’s a very nice name.”

His smile softens, as if your fumbling response is akin to an eloquent compliment.

“Thank you.”

Reynard’s fur is longer than Fabian’s, glossy and sleek as he spins dizzyingly around your dæmon before he pounces on him. They both roll around, tussling, and embarrassment prickles over your skin.

Nikolai asks you about your work and you stumble over your words as you attempt to hold a conversation with him. It’s hard to focus on anything when his dæmon is paying such attention to your Fabian. It makes you squirm, heat burning painfully through your body and you begin to fear that he can see how your heart is pounding.

Suddenly, the haze clouding your mind dissipates, replaced by an anxiety that weighs on your lungs. Fabian scampers away from Reynard, though he doesn’t retreat between your legs like he usually would. Instead, he seeks the safety of someone else.

“Lord Morozova,” Nikolai says with a dashing smile. The sight of Aleksander feels like being doused in cold water. He gives the prince a curt nod in response, his eyes moving slowly between the two of you.

“Your highness.”

The tension between them is palpable and you struggle to breathe clearly, hindered by your sudden anxiety caused by Fabian’s uncharacteristic rejection. Staring at your dæmon’s amber eyes, you feel a stab of hurt as he remains hidden behind Aleksander’s legs, finding refuge with him and Andromeda.

“I’m sorry,” you stammer. “I need some air.”

Aleksander murmurs your name softly, his voice filled with concern as he reaches for you, but you wave away his hand distractedly. There’s a tug on your heart, a sickening lurch in your stomach, as you walk away from your dæmon and when the distance becomes painful Fabian is forced to follow you out of the ballroom.

The two of you retreat into an empty room, away from the sounds of the party.

“What were you thinking - messing around with his dæmon like that in front of everyone?” you hiss in frustration as you close the door behind you.

“In front of Aleksander you mean,” he remarks bitterly, not even looking at you as he stalks further into the room. He turns back, directing his next words accusingly. “Did you even notice how Reynard was holding onto me?”

In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to focus on anything except holding onto Nikolai’s attention, even if it made you sick with nerves.

“You play like that with Andromeda,” you reason.

“I know Andromeda. I don’t know him.”

“I thought you had gone to him.”

“He grabbed me.”

That makes you pause, guilt settling in your stomach.

“I didn’t realise.”

“Because you like Nikolai,” he accuses.

“No I don’t,” you snap defensively.

The silence rings between you both. Fabian knows you’re lying, but you don’t want to admit it out loud. Nikolai is charming and you had been too distracted by his attention to notice your poor dæmon’s distress.

Sighing, you slump back against the wall, sliding down slowly to settle on the floor. It takes some nudging, but you finally manage to encourage your stubborn dæmon into sitting in your lap. He doesn’t look at you, even when you drape your arms around him.

“I’m sorry, Faby.” He huffs, turning his head further away from you. “I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“And?”

“And for lying to you.”

He turns to face you.

“I don’t like him.”

“The prince?”

He nods.

“Then I won’t leave you alone with them again.”

There’s a knock at the door and Aleksander’s voice is low as he murmurs your name questioningly. For a moment, you stay quiet, but the sound of Andromeda scratching against the door has you reaching for the handle.

As you open the door, Aleksander steps forwards, his eyes flickering over your features as he examines your expression.

“Are you alright?”

He looks down at Fabian, who moves quickly towards Andromeda. She nuzzles her nose against his carefully, to ensure she doesn’t overwhelm the two of you.

“We’re going home,” Fabian says, which makes you look down at him sharply. It might not have crossed your mind to leave the party, but deep down you long for your bed. He turns his head, looking up at you pointedly and you nod in agreement.

“We’re going home.”

“Can I walk with you?” Aleksander asks.

“Aren’t you staying at the party?” He shakes his head and you frown in concern. “The Little Palace is on the opposite side of the city to the university.”

“I know.”

“Aleksander-”

“I want to see you home safely.” He glances down at Fabian again, before he adds, “Both of you.”

Fabian lifts his head up, licking at Aleksander’s fingers affectionately. He turns his hand slightly, allowing his fingers to smooth over the top of Fabian’s head before he responds with a fond scratch between his ears.

Warmth fills your chest, easing into your body at the sight of Aleksander with your dæmon. It’s a stark contrast to the anxiety you felt around Nikolai.

“Shall we?”

You nod.

The moment the door is opened, the sounds from the ballroom return to you and the world comes crashing down on you again.

Aleksander keeps his hand on the small of your back, his palm warm even through your clothing as he guides you towards the door. The night air is cool against your skin and a shudder rolls through your body. Subconsciously, you find yourself being drawn closer towards Aleksander, seeking his warmth.

The two of you stay in silence as you walk through the streets, but you can see him glancing at you occasionally, his lips parted as if he is about to speak. He doesn’t, and the lingering nerves from the party continue to run beneath your skin as the silence goes on. Until you can’t stand it any longer.

“What is it?” you ask him.

He regards you for a moment, as he seems to contemplate something.

“I want you to be careful around Prince Nikolai.”

“Why?”

“Have you heard of Braiker’s theory of dæmon manipulation?”

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, as it always does when you’re reminded of Aleksander’s genuine interest in your chosen field of study. Then you give his question some thought. Braiker’s theory suggests that a person could purposefully used their dæmon to influence someone else’s perception of them - that contact between dæmons can even cause an attachment between the humans.

“Yes, of course,” you say, looking at him with a small frown. Aleksander raises a brow pointedly at you, with brings your thoughts to a halt. “I- He wasn’t. Was he?”

“There’s no way of knowing for certain. But I would keep an eye on his dæmon if I were you.”

Immediately, you glance at Fabian with worry as he weaves his way along the pavement beside Andromeda. Guilt has you gnawing at your lower lip, you had abandoned him in that ballroom. Aleksander draws his arm around you, tucking you into his side. The momentum causes your temple to bounce against his chest and you leave it there, soaking in his comfort.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Aleksander assures you.

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Sensing your distress, Fabian turns his head back to look at you.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says.

Fabian’s love for you is unconditional. But there are moments when you fear that your own soul might one day grow to hate you.

He turns back, weaving his way between your legs, coiling himself around you. Instantly, you bend down and take him into your arms. He nuzzles into your chest, nosing his way up your neck before licking affectionately at your cheek and you bury your face into his fur.

Aleksander rubs your back comfortingly and he seems to be itching to touch Fabian. But he doesn’t. Despite the darkened streets, you’re still in public after all.

When you reach the university, Aleksander remains by your side, even as you walk through the quiet corridors and up to your rooms. He only hesitates when you enter, turning back to look at him. Self-conscious, you lower your gaze and struggle to find the right words to coax him inside. Andromeda sits on the threshold, looking up at her human counterpart.

With Fabian still in your arms, you fidget with his ear, smoothing the fur between your thumb and forefinger in a self soothing motion. Swallowing hard, you draw up enough courage to ask,

“Would you like to come in?”

Aleksander nods, stepping forwards into your quarters. They aren’t as grand as his. The first room is a small study which you have filled to the brim with books. Through the next door is your bedroom, which has a tiny bathroom adjoined. Despite its size, it is the only home you’ve ever had for yourself and you take pride in it.

As you make your preparations for bed, Aleksander lights the fire, stoking the flames to warm the room for you. Once he’s done, he sits down on the armchair in the corner of your room and Fabian makes himself comfortable in Aleksander’s lap. Meanwhile, Andromeda stretches herself out on your bed.

Every time you walk by Andromeda, you offer her some sort of comforting touch - a scratch behind her ears or a pat to the head. Aleksander strokes his palm down the length of Fabian’s body and soon your dæmon is rolling over, offering his soft underbelly for affection.

When you settle at the head of your bed, Andromeda sits beside you, nuzzling affectionately at your face which makes you laugh softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you press your face further into her fur. Aleksander smiles softly as he stands, scooping Fabian up into his arms. He lowers your dæmon into your lap, placing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Good night,” he murmurs.

“Will you stay?” you ask in a whisper. He hesitates visibly and you can already hear his response. If he stays the night, someone will see him leave in the morning, and the rumours about you will never cease. “Just until I fall asleep.”

Aleksander stares at you for a long moment, his gaze flickering between your eyes before he nods. He sits down at the end of your bed, shuffling closer when you move towards the headboard. When you begin to wriggle under the covers, he holds your quilt for you, before tucking you in himself.

Fabian buries himself against your chest and you subconsciously begin to thread your fingers through his fur. Andromeda settles down by your side as your dæmon closes his eyes.

“Tell us something,” you murmur quietly. She tilts her head at you.

“About?”

A shy smile tugs at your lips and your eyes flutter sleepily as you murmur,

“Aleksander.”

She gives you a fond look, crossing her paws in front of herself as she settles comfortably to consider your request.

“What do you know about his grandfather?”

“Not much.”

“His dæmon was a stag. When he settled, they had to alter all the doorways in the manor because his antlers meant he was too wide to move from room to room.”

A soft laugh escapes you at the thought of a stag wandering through a lavish mansion, butting his antlers into every doorway.

“What form did his grandmother’s dæmon take?”

“A hare.”

“A very woodland themed family.”

She hums in agreement.

“Aleksander loved his grandparents dearly. They were better parents to him than his mother ever was.”

“His mother’s still alive,” you state cautiously. Aleksander doesn’t talk about his family very often, but you know his relationship with his mother is difficult. Andromeda nods slowly.

“She is.”

“What’s her dæmon like?”

“He’s a vulture.”

“Oh,” you say softly. Vultures are scavengers, they sit solitary at the edge of society and feed on whatever scraps they can wrangle for themselves. Someone with a vulture dæmon is typically self serving and preys on weakness. A stark contrast to Aleksander’s soft spoken yet fiercely loyal dæmon. “Does he speak?”

“Not to humans. If he talks to a dæmon it’s usually only to share a cutting remark or an insult, in my experience. I don’t even know his name.”

“Cassian,” Aleksander says quietly. Both you and Andromeda turn to look at him. “Baghra’s dæmon,” he clarifies at the sight of your confusion. “His name is Cassian.”

“He sounds horrible,” you remark.

Aleksander’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, as he stares into the space between you. He rubs at the back of his hand in a repetitive manner, his thumb circling over a particular patch of skin.

“After Andromeda settled, Baghra increased her efforts to drive us apart. Whenever I reached out to touch her, Cassian would bite my hand.”

“I don’t remember that,” Andromeda says in a low tone. He strokes her head firmly, a sombre expression on his face.

“It was either me or you. I couldn’t let her hurt you.”

She turns her head, licking his fingers in a rare show of outright emotion towards her human. Aleksander continues to stroke his hand down her body, his eyes fixed on the way her fur moves. Firelight flickers over them both and your eyes grow heavier with each passing moment.

Aleksander turns his head, his gaze falling onto you and he smiles softly at the sight of you fighting sleep.

“After my grandparents died, I inherited the manor.” He leans forwards, reaching for Fabian. He strokes your dæmon slowly. “We could go there together, away from prying eyes. It’s at its most beautiful in the springtime.”

His hand traces over Fabian’s spine, his fingertips dipping into every notch of bone. It fills your body with pleasurable tingles that makes your thighs shake and a haze creeps over your thoughts.

“I’d like that.”

Aleksander smiles indulgently, his voice lowering to a low whisper.

“You would?”

You hum in affirmation. Then a frown creases at your brows.

“S’not fair.”

His smile widens as he tilts his head at you.

“What’s that, darling?”

“You can’t stroke Fabian like that and expect me to stay awake.”

He chuckles fondly, his other hand brushing delicately over your cheek.

“My soft, sleepy girl. You need your rest.”

Defeated, you bury your face into your pillow with a pout puckering at your lips in protest. Fabian’s breathing is already becoming even as he begins to fall asleep and soon you will too. Aleksander brushes his hand over your hair gently, while his other hand strokes between Fabian’s ears. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Sweet dreams. Both of you.”

-

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth

OS Tag List: @the-sweet-psycho @aoi-targaryen

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird

[chibipeachu]

Pretty Songbird || Aleksander M.

A/N: I watched snakes and songbirds and had this ideas stuck in my head ever since i saw it last week, idk if it's gonna be a series, if you have any ideas pls tell me!!

WC: 1311 Warning: Fem!Reader, the moon summoner trope, not proof read so i take credit for mispelling or mistakes..

Alina sighed as herself and Mal walked into a busy club to get away from their pursuers.

“It should be too crowded to notice us in this crowd, just keep the hood on.” Mal whispered to Alina as they moved closer to the stage where others stood, waiting for the performer. 

“Want something?” 

Alina turned and nodded as Mal gave a quick nod before walking to the bartender.

As alina went to stand near a corner of the crowded club she bumped into another young girl. “Aww, sorry..” “Ah, i’m sorry.”  They both apologized to one another.

“It’s alright, just a throbbing but it’ll go away with a drink.” The girl brushed it off and gave alina a smile. 

“You look familiar..” Alina felt her heart drop, as the expression the girl made was of realization. “You’re her aren’t you?” Alina tensed up and lifted her hand in case she need to summon to stop the girl from doing something.

“It’s alright, your safe here, i just recommend the further booth over there if you don’t want to draw attention..” Alina followed the girls direction and saw an empty booth and nodded at her. “Thank you..?” She waited for a name.

“Y/n, i’m a performer here tonight.” She smiled and pointed towards the stage were drunks and many excited people stood waiting.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

People whispered to one another as they noticed the brooding, darkling who was accompanied with other grisha, they all had looks of distaste on their faces as they scanned the club. 

Alesksander’s attention jumped as two women in front of him talked about the performer. 

“Is it true she can summon?” 

“Rumors say she can but was sick during her testing and got dismissed.” 

Before any of them could provide aleksander with information, a young woman, dressed in a loose blouse and what looked like the first army pants.

“Based on all the chatter I could hear from back there, I assume it’s about myself?” You grinned as you scanned the crowd.

A mixed of positive responses came from the busy club.

Aleksander noticed how each of his grisha searched the crowd.

“Aww stop it, i’m blushing!” You playfully waved to the crowd before turning to the band who waited for your sign to play.

As the band started up, you danced around the stage a bit.

“So if you don’t know, i wrote this many, many, many years ago when i was stuck as a showstopper for tow men on each side of the fold, one more then the other..” You referenced to your pants before raising an eyebrow.

Aleksander wasn’t surprised, zlatan of course wouldn’t share a summoner with anyone, especially the king and aleksander.

“Can’t take my charm,

Can’t take my humor,

Can’t take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumor.

Nothing you can take was ever with keeping.

No nothing you can take was every worthing keeping.”

As alina listened to your singing she glanced around the room and froze as she spotted aleksander and the other grisha in the club.

Alina subtly nudged mal who popped up and ushered alina through the crowd to leave quickly.

As you took a breath, you felt yourself stop for a moment, as you took note of the dark eyes of the darkling.

“Thinking you’re so fine,

Thinking you could have mine.

Thinking in control, thinking you can change me, maybe rearrange me.

Think again if that’s your goal.” 

You stomped your boots at each sentence, making the crowd cheer.

Through the small break of your singing, you held strong eye contact with the darkling, from what zlatan had told you, he was saving you from the general who had “tossed your abilities aside” those were the only words you believed from the first general, you had tried to get test when you were a teen but got reject when you said you could summon.

“Can’t take my sass,

Can’t take my talking.

You can kiss my ass,

Then keep on walking!

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,

Oh, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.” You stared him down while continuing to sing.

Zoya scoffed as she followed your and aleksander’s gaze to one another. 

Aleksander looked away from you to look at the sour expression on her face.

“She’s insulting you to your face..” 

“I know..” He responded, his eyes moving back onto you which your eyes were closed as you finished the song.

“Nothing you can take from is worth dirt,

Take it cause i’d give it free, it won’t hurt.

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..”

As you finished the crowd cheered making you grin and gave a bow before walking to your bandmate and motioned for behind the stage before exiting, they band continued to play as you left.

Aleksander hadn’t noticed zoya rambling on how disrespectful you were, he piped up as you left the stage. “I’ll be back.” He told zoya before walking outside the club.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You quietly exited from the building and leaned against the building.

You were now screwed, after many blissful years away from zlatan and kirigan it had to come crashing down.

Being upset you got up and kicked the tins in the back alley of the club.

“That was quite the show..” You jumped at the general’s voice.

“General kirigan..” You greeted, walking to pick up the fallen over tins. 

“You worked under zlatan?” He questioned, making you chuckle. 

“What made it obvious? My clothes or the song?” You asked, putting the lid back on before turning to his figure.

“He rarely sent letters to the palace grounds to let us know of anything.” 

You scoffed, knowing where he was trying to lead the conversation.

“Bullshit, don’t play like you never knew about me, I stood in front of grisha testers and was denied a retest because of my ability, each test is shown in front of you, in your lap to see the newest grisha!” You walked closer to him as you went on.

“Nice try to play that card but the only words I ever believed from zlatan was that you tossed me aside.” You brushed past the darkling and went to enter the club again but was stopped by him grabbing your wrist in a tight grasp and pulling you back to face him.

“You could train in the little palace with others, be with your own kind.” He tried to convince you.

“You missed that train where I wanted to fit in with others badly, I will not be trained to replace your little sun summoner.” You ripped your wrist form his grasp and walked back into the club.

Aleksander stood by himself in the alley, shocked you had decline his offer.

After he collected himself he walked into the club to collect his grisha.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Weeks had passed since the incident at the club.

Aleksander hadn’t been expecting a meeting with the king, he was confused at the sudden arrangement.

“Tsar.” Aleksander greeted as he entered his war room.

“General.” King Pyotr greeted, letting aleksander step in further before continuing. 

“Is there a reason you called upon me?” Aleksander questioned.

“When you were visiting ryevost, did you happened to see this girl?” The king unfolded a drawing of the singer he had a conversation with weeks ago.

“She’s rumored to be a moon summoner, if anything, everyone’s after her. And i believe she’ll do good here in the little palace under your control.” He continued, aleksander studied the poster.

“I’ll send grisha to find her…” The king smiled and nodded in aleksander’s direction before getting up and leaving.

Once gone, aleksander picked up the paper to admire your beauty. 

“I’ll find you, songbird..” He muttered as he read over the paper.

Y/N Y/L/N  - GRISHA - WANTED BY KING PYOTR AND GENERAL KIRIGAN.

[dearmantis]

There's no love like our love

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x wife!Reader

Summary: When the Royal Family finally turns on the Grisha, you find yourself caught in the crossfire. Alone, of course. You're always alone, it seems.

Warnings: murder, death, canonical persecution of Grisha, violence, mentioned death of children, sexual harassment, slutshaming, mentions of sex and cheating, suicidal thoughts, self hatred

Word Count: 6.6k words

Authors' Note: I DID IT! HERE IS YOUR PART TWO FOR A LOST EMBRACE! IT ONLY TOOK 76 YEARS! BUT I GOT IT DONE BEFORE THE END OF APRIL (this is also very not edited, and I'm still not a native English speaker).

Also, funfact: I cut the ending of this, just like I did with part 1. There was a whole other ending, but that was basically just a lot of fluff. I wasn't sure if people would want that from this series/twoshot specifically so I cut it. I can't tell of cutting the ending is a good or a really bad habit.

The title is from Lights are on by Tom Rosenthal!

Part 1: A lost embrace | Masterlist

The universe is filled with light. Billions of beautiful stars, all different sizes and temperatures, burning brightly and sending their energy out into the universe to bring warmth and light.

But there is even more darkness in the universe than there are stars, filling the space between the celestial bodies. An all surrounding nothingness that acts as a playing field for all of the beautiful, weird and wonderful things hiding in the endless sky. A canvas for everything else in the universe that hugs and surrounds all.

And one day, at least according to the most popular theories, the last stars will die and the universe will be entirely engulfed in darkness.

It began with a loud burst of light, and it will die quietly in shadows.

That knowledge used to bring you comfort and a feeling of belonging. The darkness became your new home, a special, safe place right next to your husband, but there is no safety and love to be found in the darkness now.

It was predictable, honestly. You should've known the second Vasily allowed the Darkling to travel Ravka to search of the Sun Summoner with only a few First Army soldiers for protection, but you simply didn't pay attention to the signs, too caught up in your own frustration and bitterness.

He didn't realise it either, it seems, because he simply left without even saying goodbye, leaving you behind to run the Little Palace in his absence. One night you fall asleep next to him, back turned towards him to visibly reject his presence, and the next morning he is gone, his side of the bed made and all of his most important belongings gone. No letter, no announcement beforehand, nothing.

Maybe his head was simply too focused on Alina to even remember that he still had a wife.

It doesn't matter anymore.

You're still awake when they come, three nights after the General left the Little Palace.

You're laying in bed, humming an old lullaby – one of the really old ones that you learned because he sometimes sings them to you when you can't sleep – while working on fixing the embroidery on the kefta of one of the younger students.

The disappearance of the Sun Summoner has led to chaos in all of Ravka, and there hasn't been a calm moment in the palace in weeks. You are forced, just like everyone else, to work until you pass out while keeping up appearances in front of the royal family. Everything needs to be immaculate despite the fact that the whole country is in a state of emergency, so you push small detail work like this into every free second of your day in hopes of doing something good.

You're so focused on your project that you don't even hear them approach your windows from the outside.

They sneak around, quietly taking out the guards until they're sure that they won't meet too much resistance, and then, suddenly, everything is very loud.

You don't remember what happens. Just flashes of memories. Little pieces that simply aren't enough to form a full picture, as if your body simply wasn't able to take it all in. Or maybe it refuses to remember.

Glass shatters, loud and unfamiliar steps echo like thunder through the halls of what was supposed to be your home, men with bad intentions are in your bedroom, in your house, in your garden.

And your husband is nowhere to be found.

The air smells like fire, panic and fear crackling in the air like electricity and the screams of the Grisha you swore to protect as if they were your own children echo through the building and outside.

Shots are fired in the distance, you're on the floor, the barrel of a gun pressed tightly against the back of your head.

There are more screams slicing through the night. You think you hear someone yelling your name, but before you can answer, one of the men who broke into your room slams their heavy gun against your head, and darkness welcomes you into it's familiar embrace.

When you finally wake it's to the sound of a gun shot ringing through the air, and though the bars of your new cage you watch through bleary eyes how one of your fellow Grisha runs away, his bright purple kefta unfortunately doing very little to hide his movements between the trees. You can't tell who it is, not in the dark.

A second shot gets fired. You see how it hits the Durast in the head, his body falling to the ground and staying there, unmoving. Nobody goes to check if he's dead or to drag him off and bury or burn his corpse. It's just left right there, next to a large ash tree.

Someone whimpers and sobs, begs for their life, but you can't take your eyes off the corpse. The way it just lays there, like it's nothing.

You haven't seen an actual battle in centuries. The Darkling is too paranoid to let you go, convinced that his enemies will target you in a fight and take you away from him. The thought alone used to turn his eyes cold and hard like ice, his whole body shaking with anger at the idea of you being in a dangerous situation. You haven't seen death like this, so fast and seemingly insignificant, in forever.

There is no triumph visible in the body language of the soldier that shot the Durast, but no shame either. A job done, nothing more. He doesn't celebrate or pat himself on the back. He just sits back down next to the fire in the middle of the camp and takes a sip of water, like the life he just took was worth less than even the life of a rabbit.

The other guards move to check the handcuffs of the others after that incident, making sure that everything works and no one is able to use their powers. Your heart races so fast it makes you dizzy, the fog in your head thickening and threatening to drag you back into unconsciousness.

It's hard to stay focused enough to take the whole situation in, but you try anyway, tearing your gaze away from the corpse. There are nine cages, including yours, one of them now empty.

The Grisha in the cages are, just like you, handcuffed with their hands far apart. Three of them are wearing their keftas - two of them being Alkemis, and you ask yourself if the Materialki were all still down in the workshops when the raid began - but the others, including you, are wearing whatever you wore to sleep that night. All of you are dirty, and you pray silently that none of them are hurt. It's hard to see with the lack of light. The cages all stand a bit too far away from the fire to truly see much.

The men who guard you, on the other hand, all look like they dressed up for a military parade. Their First Army uniforms sparkle almost, their faces clean shaven or decorated with carefully trimmed beards. This was planned. This whole raid was planned, probably for weeks, and you didn't notice. The idea most likely came up as soon as the General returned from the Fold, and no one ever picked up on it.

It feels like a relic from a time you're supposed to have left behind, a time you didn't even experience and only heard about from the Darkling and on rare occasions his mother.

The First Army doesn't hunt Grisha anymore. The king doesn't put you into cages. They just hate you, insult you, and harass you, but they don't physically harm you anymore. Yet... here you are.

Ravka isn't supposed to be like Fjerda, like Shu Han, like Kerch. The Darkling had made sure of that, worked for this one singular goal for centuries, and dedicated his whole life to it.

The thought of him makes your heart sting painfully, and you suppress the urge to worry for him, to wonder where he is and if he's safe. You have bigger issues than him right now. He's fine. There's no room for argument. He has survived wars and centuries of persecution. This won't kill him. He's probably out there somewhere, completely safe, trying to track down his sun summoner while you rot in this cage alongside the others.

After the handcuffs are checked you watch as four of the five soldiers walk to the cages of the two Alkemi, Ivanna and Ole, and pull them out, the fifth still sitting at the fire and watching the whole situation with mild interest.

You hear one of the guards make a suggestion on how to deal with them, and your stomach turns.

In your mind, you are 12 years old, hiding behind your mothers skirt. Her hand rests on your head, trying to soothe you as you watch with the other people your village how a woman gets dragged out of the cage they kept her in. You remember her face. She works as a seamstress. She gives you pretty ribbons to tie around your wrist or into your hair whenever your mother buys something from her.

The man – was he the mayor? The village head? You don't remember what he called himself – who pulled her out of the cage pushes her to the ground, right in front of a large rock, and motions for someone hiding in the crowd to come closer.

Another man steps forward, the blacksmith, in his hands the biggest hammer you have ever seen.

The woman starts screaming now, her voice breaking under the force of her violent sobs. Her body shakes horribly, and your own shaking hands dig deeper into the material of your mothers skirt.

"Please, please, I swear it. This is a misunderstanding. I did nothing wrong. I swear it. Please, just listen to me," the woman begs while the mayor grabs the thick rope attacked to her handcuffs and pulls her arms and hands to rest on the rock.

The noise the hammer made when it slammed down on her hands haunts you for centuries, just like her screams do.

Just like the screams of the Materialki probably will if you survive this when the guards push them to the ground. The only difference is that the soldiers have no large hammers to break their hands.

You can't move, can't speak, can't do anything, completely frozen in fear while the soldiers hold them down, each of them pressing an arm down onto the cold ground. The two have no chance to defend themselves.

The man at the fire finally stands up slowly, grabbing one of the rocks lining the fire to prevent forest fires, and walks over to the six people on the ground.

You watch him do it. You have to. You failed to protect your Grisha, and the least you can do is witness the horrors they have to go through because of your own mistakes.

Because you should've known. You should've known. Of course the royal family would turn on Grisha. Of course they would send the Darkling away before they raided the Little Palace. He is the last line of defence for the Grisha in this country.

You should've noticed the signs. You should've talked to the General about it, maybe even with Baghra. You should've started to prepare to evacuate the whole Palace, organized a place to hide with food and beds and water.

But you didn't. You didn't because you were too blinded by your own stupid quarrel with the Darkling. This is your fault. Every drop of blood that was shed that night, every bit of pain and suffering that your Grisha experienced, clings to you.

It's all your fault.

When the soldiers are sure that they broke every bone in Alkemis' hands, they put the cuffs back on and throw them back into their cages.

And then they walk back to the fire in the middle of the camp and begin to eat, ignoring the sobbing of the Grisha only a few metres away from them and the corpse still peacefully resting between the bushes and trees.

You wake up the next morning with aching muscles and the knowledge that you probably won't get out of this camp alive. Because as much as you would like to pretend otherwise, these people know you. If Vasily gives the command to have you killed, these men know that you're their target. And he would. You can't even blame him for it. You're the wife of the General, just as much of a symbol for the Second Army as the Darkling. Killing you would be a message to all of Ravka.

They don't treat you much differently than they treat the others, to your surprise. You get starved like the others, glared at like the others, and dehydrated like the others.

You could almost believe that they somehow don't know who you are if it wasn't for the insults.

Every Grisha gets insulted, some more creatively than the others. Especially the two Alkemi get made fun of for their broken, swollen, and discoloured hands by the soldiers, like they aren't the reason why they look like that. Other insults directed at other Grisha in the camp, on the other hand, are overused and boring, like when they asked Lena, an Inferni, where her spark is, why her fire has disappeared.

"I thought Infernis are always so hot-headed? Come on, give us a show!" One of the older men in the camp says to her on your second day awake, and it makes your skin crawl. You wish you could claw those mens eyes out, make them bleed.

But the insults they direct at you, those are personal. They prove that they know exactly who you are despite never saying your name once.

The Darklings slut. That's what you are to them.

His favourite toy. A bedwarmer. A plaything. A whore to entertain him. A distraction from the war. A thing he can let his frustrations out on.

That's who you are in their eyes. Nothing more. Certainly nothing that deserves respect or should be feared. The fact that you and the other Grisha can't use the small science makes them braver.

The worst insults are the ones they come up with after the third day in the cage, right after the soldiers get a quick visit from one of Vasilys messengers, because their words are suddenly no longer insults. They are observations and a horrible, new truth that convince you that their earlier insults are true, working hand in hand with the thoughts and fears you had before any of this even started.

"Don't look at me like that, whore. Everybody, even us fools in the First Army, know how enamoured your husband was with the sun summoner. How many times do you think he fucked her before she ran? Probably did it right behind your back in your shared bed, you stupid thing. I bet she was the last thing he thought of before the guards that accompanied him shot him in the head."

The soldiers celebrate the news of the Darklings death like they just won the wars with Fjerda and Shu Han and tore down the Fold with their bare hands, drinking alcohol and eating freshly hunted deer meat while you and the other Grisha grieve and starve. You don't allow yourself to cry like the others, but you can feel your soul rip itself apart.

You begin to lose yourself after that.

Your sanity runs through your hands like sand, your mind desperate to escape the smell of the Durasts rotting corpse that the soldiers never bothered to remove, the insults, the screams of the other Grisha when they get pulled out of their cages (one a day, always only one a day, like they're trying to drag it out), the desperate hunger that burns in your stomach, the thirst that tears your throat apart, the death of your husband: reality in all it's horrible shapes and colours.

First, you spend a few minutes caught up in a nice memory, like a short conversation in the gardens of the Little Palace, drinking tea and leaning on his shoulder while he tells you about his day. Then the daydreams get longer and take more control over you until you spend days staring at nothing, buried so deep in your own mind that you're no longer aware of what happens around you.

A small part of you hopes that they'll kill you while you're in that state, caught up in the past. Everything is better than reality, and with every second that passes when you're fully aware of your surroundings, that reality becomes more unbearable.

You love remembering the time before Alina the most. You know that her only sin is shining a light onto the lies, destruction, and rot surrounding you, but without her light, you were able to pretend.

You are good at pretending.

The light just makes it harder, and sometimes you slip up and accidentally sink into a more recent memory, your mind racing through different thoughts so fast that you're unable to stop it.

Like how the girl whose kefta you repaired that night, little Bibi, probably ended up dying without it after working so hard to prove to everyone that she earned it. And now her corpse lays somewhere in Ravka with no one to take care of it, to lay it to rest.

The kids are easily the worst thing to remember. Every time you do, it feels like the guilt eats your heart or whatever is left of it right out of your chest, ripping and tearing on the muscle like a wolf on a bone.

How many of them got out of the Palace in time and are now hiding somewhere, probably scared and alone with no one to help them and no idea how to get to other Grisha or back to their families? How many of them are stuck in cages just like you, starving and terrified of the First Army men who are only waiting to get the command to kill them? How many of them didn't even make it out of the Little Palace and died at the hand of the soldiers during the raid?

How many children were buried and burned that night?

Your husband isn't much better to remember either. The words of the First Army soldiers burn themselves into your mind like hot coals. You don't want to think about it. You've never wanted to think about something less in your entire life, but no matter what you do, the pain of losing someone you've known for almost your whole life feels like a knife stuck in your chest.

"... guards that accompanied him shot him in the head."

It's odd, really, how all consuming grief can be even if a part of you hates the person you lost. Almost surreal.

There have always been chapters of your life subtitled with "before the Darkling". There aren't supposed to be chapters subtitled "after the Darkling", not even a single one. It's wrong. It's entirely wrong. He's supposed to be a constant. Something that doesn't move, doesn't change, doesn't leave. He was supposed to be here until the end of everything.

He wasn't supposed to leave you behind. You can't do this without him. You can't lose him. This isn't right.

It's the last piece. The last drop required to convince you that giving up might not be the worst option. If they succeeded in killing the Darkling... what can truly be done anymore? What can you do? You can't free the Grisha in your camp, not with your hands cuffed so far apart from each other that your arms regularly start cramping, and a stomach so empty that it feels like your entire body is trying to collapse in on itself to fill the void. You can't convince the soldiers to free you. You can't save the children and rebuild Ravka into a safe place once more, not alone. You can't do anything on your own. You are nothing.

So why shouldn't you die? Why not join your husbands soul, wherever it may be now? What is left for you to do here? What can you do?

Death haunts your sense of smell and vision. It haunts your mind, and it haunts all of Ravka. Why not let it carry you off? Away from the pain, the suffering, the fear and grief and rot.

There is only more to come. More horrors that linger in the unpredictable future, and no one left to fix it. You certainly can't do it, Baghra - if she still lives, that is - doesn't care enough about others to even attempt to fix anything, and the sun summoner evidently can't do it either. All she can do is shine light on the evil lingering in the dark, but she's not strong or persuasive enough to improve and change the nightmares she exposes.

The Darkling could've done it. He would fight tooth and nail, drench his hands in blood and ash to free the others. He has fought his whole life, after all. He could've done it again.

But you can't. You can't take his position in this war, as much as you wish you could. You can't even get your hands out of your stupid cuffs, no matter how hard you try.

Baghra was right in the end, it seems. You really are too weak to stay at her and her sons side as their equal. You are dust, nothing more.

Now that you're here, stuck in a cage and unable to defend yourself in any way, you ask yourself once more how she and her son could've possibly survived this long. How did they not give up? What do they have that you lack?

"When the entire world hates you and wants you dead, the best thing you can do is live."

That's what she said back then, but you simply don't understand how she found the strength to keep going. You can't find it in you, no matter how much you look. Your whole life is gone. Your friends are probably all in cages or dead. Your husband is dead. Your home is gone. There is nothing left, no reason for you to continue.

Your husband would want you to keep going, a voice in the back of your mind answers, and you can feel the sharp stinging in your chest return at the thought.

You miss him. You miss him so much that it feels like you're being torn apart from the inside. And if you're really honest with yourself, you have to admit that you have been in this state for a while.

All of that anger and jealousy was just your bodies way to avoid facing the fact that you were lonely. No wonder you immediately fell back into routine like a desperate little cat when he finally gifted you some attention after Alina fled. Your entire being was begging to get him back.

And now you will never have him again because you were both too stubborn to simply talk with each other. He will never understand how much it hurt to see him obsess over someone else, and you will never know why you suddenly weren't enough for him anymore.

You will never hear his voice again, or knit him a new scarf for winter, or wash his hair for him after an exhausting day. You will never be comforted by him when you have a headache or watch the first snow of the year cover the grass outside of the Little Palace. You will never fall asleep next to him again, his arms wrapped around you and your face pressed against his chest as his heartbeat and calm breathing lull you to sleep.

He will never hug you again or surprise you with breakfast. He will never help you choose jewelry for an event again, give you his cloak when you're cold, kiss you, laugh at your horrible jokes, or moan your name into your ear, his voice raspy with love and desire while he tries to bring you to another orgasm before his own crashes down on him.

You will never do anything with him ever again.

Turning your head slightly, you stare at the soldiers sitting at the fire, eating some form of stew. You can't smell it. The stench of the decomposing body is too strong, and you wonder how the soldiers can stomach food in this environment.

You can barely breathe on some days without gagging every few seconds. It's so horrible that it drives tears into your eyes.

They talk and laugh about some servant girl, and you silently ask yourself what fate the servants of the Little Palace met. How many of them died that night? How many fled? Did any of them try to help the Grisha that might've fled? And saints, what happened to the Oprichniki?

Slowly closing your eyes again, you pray that the wind changes direction and starts blowing the smell away while you try to think of something that gives you strength.

The first thing that comes to mind is your amplifier.

You haven't thought about that day in a while, not since Alina came to the Palace and your heart and soul drowned themselves in jealousy and hate.

But it's not right to forget something so special. You should remember.

Who else in all of Ravka got proposed to, not with a ring but with a barn owl and a knife?

He has been gone for months, looking for something in West Ravka, choosing to trave through Fjerda and around the Fold to avoid going through it, and the constant worry that he would be discovered keeps you awake on some nights. He sends a letter once a month and promises you over and over that he would be back in the spring, but you still end up surprised when one of your friends drags you out of your bed in the middle of the night and ushers you towards the Generals quarters.

And when you open the doors you find him leaning against his desk, a knife next to him on the table and a barn owl sitting quietly in a cage, large eyes looking at you curiously, but you don't even see those things. Not at first, at least.

You just see him.

"You're back!"

Quickly jumping over to him, you throw your arms around him and press your face against him, a deep laugh bubbling in his chest as he moves to embrace you tightly.

"Careful, my love," he murmurs, his hands finding the back of your neck and pressing you closer to him.

You stay like that for a while, holding each other tightly while he whispers soft words into your ear.

"I'm so happy to see you. I missed you so much, little love. I hope you weren't too lonely without me," he coos, pressing a long kiss onto your head.

You're about to answer him when the bird finally makes himself known. Turning your head quickly you look at it, and the owl turns it's head to the side as if it's trying to do assess you carefully as well, it's dark eyes looking you over a few times. You feel a bit self-conscious in your night dress, but instead of shying away, you decide to let it look.

"Is that what you were looking for in West Ravka?" you ask, gazing back up at him.

"I did a lot of research over the past year, and I think this amplifier would be strong enough," he explains, his voice as soft as a feather.

"Strong enough?"

"To keep you with me. I didn't believe it at first either, but this little bird could give you forever. Time would no longer be able to take you from me. I could keep you for eternity."

Tears well up in your eyes, your hands moving to hold onto the front of his kefta as he reaches over to the knife and holds it out to you.

"You don't have to do it right now. You can get to know the owl and see if it feels right. Think about it for a while. It's a big commitment, after all." His empty hand moves up to cup your face, and the tenderness in his gaze makes your heart race. "If you chose the amplifier, I will stay with you. I will be at your side until the end of everything, I promise it. I will take care of you when you're hurt, hold you when you're sad, and laugh with you when you're happy. I will fight at your side, protect you with my life, and take care of you until I die."

Biting your lip weakly, you look up into his eyes, somehow darker than the night sky. "And if I don't choose to take the amplifier?"

"Then I'll still do all of those things. I will just have less time by your side, but I will cherish that time just as much, sweet girl."

You don't know when it happens because you start to loose track of time after the first week is over, but at some point in a random night one of the soldiers goes into the forest to get fresh water from a nearby river and doesn't return.

You're not conscious enough to notice it, and the soldiers are too caught up in their preparations for tonight's entertainment.

You don't even notice how they move through the camp, their eyes looking at each and every grisha they have, and judging who would be able to provide the most fun tonight. You just wish you were lying on the floor.

If you laid down, you could pretend that the heaviness on your chest is your husbands weight and not a heavy mountain of grief that tries to drag you down into the heart of the world.

He liked to do that. Lay on top of you to make sure that every single centimetre of you touched him in some way. You used to jokingly complain about it, but he never stopped. Every time he knew you needed comfort he would lay down on top of you, his heavy, strong body pressing you deep into the mattress while he talked, either asking questions about your day and whatever might be bothering you, or telling you about his, always carefully pressing small kisses onto your face and neck.

He must've known that his weight comforted you, made you feel safe. You've never wanted to be crushed into a mattress by him so badly in your whole life.

You don't hear it when they discuss if you're weak enough now to remove you from the cuffs. You don't even hear it when they open your cage, the old metal screeching loudly.

You don't realize that anything is wrong until one of the soldiers unlocks the cuffs and your body falls to the floor like a wet sack of flour. A loud groan leaves your mouth, your voice rough from lack of use.

The soldier grabs your ankles and drags you out of the cage, your upper body dragging over the floor. After being hung up for so long, you realise very quickly that you can't move your arms at all. The muscles start twitching as soon as you even attempt to bring them together, and a horrible, sharp tingling sensation makes itself noticeable. You bite your teeth together to stop yourself from screaming out.

A wave of panic crashes over you as soon as you fully understand what's going on, trying to kick the man dragging you closer to the fire, but none of your movements seem to really bother him.

As soon as you're close enough to the fire, someone flips you onto your stomach and buries their hand in your hair to pull your head up. Your back bends horribly, and you hiss out in pain as your eyes find those of the soldier who broke the Alkemis hands with a rock.

He doesn't say anything. He just looks at you, eyes taking in every flinch and twitch in your face.

You stay like this for a few seconds staring at each other, when he suddenly spits directly into your face, a wide grin splitting his face into two a few seconds later before he slaps you. Your head drops to the ground quickly.

"Let's get started. Markus can join us later when he's done," someone says. Three seconds later, before you have time to register what he means, you have a small knife in your back.

A blood curdling scream leaves your throat and tears well up in your eyes. You want to beg, to humiliate yourself even further and kiss their shoes in hopes of escaping this, but the last shred of pride left in you won't let you.

One of the soldiers steps onto one of your hands, twisting his shoe a bit in the process to make it hurt more. Someone else grabs your other arm and twists it behind your back until you scream out once more. This time, you scream your husbands name, unable to stop yourself in time. It's a broken, pathetic sound that echoes through the trees like a gunshot.

You know he won't come, but something about saying his name again feels almost cathartic, so you continue to scream it out with your full heart and soul. With every hit, every kick, and every stab wound, you scream the real name of the black heretic out into the endless night and beg death to bring you to him.

When the first gunshots get fired into the forest, you mistakenly assume that they're shooting at you and tightly close your eyes. Your heartbeat rushes loudly in your ears, and your mind replays the events of the first day when the Durast got shot. You can't even stand up and run. Your whole body is consumed by pain.

This is it, you think. Loud screams pierce through the air, gruelling, blood curling screams that scare you half to death.

Your mind races, trying to quickly find a last memory to remember before a bullet pierces your chest or head and kills you, something sweet and soft and perfect, like your wedding night, or your first kiss, or your-.

A loud scream rips itself out of your throat when a bullet hits you right into your leg. The man who shot it is dead seconds later, torn to shreds by darkness itself, but you don't see it, your eyes still rightly closed as you wait for the next bullet to hit you.

It never comes.

Instead someone yells your name, and you think it sounds familiar.

"Ivan!" the man screams, and a second later, someone carefully turns you onto your back and falls to their knees next to you, pulling your head up into their lap, their large hands cupping your face.

You don't want to die. You're not ready.

"My love, my love, it's me. Can you hear me?," he speaks. Fabric ruffles and something wide is dropped over your shaking, weak form, and your whole body feels warm for the first time in days. A familiar scent enters your lungs, somehow overpowering the stench of rotting corpse and fresh blood.

"Sasha?" Squinting your eyes, you look up, trying to focus on the blurry face hovering above yours. He's easy to recognize. The ink black lines over his face are unique to him, almost out of place in this world, just like him. You want to reach up and touch him, but you can't. Your muscles won't cooperate.

"I'm here, my little love. I'm right here. I found you. And I'm so proud of you. So, so proud of you. And I'm sorry," Aleksander answers. His eyes sparkle like stars, tears rolling down his face and dripping onto yours like raindrops. In the back of your mind, you realize that you've never seen him cry in front of people like this before. Only ever in private. Now his voice is almost breaking, his sobs so loud it drowns out the noise of your own hammering heartbeat. It must be a dream. He would never allow himself to show weakness like this.

Ivan appears next to him like a ghost, his hands covered in blood as he carefully lifts the thick black cloak Aleksander covered you with from your legs to look at the injuries there.

"Sasha," you rasp out again. You want him to hold you so badly, but you can barely speak. All you want is to be held by your husband.

"Right here. I'm so sorry, sweet girl. So sorry. I promised I would protect you, and I failed. I'm so sorry, I will never make that mistake again, I swear. I'll never take you for granted again. I'm so sorry for being late."

You want to respond, to calm him down, but he doesn't give you a chance to talk. He just continues with his panicked, slightly hysterical rambling, his whole body shaking under the force of his sobs.

"I'll take care of you. I'll make sure you're safe, and I will never leave your side again. No one will ever hurt you again."

His thumb strokes your cheek gently, and the love in his gaze almost feels like a punch in the gut. He looks absolutely in love and absolutely devastated as well. "I thought I lost you. I kept looking for you in every camp I found, but you were never there, and none of the soldiers would tell me where you are. I was so sure they killed you. I was so scared. I thought-"

Aleksanders voice shatters like glass, his body almost curling in on itself as he presses his forehead against yours. You recognize the breathing pattern he uses, an old trick he taught you a few years ago when you were still new to your position as the Darklings wife. He's trying to stop a panic attack from taking over.

"I'm so proud of you. You're so strong and brave, my darling girl. My lovely wife. I love you so much. You're so good, so good for me. I don't know what I would do without you. What I would do if they... I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry."

He sounds broken, you notice. You've never heard him like this in your entire life. Tears flood your eyes, and you take a deep breath, more of his familiar scent entering your lungs. Rosemary and ash, with a hint of something sweet.

"I'm never going away again, I promise. I will never leave you again, sweet girl. Never again. You will never be able to get rid of me. I will bind myself to you, body and soul, until the end of everything, I swear it."

You're starting to get dizzy. Everything is so overwhelming.

"Am I dead?" You hear yourself asking, your vision dimming slowly, and you're sure you will be dragged back into unconsciousness by your body soon. Aleksander laughs, and it's oddly light and relieved, considering the context.

"No. No, you're alive. You survived. We both survived."

You smile.

Part 3: So I stayed in the darkness with you

Taglist: @savagejane1 @deadunicorn159

[theweeklydiscourse]

Nerfing the Villain: An analysis of the Darkling’s attack on Novokribirsk

I reject the attack on Novokribirsk as a culmination of the Darkling’s supposed master plan and his evil aspirations. So I wanted to talk about why I don’t feel compelled by this moment, despite the fact that it is brought up several times as a point of contention in discussions about the Darkling’s evil deeds.

When you read this chapter of Shadow and Bone or watch it happen in the show, it is communicated to the viewer/reader that the attack on Novokribirsk served as a demonstration of strength. In the show, we see a soldier directing Zoya to steer the ship to a position of visibility, explaining that they will need an audience. This, coupled with the attendance of foreign diplomats, reinforces the idea that the attack is meant to be seen and functions less as a military maneuver and more like a political strategy. Similarly, the book implies this purpose through Alina’s observations of the ship’s passengers

But this plan is flawed on two fronts. Firstly, the fact that the Darkling has been established as an adept strategist and general who has led the Second army for generations and thus, has a great deal of experience and expertise. Secondly, this maneuver is an act of senseless violence that has no pretext and is counterproductive to the Darkling’s goals.

And just like that…the Darkling got lobotomized by the narrative

Aleksander Morozova has been characterized as an intelligent and cunning individual from the moment he first appeared in the text. Alina's narrations frequently ponder over his inner workings and demonstrates a perception that he is both highly strategic and calculated when it comes to his planning. This perception is strengthened by the added fact that Aleksander is roughly four centuries old, having spent his long life involved in the military and politics as a Grisha general. With this in mind, the reader can gather that he is a skilled and competent leader with countless years of experience and so we assume that what he does will follow a logical path (even if it proves to be ruthless).

So how do we make sense of the attack on Novokribirsk? To examine this moment in full, we must start with how the text explains the purpose of it.

"This must be why the Darkling had delayed our trip into the Fold. He’d needed time to assemble the proper audience, witnesses who would attest to his newfound power. But just how far did he intend to go?" (Shadow & Bone, pg. 207)

Here, we see Alina's assessment of his plan. In summary, Aleksander has invited Fjerdan ambassadors, a delegation from Shu Han, Kerch tradesmen, as well as a representatives of the Crown to demonstrate the might of the Fold. He intends to use Novokribirsk as a site for his demonstration and unleash the fold upon the city to make his point to his audience. The ultimate goal of this act is explained as a threat to the nations bordering Ravka, as well as the current leadership of Ravka itself. The Fold becomes a weapon of mass destruction and lends Aleksander leverage over the nation on his terms.

“I think you understand me now. There are no Ravkans, no Fjerdans, no Kerch, no Shu Han. There are no more borders, and there will be no more wars. From now on, there is only the land inside the Fold and outside of it, and there will be peace.” (Shadow & Bone, pg. 213)

However, when you take a closer look, it becomes apparent that Aleksander should be smarter than this. He should be the kind of leader that would have the foresight to see that this plan would massively backfire if he ever did something so senseless. It would be like if the USA dropped a nuclear bomb on Los Angeles or New York to intimidate other countries into submitting to them, completely counterintuitive and lacking awareness of how the public would react. Decimating a city in your own country as a demonstration of might, especially without any pretext or warning, is not an intelligent strategy under any circumstances. Yet, Aleksander makes his speech confidently, as if what he did was a sound strategy.

For one, Novokribirsk is a densely populated trading port and has a population that is mainly composed of Ravkan civilians who are not at war with Ravka. If his goal was to showcase the Fold's overwhelming strength, why not unleash it on a Fjerdan or Shu town/city? You know, the countries that Ravka is actively at war with?

“They’re your own people!” I cried desperately. (Shadow & Bone, pg. 210)

Aleksander committing horrible acts of violence is fine, but only if it aligns with his previous strategies and end goal. Senselessly slaughtering civilians en masse is not a strategy that fits in with that idea, and it is obviously counterintuitive to what he wants to achieve. Also, Aleksander is already feared or despised by a large portion of the population and does not have the majority of Ravka on his side, so how could this possibly help him? Getting onto the throne is one thing, but staying on it is a completely different game. Brute strength can only hold out for so long, and it doesn't help him to commit a random act of violence in this context.

"They ran, and I saw their fear, heard their screams as the black fabric of the Fold crashed over the drydocks and the village like a breaking wave. Darkness enveloped them, and the volcra set upon their new prey. A woman carrying a little boy stumbled, trying to outrun the grasping dark, but it swallowed her, too." (Shadow & Bone, pg. 212)

It’s difficult to believe that a person with as much experience as the Darkling would not be be able to foresee that this act of violence would elicit a visceral negative response from the majority of Ravkans. We could imagine that the nature of this plan was to instill fear into the hearts of the masses, but no ruler can govern on fear alone and it’s pretty important to have people on your side if you want to stay in power. As such, killing civilians with no clear justifications, motives, or pretence becomes an effective strategy at getting everyone to hate your guts.

The incoherence of this moment is the reason why I reject it as a legitimate culmination of his character motivations and arc throughout the book. It feels distinctly disconnected from the goals he was purported to have, so when other characters like Nikolai and Zoya lay into them for it, I don’t feel remotely compelled by their words because it didn’t fit in at all with his character.

[inexplicifics]

So… will we get to see Aiden in a dress?

In With Tenderness and Nobleness, he jokes (?) with Lambert multiple times that he’d look good in a dress (and maybe a corset?), and when they’re dancing, he thinks about how fun a swoosh twirly skirt must be.

It’s given me so many fantasies! I imagine Sasha would be slack jawed in a mixture of shock, arousal, and confusion.

Would it be on a dance night in Kaer Morhen where no one bats an eye? Or, if it was during a diplomatic trip, would Aiden do it thinking Sasha would be embarrassed/scorned for having a male lover and shave so the nobles would believe Aleksander had a tall, butch female Witcher girlfriend (though of course Aleksander would tell him he loves him just as he is)? Or would he be defiantly himself, starting to feel disappointed and rejected when Sasha panics for a minute before sweeping him into the most flamboyant and scandalously romantic dance of the event?

And of course Aiden would have to have Milena show him how to hide daggers in a gown, just because he’ll need to pull them out and twirl them at some point before making them inexplicably and smugly disappear. Sasha can discover the secret of how it’s done later, when they’re alone.

Or, maybe some other scenario entirely that you would make happen with the beauty and grace you write everything?

(Sorry, overly excited rambling. Never happens in fandom! ;) )

Aiden may well end up in a dress at some point, because swishy skirts are delightful and Sasha would look so entertainingly flustered. But he'd do it for fun, not to pretend to be Sasha's girlfriend; probably at Kaer Morhen, for a dancing night.

And yes, he would finally get to learn the secret of Milena's suddenly appearing knives. He'd be so put out that he hadn't figured it out earlier.

[sad-outsider]

I just want to share my opinion expressed in response to a review of my work:

Commentator: In my opinion, the book!Mal never accepted Alina entirely; he always preferred her to the girl from his childhood, an ordinary person. And he either rejected or denied the hypostasis of the Sun Summoner, at the subconscious level as well. In the end, if there is a happy ending, it’s only for Mal))

Me: Oh God, yes, yes and yes again! When I read the books, I couldn’t help but think that the main character was not Alina, but Mal, and not in a good way. He got away with everything and even his “great sacrifice” ended up only benefiting him. Essentially, he only lost his extraordinary abilities, but he could still learn to track like an ordinary person, unlike poor Alina, who literally lost an integral part of herself! Alina, dear, you deserved better than a guy who couldn’t accept all of you!

Commentator: The serial Mal seems to be better (to please the writers), but the problems are still the same, only in a softened format

Me: Better, but and show!Aleksander is cute compared to the book! Aleksander, and Mal is a piece of plywood in the show…

Commentator: The Darkling skillfully retained both General and Aleksander within himself for 600 years, even if he carefully hid the second from others. He could teach Alina the path of psychological balance, for example, through such a beautiful scene Such “lessons” were necessary for Alina - after all, she did not have 6 hundred years of life experience behind her, and she found herself deprived of “her Baghra” at the beginning of her journey. She never received them. As a result, Alina did not fully accept herself, and the loss of strength and setback is a very convenient ending)

Me: I love when Darkles mentors Alina - she learns to be a Sun Summoner, and he, on the contrary, remembers what it means to be Aleksander, that’s the kind of dynamic they should have! "You can make me a better man," "And you can make me a monster" That's the point, Alina. You must COMPLETE each other! What's the end result? Disappointment… By God, it would be better if Mal remained dead and Alina married Nikolai!

Commentator: Your work, in turn, gives hints at another ending, where Aleksander will become a support for Alina, and the Darkling - for the Sun Summoner, but that’s a completely different story… 😄

Me: Yes, in my version of the story this couple has a different ending, and the ending of book 3 does not exist😑

[tirkdi]

Who do you think Aleksander respects more? People who are able to manipulate others easily or those who are very honest? Basically which virtue does he prefer NOT NECESSARILY in his soldiers because obviously he would want them to be able to manipulate. More like in people he would like to spend time with.

I don’t think he’d respect honesty! He seems baffled by it whenever Alina says something honest in the trilogy. I’m not sure manipulation is something he’d particularly respect either, as it’s a means rather than an end in itself. I would assume that he would want to spend time with people who are ambitious, and pragmatic (you can call it ruthless) when it comes to achieving those ends, like he is.

We see this a little with the Saints from the KoS duology – he knew them but didn't seem to be particularly impressed by them despite all the power they had because they weren't doing anything with it. And that's part of what makes Alina's ending in the trilogy make sense in the narrative (even if it didn't make it something that I found particularly satisfying) – when she had a choice after the war, she rejected power and ambition, showing once and for all that she was able to reject the things that made Aleksander so terrible, etc.

In the same vein, Darkolai is not my thing but I do understand the draw there – Nikolai is so similar to Aleks in terms of quasi-altruistic ambitions that are also rooted in acquiring personal power. I fully believe that in different circumstances Nikolai would have been someone Aleks would have been happy to work with.

[aleksanderscult]

What kind of "Alina" did Aleksander want?

I've seen so many different people in this fandom give their own opinion about how did the Darkling wanted Alina to be.

Did he wanted her meek, weak and obedient?

Did he wanted her strong and powerful?

So I took the liberty of creating this post to analyze this issue through his own words, thoughts and actions.

I know how popular the "Aleksander wanted her submissive by the way he put that collar around her" theory is but it doesn't really stand because:

A) we will never know how things would turn out if Baghra didn't approach Alina that particular night but it actually seems that he wanted to take her with him to the north.

“The key to the Shadow Fold is finally within our grasp, and right now, I should be in the war room, hearing their report. I should be planning our trip north. But I’m not, am I?”

He couldn't keep the truth from her forever so at some point of that journey he would definitely spill the beans to her.

B) he forcefully put the collar around her throat because she showed resistance at the worst possible moment. The Darkling had already set the wheels in motion: the King was slowly getting sick and the whole country (and most importantly, their enemies) would know it (so he had to work fast before anybody got any ideas of siege, rebellion or war) and he himself would have to show his true colors and plans. By having Alina slip away and act all dramatically with Mal was a blow to his plan and stomach since not only he had Alina as an enemy now but he fell for her so her rejection hurt him on a personal level.

(that weekend MUST have been the worst of his life)

He didn't want her to take that power unwillingly:

Or steal her powers in a violent manner:

He had little time and little patience. He worked his ass off for centuries and tolerated so much bullshit from the monarchs. He wouldn't allow her to foil his schemes. But it's also interesting how his feelings got in the way too and, therefore, acted impulsively.

But! How did he want her?

Well, the very fact that he grew up around a very strong, powerful and stubborn woman is an answer by itself. Baghra's influence definitely played its part if you look at this from a psychological point of view.

“It seems that most men are after a significant other that will essentially replace their mum.

A recent study by eHarmony has found that 64 percent of men are in a relationship with someone who shares significant personality traits with their mother. Fortunately, it’s totally normal from an evolutionary, psychological standpoint.”

Many studies have shown that plenty of men and women search a partner that resembles their mother and father respectively.

It wouldn't be surprising if Aleksander was the same given how many centuries he spent with his own mother and how much of an influence the latter was to her son in his childhood.

There is an abundant amount of proof in the books that Aleksander wanted Alina to be strong, powerful, to embrace her true self and believed that there was more to her.

He thought of her as someone like him and could see himself in her, no matter how much Alina denied it.

Baghra raised him to value power, so seeing Alina shy away from it is strange and peculiar to him. She has the chance to change everything and she seeks things that are beneath her. Aleksander can't fathom that because he doesn't believe that she's meant for something as simple and pathetic as this.

He chastises her for the choices she makes and the wishes she has. She was destined to shine and be seen and here we are watching a girl trying to hide her potential.

If Aleksander wanted her submissive he would be glad to see her state in the beginning of S&S. She's weak, right? So a perfect victim to have that can't fight him back. But, in fact, he's furious, disappointed and unsurprised with her state.

Aleksander never wanted her meek or weak. He even admired her stubborness:

(there is a sense of admiration and annoyance here)

BUT he never wanted that stubborness and ferocity to be directed against him:

He even thought of her better than the men that surrounded her and believed that they couldn't measure up to her power:

The aftermath of their battle in the chapel is extremely interesting because we see the Darkling showing a genuine admiration for her powers and how quickly she (sort of) mastered them:

It also seemed that he showed understanding for the fact that she wanted to keep her freedom. Now that was a very good reason to fight him in his eyes. Since the Darkling himself believed in freedom and fought for it.

And, of course, he offered her a throne at his side. He didn't mind sharing power as long as she wasn't an obstacle to his plans.

He strongly believed in equality between them and according to the author he envisioned a future with her:

In order to have someone to keep your power under control then that person needs to be as powerful as you.

And then we have him at his most vulnerable state confess that he didn't lie about equality after all:

He talked about equality again and again. His disgust and anger every time he saw her weak from not using her powers was prevalent as well as his admiration every time she used her powers to their fullest.

The only thing in which he found her inferior to him was her knowledge of power. Which is understandable since Aleksander had much more time to understand it, study it and use it.

In RoW, his anger and disappointment for her state continues.

So:

1) He believed that she could rule as Queen and her life in hiding is not right for her.

2) He believed that she was meant to be powerful and strong and stood by that statement many times.

3) Didn't consider her life a worthy life at all.

The only character in the Grishaverse, the one that people keep saying that she wanted her weak, was the only one that wanted the opposite for her and considered her fate disgusting, wrong and tragic.

His plan of having Alina on an equal stand beside him continued in this book as well:

Which means that he wasn't lying when he said that he didn't intend to make a slave of her.

And of course her stubborness was a trait that he found annoying and admiring at the same time. It showcased how strong-willed she really was:

So according to his own thoughts and words, I would say that Aleksander actually admired her fierceness and determination. It showed strength and he found it attractive. In fact, it probably even enhanced his conviction that she was the right partner for him.

But he didn't want that hostility to be directed against him and his plans. Which is not weird at all because what kind of person would like someone to screw up his goals.

In conclusion: Aleksander was actually the biggest fan of "powerful Alina".

[stromuprisahat]

The climax of Malyen's two-person blame train

Siege and Storm- Chapter 18

Starting here, I've analysed Malyen's outburst about losing Alina to her importance. I've saved the end for new post, because Aleksander gets dragged in the middle of it, and uses it accordingly.

Ironically, his tantrum only makes Alina feel so lonely she unwittingly reaches out to Aleksander.

And he turns it against her, slightly twisting the facts she doesn't know how else to interpret.

Why is he immediately offended?

Alina's obviously struggling with something, why isn't he worried FOR her? Why only bark "What?" and draw conclusion she's somehow treating him unjustly? They've just discussed she has a lot on her shoulders, but when she doesn't melt as soon as he kisses her, she's rejecting him?!

Even his body language is aggressive.

How can someone, who claims he ~cares~ about Alina as a person, jump to conclusions so quickly?! And force their view, as if they already agreed on it.

He only cares about how will he look if she dumps him.

Reading it over and over- All the time I was standing there, going on like a fool.- the wording makes it sound as if he weren't speaking just about his declaration, but more generally.

Cunty cunt pokes the wound while fresh, entangling it with his own words to make sure Alina remembers he's always right.

Another unfunded conclusion.

It's funny how it's always Alina unable to control her pussy. It never occurs to him she might realize he sucks and dump him without another man involved.

... hoping that you’d miss ME enough to tell them all to go to hell. "Supportive" boyfriend, hoping his girl will get sick of her duties enough to abandon everything AGAIN, and run off with him, because nothing matters more than him.

*giggling*

He just can't shut up, can he?

(Where else isn't he able to shut up?)

Alina finally finds the courage to tell him about her hallucinations, and Malyen demonstrates, why was she reluctant to tell him in the first place.

This is one of many reasons, why I don't believe Alina's "happy" post-R&R. The only close person she has left is Malyen, who:

a.) Hated her being Grisha, so how could he ever get even close to getting a whit of understanding of what was taken from her.

b.) Hates the Darkling being as much as mentioned. He has no clue what's binding him and Alina together, and never wants to hear about any of it.

c.) Just the fact he basically calls Alina Darkles' whore, and a month, two later it doesn't occur to him she might still harbor illicit feelings for him.. there's a new guy, right?! She totally forgot about that first one...

And he doesn't even let her finish a damn sentence.

He doesn't care what's wrong. He doesn't care what's going on. He doesn't care about Alina's feelings. She didn't fall over his neck, all excited, wet and willing, so she doesn't want him. She's just leading him on. Humiliating him... HIM, HIM, HIM...

Funny, how Alina's either whore, or a pathetic inexperienced virgin (derogatory, if you didn't notice), depending on what's easier to shame her with.

And Alina takes all the blame and necessary work on herself.

Alone, she falls apart. Shaky not only due to her duties, but lacking support of the only person she lets close.

Awww, when they comfort the other...

No, but I think this is genuine. On one hand Aleksander wants Alina for himself, but he also realizes the amount of pain she'll have to weather as long as she feels "so strongly" and clings to people, who can never understand her. Or in SOMEONE's case don't even want to.

[greensaplinggrace]

🔥for Genya Safin? 👀

anytime anybody attributes genya's decision to remain in the grand palace entirely to the darkling, they do her character a major disservice. they erase her depth, her traumas, her agency, and some of the key, defining points of her personality, her relationship with choice, and her driving motivation. not only that, but in large part, when people "excuse" genya from this decision, they are couching their reasoning in terms of perfect victimhood and female infantilization. I have never seen an analysis of this scene pushing all of the blame onto the darkling that did not in some way shame imperfect victimhood and moral ambiguity in women.

we lose a lot of good character analysis when we refuse to engage with women's choices as their own. people like to strip them of consequences or agency in order to blame others for their actions, because to admit women are capable of being imperfect victims or people with darkness in them or people that make bad choices or unreasonable decisions - like any person would - is to engage in a level of nuance that fandom rejects. you flatten these characters into perverse caricatures and you fetishize their victimhood without accounting for the reality of such trauma, and in doing so you brush aside the ugliness of the situation and you scrape out everything that makes the victim a person and you replace it with a doll you can easily defend.

genya made a choice. it was not the darkling's choice, it was her own. what happened in this situation was a very fascinating intersection of character motivations and personalities in a situation that highlighted their greatest traits. it is baffling to me that people like to flatten this scene when it is by far the most interesting one out there - imo anything between aleksander and genya is interesting because they are so similar, but I digress.

you have two very practical and goal focused characters in the same room together. you have the darkling give a young girl an ultimatum - strike one: this is a mark against him. he should not be giving children of this age any ultimatums when they are too young to be making such decisions. but he is a general and they are his soldiers and he is a character whose motivational focus is idealistic at the rejection of the individual. he is a) practical, and b) opportunistic - so this scene is a fascinating look into these aspects of his character.

then you've got the darkling engaging with genya. he is relating to her and he is sympathizing with her. people love to mark this as either full manipulation or complete non-manipulative empathy. but realistically, it would be both. it is very likely the darkling understands what genya is going through and is very sympathetic to it. it is very likely the darkling would not push her further to remain in the grand palace if she chose otherwise. but he is practical, and he has certain goals, and he respects genya's strength of character. he is also one of the only characters fully aware of the political climate, and one of the only politically savvy characters on the side of the grisha.

genya remaining in the grand palace is the best decision, in his mind. to remove her would put the grisha on the backfoot. to remove her would put the grisha at a disadvantage in the political climate, and it would instead give the king leverage over them. she is also useful to him, because he is an opportunist, and this is the most reasonable option to him, because he is practical. so he doesn't just remove her from the situation, he gives her a choice.

genya is also practical. she is highly competent and incredibly smart. she is vengeful, she is vicious, she is ruthless, she is prideful, and she is unbelievably caring. it is fucking baffling to me that people assume she's some wilting flower that was wholly manipulated into her situation and then simply sadly endured while she wished for a better life until she could be rescued by her savior when in reality she takes an active role in her story and is the fucking symbol of quiet, ruthless, karmic resistance and righteous fury.

the decision genya makes to stay is the crux of her character. it is her defining moment. everything you can glean about her character can be directly derived from this decision that she makes. and people will just take that away from her? you're joking. let's just say she didn't choose to side with alina as well while we're at it. those scars she got were random and not the direct consequence of her own choice. those scars she has aren't symbols of her resolve and her loneliness and her compassion and the strength she must have had to spare alina knowing what the darkling would do to her. they're just there I guess - all the darkling's fault. please. I'm fucking seething.

genya has reasons for deciding to stay in the grand palace. and she remains there because she has reasons. she has internal logic and depth of character. she has a driving motive that - surprise - puts her in danger! she suffers and she is traumatized and it is because the darkling gave her an ultimatum and it is because of grisha persecution and it is because of the king's corruption and the queen's inaction. but first and foremost it is because she chose to stay. because her character - her personality - dictates it. and she is not regretful.

like you all love to make her some weeping perfect victim when she's not. you love to say she'd fold in on herself waiting for rescue when she wouldn't. you love to say she'd walk away from her goals and her motives and her care for both the individual and the masses when everything about her says otherwise. you love to make her kinder than she is, softer than she is, less practical than she is - because she is too much like the darkling in too many ways and this is simply unacceptable in this fandom. none of these female characters have depth or gray morality to you. none of these female characters have complicated relationships with their trauma and their choices to you. it's literally all just the fault of one man. and I'm sick of it.

genya fucking looked the darkling in his eyes and forgave him for what he did to her. not because she cared about him, but because she cared about herself and her recovery. in a feat of monumental strength and incredible fortitude. literally all this fandom does when they talk about her is judge the darkling. as if she doesn't at all exist beyond him. how is that in any way liberating or providing understanding for survivors like her?

send me a 🔥 for an unpopular opinion (x)

[stheresya]

Ulla sometimes dreamed of a life in distant waters, of finding other sea folk somewhere who would want her, who would not care what she looked like or who had sired her.

But mostly she dreamed of becoming a court singer— venerated, valued.

...

Ulla thought for a moment of an easy melody, something that would end this humiliation quickly. Then she shoved the thought away. She hated Signy for being so afraid to be paired with her even briefly, hated her classmates for their stifled giggles and sly eyes, but mostly Ulla wished she could kill the thing inside herself that still longed for their approval. [...]

...

"Hungry Ulla," he had taunted. "Why do you work so hard? I can smell your ambition like blood in the water."

Ulla didn’t know why those words shamed her. Song was all she had and so she clung to it, honed and perfected it, as though if she could only sharpen her skill to a fine enough point, she might carve a place for herself in the world.

Beneath the sea, Ulla was an outcast, like her brother and bio mother were outcasts on earth. But while the latter were cast aside through violent means for being born with special abilities, Ulla had to deal with rejection for her appearance through microaggressions: the giggling from her classmates, her mother's barely concealed disgust while brushing her hair, her friendless childhood until Sygny came along. Ulla spent her entire life longing to be truly accepted somewhere by her own kind, and every action she took was in service of that goal. She is similar to Aleksander in the sense that they both see power as a shield against discrimination. But while Aleksander sought power for the collective betterment, Ulla's quest for power was centered on her individual person. Aleksander wanted his people to be treated as human beings, while Ulla wanted to be treated with respect, to not be sneered at for her appearance. And she was only "accepted" into the merfolk when she showed them just how exceptionally powerful she was, and therefore useful for their royal disputes, just like grisha were only partially tolerated in Ravkan society when Aleksander showed them how useful they could be for the otkazat’syas wars.

But they were "not made to please princes" as Aleksander put it, and Ulla eventually came to see the truth of his words. They were born exceptional, and they were hurt and taken advantage of by people in power for their uniqueness. Now both siblings have risen to Sainthood, they became legends associated with devastation. Sankta Ursula of the Waves is the saint who split an island after sinking an entire city beneath the waves, and the Starless Saint is the one who split a country after bathing towns in darkness. This is what resulted of two exceptional individuals who just wanted the world to not hate them for being different.

[dreamlandcreations]

A Midsummer Night's Dream AU

fairy king!Aleksander x fairy queen!Reader

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The same argument again, he wants the changeling child from Shu Han and you refuse. Threats and accusations fly as your fight reflects on the sky.

"Why are you here, Darkling?" The words cut him as you meant, that name sounds so foreign from you he hardly recognizes it.

The effort to hold back the gasp at the painful refusal gives you the opportunity to continue uninterrupted. "Have you travelled all the way here to bless the bed of your mortal lover?"

"Do you think I do not know of your time with her prince?" Your husband practically growls back and lightning strikes between you, setting fire to the forest which already suffers from the storm your fight created.

"Do you hear what you speak?! Jealous imaginings!" You scoff at him after raising your voice.

"Enough of this! Give me the child and end this rebellion!" He dares to order you and that unleashes your anger on him.

"She is my kin, made of light and Light has no place in your court of Dark!" With your yell, the little storm turns into a raging thunder.

He says nothing, but he really doesn't have to as his gaze shifts to your blue kefta again. The visible proof of how far you separated, how you keep rejecting him.

With sadness, that feels like daggers in your heart, he looks away and the world calms around you after a minute. You look down and sigh but the next thing you know is that he kneels next to where you sit.

"They deserve the blessing, their love is true." His tone is calm, and quiet, in his own way asking for a truce but what he says makes the ugly feelings return.

"What do you know about what is love and true?" You hiss at him, unintentionally leaning closer. Too close.

His gaze flickers to your lips. "Do you wish me to prove it to you?"

For a moment he has you. If it wasn't for the noise of someone stepping on a twig from behind you, pulling you back from his enchanting presence, you would have given in as you could never deny your husband anything. You never really wanted to before, but he was asking for too much.

"I know you could not. If you would know love, you would never act like this. If you would know to be true..."

Calmness washes over you both, in waves, and comes the pain in between too but there is no anger or raised voices anymore.

"If you claim to know both, why do you insist on hurting me so?" His dark eyes shine with unshed tears and your heart breaks once again.

"I did not start this fight."

"Hmm." Before you could argue with his reaction that could best be translated as a 'perhaps", he gives you a challenge he knows you could not refuse. "But you will end it tonight."

He reaches out to caress your cheek, wiping away the tears you didn't notice until now, and then he continues to speak. "Prove that the royal couple is not a true match, break them apart before the wedding starts."

What he really is asking for is that you prove him wrong and you are so eager to, even if it means proving you right in your fears.

"What will I get when I win?"

The choice of your words makes him grin. When, not if. That's my Queen, he thinks.

"Being right isn't enough?" At your defiant but almost amused expression he laughs but offers the peace for what you asked. "I will leave the child to you, never attempting to claim her again."

"And if I lose?" Your voice barely more than whisper as he leans even closer, his hand moving down and his thumb brushing along your lips.

"You will do as your king commands." The power and residue of anger laced in his voice causing your fairies to tremble in fear but it only makes you want him more.

"Give me the child and return to my side." Your eyes flatter close, fighting not to give in because you know he never plays fair. "And return to my bed."

As you let your senses wander, you become aware of the mortals entering your forest and a plan starts to form in your mind.

"That is my challenge." You accept your task but immediately add a condition. "Will you accept yours?"

He is amused, and that promises nothing good for you. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he nods, prompting you to continue.

"You asked for two things." Me and the girl. "It is only right for two challenges."

The mortals in the woods will occupy him. Despite your claim for not believing he could make them find true love tonight, you know he will win, he always does. For that game, you are his prize and you might not mind losing that so much.

But for the other part, you are determined to win. The girl in your care should be the only reason or at least the main reason but there are petty feelings urging you to prove Aleksander wrong and mess with the girl who would be a princess by tomorrow.

Your silent scheming is interrupted when your infuriating husband steals a kiss before he disappears.

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