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cheekygreenty · 3 years ago

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Little Witch - Part 19

The Darkling x Reader

You were fast asleep in the safety of your chambers, tucked into the comforting sheets and their warmth as the contrasting winter air blazed outside. You could hear a faint shuffle outside your door, guessing it was the rotation of guards you ignored it and turned in the bed, facing away from the door but stopped short when the door opened. You shot up, squinting in the dark to see who'd just entered your chambers in the dead of night. Talk about being vulnerable. The figure moved from the door and shut it but you heard the faint sound of the lock as it turned. Your heart started hammering in its chest as you felt your shadows coil around you.

'Did I wake you?' His voice was smooth and full, and through the darkness you managed to make out his glistening kefta. Your shoulders sagged in relief as you lay back down, shadows dropping and retreating.

'More like 'Did I scare you?' You relaxed back onto your side, eager to return to your slumber. 'I'm going back to sleep' you mumbled, the sound muffled by the sheets half covering your face.

You heard him taking off his outer layers then the thud of his boots as he disposed of them and walked towards the bed. His hands were absolutely freezing cold as he reached for your waist and pulled you into him

'You're so cold' You whined but he merely chuckled and pulled you closer. With a gentle kiss to your temple, Aleksander quickly dozed off right after you, enjoying a good night's sleep with you cradled in his arms.

*****

You woke and he was gone, the only sign left of him being the rumbled cushion and gloves on the nightstand. You stretched dramatically and dressed quickly, ringing for two breakfast trays to be brought to the General's war room. You carried stacks of documents in your hands, most of them boring and pointless, as you walked the short distance to his quarters.

'Good Morning' He was standing with Ivan next to the round table with his arms crossed, studying the Shu border with furrowed brows but relaxed them once he heard you enter. You dropped the papers on his desk with a sweet forced smile 'I come bearing gifts. Oh and breakfast.' Aleksander looked amused and sighed

'That's all Ivan, thank you.' Ivan only acknowledged you with a nod before leaving the room as instructed by his Commander.

'Thank you so much dear for leaving me with all your paperwork.' You slapped your hand against the messy pile 'I don't even know what half of it is'

'You'll learn in time I'm sure'

'If you think you're going to do that again you are sorely mistaken. It is possible to read whilst sitting in a carriage is it not?' As he went to reply, a servant wheeled in a table of breakfast trays and your stomach rumbled at the sight. You thanked them and uncovered your plates, mouth-watering at the sight of fresh fruit and pastries.

'You'd be sad to know there's no herring' You pretended to gag and his laugh echoed along the walls. What a pleasant sound.

'I think I'll manage' He sat down next to you and spooned extra sugar into his porridge. For a moment you ate in comfortable silence, enjoying your food.

'Why were you back so late last night?'

'I wanted to avoid the fleet of performers arriving for the fete. There's already a long line of them at the gates.' You hummed as you bit into the flaky pastry.

'What color are you wearing to it?'

'What do you mean?' You eyed him curiously as he lay down his teacup.

'What color kefta are you wearing to the fete?'

'I haven't thought about it yet. I have so many lavish ones I doubted I needed to have any more made' You chuckled 'Why do you ask?'

'I requested that Alina wear black'

Oh.

'And will she? I know she refused the first time.'

'I had Genya make sure of it'

'Oh I get it, is this your way of politely telling me to not wear black?' Your voice contained no anger or resentment. You had agreed to his plans and it would be petty of you to be upset now.

'No, you can wear it if you wish. It's always been my favorite color on you. I'm just letting you know' You took the napkin and dabbed at your mouth.

'Well the fete is tomorrow, I should decide quick.' You rose from your seat and took the mug of tea with you.

He was out of his seat by the time you fully stood and wrapped his strong hands around your waist, keeping you close to him.

'Don't be jealous, at the end of the day I come to you, not her.'

'I'm not jealous Your eyes whipped to his.

'No?'

'No.' You forced the sternness into your voice, solidifying the word but it only sent a smirk to his face. 'What are you smirking at?'

'I missed you' He crashed his lips to yours in brute force, knocking the air out of you. He was eager and greedy, wanting you to himself. You let yourself indulge, holding his face in one hand while the other still held the mug of hot tea.

'I have to go Aleksander.' You pulled away and he pouted, like actually pouted. He looked like a big baby who'd just been denied dessert and it ingrained in your mind. The adorableness filling your heart full for the rest of the workday.

*****

'Saints can I ever catch a break.' You groaned with your head in your hands.

You wanted to run and escape to wherever was quiet and peaceful, where you would be left alone for at least 2. fucking. minutes but no, the people of Os Alta and its performers were ready to watch you rip out your hair from frustration. The Queen's messengers were drilling a hole through your head and your Grisha demonstrators were throwing a huff about their limitations 'Don't light anyone on fire' was simple and reasonable, so why were the Inferni fussing about it?

'Saint's whats wrong with you'

'Zoya I don't have time for this right now.' If Grisha never got sick, then why was there a headache forming in my head?

'Just here to pass along a message-'

'-who isn't' you scoffed

'-let me finish, it's about Alina's double for the dinne-'

'Let the General deal with that. I'm at my wits end here.'

'But I don't want to tell him, hence why I came to you.' She sat down on the chair next to you and huffed.

'Put on your big girl breeches Zoya. I'm really not in the mood.'

'Must you always be so rude?'

'Oh my Saint's you're one to speak'

'But I'm never nice so there's the difference.'

'Are you still here just to berate me?'

'Is there something you want me to do?' Although she was rude, Zoya showed her kindness in other forms.

'Can you speak with the head of Palace guards and go over security breach protocols? I don't want to risk anything with so many foreign dignitaries in the building'

'I would love nothing more.' She sarcastically said and left you alone. It wasn't long before you accidentally dozed off in the midst of all the chaos.

------

Part 20

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!) @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb

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sirenprincess15 · 3 years ago

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Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 10

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

In this chapter: Alina begins to realize that Aleksander is lying to her.

Chapter 10

A few weeks passed. It was long enough that Aleksander felt comfortable walking with Alina in the gardens. He hoped she liked some recent additions he’d had placed for her. With her arm through his, he could feel her warmth radiating through to him. He would do anything to keep that feeling.

Behind them, a soldier approached Ivan. Aleksander found that since the assasination attempt, he was acutely more aware of their surroundings and who was coming and going. Before Ivan even caught up to them, he could tell it was good news. It was in his heartrender’s step. Ivan approached from the side, leaned in, and whispered in his ear. He couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips or the sheer joy that overcame him.

“You’re happy,” Alina noticed with a teasing smile. “Must be good news to make you feel like this,” she marveled. The connection between them, their powers, their souls had grown increasingly stronger. His joy brought her joy, and then it echoed between them.

“My men have found signs of the herd.”

“They have? That means it will happen soon? We’ll be able to destroy the Fold. You think … we’ll be able to, right?” There was a nervousness in her voice. She sought his reassurance.

“Yes,” he agreed. “You’ll be strong enough.” They were going to find it. He could feel it. It was destined to be. It would strengthen Alina, and then nothing could stop them. They would have the power to protect Grisha. No one could hurt them again. It would be the moment he’d waited his entire life for. He could get his revenge on Zlatan, demonstrate that they could control the Fold to protect them from their enemies, and then no one would mess with them again. All Grisha could be safe.

Confusion came over her face, and he replayed his words to try to figure out what had caused it. “Aleksander?” she asked. “We’re going to destroy the Fold?”

He carefully avoided that question. “You will be strong enough. Alina, what’s wrong?”

But the stress in her features only intensified. She looked lost, and then her eyes narrowed with understanding. “You’re lying.” Her eyes searched his for an answer.

“What?” he asked, trying to play it off.

“You’re lying. Why? Aleksander, I can feel it, in the responses within us, I can feel it.”

With growing dread, he realized that their bond had grown so strong that she could feel that too. How had he not realized that she’d be able to … Their connection had grown stronger and stronger. They had been feeling each other more and more. When they touched, the power flowed between them, and their emotions constantly ebbed and flowed between each other. He hadn’t realized, though, she would get attuned to him enough to detect lying, or rather misleading. He had, of course, planned to talk with her about how they would use the Fold, but not for some time, not until she had the Stag around her neck and was safe and their power was assured. He needed time to truly explain to her what was at risk if they just did away with the Fold. She wasn’t ready for this conversation, so he had to convince her she was wrong. “Alina, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re imagining things, likely because of your own self-doubt. I know you’ll have the power to destroy the Fold once we find the Stag.” He tried focusing on a truth. He tried not to think of how he was denying something that was clearly happening between them or how he was exploiting her vulnerabilities to get her to deny her own senses. Even as he said it, though, he could feel the guilt in his heart that she would surely feel as well.

She gasped and shook her head. The confusion was still there, but now it was met with anger in her eyes. And then she did the most unexpected thing. She slapped him. Full force, no holding back, she slapped him clear across the face. The shock of it affected him more than the pain.

He felt Ivan’s power surge behind him, and he quickly held up his hand to stop his heartrender from using it, but it was too late. Alina collapsed in front of him as her heart briefly stopped pumping blood to her brain and she began to faint.

“Never harm the girl!” he growled at Ivan as he rushed to her side.

“Oh I’m ‘the girl’ now, am I?” Alina spat back. She refused to take his hand and tried to help herself up. “Kirigan, I think you’d better tell me what’s going on.”

He took hold of her arms, whether she’d accept his assistance or not, and pulled her up into his embrace. “Alina …” How did he quickly help her understand the horrors that might await Grisha if they simply destroyed the Fold?

“Tell me,” she begged.

“We will destroy the Fold, eventually. We can certainly use your power to make sure that no Grisha ever dies in crossing the Fold again. But for now … destroying it? Alina, the general of West Ravka tried to have you killed. He is still trying to kill you. What do you think will happen when we tear down the only barrier between us? What will protect you, when the Fold is gone? If we just use the Fold for a little bit to establish our power …”

“Grisha. Grisha will protect me. The palace. You.”

“And when the Shu Han come? And the Fjerdans? They torture Grisha before they kill them. Did you know that? On the pyres. They keep the fires going slow and low to cause the most agony before they slowly raise them, so the Grisha feels every inch of their skin burning bit by bit. What will protect Grisha when we lower the Fold and they all come for us? We know the Fjerdans are working with the West Ravkan General. What do you think they will do to Grisha when the Fold is gone? But if we used the Fold, we could control it, Alina, you and me. I could create a Fold as my ancestor once did wherever we needed one. And your light could open it back up. I think it could be possible, Alina. I think we could do it. We could move it where we needed, close it when we needed the protection, and open it if we needed to cross. Then nothing and no one could harm Grisha again.”

She shook her head in horror. “You’re mad.”

“We wouldn’t use it to harm anyone without reason, Alina. Just for our protection, for Grisha.”

She pulled back and shook her head again. “No,” she said firmly. “I won’t … I will not use my power to help you create more desolate scars across Ravka, across the world. I won’t!”

“Alina …”

She yanked her arms from his and ran. He stood, trying to think of the right words to call after her to make her understand. He’d thought he’d had time to perfect his persuasion before this discussion was needed, but she’d seen right through him.

“Sir?” Ivan asked from his side.

His eyes followed Alina. She wasn’t running to the tunnel that would lead her away from the Little Palace. She was running towards the lake, perhaps to clear her head. “Let her go,” he commanded. “Just don’t let her leave the grounds. Have guards follow at a reasonable distance to make sure no one attempts to harm her. She’ll come to her senses.”

“She’s naive, sir. She doesn’t understand making difficult decisions. She doesn’t understand the consequences.”

“I don’t want her to ever go through what we have to understand why we have to make those difficult decisions.”

=======

Who wants to guess who finds her?! The next chapter is my very favorite chapter, and I can't wait to share it with you all.

#aleksander x alina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morovoza #kirigan x alina #alina x kirigan #general kirigan #darklina #alina x darkling #the darkling

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mearcatsreturns · 4 years ago

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And here is chapter 2, though you can also read on Ao3 if that’s more your speed.

“Ivan, please arrange to have my horse ready for a ride tomorrow morning, as well as a mount suitable for the Sun Summoner.”

Ivan had just arrived at the General’s rooms, ready to report for the day, but he halts in his tracks. “A ride, sir? Ah, do you have any knowledge of what Miss Starkov might require in a, um, a mount?”

Kirigan’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t comment. “Just...something beautiful and steady.”

“One of the horses we bought from the Yelchins is a beauty, and the stablehands were saying she’s even-tempered.”

“Good.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, General, where do you intend to go on your da-excursion?”

Kirigan smiles and his eager look once again gives Ivan the uneasy feeling he’s seeing something he shouldn’t. “I was thinking I would take Alina to the wishing well.”

“That should make for a pleasant outing.”

“I hope so. I’ve also taken the liberty of having the Fabrikators make her a black kefta.”

Well, then. “A bold choice, sir.”

“Is it? I’ve seen to it that it has golden embroidery, and it should suit her well.”

It seems the General wants to make a statement. Ivan wonders if he realizes just how loud that statement is, though.

&&&

Ivan goes to the stables and speaks with the horsemaster. “The General will require his horse to be saddled and prepared for an outing tomorrow morning.”

“Very well, sir. The saddlebags fully packed, as well?” Anton looks at him inquiringly.

“No, he should only be gone for part of the day, and make sure to use the new saddle, the one with the gold trim.” Ivan takes a deep breath and continues, “Also, that white mare you just got in—is she fully broken?”

“Oh, yes. A beauty, that one.”

“Good. Please see to it that she’s saddled up as well. The Sun Summoner will be accompanying General Kirigan.”

“I’ll have them ready just after breakfast.”

“Good. And...would you please make sure their manes are braided as they were for last year’s revue?”

Anton is still, looking as though he’s been slapped. Or possibly told that the nobility have started taking the volcra as pets. Ivan sympathizes. “Ah, very well. I’ll have Dima see to that this evening.”

&&&

Ivan watches from one of the windows on the third floor as Alina goes to meet General Kirigan. The horses look good; the General should be pleased.

“Ah, he should have helped her onto the horse. More romantic,” Ivan mutters.

“Maybe he would have if I could have talked Alina into wearing the black kefta,” says Genya, coming to stand next to him.

He glances over at her. “And she didn’t see the honor he does her by offering to let her wear his color?”

“I don’t think honor is what’s on his mind.”

“Genya, please be respectful.”

“Oh, Ivan, you know how greatly I esteem the General.”

He does know. Genya is loyal to Kirigan, and he holds her in higher favor than anyone other than him and Fedyor. And now Alina, he supposes.

The General and Alina ride off into the distance. When they’re dots on the horizon, Genya breaks the silence. “He’s asked me to read her mail. What she sends, and anything she receives.”

Ivan sighs. “Not a good move.”

“He needs to know how she’s coming along.”

“To go off of what you said earlier, I don’t think her progress training is what’s on his mind.”

“Nor do I, and I-I want to make things easier for her with him. It just...to have such unique power would be lonely, and then to meet the person who might be your equal...I envy that, I suppose,” Genya says with a sigh, smoothing her hands over her kefta.

Genya is pining, Ivan realizes with a start. He hopes she’s not mooning over the General as so many of the Grisha do. (Ivan did himself as a young teenager, but he got over it quickly when he started working with a certain heartrender with a sweet smile and puppy eyes.) She has a point about the loneliness, though. With a glance at the distinctive white of her kefta, he silently thanks the saints he has what he does with Fedyor.

&&&

General Kirigan sends Fedyor on a mission to find Nina Zenik, another Corporalki who has apparently gone missing. Ivan knows they all get such tasks and assignments, but he can’t help but wonder if it’s part of his and Fedyor’s punishment for failing to protect Alina on the Vy.

It’s been many weeks since then and even since Kirigan’s and Alina’s horseback outing. While the General now routinely calls her Alina instead of “Miss Starkov” or the “Sun Summoner,” things don’t seem to have progressed any further. Ivan can feel the way Kirigan’s heart speeds up when he sees Alina, and the way hers does when she lays eyes on the General. But something is holding them back, and Kirigan is getting more and more frustrated.

Late one night, Ivan sits alone in his chair by the fire. He savors its warmth, the comfort of finally being able to relax after a long day trailing his boss. He’s missing Fedyor and considering distracting himself with a book when he senses the shadows that presage a show of the General’s powers. Shit, is he in danger?

Ivan hurries to the General’s chambers but draws to a stop outside the door when he spies a burst of light inside.

Alina. The Sun Summoner is alone with the General in his quarters late at night, and they’re creating some kind of light-and-shadow show, all while Fedyor is gone. Ivan tries not to resent it but fails, at least until the light fades and he hears them.

“You are not alone,” Alina says.

There’s a moment of quiet before Kirigan replies. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you,” he says, and Ivan has never heard that husky, awe-filled tone from his boss before.

“I should go,” Alina says after a pause, and Ivan hurries to hide himself in the shadows.

He expects to see Alina rush off, but instead she stands just outside the door, lost in thought, her heart pounding. “Aleksander,” she whispers, before running back to her rooms.

Who knew that the General had a name, and that it would be something as common as Aleksander? It’s almost as common as Ivan’s own name.

His musing is cut off when he senses another racing heart just on the other side of the door. Ivan’s resentment fades away and is subsumed by pity for these two lonely, confused idiots who don’t seem to know how to proceed. At least he has the comfort of knowing that Fedyor is always making his way back to him.

But maybe tomorrow he can inform Aleksander Kirigan, the fearsome General of the Second Army, that even a gay man knows a woman doesn’t show up in a man’s chambers at night wearing aught but lace and velvet if she doesn’t want him.

&&&

Fedyor returns, though Nina is still missing. It’s imperative, though, that as many Grisha as possible are in Os Alta for the Winter Fete, a show of strength and unity that no king or councilor can overlook.

Ivan reunites with him enthusiastically, and the joy and relief of his presence makes it difficult to be grumpy even when faced with a lovelorn, sexually frustrated general and his lady love. He’s so cheerful he almost smiles at some of the other Grisha at the dinner table one evening. Ivan only stops himself by envisioning the shock it would give at least half of them, and he doesn’t want to spoil his meal by having to assist heart attack victims.

Alina’s summoning improved after that night in the corridor, and she’s stronger and healthier. Ivan starts to let go of some of the fear he kept inside and trust that they might all come out of this successful.

He doesn’t often see her interact with the General, but every now and then he catches them smiling at each other or whispering in the corridors. They’re closer, and Ivan is happy for them, but he also wishes they would stop pining over each other and make a move, preferably when he’s not around.

Kirigan informs him a couple of days before the Fete that Alina will be wearing black to the festivities, and that she intends to continue to wear the black kefta thereafter. If he’s so satisfied from the Sun Summoner wearing his colors, Ivan truly has no desire to be anywhere nearby when Alina finds herself in Aleksander’s bed wearing nothing.

&&&

Ivan shows up shortly before the Fete to make sure General Kirigan is ready. That kefta of his with all the embroidery is heavy, and while it’s possible to put on oneself, it’s always easier with assistance, and there are few people Kirigan trusts to help him at all.

It is, then, a shock for Ivan when he goes into the General’s chambers and finds no kefta, but Kirigan clearing his throat and Alina stepping away from him, blushing fiercely. Both their hearts are racing, and both have idiotic, giddy grins they’re trying to hide. Ivan schools his face, it’s difficult when he notes that Kirigan is wearing his kefta already. Alina probably helped him, and frankly, Ivan had thought it more likely they’d be taking each other’s clothes off rather than helping them add more clothing.

Alina hurries off to finish preparing, and Ivan raises a brow at his boss as the other man stares longingly after her. Kirigan turns around and catches the amusement Ivan is desperately trying to hide. “Not a word.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“That’s funny, because I can hear the mockery plenty loudly.”

Ivan shakes his head. “There’s no mockery, moi soverennyi. But may I suggest flowers or sweets?”

The General looks at him, befuddled. “I beg your pardon?”

“In courtship, it’s often a good idea to give little gifts to show the person they’re on your mind.” Saints, how long has it been since this man romanced someone?

“The kefta—”

“—is also a political statement,” Ivan interrupts. “It’s good, but get her something she likes, something that shows how well you know her.”

It’s Kirigan’s turn to look amused. “I seem to recall yours and Fedyor’s courtship having more to do with ‘preserving warmth’ on your Tsibeya mission.”

A smile curves Ivan’s lips. “I knew him well enough to know he didn’t want to die, and he wanted to cuddle with me to stay alive. We stayed very warm.”

“Enough,” Kirigan says with a smirk. “I know how to court a woman.”

“But when is the last time you did it? I’d say you’re a bit out of practice,” Ivan says, unsuccessfully attempting not to roll his eyes.

“You’re very sure of your position’s stability, aren’t you?”

“Very. Who else is going to do this? Fedyor? He’s not tall enough to help you into your kefta all the time.”

Kirigan smiles a hungry smile. “I can think of someone.”

Of course he’s thinking about Alina and keftas and probably removing them. “Ah, but can she stop someone’s heart at twenty paces, or—”

Kirigan’s eyes twinkle, and he opens his mouth to interject.

“No, don’t you dare say anything as sappy as ‘she can stop mine.’ I will resign on the spot and move to Kerch.”

“Fine, I won’t say anything. But Ivan?”

“Yes?”

“When I find out her favorite flower, will you go get a bouquet of them for me?”

&&&

Ivan meets Fedyor at the Winter Fete. It’s early still, and the celebration has yet to kick into high gear. The champagne, however, is flowing freely. Most of the visiting dignitaries are imbibing, and Ivan finds Fedyor mildly and adorably tipsy already.

“Vanya, I can’t wait to show you the pastries. There’s this tower with little cakes!”

He does love cake, and the warmth of his husband knowing this is even more lovely than the sweetest of cakes or the daintiest of macarons.

He’s not on duty—Ivan would never drink while working—but when there are this many people in one place, it’s always good to keep an eye out. It’s a good thing he does; this celebration is important to the Grisha, and the Kaelish ambassador’s drunken shenanigans could cause problems. If he’s devolved into throwing drinks at guards already, Ivan needs to be ready to help him sober up.

Shaking his head, Ivan turns back to Fedyor. Really, he’d like to sober up everyone, especially that new guard. He recognizes most of them, but the new ones are always so chatty until someone sets them straight. Extremely annoying. In fact, the only ones who should be allowed to be tipsy are Fedyor and him, because they can still maintain a modicum of dignity.

Ivan is considering another glass of champagne and how handsome Fedyor looks when the crowd stills and hush falls over them all. He can’t see her, but he knows the Sun Summoner has arrived. If he hadn’t been sure, all it takes is a glance at Kirigan.

Ivan wrinkles his nose in consternation. The General, normally so composed, looks like he’s a particularly emotional bridegroom. Best to save such displays for the bedroom, not out in front of the tsar, the whole damned village, and Ivan’s pastries.

As soon as the Inferni are done with their display, General Kirigan leads Alina to the dais.

His boss is normally an intimidating man, but Ivan has a hard time summoning any fear when he just saw the man staring at Alina like a besotted teenager. A glance around the room shows that most of the gathered company are duly impressed, however. They remain silent as Kirigan says, “Her name is Alina Starkov, and she will bring liberation to us all.”

Ivan only prays she’ll liberate the General from acting like a lovesick fool for all to see.

As the Darkling cast the room into shadow, Ivan reached for Fedya’s hand, twining their fingers together in the darkness. Then Alina summons her light, and gasps of awe surround him. He can feel Fedyor’s smile. She is resplendent, a thought he’s never had about a woman, but the admiration fades into bemusement when she shoots Kirigan a look that promises only dark and dirty things.

He gives it days, if not hours, before they’re in bed together. Ivan just needs to make sure he starts steering clear of the corridors between their rooms at night. Or maybe in general. He has no desire to hear or find out what glowing saints get up to in the bedroom.

&&&

Ivan is working on his fourth glass of champagne when Kirigan calls him to his side. There’s still a short wait until dinner, and he’s so damn happy with Fedyor’s arm slung loosely around his waist. Nonetheless, he straightens and heeds his superior’s summons, doing his best to hold back a whine of protest.

“Sir?”

“Irises, blue irises. Those are her favorite flowers.”

“Good for her.”

“Ivan,” Kirigan says, disgruntled, “I know you would rather be here with your other half, but please retrieve a bouquet for me. I can’t leave the gathering, and I can trust you to pick a decent selection.”

Nodding reluctantly, Ivan agrees to head out to the conservatory. He’s on good terms with the botanist and gardeners, so it’ll be fine, but honestly.

While he’s getting flowers for the Darkling, he has a moment of inspiration, requesting another, separate bouquet.

He returns to the hall and turns over the irises to Kirigan, holding up his free hand to signal that his boss should wait. The General raises an eyebrow, but stands by nonetheless.

Ivan pulls a black velvet ribbon out of his pocket. “You should tie this around the bouquet. To remind her of you.”

Kirigan’s eyes sparkle and he smiles as he thanks Ivan, who devoutly wishes to be elsewhere. With Fedyor, preferably. Before he goes to find his husband, Ivan sees Kirigan with Alina, heading decidedly away from the dining room. Marie will stand in, but Ivan shakes his head. Kirigan “couldn’t leave,” indeed. He snorts, but...it’s not a bad idea, if he can convince Fedya to skip the meal.

It’s a stroke of luck that his husband passes at that moment, and Ivan tugs at Fedyor’s arm, leading him into one of the myriad little rooms of the Little Palace that only long-term residents know about.

Fedyor laughs, but his smile softens when Ivan presents him with a nosegay of yellow roses, Fedya’s favorite. “What’s this?”

“A bribe. To convince you to miss dinner.”

“I hope you’ll also be missing dinner,” Fedyor says, his grin turning devilish as he wraps his arms around Ivan’s neck.

Ivan doesn’t bother to reply with words, lowering his head to kiss beloved. There will be no fancy dinner tonight; they’ll order a tray up to their room, scandalize the attendants...later. For now, they lose themselves in each other.

Saints, he loves Fedyor’s hands. The way they tug at his hair, unfasten his belt, how quickly they move to untie his breeches, the way those strong hands stroke him just so. Oh, but Fedya’s beautiful mouth, its warmth as it closes around him, his tongue working over Ivan until he’s a shuddering mess…

Ivan comes with a moan, his bliss leaving him a shuddering mess on the settee. Huh, the room has a settee. As he comes back to himself, he sees that one of them even had the presence of mind to put the roses on the little table a few feet away. He has a strong suspicion it was Fedyor, who is taking him into his arms and chuckling quietly.

“Fedya, I was supposed to be the one taking you out of your clothes,” he manages with a contented sigh.

“No, I’ve been planning this all night, and I’m glad you didn’t ruin my evil plot.”

“I love your plots to have your way with me.”

Fedyor presses a kiss to his cheek. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I’m happy to show you, if you want to go back to our rooms.”

Ivan makes himself decent as Fedyor agrees, smoothing his own kefta and making sure they don’t look too rumpled from their interlude. Anticipation licks at him, the promise of their bedroom and that cozy rug by the fire beckoning.

They emerge from the little alcove, Ivan trying to look around discreetly so as not to get caught in horrible small talk before they can hurry upstairs.

It’s not discreet enough, alas. One of the guards catches sight of him and rushes over, and Ivan sighs internally.

His irritation fades, though, when Pavel addresses him.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but there’s a situation, and I can’t find you or the Dark- er, General Kirigan.”

“What is it?” he snaps.

“An intruder, sir. An impostor guard. He broke into the Summoner’s dressing room, and attacked Marie and Genya.”

The air leaves him in a whoosh. “Are they all right? And the impostor?”

“The impostor has been apprehended and we’ve taken him to a cell for interrogation. Genya is fine, she’ll recover. She did what she could for Marie, but…”

Marie is gone, then. When Ivan gets his hands on this coward, he’ll regret the day he came up against the Grisha. “Good job, corporal. Go have a kvas downstairs, and I’ll take it from here. Fedyor, I’m sorry. Would you please go see to Genya, make sure someone is with her? I’ll let the General know about the situation.” They all disperse to attend to their various tasks.

Ivan pinches the bridge of his nose as he approaches the General’s quarters. If he’s not mistaken, he’s about to piss off two of the most powerful Grisha he knows by interrupting something they’ve been pining for for months.

Foreboding settles in when he sees the closed door to the War Room. General Kirigan maintains an open-door policy, even though this room leads to his bedroom, but on the rare occasions the door is shut, it behooves anyone who sees it to keep walking.

Ivan takes a deep, fortifying breath as he draws near to the door, raising his hand to knock. While most of the time he would be comfortable letting himself in, he in no way wants to chance seeing his boss and the Sun Summoner engaging in activities that lead to little Grisha babies. He shudders at the thought.

Before he can rap at the door, he hears the disconcerting and distinctive sounds of skin slapping against skin, breathy feminine moans, and the occasional groan from a voice he knows too well. But he didn’t know it like this, and frankly, he’s never wanted to. It gets worse; he hears Aleksander Kirigan, the terrifying Darkling, scourge of the planet, etc., call Alina “sweetheart” as he begs her to—no, he can’t even think it. Ugh, these fools couldn’t even make it to the bedroom.

Ivan’s lip curls in disgust. He’s in a quandary. The General’s presence is very much needed downstairs, but interrupting will likely result in his own death. Well, thinks Ivan, the situation is stable; the intruder is in custody, Genya is safe with Fedyor, and no one in the world can help Marie now. He’ll wait for them to...finish. Ivan shudders again, trying desperately not to hear the sounds from the other side of the wall.

It’s immature, but he’s tempted to cover his ears with hands. He forebears, scowling at the corridor. After a deeply horrifying moment where he hears too much, the War Room goes quiet except for quiet, tender murmurs he can’t hear, saints be praised. Ivan turns and knocks.

He sighs when no one answers, and pounds at the door again. Alina giggles, and he hears Kirigan chuckle. Ivan had always wondered what it would take to make the General laugh openly, and now he deeply wishes to unknow.

Finally, Kirigan peeks out from behind the cracked door, visible only from the shoulders up, Ivan sees with relief. Ivan takes in the thin black silk of his undershirt, the disheveled hair, and the dopey grin on red lips, and just...the overall blissful dazed look on his boss’ face, and elects to ignore it as hard as he possibly can.

He braces himself then gives a quick account of the situation, and the General nods. “One moment, please.”

Ivan holds back a snort. It has been far too many moments for his taste, so what’s one more?

Kirigan emerges a few minutes later, clad once again in his kefta, his expression serious. It would be far more convincing had Ivan not heard more giggling from Alina and the General telling her to wait for him in his bedroom.

“Ivan, are you well?” Kirigan actually looks concerned, even if he’s still far too...glowing for Ivan’s taste.

He snorts. “I’m fine, but you should fix your hair if you want the prisoner to take you seriously.”

The Darkling doesn’t blush, but he does stop in his tracks. He runs his hands through his hair, finally asking, “Better?”

“Yes, and you’re obviously feeling better now too.” Ivan instantly regrets all his life choices that have led to this moment, certain he’s going to die for his impertinence.

Instead, Kirigan laughs and slaps his back, continuing on his way downstairs.

Saints, Ivan needs a drink. And Fedyor. Fedyor will help him forget.

Okay, so you KNOW I'm now inevitably forced to ask for the actual fic prompt of Ivan trying to give his boss romantic advice, casual-like. (No need to confine yourself to 100 words. I mean what.)

I thought I could just write a thousand words of jokes, but then all these fools came and had the audacity to put feelings up in here. *Ivan voice* Disgusting.

Initially I was going to have this all as one chapter, but it was getting crazy long and I wanted to publish it tonight, so you get chapter 1 of 2, with the rest to follow in the next day or two.

Without further ado, Ivan, Interrupted:

Looking back, he should have seen the signs. The Sun Summoner is trouble and has been from day one.

He called that one, at least.

It’s not his fault. How is he supposed to recognize the stupidity of heterosexuals? He and Fedyor fell in love as young teens and haven’t parted in anger since. They look out for each other and try to spoil each other in all the small ways the other enjoys.

The General and Alina Starkov are a different story.

&&&

Ivan is there when the oprichniki drag Alina into General Kirigan’s tent in Kribirsk. She looks all for the world like the otkazat’sya he’s fought near the border of Shu Han. He can’t hold it against her, though; he knows better than anyone that appearances can deceive.

What he can hold against her is her denial. Even after twice showing that she can indeed summon sunlight, the little fool somehow believes she’s not Grisha. General Kirigan, a human amplifier and probably the most powerful Grisha on the planet, touches her and confirms it, and she still clings to her past. Ivan can’t understand why someone would want to deny something so intrinsic.

More worryingly, he sees his commander’s face as he tries to figure out the Starkov girl. It’s not a look he’s ever seen on Kirigan’s face, and it fills him with dread. The bemusement at her reply to his questioning about what she is turns to something...joyous and darkly yearning, in the General’s understated way.

People consider Ivan stoic and difficult to read, but he learned from the best, and his boss is the best.

Ivan is very discomfited to see Kirigan showing signs of experiencing emotions.

&&&

His unease only grows when Kirigan commands him and Fedyor to escort the Sun Summoner to Os Alta.

“Ivan, I need you and Fedyor to accompany Miss Starkov to the Little Palace. Make haste, and use all your formidable talents to keep harm from coming to her.”

“But the mission to West Ravka—”

“Will have to wait. Everyone in a twenty-mile radius saw her light show, and that may well include some of Ravka’s enemies. She—this—is more important than anybody knows. Keep her safe, and I’ll keep you and Fedyor off the front lines for six months.”

Ivan clears his throat.

“Yes?” Kirigan asks with a lift of his brow.

“Will you be staying, or do you need me to send word ahead that you’ll be arriving as well, sir?”

The General’s face smooths into its usual mask of power and calm. “No, I imagine I may well arrive before you all, as you’ll be taking my carriage.”

“As you say, General.”

Kirigan dismisses him, and he stomps off to find Fedyor so they can leave posthaste.

Ivan’s exasperation only grows when the Starkov tries, of all things, to stay and find some tracker friend of hers, tries to deny who she is. She even questions the General’s judgment, something not even Ivan dares to do.

(Privately, he agrees that this whole endeavor is a mistake. Alina Starkov is trouble, and he has an uncomfortable feeling that all their lives are about to change in ways no one can predict).

He hauls her into the carriage, plopping her on the seat across from the one he shares with Fedyor. Perhaps one of them ought to sit next to her to make sure she doesn’t get into any further foolishness, but Ivan’s crabby enough he wants to sit next to his husband.

Once they get out of Kribirsk and on the Vy, she settles down a bit, but she radiates nervous energy and it puts him on edge.

Fedyor, bless him, does his best to put the Sun Summoner at ease. But she’s resentful and afraid, and it irritates Ivan. He knows he should try to be understanding, but with all the fear and resentment he’s put up with from the otkazat’sya—his own family, even—he struggles to find the patience to explain why she should trust in the General and the Grisha. Nonetheless, he tries to soothe her the only way he knows how: by reminding her of the power she now holds.

Ivan’s thoughts drift to what might await them all in Os Alta, but his ruminations are interrupted by the shouts of the oprichniki warning them of a blockage in the road.

The dread he was feeling dissipates in the face of the familiar. He’s ready to fight against an ambush by Ravka’s enemies. He’s not ready to confront the existential questions Alina Starkov brings.

And fighting side-by-side with Fedyor never grows old. His blood sings, his heart pounds with the fierce excitement of a fight with his beloved at his side.

The fucking Fjerdans. Ivan hates the drüskelle for their hatred of the Grisha, and that fire burns hotter when Fedyor is hit in the leg. Fear twists in his belly as he examines Fedyor’s wound, though he claims it’s fine. Ivan, the most feared heartrender in Ravka, can’t concentrate enough to tell how many their enemies number, so he delegates it to Katya. He remembers the Summoner in the carriage, and issues a command for one of the other Grisha to protect her, but the screams fade into the background of his mind as he does his best to heal Fedyor.

Then he senses the shadows that accompany Kirigan—the reason the people mutter in fear, call him the Darkling—and the Fjerdans melt back into the wood. Shame mixes with his fear for Fedyor, and Ivan swears to himself when, after a few moments he hears the General speak to one of the Etherealki who’ve made it back to the carriage.

“Tend to the wounded. Then tell Ivan to make sure everyone gets back to Little Palace as quickly as possible and report to me. I’ll be waiting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shit. He had one job, and she’s now riding off in the General’s arms.

Alina Starkov is definitely trouble.

&&&

They finally arrive back at the Little Palace late that night. Once everyone, the Grisha and the horses, are all seen to, Ivan makes his way to General Kirigan’s rooms. The oprichniki guarding the door nod at him and make way for him to knock. The General calls out in that even tone of his for Ivan to enter. He does so, anxiety and defiance mixing in his chest.

Nonetheless, Ivan is deferential. “Sir.”

Those dark eyes sweep over him from head to toe, and where there’s normally amusement or quiet affability, he’s unreadable as he is when meeting with the tsar and tsaritsa. “I see you’ve made it back. Are you well?”

“Yes, sir.” Ivan begins to sweat under the woollen collar of his kefta.

“And Fedyor?”

“Much better. He’s recovering.”

“Good,” the General says, pausing for a long, uncomfortable moment before continuing, “now, perhaps you could explain why you disregarded my clear, express orders to guard Alina.”

Alina, he notes. Not “Miss Starkov” or “the Sun Summoner.”

Ivan’s jaw tenses. “My apologies, moi soverennyi. Fedyor was shot while we were attempting to protect the carriage. I thought we’d be better able to protect her with both our powers.”

The Darkling—for that’s who he is at this moment—turns to face the windows. It’s black as pitch outside, but it wouldn’t surprise Ivan if Kirigan could see through the shadows of the night. “I don’t want excuses, Ivan. Had I not been nearby, Alina would have been lost, and Ravka would have lost its greatest hope in centuries.”

Ivan waits, knowing there’s little he can say.

Kirigan turns back. “See that it doesn’t happen again, or I will see to it that you and Fedyor are put on different assignments for the foreseeable future.”

Anger rises in his throat, but Ivan stomps it down. It will do him no favors to argue. The only thing he can do is go to bed, hold Fedyor close, and hope things settle soon. “Yes, General.”

&&&

The next day, a contingent of the Grisha accompany General Kirigan and Alina to the Big Palace. Ivan is used to walking by the General’s side, but Alina is there instead. With Fedyor still recovering in their rooms under the care of the healers, Ivan is alone, distant from the group. He feels a pang of melancholy so fierce it threatens to overwhelm him.

The Sun Summoner looks much better today than she had when he last saw her, and it seems Kirigan thinks so too. After he greets the King and Queen, he can hardly take his eyes off the girl, that same awed, wondering look in his eyes again.

Through the shadows his boss conjures, Ivan sees the way he looks at her, the way he leans over to whisper in his ear, the gesture nearly a caress. The Summoner lights up the darkness, and Ivan can’t take his eyes off the two of them. Alina Starkov smiles at Kirigan, and instead of the polite, unknowable smile he’d normally return to a courtier or even one of his rare mistresses, Kirigan looks back at her like she’s his every dream come true.

After the display is over, the King tries to bumble his way through negotiating over Alina’s training. And in front of the entire court and a good number of the Grisha,the General claims Alina. She will stay in the Little Palace with him, Kirigan states, his tone brooking no argument, not even from the sovereign ruler of Ravka.

Kirigan takes Alina’s hand and leads her away from the throne, and the two pause to speak in quiet tones. Ivan can’t hear them, but Alina’s eyes glow with admiration and the General is looking back at her with...warmth.

It’s not right, Ivan thinks, even as the General departs and the Grisha welcome Alina. This situation is getting more and more troublesome.

&&&

When Ivan arrives back in their room, he’s relieved to see Fedyor awake, though he’s lying in bed with a book. Fedyor sets the book on the bedside table and smiles at him, and Ivan feels some of the tension in his shoulders melt away.

“Why so grumpy, my love?”

“Not grumpy, Fedya. Worried.” He takes off his boots, middle of the day be damned, and climbs into the bed next to his husband.

Fedyor opens his arms, and Ivan goes to him, snuggling in and leaning his head against his shoulder. “About what, Vanya?”

He shrugs as best as he can while in his favorite person’s embrace. “The Sun Summoner is dangerous.”

“So are all of us Grisha, and even the otkazat’sya with training.”

“Not like that. I mean...I-I think General Kirigan has feelings.”

Fedyor had been running his hand through Ivan’s hair, but he pauses. “In general? Or for Alina?”

“For Alina. Fedyor, it was very strange. He looked warm and like he wanted to kiss her, in front of all those people. And then he held her hand.” The Darkling has had lovers, and Ivan is very aware of this, but he’s never seen him act this way around any of them.

With a huff that might be a laugh, Fedyor says, “He deserves a chance at love, too, especially after he’s been so good to us. He tried to help us when we were younger and more foolish.”

That’s true; Kirigan has been nothing but supportive of them when not everyone else has. He even tried to advise Ivan when he was sorting out his feelings for Fedya more than a decade ago. It hadn’t been good advice, but an attempt had been made, at least.

“He seems...lonely,” Fedyor continues.

Ivan nods. “There is no one like him, no one at his level, so who could stand beside him?”

“Maybe Alina.”

Fedyor seems to like the girl, but Ivan isn’t convinced. Is she strong enough to stand next to their leader who has done so much for not just the Grisha, but for Ivan and his beloved?

&&&

The next day, Ivan joins the rest of the Grisha for dinner. Kirigan is off doing something statecrafty and Ivan has the place of honor at his boss’ right hand, so he is ostensibly in charge of the gathering in the General’s absence.

Except he knows Alina was given the choice to sit in Kirigan’s seat in his absence, or to sit at his side were he here. Instead, the girl chose to sit with the other Etherealki. She’s there laughing with Marie and Nadia, indulging in this opulent meal provided for the Sun Summoner, because apparently their usual hearty peasant fare wasn’t good enough.

Resentment curdles in his stomach as he reads out the casualty list, staring down Alina the entire time. She looks stricken, but her concern seems to be more for the otkazat’sya than her fellow Grisha.

Something in him snaps. “Why are you here eating figs? Hmm? You should be training every waking moment to tear down the Fold.”

But when he sees her face, hurt and downcast, he feels a pang of regret for how he handled this.

Kirigan will not be pleased.

&&&

It turns out that Fedyor isn’t pleased either. He had accompanied the General to the dinner he’d gone to, as Fedyor is far more diplomatic than most of the senior Grisha. It’s because of that diplomacy and open friendliness that it takes him less than three hours to hear about Ivan’s outburst.

Ivan is sitting in his chair in front of the fire, doing his best to wind down after the day. Fedyor enters the room, closing the door behind him.

“How was dinner and politics?”

Fedyor scowls at him, and his heart sinks. “Don’t try to be cute and solicitous. I heard about what you did to that poor girl. Badly done, Vanya, badly done.”

“Can we go back to the part about me being cute, please?” Ivan rubs his hands over his face. He and Fedyor rarely disagree, so when they do…

“No. Alina Starkov just found out days ago she’s Grisha, and she’s been pulled away from the only life she’s known, from her friends and comrades. She’s fended off the volcra, almost been murdered by the drüskelle, and has had to get used to a new training regimen for skills she barely knew she had, to say nothing of the high stakes of her every move now.”

“She’s an orphan of Keramzin. How is this not better than anything she’s ever known?”

Fedyor stops pacing for a moment. “Ivan, that’s why we should be kind. She’s never known the love of a family beyond that of the First Army. And you know what they whisper about the Grisha. We were children when we got here, and our families sent us here out of love. It was easier for us to adjust. She’s grown up her whole life hearing the lies most of the otkazat’sya believe about us. She needs time and understanding.”

“But we don’t have that much time. Zlatan is agitating in West Ravka, Fjerda is worse than ever, and Shu Han is causing as many problems as ever. Why can’t she see that unless she is at her best and soon, Ravka is in danger? The Grisha are in danger?” Ivan is furious, but more than that, he’s exhausted.

At that, Fedyor softens. “Ah, my love. You carry a heavy burden. But she’ll have to bear an even heavier one soon,” he says, coming over and placing a warm hand on Ivan’s shoulder.

Ivan reaches up, placing his hand over Fedyor’s. “I just want her to be ready.”

“She will be.”

With a sigh, Ivan pulls Fedyor into his lap, nuzzling his neck. He’s ready to make up.

“Ivan?”

“Hmm?”

“You do realize that people also have to eat in order to be able to train, don’t you?”

&&&

He knows he should, but Ivan can’t bring himself to apologize to Alina. He does try, however, to be more understanding of the enormity of what she faces, the pressure on her to succeed. He tries to be kinder, less abrupt. But he can’t change who he is.

Fortunately, General Kirigan seems more amused than anything else at Ivan’s dinner outburst. It’s a week or so later, and Kirigan is ready to dismiss Ivan for his next couple of days off. “I would tell you to enjoy your time with Fedyor, but maybe you’ll be training instead, since that’s apparently what we all must be doing every waking moment.”

Ivan shoots him a panicked look, but calms down when he catches the amusement in the General’s eyes.

“Indeed. We will train ceaselessly and closely, moi soverennyi.” Somehow, he manages to keep a straight face.

Kirigan just snorts, and Ivan is extremely disgruntled when he mutters under his breath about needing some of that kind of training of his own.

#ivan interrupted #heartrender husbands #heartrender husbands ff #darklina #darklina ff #shadow and bone #sab #sab ff #my fanfic #in which ivan is a bitchy and hypocritical gay and we love him for it

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