#tsar aleksander morozova | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kasagia · 2 months ago

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I alone can see your light

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/Darkling x fem!sun summoner!princess! reader Summary: The Sun Summoner turns out to be you - the princess of Ravka, who wants nothing to do with her powers or being a Saint. General Kirigan intends to change your mind about yourself and wipe out all your doubts. Requested by: anonymous ; I hope you will like it!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤 Warning(s): uncertainty, shyness, self-doubt on 1000 level, suspecting manipulation Taglist for Darkling: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat @meadowshelby Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist

The first time you see General Kirigan is at your 20th birthday ball.

Or rather this is the first time you actually talk to him, rather than seeing him walk through the Grand Palace like one of his shadows or sneaking back to the Little Palace after returning from one of his campaigns.

"Moya tsarevna." He greets you. His tone of voice is… like you remember when he gave many speeches. Dark, silky, pleasant to listen to, you're sure many have fallen for him just because of the way he spoke to them. "Happy Birthday. May the saints watch over you."

He bows to you when it is his turn to approach your throne. Or rather, the small dais with the chair that your father so generously offered you for your birthday.

In any case, this gives you the perfect opportunity to take a good look at him. You find exactly what most people who have encountered him have described to you.

Self-possessed and mysterious, with eyes so dark and unreadable that they could be an extension of the fold his ancestor had created. Well-built, with sharp features, the embodiment of control and power. Even without his black kefta, you would know who was standing before you.

Sure, you'd had some impressions of him before. You had eyes like most people in the capital, and you'd seen how handsome he was. But he was also dangerously powerful.

The kind of man you ran from. The kind you should have run from.

But you don't.

"Thank you, General." You say as he steps closer to hand you his gift.

You smile politely, offering him your hand, on which he places a kiss. And in the moment when his lips meet your skin something changes.

A shiver runs down your palm, down your spine, and into your core. Something strange comes to life beneath your skin, some burning energy you've never felt before. You frown, quickly hiding your emotions behind a polite smile, not noticing the general's calm, collected facade momentarily break.

Your heart beats like crazy and your breath catches for a moment as the intense gaze of his eyes falls on you. And you see curiosity in them. Interest. In you.

"You would do us a great pleasure if you honoured us with your presence at the next Winter Fete." He adds, prolonging your conversation a bit.

Your heart immediately speeds up at the thought of participating in another farce for your father – the Tsar. You give him a polite smile, noticing from the corner of your eye the Kerch ambassador heading your way with his own wishes.

"I can't promise anything. I'm often away from the palace during this time, as you're well aware, General." You answer, referring to the numerous social activities your parents sent you to at that time.

"Anyway, I hope you will enjoy your gift and birthday. Once again, best wishes, moya tsarevna."

His watchful gaze leaves you only when another guest comes to wish you well. And even many hours later, when the ball is in full swing, you can't shake the feeling of being watched…

Little did you know that this little meeting between you would change your future by 180 degrees.

You lean against the wall, sipping champagne in celebration of your father's birthday. You hated all these formal gatherings. You planned to run away from here as fast as you could, to retreat back to your chambers or your private library; you weren't sure yet.

At least you had that intention until he walked up to you.

"Moya tsarevna." General Kirigan's voice echoes behind you as you eat the sweet treats the waiter brings. You quickly swallow the chocolate, momentarily lamenting the fact that you can't savour it properly, and turn to face the Black General. "Welcome back."

“General.” You nod and offer him your hand with a soft smile. He takes his time, placing a kiss on your knuckles—always gallant and considerate of you and your family. "I trust the Little Palace is in even better condition than when I left. I believe you have recently expanded the west wing for the little Grisha?"

You see the slight quiver of his eyebrows as he tries to keep his neutral face. But you could notice through this small gesture that he was shocked that you remembered something like that.

Most of your family, all of the royals, in fact, didn't put much stock in social matters, and certainly not in anything that concerned Grisha. As a princess with two brothers, you knew what it was like to feel excluded, less important. That's why you were sure to show support and attention to all those your father had come to despise and neglect.

"Indeed, Princess. It's kind of you to remember that. And to dedicate some of your resources to this cause. I can't express my gratitude enough."

"It's a pleasure to help a little for a great cause." You answer shyly, barely able to stand the intense gaze of his dark eyes.

You weren't intimidated by him; of course he was a dangerous, strong man, and you knew his capabilities perfectly well, but... you noticed more how breathtakingly handsome he was. Which was definitely not befitting a princess like you.

"Probably almost as much of a pleasure as seeing you here." You're glad you let Genya put a little more powder on you than usual. Maybe it at least covered your little blush. "We missed you at the Winter Fete. I was secretly hoping you'd come…"

"As charming as always." You comment nonchalantly, pretending his words didn’t make the slightest impression on you. “The orphans in Karemzin were waiting for my visit… or rather, for the gifts and money I was supposed to bring. I couldn’t let them down, General Kirigan, could I?”

"Of course not. But I strongly believe the Grisha here would enjoy your presence as well... maybe a little more than the orphans of Karemzin." He says and leans towards you.

You hold your breath as he gently wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb – probably wiping away a remnant of the chocolate dessert you had eaten earlier. You don't know if it's from the suddenness of his action, the surprise, or the outrage at his audacity, but you stand there, frozen in place as he licks the chocolate off his finger, looking you straight in the eye. You clear your throat and turn your gaze away from him to the dancing couples in front of you, but he doesn't give up.

“I assure you, princess, there are only a few people in this court to whom I am so… charming so willingly.” He whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you or the General can say anything more, one of your mother's ladies-in-waiting approaches you to take you back to the Queen, to fulfill her duty as a princess and stand beside her family as they toast another successful year of your father's rule.

Standing with a glass of champagne a comfortable distance from your parents' throne, your gaze wanders over the crowd. And you almost blush as you catch the eye of a certain general.

If you had known that your absence of several weeks, due to visiting orphanages and doing charity work, would make the Shadow Summoner so interested in you, you would have left sooner.

You're not entirely sure when his strange fascination with you began.

Not that you weren't flattered by that or not interested in him. It was obvious that he was undeniably handsome, that all the ladies-in-waiting were whispering about how attractive and magnetic the Second Army general was. But it wasn't his looks that attracted you to him, or at least you want to believe that.

No, it was something about the way he spoke, the way he made sure his Grisha were well cared for, the way he looked after each of his men no matter how useful they were to his army. He was gallant, charming, and cunning.

He knew the language of diplomacy as well as force and brutality, and while he was certainly much older than you (you couldn't quite remember when exactly he had succeeded his father in that position), you felt something for him that went beyond mild admiration. Something that was far from decent.

It made you wonder what had caused such a sudden change in him. What had caused him to go from indifference and ignorance towards you – something that so many did, considering you were just a princess – to actively seeking you out at parties, even asking for your presence at events he attended?

And that wasn't all. There were letters, too. At first, just informing you of certain actions of the Second Army, or your escort to certain parts of Ravka. Later, they turned into questions about your opinions on matters that concerned the court and Grisha, and later... less formal... the kind you wouldn't dare show your most trusted maids.

Not to mention the gifts. One moment you were missing your coat; the next day Genya brought you one specially made for you from the material that was used to make Grisha keftas. Did you lose your earrings? An hour later David – one of Kirigan's Grisha – gave you an entire collection of jewels that you adored and which were not necessarily Lantsov dynasty. Or the fact that ever since your birthday gala, it seemed like everywhere you went, you saw someone from his Oprichniki or the Grisha. It was, to say the least, odd.

In your thoughts about the general, you completely miss the moment when the suspicious man pushes through the crowd of people, reaches your father, and puts a dagger to his throat, especially since the man behind you turns out to be not a guard at all but an assassin. In an instant, you land with the trigger of the gun at your neck. Your eyes wander to your parents. Grisha and the soldiers of the Second Army push through the fleeing and screaming nobility, but all you can hear is the movement of the hand of the man holding you as he pulls the trigger.

You close your eyes, waiting for the bullet to pierce your throat, but all you feel is someone pulling on your arm. You open your eyes, meeting the dark, anger- and fear-clouded irises of the general, when suddenly, a beam of bright white light explodes around you, blinding everyone, including yourself.

The last thing you remember before you passed out from exhaustion were the dark eyes of General Kirigan, who had caught you at the last moment. And the screams of the people.

Sun Summoner.

You knelt by the fireplace in your chamber, your hands trembling in your lap. The events of the last hour flashed through your mind again.

Sun Summoner.

That's what Genya called you after you woke up. You shudder as you remember the look she gave you. Like you were their saviour. Like you were suddenly going to magically fix Ravka and unite the Grisha with its inhabitants. Bring peace to the world.

You dismissed the redhead under some pretext and locked yourself in your room, not wanting to see anyone. You knew you should be planning, immediately thinking of what to do next or plan your escape, but for a moment... for a moment you had to be alone with your thoughts.

You shift your gaze from the fire to your hands. Hands that killed Fjerda's soldiers, hands that were likely meant to bring even more suffering. Panicking, you notice they are beginning to glow again. You hold them tightly to your chest and repeat the mantra that has allowed you to suppress your abilities all these years.

Feel nothing. You can't fear. Fear will kill you. Fear will destroy you. They will cast you out. Once they know what a threat you are to them, how easily you let your control slip, they throw you out. You will be a Heretic, not a Saint. A threat. A plague. A bane.

A knock on the door tears you from your thoughts.

"Moya tsarevna?" You take a few deep breaths as General Kirigan's voice stops you from shaking. You bite your fist and let out a shaky breath to calm yourself down. Or at least pretend like nothing's wrong with you.

"I want to be alone." You respond, gathering all the strength you have to keep your voice from shaking.

The silence after your words allows you to believe for a moment that you have managed to drive him away for a while. Unfortunately, General Kirigan is anything but compliant.

"I'm back from meeting with your father - the Tsar. I have... some updates I need to give you, Princess." You bite your lip, weighing your options. You know he won't leave until he gives you the message. And you just want to be alone. "Please. It won't take long."

You wrap yourself in a blanket, trying to maintain the last remnants of decency and composure. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, take a quick look at yourself in the mirror and fix your hair before you open the door to your room.

It always shocked you how the general managed to maintain his... flawless, intimidating appearance. Even today's attack hadn't ruffled the material of his kefta, and his hair was still in absurdly intact, perfect condition. He looked like he had just returned from Genya's magical appearance-enhancing services, not after a long, stressful day of searching for the remaining Fjerdans and dealing with your... predicament.

"Therefore, the Tsar and I have concluded that it would be best for you to spend some time in the Little Palace under my care." You catch the last sentence and almost blush when you realize you've been staring at him instead of listening. Your heart pounds as the meaning of his words sinks in. "Moya tsarevna?"

"I... I'm good here." You respond quickly, inwardly scolding yourself for your stupidity when he raises an eyebrow at you. "Besides, I don't need a training. I... I am not the Saint you are all waiting for. I mean... it was't me. It's not what you all think. If I really was... Then we would have known sooner. It must have been some kind of Fjerda trick. I... I can't be a Sun Summoner." You mumble in a desperate attempt to get out of this situation.

You couldn't be their saint and hero that you read about so many times in your books. It just wasn't you. You couldn't be.

You were a mere princess, a point in history that everyone would forget, supposed to fade safely into the memory of Ravka's history as another in a long list of female names that really meant nothing. And you were fine with that. You were fine within the safety of your chambers and library. You couldn't be…

"May I?" You shiver as he suddenly takes a step towards you and enters your room.

The General takes your hand with incredible gentleness. He gently strokes your hand with the pad of his finger, as if trying to calm your furiously beating heart. You feel nervous, both at his closeness and at the thought that somehow he can assure himself that you are... the one he and his men have been searching for all these years.

But then, his dark eyes meet yours. And for a mere moment you let yourself get bogged down in his gaze, your worries and concerns fading into the background as a warm sense of safety suddenly washes over you.

The longer his skin touches yours, the more you feel confidence, peace, and power flowing into you, which in some strange, indefinable way wants to break through your skin, to sing a melody that will answer his call.

You sigh softly as he pierces your skin with his sharp ring. You try with all your might to keep your power from flowing out, but it proves to be an impossible task. Your powers scream in relief at his proximity. They pull you toward him, causing your room to illuminate with a strong, bright, golden streak of light that flows from you at his call.

You dare to look at him just once before closing your eyes. And when you do, a small, winning smile spreads across his face. In his dark as shadows eyes you see a glimmer of an emotion you don't recognize.

"Looks like you are much more than you claim to be, moya tsarevna."

You're incredibly scared by all of this. Because you know that the moment he finds out you have absolutely no control over your powers, he'll cast you out. Just like your parents did an hour ago when they found out you were a Grisha.

And then, you will be completely alone.

"I've suspected it since your 20th birthday, but now I'm absolutely certain. You're one of us. You're Grisha." You shake your head at his words, pulling your hand from his grip. He frowns as if your reaction was anything but what he expected from you.

"No, I… I don't… you don't understand… this isn't… I'm not who you want me to be. You want a hero. I'm not one, I… I'm just a princess. Nothing you could use…"

"Heroes aren't born. They are made. Every bird needs a little training before it can spread its wings and fly properly. And with a power like yours… with a gift and a blessing like yours, you can't be anything less than great."

He interrupts you, his eyes betraying great agitation, and you shudder at the thought of how he'll want to use your powers…after all, that's what got him interested in you, right? The possibilities that opened up for him with you by his side, the things he could do. You knew that was what he had been after from the start.

That's why it hurt even more. Again, it wasn't about you.

"And die in a great battle or be known for a glorious death like our saints? No. Thank you, General. I am fine here alone, I… I do not want these powers." You say, pulling away from him and keeping your hands close to your chest, as if you were able to hide what he already found out, what everyone in the Palace already found out.

"You are not alone. Never again. You are one of us. You may not want it now, but it is what it is. And that's how it will be." You nod, losing this fight for now.

You no longer had the strength to argue. He would have done what he thought was right anyway. All that was left for you to do was prove how wrong he was.

Besides, your foolish heart had to process the fact that the man before you had no interest in you at all. He only desired your powers in you. And nothing more.

It would be wise if your heart came to the same conclusion as your mind. But perhaps the look of compassion, admiration, and fascination that the Shadow General was giving you now drowned out everything else.

For the past weeks, you couldn't find your place. The Little Palace was... surprisingly more pleasant than the Grand Palace you grew up in, but the feeling of alienation and not belonging to this new community made you spend most of your time in a distant corner of the library, nose deep in a book, hoping that Ivan - the heartrender who was supposed to watch over you on the general's orders - wouldn't find you too soon.

Honestly, the man in the red kefta irritated you more than your family. Which was a huge accomplishment in your opinion.

Today was supposed to be no different than any other day. You were hiding in a corner of the library, wrapped in a blanket with your legs bunched up to make yourself as small as possible on a comfortable couch.

Only this time someone else came to find you.

"Shouldn't you be training with Baghra, moya tsarevna?" You shiver as the general's voice echoes behind you. You put the book you were reading on the table and shift your gaze to him.

For a moment, you felt like a child again when, instead of listening to your governesses about etiquette and the rules of the court, you preferred to run away from Nikolai and hide in the gardens or other corners of the palace. You remember that once you were brave enough to hide in the Black General's chambers. You wonder if Kirigan's father was the same as him.

"She... canceled our class." You respond timidly, coming up with a weak lie on the spot. The role of the liar usually fell to Nikolai…

"Did she now?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You bow your head and look down at your hands, trying to hide your embarrassed blush. You shiver as he suddenly sits down on the couch next to you, but you don't have the courage to face the deep blackness of his eyes again. "Do you like your kefta?"

You glance at the black material of your new kefta, absentmindedly smoothing out the embroidered gold patterns representing the sun and its rays as you take your time to answer him.

"I... it's beautiful. Although, I haven't seen anyone else wear black, General. Well... besides you of course." You reply, playing with the black material. You catch his gaze for a moment, then you grab a book from the coffee table and stand up to put it back on one of many bookshelves.

"Yes... it's a colour reserved only for shadow summoners due to our... uniqueness. Just like you are. I thought it would match perfectly for you. Like calls to like, isn't that right?" He adds jokingly and also stands up to take a few steps towards you.

"I... unfortunately, I'm afraid I'm not who you want me to be. I definitely don't deserve such… special treatment." You voice your concerns with your back turned to him as you thoughtfully trace the leather spine of the book you've put aside with your fingertip.

You know very well how little time you have left here. Baghra will soon discover that you have absolutely no control over your powers and, when the general finds out... there will soon be no room for you in the Little Palace. Maybe it would be better this way. Maybe you should run away before you expose yourself to the burning pain of their disappointment. And especially his disappointment.

You sigh when he unexpectedly places his hand on yours, gaining your attention almost immediately. And holy Saints above, it was so easy to just lose yourself in his attentive, warm, non-judgmental gaze.

You stand by the bookshelf, not daring to move an inch from your spot. When his skin touches yours again, you feel that familiar feeling of warmth spreading through you.

"I have been waiting a long time for you, moya tsarevna. All of us did. But believe me, I doubt you will be able to disappoint me. Unless you perpetually avoid your lessons with Baghra." You bite your lip, not wanting to ruin the moment between you with your snort of amusement.

"She's... specific."

“I guess that’s a more gentle way to call her.” He laughs at your careful choice of words. For a moment he traces patterns on your palm, thinking hard about something. “You will practice with me. Once a week, in the evenings in my office. I will personally see to it that you… do not miss these lessons.”

"No. This isn't necessary. I'm sure you have more important things than this." You respond quickly, panicking internally. You alone with him in his chambers… your poor heart can't take it.

"Nothing is more important than you." His response is as quick as yours, decisive - definitively killing any attempts you make to gently reject his proposal. And for a moment, for one brief moment, you allow yourself to believe your foolish heart that it's because he cares about you more than he cares about your powers. "Right now you are the most important thing for me... and for Ravka and for all of us. You should start to get used to it, moya tsarevna."

He mumbles and pulls your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your skin. Another thing that set him apart from the rest. Everyone else kissed the Lantsov ring on your finger. He avoided it like the plague, instead caressing your skin.

But it was just a game, right? So why did you feel like a heroine from one of those romance novels you shamefully read? Why did your heart beat faster every time he appeared next to you, to guide you through all the Grisha customs you didn't know yet? Why did it feel so real when it was supposed to be fake and a game from the start?

You knew the court games, the toying with women's hearts by meaner men, and even the dirty tricks ladies used to win the hearts of their chosen partners. But never... never had anyone shown you such ardent, deceptive, genuine interest and respect as he had for you.

So how much of this was a game, an attempt to keep you in line, and how much of it was the general's true heart revealed only for your eyes? How much of his gentleness was genuine, and how much was a show to inspire in you the trust he needed?

How much of this was the dirty play allowed in love, and how much was a disgusting deception to benefit himself?

"See you for dinner?"

The way he looks at you, with all the hope he has in you and a kind of adoration that you don't quite know the reason for, makes you able only to nod politely and agree to his plans.

Sure. A dining room full of Grisha. A wonderful time to spend an evening. A dining room where he will also be by your side.

The lump in your throat grows as you realize that now you're more afraid of letting him down than of a sudden outburst of power that you won't be able to control.

You freeze as he leans down to press his soft, plump lips to your forehead. You stand there in a daze, all you can do is stare at him as he bids you goodnight and walks away - presumably to his war room so he can continue planning how to use your powers to finally tame the fold.

You had no idea what kind of spells he cast on you, but it was working. Slowly, you began to fall for the Black General. And you found it both very terrifying and exciting. So much so that for a moment you forget that you are a ticking bomb that no one knows about yet.

A few weeks later, you are on your way to your chambers late at night after a lesson with Baghra. Or rather, torture, judging by the blood dripping from your hands onto the floor of the Little Palace.

You try with what little dignity you have left to hold back the tears as you practically run for the safe walls of your chambers, your mind replaying all the insults the old hag had hurled at you.

A loser. A weakling. A whiner. A failure. A brainless, lazy princess who can't do anything except keep her nose in her books and her mouth shut. Delusional little girl who is able only to live in her fantasy world and would die if she was left alone to face the real world.

You press your bloody hand to your mouth, desperately holding back a sob as you run forward to get to your chambers. And then of course you have to run into someone.

With your luck you don't even have to open your eyes to know who you've collided with. Besides, over the weeks you had learned to recognize his presence just by his scent. (Pathetic and unfortunately true.)

But you look up nonetheless and meet the dark irises of General Kirigan.

And then the dam breaks.

You break down into a full-blown sob, letting him pull you into his arms as he notices the emotional mess you’re in. You cry into the soft material of his dark kefta, holding on tightly as he rocks you in his arms and strokes your hair, ignoring the fact that you’re staining his kefta with both blood and your tears.

After a while of sobbing into the general's chest, you manage to calm down enough to be able to register something around you again, more than the warmth of his arms and the murmur of incomprehensible whispers he spoke to calm you down.

You didn't have to understand his words thogh. The rumbling of his deep voice alone brought you incredible solace - one that was both your salvation and the harbinger of your doom, releasing in you feelings that you shouldn't have for the much more powerful Grisha.

When you calm down enough to realize where you are, you discover that the general has taken you to his private chambers. You pull away from him gently, wiping the tears from your eyes with your hands and feeling even more helpless and smaller than before you cried into him.

How humiliating it must have looked. Princess of Ravka, Summoner of the Sun, crying in the arms of the Black General like a little child.

"I'm not suited for this." You tell him, looking at your hands instead of at him. Your royal signet ring with your family's crest burns your skin like never before. "I'm not a warrior, not a Grisha, not even a leader, I... take this from me. Please. Just take it away from me." You say and raise your watery eyes to him.

"I... you have to understand, princess... we all have our bad days. Don't just give up this... gift. You don't know how many of us would like to wield such power."

You saw the hunger in his eyes, the exact same hunger that was always there alongside the delight whenever he watched the light come from you. You were perfectly aware that he wanted your power. And you were more than willing to give it to him. You were desperate to give it to someone else. Before you hurt anyone with it.

"I know that perfectly well! As well as that I am not the one who should have it. I am not... I will not be your saint." His gaze hardens slightly at your firm statement.

"I have no idea what Baghra told you. I can only promise you that she will pay dearly for it and that everything that came out of her lying mouth was nothing but a poisonous lie. This old woman had long ago forgotten how to be a decent human being. Or at least a human being."

"It doesn't matter, I… she told the truth. Everything everyone in this fucking palace thinks, but doesn't have the courage to tell me to my face. I'm not cut out for this, I can't fight, I'm not one of your soldiers, and I'll be of no use to Ravk or the Durga Army or your Grisha. I'm a princess. The only thing of value is my lineage, the dynasty I belong to, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool."

Kirigan lets go of your hands and stands up from the couch, and from the way shadows began to circle the room and the wrinkles in his forehead, you know that whatever plans he had for you, none of them involved you bucking him. Or the sheer belief in your uselessness.

"Princess..."

"Exactly!" You interrupt him, gathering all your courage and standing up from the couch as well as you glare at him with a stern, cold stare—the same one you’ve seen on him, your parents, and other people so many times. "I am your princess and you are subject to me and my family. You must follow my orders and if I say you must take these... powers from me then that is what you must do, General."

The atmosphere in the room is thick. You know that by playing the princess card, you have most likely destroyed the tentatively building... bond between you. However, you come to the conclusion that you would rather have him hold a grudge and dislike for you than die because one day your power will slip beyond the little control that you had over it.

And though your heart aches with every second he gives you that cold, even hurt look, you know you're doing what's best for yourself, Ravka, Grisha, and even him.

"As you wish, moya tsarevna." An unpleasant shiver runs down your spine as he pronounces the title in a completely different way from the sweet one you were used to. Cold, forced, with a hidden mockery. Just like he addressed your mother, brothers and father. "However, you must know that I must discuss this with the Tsar before... we think of any way to solve your problem."

You can't tell what offended him more - the fact that you took advantage of your higher rank and title, or the fact that you reject this gift of summoning the sun, which he considers sacred.

But what did he expect from you? You didn't belong here. You never did.

When he mockingly bows to you and walks away, you want to call after him and take back your words. But you don't.

You stand frozen in the middle of the room, tears streaming down your heated cheeks as you sink to your knees. You put a hand to your mouth and sob quietly, turning the room into a small beacon as your power once again spirals out of control.

Your eyes hurt from the amount of light you're emitting, but you don't even try to shield them with your hand. You take your pain as some kind of penance for what you're about to do.

You know that your father has no intention of letting you give up your power. Because as much as he despised Grisha, he feared them. He would rather have that power stay with you than fall into "their" hands. That's why there was only one thing you could do.

You run.

After carefully analyzing your situation, you come to the conclusion that running away may not have been as great a solution as you thought.

It's true that you managed to cross the palace walls and even the capital's gates, but now, as you walked alone along the forest path, your courage and morale dropped significantly.

You shiver, holding your coat tighter as the cold air makes your bones feel unpleasantly hot. You should definitely bring the kefta though. It was warmer, with fur, and the material was so nice... You shake your head, tightening your grip on the handle of the oil lamp - the only thing besides the coat you'd stolen from the general's chambers. Your thoughts briefly wander to him as you smell his scent still lingering on the material.

Stupid, naive idiot, you think, walking forward. You have no idea why you cared so much about what he thought. In the past weeks, he could have been your only support in this difficult situation, but you knew that all he cared about was how to use your powers for himself...

The only thing that you couldn't understand was why he was so angry and hurt when you demanded from him to take these powers away from you.

This was the perfect solution for him. He would have all this light that was buzzing under your skin completely for himself. As both the Summoner of Shadows and the Sun he could have done a great things - maybe even taking over all of the Ravka for himself, if not the whole world.

He wouldn't have to deal with your sudden, hysterical emotional outbursts, your lack of any fighting skills, or any of the shit you've been putting him and yourself through these few months.

You were an intellectual, a strategist, not a soldier or a saint. You were a princess—the most useless person in the kingdom. And that was how it was supposed to stay, until he... until he saw you as something more. Someone you weren't at all.

Unless… unless he really cared about you. Not just your powers.

You sigh, shaking your head and walking forward, completely ignoring in your intense thinking that someone was following you. And they weren't soldiers of the First or Second Army at all.

You want to say it came suddenly, that you couldn't possibly have predicted Drüskele's attack, but the truth is you felt something coming. Maybe you simply didn't care about your fate anymore to even try to fight.

The ease with which they capture you is downright embarrassing. Sitting tied up against a tree trunk with a few Fjerda soldiers guarding you, you only reinforce your belief that you shouldn't be the Sun Summoner.

You only regret that you couldn't pass on your power to a general or some other, more capable Grisha.

Because of you, they will have to wait another century for someone who could be able to harness such great power.

As you prepare to die, you don't even consider the possibility that someone will save you. And certainly not that your saviour might be the Black General himself.

Everything around you is happening too fast for you to process it properly. One second your wrists are tied up; the next you feel someone tugging on your ropes as the forest around you is darkened by familiar shadows.

Your survival instincts kick in, and you start to struggle in the arms of someone pulling you away from the shadows you are immersed in. Panicked, you feel your heart pounding in your chest as you desperately try to reach for your light, but all that comes out of you is a tiny ray.

"Don't move, you stupid girl. We haven't chased you for half a month just to have you accidentally die from one of his cuts." Ivan growls dryly in your ear.

You feel him using his powers on you to slow your heart rate, to force you to cooperate and follow him. And while it seemed logical to you to go with him, all you wanted was to get as far away from here as possible – feeling free and in control of your fate for even a short moment.

And then something inside you shifts, like it's falling into place. You scream as pure, unstoppable light bursts out of you. Ivan's grip on you falls away completely, and all you can feel is the warmth washing over you again as your power comes to the surface, as you release everything you've suppressed for so many years.

As if through a wall, the screams of the Fjerdans reach you as you burn them to ash with your light, but you can't stop it. Finally, you lose control, as if to spite them; you want to show them all how dangerous and unstable you are, how they should all stay away from you.

But they aren't. At least not him.

You wonder when exactly you learnt to recognise the General's touch on your skin. You can't seem to remember. But it doesn't matter, not when he gently cups your cheek in his hand, forcing you to open your eyes that you had so tightly squeezed shut and look into his dark irises, so different from the bright light that emanates from you.

He sees you. He hasn't turned away. He doesn't run away. He doesn't look at you like you're a monster or a dangerous weapon that may turn against him.

For the first time, you feel like you have control over your powers, not them over you. When you are sure that no one will attack you again, you retreat. You hide your power, pulling on the beams of light as if they were ordinary string, and coil them deep inside you.

You did it. You controlled it.

"Ivan, see what's left of them and gather those who can still be questioned. We're going home." The general wastes no time in pushing you towards his black horse.

You resist for a moment but eventually allow him to put you on it. You were too exhausted from running and using your powers to ride alone anyway.

His arms wrap around you as he settles behind you and takes the reins in his hands. You shiver as his kefta wraps around you like a blanket, trapping you even tighter in his arms. And strangely, you don’t feel like you’ve lost any of your freedom.

"Cross the walls of the Little Palace without my knowledge once again, and I will order David to bind you to me for eternity." He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on the horse’s reins and pulling you closer into the cage of his arms.

You rest your head on his shoulder, getting used to the feeling of his toned chest against your back. The fabric of his black kefta brushes against your shoulders. It flutters in the wind around you two as he leads the horse into a gallop.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" You whisper, your voice barely higher than the sound of the wind around you. You are surprised that he is able to hear it at all without expecting an answer from him.

"Both."

There's a moment of silence between you, broken only by the pounding of his horse and your breathing. You get the feeling that if you concentrate hard enough, you'll be able to hear the quiet thump of his heart behind you.

One of his hands drops the reins to rest gently on your hip, seemingly steadying you in the saddle as he pulls you closer to him, leaning fully against his body. You swallow and place your hand on his, your finger tracing the edges of the ring he wore on his thumb.

"Do you want me or my powers?" You gather all your courage and ask, taking his hand in yours and placing two fingers on his wrist to feel his pulse.

"If I wanted your powers, would I go through the trouble of teaching you to control them?" He replies after a few seconds of silence. A mocking smile involuntarily spreads across your lips.

"That's not really the answer."

"And you won't get one. For your escape, downright treason, I should personally use the cut on you."

And though his threat should make you tremble in his arms or stimulate your survival instinct to run as far away from him as possible, it doesn't. You know they are just empty words and that he would never do such a thing to you. You were too precious for him, both as his ally and something more...

"That's not how you should address your princess."

"Moya tsarevna… there are many ways I would like to address you… and believe me, most of them do not even border on appropriate."

He grabs your hand and lifts it to press a kiss to your knuckles. Little streaks of light shine through your fingertips at the gesture.

"I'm still not the soldier you want."

"I see that. It was painfully obvious they were following you, only an idiot would not notice. But I have another use for you."

"As your weapon that you can direct and use at your will?" You question him, turning in your saddle so you can take a look at him, hoping to read something from the depth of his dark eyes. And the longer you looked into them, the longer it seemed you were falling down a rabbit hole of adoration for him.

His answer, however, exceeds your wildest expectations.

"As moya tsaritsa."

"But..." You shake your head at his words, not even noticing when he stops his horse.

He cupped your cheeks gently in his rough hands. The cool metal of his ring digging into your delicate skin is reminding you of all the differences between you.

He was rough and hard, chiselled by years of fighting not only your father but also Fjerda and Shu Han – all who would dare to hurt his Grisha. You, on the other hand, were a delicate rose hidden behind the bell jar of the Grand Palace, put on display only to wither in the depths of your cage.

But not anymore. Not since he had spotted you and snatched you away.

"I alone can see your light. I alone know your mind. I saw all of you and I have never turned my back on you. Not like your family or your subjects will when they find out what you are truly capable of. But your power is not all that you are. I was the first to see it. Maybe even the only one. You won't find anyone better than me."

He speaks in a matter-of-fact tone, laying out all the advantages of marrying him, of agreeing to his plan, as if he were discussing military strategy with you. But there’s something in his eyes, a spark that you’ve never seen when he was speaking to his men or negotiating military business with your father.

"Is this your proposal?"

"Is this your consent?"

"You'll have to do a little more than feed me sweet words and gifts to get me to agree to this."

"It's good that we have eternity, my little saint." He mumbles, leaning towards you, giving you a few seconds to push him away from you before he captures your lips in a kiss.

It's gentle at first, testing the waters, caressing your lips with the utmost reverence, as if he were truly touching something sacred. But soon enough he's gripping your waist, pulling you as close to him as he can. He places a hand on the back of your neck and tilts your head so he has better access to your mouth as his tongue delicately tastes you for the first time.

You don't care anymore if this is his plan, if this is his way of making sure you stay on his side. Your heart is pounding as you bask in the glow of attention, of being seen and appreciated, and if you're sinning, then you don't want to be his little saint. You want to be his tsaritsa.

The feeling of his lips against yours, the whisper of your name on his lips between kisses, and the gasps of pleasure as you respond with equal attention and tangle your hands in his hair erase all your doubts.

All you want to feel is his touch on you, his gaze on you, his adulation, devotion, and affection – all the things you've been denied for years. And maybe you're naive; maybe it's not real, but if it isn't... then you don't want to know the truth. What he gives you is enough for you.

That he sees you is enough for you.

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theweeklydiscourse · 2 years ago

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I can’t help but find it funny whenever certain Shadow and Bone fans discuss the Darkling’s character and dramatically ponder over his motivations while lamenting what could have been. Like, I agree that he’s a complicated character…just not complicated I’m the way they’re thinking of.

For them it’s like:

“Ah you see the Darkling is such a well-written character because of his nefarious hunger for power cloaked by sympathetic motives. He seeks a noble goal but alas! If only he wasn’t so corrupted by power and just approached the issue of Grisha liberation with diplomacy and talked some sense into the Tsar! Such a simple thing…and yet his greed won out.”

I have found that many criticisms of the Darkling’s larger goals are based on the assumption that his goal is based in a personal desire for power and not a collective one. The idea that his goals of freeing Grisha from exploitation and servitude are not genuine, but rather something that obscures his hidden greed and selfishness. My biggest gripe is that this sort of commentary on the Darkling’s character always reads as a bit self-congratulatory for what is (in my opinion) a misreading of his character.

Also, I heavily dislike the idea that all it would take for him to achieve liberation would be tactics like working within the system, diplomatically appealing to the Tsar or just generally appealing to the humanity of the ruling monarchs. I have to wonder: do these people honestly believe that oppressed groups of people obtain human rights by politely appealing to the ruling class? In Shadow and Bone, the Tsar is not only incompetent but also a serial rapist with unchecked power who benefits immensely from the servitude of Grisha. So why on earth would he just give them rights when he gains so much by keeping them under his thumb? Relying on the mercy and meagre charity of a corrupt ruler is a futile game that will end in failure.

“Oh but his hunger for power-!” His hunger for power that would enable him to do what? At the end of the day, Aleksander needs power to achieve liberation for the Grisha and to protect them from the existential threats they face on nearly every side of the conflict. Tell me, how is he going to accomplish anything from a position of servitude and powerlessness? Would it be more noble of him to just sit quietly and wait for the Lantsovs to come to their senses and realize that Grisha are deserving of equal treatment? How much do the Grisha stand to lose by prioritizing civility and diplomacy when their lives are at stake?

In this situation, power was not a want, but a need. The fact that the narrative consistently frames his quest for power as a bad and greedy goal is so naive and backwards because realistically there is no way for him to accomplish it otherwise! This is echoed in Alina’s efforts to save the country through the Morozova amplifiers and being chided for her greed as a result. Either way, this story has some strange priorities when it comes to discussing oppression and liberation.

#lb critical #shadow and bone #alina starkov #the darkling #s&b critical #s&b salt #s&b netflix #aleksander morovoza #anti leigh bardugo #darklina #anti baghra #shadow and bone meta #s&b fandom #fandom meta

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ncarnesir · 11 months ago

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What came before Eternity

A fic I wrote last year for pine4pine 2023 about an alternate reality where the Darkling wins on the skiff at the end of episode 1.08.

With a forced wedding, plenty of angst and pining, a drunken mistake, and ultimatly reconciliation and happy ending.

Art on the moodboard are from Phantom Rin and Boomdafunk

Chapters: 4/4

Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV), The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Relationships: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov

Characters: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Alina Starkov, Mal Oretsev, Genya Safin, Fedyor Kaminsky, Ivan (The Grisha Trilogy)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Heavy Angst, Mutual Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Smut, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova Loves Alina Starkov, Alina Starkov Loves The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Forced Marriage, drunk talk, Unplanned Pregnancy, Communication, Tsar The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Tsaritsa Alina Starkov, switching POV, Drunk Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Size Kink, No Beta, amazing political plot got eaten by the deadline monster, which is probably just as good cause I suck at writing political plot, Sorry slight Mal bashing because I just can't help it, Also Grisha love their Darkling, Alina basically admits "Sasha did nothing wrong", Pine4Pine 2023

Summary:

Alina and Malyen lost their fight to the Darkling on that skiff during the crossing to Novokribirsk. And so they all went back to Os Alta, both captives of the Darkling, the new Tsar of Ravka.

Or what would've happened if episode 1.08 went differently.

#shadow and bone #the darkling #darklina #alina starkov #fic i wrote #fanfiction #Alina realizing and admitting her wrongs is my jam #Sasha did nothing wrong

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rose-sophia-isabella-rogers · 2 years ago

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A Tide That Turned Everything: Chapter I - Separated, Hurting, Broken

Summary: Aleksander is alive but he paid a price for surviving. Because of his actions Grisha are hunted and executed. They find a place where they can be safe. There you meet with Alina, Mal and Prince Nikolai. They plan to bring the country back together and destroy the Fold. In the meantime Aleksander gathers his own army. The question is, on which side will you be?

A/N: Here is another fic about General Kirigan and Reader! It's the third part in series about Reader being a Tidemaker. It concentrates of the events in season two of the show. I hope you will like it! As usual, I don't own anything from "Shadow and Bone". But I've almost finished reading the books! The only one that remains is the "Rule of Wolves". But this story still only focuses on the TV show. Also, English still isn't my first language, so if you see some mistakes, let me know. Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Kirigan is searching for you and nothing will stop him from finding you. Nikolai tries to save his country. Alina tries to gather Morozova's amplifiers. And you? You try to mend your broken heart. Which may be difficult with everyone not trusting you and news you hear from David.

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov/Mal Oretsev

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, David Kostyk, Genya Safin, Fruzsi, Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov, Nadia Zhabin, Mal Oretsev, Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Tamar Kir-Bataar, Adrik Zhabin

Word Count: 4428

merzost – magic, abomination, unnatural creation, something from nothing moi tsarevich – my prince, son of tsar milaya – sweet girl There is a slight plot from third episode of the second season and also a bit more from the fourth episode. Inspired by prompts: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683705/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089584620/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683695/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089684424/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559821/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683637/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559895/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

Aleksander and his followers have set up a base in a house of an aristocrat family. Yes, he has survived. But paid a price for it. He created creatures of shadows with merzost, but because of that his health is falling. He's coughing, often with black substance, has headaches and has scars on his face that can't be healed. His condition deeply worries him. But something troubles him even more.

One day another group of recruits arrives. Aleksander immediately goes to greet them and looks at their faces. He's happy to see David and tells him that. Then, he returns to looking around. However, he doesn't see what he wants.

'Was [Y/N] with you?' he asks David, who's retreating with Genya. They stop. The Durast shakes his head with sorrow.

'I haven't seen her since the day we left the Little Palace after…' he doesn't finish. But Aleksander knows what he wanted to say. He nods. He walks to Fruzsi, another Tidemaker.

'Ask everyone who has arrived whether they have seen [Y/N] [L/N] during the last weeks,' he orders her. Fruzsi is surprised by this, but nods. She comes to his room an hour later.

'And?' he asks, expectant, hoping.

'No one has seen her,' Fruzsi answers. Aleksander's shoulders slump. He sighs, and runs a hand through his face.

'Tell the search parties to look specifically for her,' he orders. 'I want her found. As soon as possible.'

'I know she's close to you,' Fruzsi says, frowning. 'But shouldn't we focus on-'

'She's not close to me,' Aleksander interrupts her. 'She's everything to me.'

Fruzsi is surprised, guessing what he means. He turns away from her.

'With all due respect, sir…' she says slowly, '… why her?'

Aleksander turns to her. There's something in his eyes Fruzsi has never seen.

'Why anyone else when she exists?' he asks. The Tidemaker lingers only for a moment longer. But her place is quickly taken by someone else…

'Fedyor!' Aleksander says, happy and relieved. The Heartrender smiles and bows his head to his general. Kirigan walks to him and the two shake hands. The Darkling notices the tiredness and sadness in his friend's eyes.

'Ivan…' he says, his smile falling.

'Is alive,' Fedyor says. 'That's why it took me so long to get here. He's wounded and scarred. Healers are putting him back together at the moment.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' Aleksander says. 'He… he did well in the Fold.'

Fedyor nods. He bites his lip, hesitating.

'Any news of [Y/N]?' he asks. Sorrow fills Kirigan's eyes. He shakes his head.

'Not yet,' he answers and sighs heavily. He walks to his armchair and falls on it. He runs a hand through his face.

'I need her, Fedyor,' he says. 'Every time I turn my face, I expect to find her there. And I find nothing. It physically hurts. I've never known I'd meet a girl like her.'

'[Y/N] is one of a kind,' Fedyor agrees. Aleksander shakes his head.

'It's more than that,' he says and smiles softly. 'When I told her about my past, what I did, what I fear… she looked my demons in the eye and… smiled. She fell for the very thing I thought she'd fear.'

'I haven't met a kinder heart,' Fedyor says with a smile.

'Kind,' Aleksander says. 'Compassionate. Understanding. Gentle. That's who she is. That's why I fell for her. And I failed her. When she needed me the most, when they were throwing Grisha out of the Little Palace, I wasn't there. I even insisted she stayed there. She should have gone with you, like she wanted. But now she may be dead. And it's my fault.'

'She's not dead,' Fedyor says strongly. Kirigan looks at him with doubt.

'How can you be so sure?' he asks.

'Everyone knows she's important to you,' Fedyor answers. 'I think that if they had managed to kill her, they would have made every Grisha aware of it.'

He has a point, Aleksander must admit it. Hope reignites with him once more. Fedyor smiles.

'Fear not, General,' he says. 'She might look like a fragile flower, but her stem is made of steel.'

Aleksander can't help but smile. He nods. Fedyor's eyes suddenly light up.

'What about the gift you gave her for her last birthday?' he asks. Aleksander instinctively touches a ring on his finger. He sighs deeply.

'The problem is, I gave it to her so she would call on me if she needed help,' he says. 'Until she says my name while touching the necklace, I can't use my matching ring to track her. Believe me I… tried.'

'Well, we have David now,' Fedyor says. 'Maybe he could think of something.'

'He'd need something that belongs to her,' Aleksander explains, remembering how the Durast made the ring and necklace.

'And we don't have anything,' Fedyor sighs. Kirigan shakes his head.

'We will get her back, General,' the Heartrender assures him.

'I know,' Aleksander says and a look in his eyes darkens. 'I promised her. That the world can't keep us apart. And that there's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her by my side. I fully intent to keep that promise, Fedyor. No matter what.'

In the meantime, Alina and Mal have teamed up with a privateer, who's just turned out to be Prince Nikolai Lantsov. Together, they hunted the Sea Whip for Alina. She now has two amplifiers. She tried to destroy the Fold, but failed. After that, they head for the Spinning Wheel, a place where apparently Grisha have found a safe heaven – the Spinning Wheel. There, Alina reunites with Nadia… and Zoya. But the conversation with Zoya goes well, to Alina's surprise. They are now allies. After they walk their ways, Nadia joins Alina's side, uncertain.

'Someone else is in here you might be interested in,' she says.

'Who?' Alina asks, frowning. Nadia simply grabs her arm and drags her somewhere. A few corridors later the Sun Summoner sees a familiar back.

'[Y/N]!' she exclaims happily and runs forward, freeing herself of Nadia's hold. You turn around, surprised. You huff, when Alina falls into your arms. You hug her back slowly.

'Saints, I'm so glad you're okay!' she says, pulling away. You force a smile.

'Thank you,' you say. 'I'm happy you're alive as well. After I heard what had happened in the Fold…'

'I made it,' Alina says, smiling, and looks over your shoulder. 'Thanks to Mal.'

You turn your head and see a young man, looking both familiar and unfamiliar. He notices you and his frown tells you he has the same situation with you.

'Mal, look who's here!' Alina calls him, waving at him with enthusiasm. The man joins you, looking at you with interest.

'I hope you remember our dear friend from Keremzin, [Y/N] [L/N],' Alina says, looking between you two. Mal's eyes spark with recognition. He smiles broadly.

'How could I not?' he says and chuckles. 'You almost cracked my skull open once!'

'You definitely deserved it!' you laugh and go in for a hug. You hold each other tightly, then pull away. In a moment Mal's brows cease with worry.

'No offense, but you look awful,' he says. You smile wryly. You're well aware of the dark circles under your eyes, puffy eyes, pale face and so on.

'Well, I sleep with my one eye open,' you say. 'I'm not exactly welcome here.'

'Why?' Alina asks, frowning. You give her a look.

'I was one of Kirigan's most loyal Grisha,' you explain. 'No one here trusts me.'

'But you didn't know what he's planning,' Alina says vehemently. The corners of your lips lift slightly.

'How can you be so sure?' you ask.

'Yes, how can we?' a voice asks. You turn your head and see a young man in a uniform. You bow your head.

'Moi tsarevich,' you greet Nikolai. He stops by Alina and Mal's side.

'So?' he asks, eyeing you. 'How can we be sure we can trust you?'

'Nikolai!' Alina scolds him. You look tsarevich in the eyes.

'I didn't know Kirigan had planned to expand the Fold,' you declare. 'In fact, we haven't been close for a long time.'

'Why?' Nikolai asks, frowning. You smile wryly at him.

'I've been asking myself this question for months,' you answer. Nikolai eyes you again.

'I trust [Y/N],' Alina says strongly. Nikolai looks at her and they exchange a look. Finally, he nods and smiles at you.

'Alina's friends are mine friends,' he says and takes your hand in his, then kisses it. 'Pleasure to meet you, Miss [L/N]. And I'm sorry for the suspicion.'

'Charmed,' you say, smiling slightly. 'And it's perfectly alright. I understand.'

'Come, we have a lot to catch up,' Alina says, taking your arm and you start walking. Soon enough she tells you what happened to her. She tells you how Baghra warned her about Aleksander. How she escaped. How she met with Mal. How they found the Stag. But then Kirigan found them. He killed the Stag and joined Alina with its bones. He tried to harness her powers for himself. He used them to expand the Fold. But there Mal and three rouges from Ketterdam saved her. She and Mal escaped to Novyi Zem. There they met Nikolai.

'And that's about it,' Alina finishes her story a moment later.

'You've certainly been busy,' you comment. Your friend sighs. There's sadness in her eyes.

'I still can't believe I let him fooled me,' she says. 'I… I honestly thought we share some sort of connection, you know?'

'Yeah,' you answer quietly, now sad as well. But Alina quickly becomes angry.

'I still can't believe how cruel he really was,' she says with venom. 'All those people he murdered… because he wanted more power. How could someone be so cold-hearted?'

'Behind every cold-hearted person there is a kind heart which has been treated with coldness for a while,' you say quietly. Alina looks at you with surprise. But you don't say anything more.

'What about you?' your friend asks. 'How did you escape from the Little Palace?'

'I didn't,' you answer after a moment. Alina frowns at you. She looks you up and down, no doubt wondering how you can be here if you hadn't escaped from the Little Palace. You avoid her eyes.

'When the First Army raided the Little Palace, I focused on getting everyone else out,' you start. 'Especially the children. So, when I was about to evacuate myself… it was too late. I was caught.'

'[Y/N]…' Alina says, horrified. You force a smile and shake your head.

'It wasn't really for a long time,' you say. 'I escaped.'

'How?' Alina asks. You're silent for a moment. You try not to think about the time you were a captive. About what they did to you…

Darkling's whore… Filthy witch… Stupid serving girl…

'They were careless,' you answer. 'Thought they broke me. I used it against them. Then I found out about this place. Others weren't exactly thrilled to see me but they took me in. I guess my sorry state made them pity me.'

'[Y/N]… what had they done to you so they thought they broke you?' Alina asks with worry.

'Hurt me,' you answer after a moment and force a smile at her. 'You should rest. You've had a tiring journey.'

'But-' Alina starts, frowning.

'I'll see you later,' you say, hug her briefly, then walk away. Your heart is hammering in your chest. You don't look back. You don't think about what you told Alina. You don't think about it so much, you bump into someone.

'Sorry!' you apologise. The person turns out to be Zoya. She looks you over.

'How are you looking worse and worse every day?' she asks. You smile wryly.

'It's my hidden talent,' you answer and attempt to walk past her. But she grabs your arm. You look up at her. There's seriousness in her eyes.

'You're not alone,' she says, confusing you. 'Kirigan had us all fooled. I know it's hard for you, you were his personal servant and then his trusted Grisha. I know you must have certain attachment to him but… you have to let it go. He murdered innocents. And would do it again.'

'You… "Attachment"?' you repeat with disbelief. 'Zoya, I… He was the first person who saw I'm more than just a plain serving girl. Every time I struggled, he was there to help me. He saved me every time I was in danger. Do you remember Tsybeia? Even before it turned out I'm a Grisha he was always kind to me and protected me. And now… everyone tells me what he did, who he is. But I can't just forget about all the good stuff he did.'

Zoya looks at you. Suddenly, her eyes go wide. You stiffen. You know she realised your secret.

'And you love him,' she guesses and crosses her arms. 'Tell me, if he handed you a bloodied hand, would you take it, only because it was his?'

You stare at her. Tears well up in your eyes. You smile sadly, a bit brokenly.

'I honestly have no idea, Zoya,' you whisper and turn. You walk away, trying to blink away the tears. And you definitely don't think how much you miss Aleksander. Nor how much you wish he was alive.

The night falls. It is a relief to you, because you finally are away from the judging eyes, hurtful whispers. But the sleep never comes easily. Your thoughts are always a mess. Today as well.

You lay down in bed and try very hard to fall asleep. Your thoughts drift to everything that happened that day. You sigh and hesitantly grab the necklace on your neck. Pain clenches your heart.

Aleksander…

Suddenly you find yourself in Kirigan's chambers in the Little Palace. Everything is just like you remember. You look down at yourself and see the clothes you were wearing as Aleksander's personal servant.

'I did miss the sight of that band on your arm,' you hear. Your heart stops. Oh, how you longed to hear that voice. You turn around and see Aleksander leaning on his table. He looks just like he did when you last saw him.

'Yet I still preferred to see you in your kefta,' he says, slowly walking towards you. 'It suited you. It was meant to be yours.'

'Sometimes I wish I've never discovered my powers,' you admit. 'Then I would just admire you from afar. I wouldn't feel this pain now.'

'Do you really?" Aleksander asks. You think for a moment. You smile sadly and shake your head.

'Not really, no,' you answer. 'Because it was worth it. Being with you was the happiest time of my life. Even though you insisted on hiding it from everyone.'

Aleksander stops in front of you. He hands his head.

'Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?' he asks. You're quiet for a moment.

'I don't know,' you answer honestly. Aleksander nods, understanding. He looks up and reaches toward your face, but hesitates. His hand hangs in the air.

'I hate seeing you sad,' he says.

'Then come back to me,' you say, tears filling your eyes. 'I just want to see you. Hold you. Hug you. Touch you. Kiss you. Cuddle with you. Love you. Then I'll stop being sad.'

Aleksander looks at you with pain. He hates to see you like this.

'I want this too, milaya,' he says. 'So much.'

'I waited for you,' you say. 'Like I promised I would. Part of me still does. Even though it's impossible for you to return to me.'

'[Y/N]…' Aleksander whispers. He slowly reaches out to you again. When you don't flinch away, he cups your cheek. The moment he does, your clothes change into your kefta from the winter fete. He smiles softly.

'I didn't even tell you that you looked magnificent that night,' he says quietly. 'Beautiful. And your performance… You were extraordinary.'

You smile. You waited so long to hear those words. You lean into his touch.

'It's hard without you,' you say.

'I know the feeling,' Aleksander says quietly. You touch his hand that is on your cheek. You turn your head and kiss it.

'Everyone is sad to be gone from the Little Palace,' you say. 'They say their lost their home. But I lost mine before the First Army attacked us.'

'Because I was your home,' Aleksander says quietly. You nod. Kirigan presses his forehead to yours. He closes his eyes.

'I wish I was kissing you instead of missing you,' he whispers, his voice shaking from pain. You close your eyes, fighting with tears. You fail, obviously. You can feel them falling down your cheeks.

'Did you think of me?' you dare to ask. 'When you were in the Fold?'

'Yes,' Aleksander answers, clenching his jaw. 'I wanted you to be by my side. And then I wanted to come back to you.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' you ask. 'About your plans about Alina and the Fold? The real ones.'

'Because you have a compassionate heart,' Aleksander answers after a moment. 'You'd disagree with my plan. Maybe leave me.'

'You don't know that,' you say, shaking your head.

'Wouldn't you?' Aleksander challenges you. You're silent.

'I don't know what would I do,' you say and look him in the eyes. 'You robbed me of that choice.'

Kirigan looks down. Maybe he's actually ashamed a bit.

'But I know I wouldn't leave you,' you add. Aleksander's head shoots up. You cup his face.

'I promised you to be with you for better and for worse,' you say. 'No matter what would happen, I would be with you.'

'And then maybe you would die in the Fold,' Aleksander says flatly. 'This one time I wouldn't have been able to save you.'

'Maybe I would have saved myself,' you suggest with a small smile. Kirigan sighs and shakes his head.

'Sometimes I really can't with you,' he says. You grin at him. But then your smile falls.

'Kiss me?' you plead. You don't have to ask twice. Aleksander cups your face and kisses you.

'We shall be together again, my darling, I promise,' he whispers.

'I want this more than anything,' you whisper back. 'So much.'

'Be patient, [Y/N],' Aleksander pleads. 'For me. Please.'

'I'm waiting,' you whisper. 'I'll be always waiting for you.'

Kirigan opens his eyes. He's met with the wall of his room in the residence. He sighs heavily and sits up. His finger caresses the ring on his finger. Then, he lifts it to his lips.

'Please, [Y/N],' he whispers. 'Call for me. Call for me and I'll come for you. I swear. I will always come for you.'

You, Tamar (a Heartrender) and Nadia watch Alina training her new abilities. She thrusts light at her target… but even though it's impressive, it doesn't even reach it.

'Absolute rubbish,' she grunts. Nadia scoffs and gives Tamar a look.

'It's the second amplifier,' the Heartrender explains. She walks to pick up a mannequin. You three follow her.

'With the Stag, summoning came like breath,' Alina says. 'This is like… reining chaos. Crossing the Fold was a disaster.'

'Hey, we'll get you there,' Nadia comforts her. 'If it helps, I could hit you with a switch and call you "stupid girl".'

'It may come to that,' Alina sighs. 'How is it I'm overwhelmed by the second amplifier and at the same time feeling the lack of a third?'

'Well, for now, let's focus on what we can fix,' Nadia says.

'Your aim, for starters,' you suggest. Alina gives you a look and scoffs. You all go back.

'As leader of the Second Army, I need more,' she says. Ah, yes. You had a dinner with the Lantsov family (you were so not happy they've arrived). During that Nikolai announced he and Alina are engaged (yeah, because you didn't see how she and Mal look at each other) and that from now on she's the leader of the Second Army. Not everyone was happy about it (ekhm, Zoya).

'I need to learn the Cut,' Alina says, turning to you. You stiffen.

'That was Kirigan's way, to lead with fear,' Nadia protests. 'You can lead with your heart. The Second Army will be better for it.'

'You make a good point,' Tamar agrees. 'But I wouldn't completely reject fear. Can't tell you how many have taken one look at my girls and… reconsidered. I don't know how the Cut works, that's a top-shelf Etherialki move, but I do know how to direct power. It's all about intention. I like to picture the face of the person I want to crush. Try it.'

Alina positions herself and exhales. She closes her eyes. Soon light surrounds her. A moment later she grunts angrily, waves her hands and light shots forward. You all look at the effect with wide eyes.

'Well, it's not the Cut, but… it's effective,' Tamar laughs. Nadia suddenly straightens up.

'Wait a moment,' she says. 'We do have here someone who's managed the Cut.'

She and Alina look at you. Tamar looks at you, impressed. You gulp.

'Once,' you say. 'I did it once. And I have no idea how. I… didn't exactly plan it.'

'Well, what did you think about then?' Tamar asks and you stiffen. 'What did you feel?'

You see in your mind Aleksander and Alina talking together, laughing. You remember the pain and hurt you felt. You were so overwhelmed you just had to let it go. And slashed the dummy.

'Anger,' you finally answer. 'I felt anger. The kind that was killing me.'

Before anyone can ask you more, you hear footsteps. You turn and see Adrik, Nadia's brother.

'I know, not to be disturbed, but they need you in the war room,' he says to Alina. She nods and looks at others. Tamar and Nadia turn and start walking. Alina grabs her jacket and follows them. But then she notices you're not following.

'[Y/N]?' she asks. You shake your head.

'My presence will not be welcomed there,' you say and smile. 'Go without me.'

Alina hesitates, but eventually nods and leaves. Adrik is behind her. You turn to look at the dummy the Sun Summoner hit. It has a hole coming from the arm to the stomach. Almost like the Cut.

You leave a few minutes later. You take a few turns, heading toward your room, when…

'David,' you say, surprised. David with his hands spread is being led by Tolya (a Heartrender and Tamar's twin) somewhere. They stop, hearing your voice. The Durast's eyes go wide.

'[Y/N],' he says and goes pale. 'Oh, Saints, you're here…'

'Why are you…?' you start but then remember. David was the one who made the collar for Alina. They don't trust him here.

'Come,' Tolya says and continues to take David away. You're left there, stunned and shocked. You can't believe your dear friend is here. And that he is a prisoner, while you walk free…

Later you come across Alina on the corridor. She smiles at you. You look at her, troubled.

'I need to ask you a favour,' you say.

'Anything,' Alina says at once. You gulp.

'I need to see David,' you say. Alina blinks.

'And you need me for…?' she asks. You sigh.

'For getting through the door,' you say. 'Alina, just because you trust me, doesn't mean others do. Please. I need to know if he's okay.'

Alina nods and walks with you to Nikolai. The prince isn't happy but he grants you your request. A moment later you enter David's cell. Alone.

'[Y/N],' he says, straightening up at the sight of you. You smile.

'How are you, David?' you ask.

'I'm… fine, thank you,' he answers. You frown. He's terribly stiff.

'And not exactly thrilled to see me,' you point out. David sighs.

'Forgive me,' he asks. 'Of course, I'm happy to see you. But if he finds out you're here…'

'Who?' you ask, blinking. David stares at you. He stares at you with disbelief, when he sees you're not fooling around.

'You… you don't know?' he asks.

'About?' you ask, confused. David shifts, uncomfortable. He doesn't know if he should say it. But you won't let it go, he just knows it.

'Kirigan is alive,' he finally says quietly. You stumble back and hit a table with your back. You stare at David, shocked.

'No,' you say, your lip trembling. 'You're lying. He can't be.'

'I would never lie to you about this,' David says softly. You stare at him. And see no deception in his eyes. He's telling the truth.

You bring hands to your mouth and let out a sob. You close your eyes and cry. You cry for the first time since the raid. These are tears of anger, sadness, pain, sorrow… and joy.

'How?' you whisper, looking at David again. 'How did he survive?'

'He created something in the Fold,' he answers, wincing. 'Creatures made of shadow. I guess they helped him. But he… he paid a big price for it.'

'What price?' you demand.

'He's troubled by coughs, headaches, pain,' David answers. 'I… I fear only merzost could cure him.'

Your heart aches. You don't know how you feel about all that.

'[Y/N]… that necklace I gave you… where is it?' David asks. Your heart speeds up.

'I don't know,' you lie. 'I lost it when the Little Palace was attacked.'

'Are you sure?' David asks. 'Because if even by accident you call him… he will come here at once for you.'

'Me?' you ask, raising your eyebrows. The Durast looks at you. He hesitates again.

'The priority for him and his Grisha is finding you,' he finally says. 'He… Every day with no news about you is making him more agitated. He insists that he needs you by his side. He more or less admitted that there was something going on between you two.'

You're quiet. You shake your head.

'I'm not the one he needs,' you deny and leave. You stop a few turns later. Your hand reaches to the hidden necklace under your kefta. You stop your hand mid-air. You shake your head and resume walking. You must let go of Aleksander. For your sake. And for others'.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could.

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49965037/chapters/126151432

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qqueenofhades · 2 years ago

Note

Completely shocking, out-of-the-blue prompt that I've never mentioned to you before, definitely not inspired by work:

Ivan is a grumpy librarian/archivist, and Fedyor is a researcher who comes by looking for information on Darklina and/or their connection to Nikolai, and he finds the background of a love story. Obviously, the main character is Ivan's Disgust at the Perception of Heterosexuality

The light in the windowless back office is dim, grainy, and often gives Ivan a headache within the first few hours of him getting to work, which is not ideal for improving his temper. (Then again, not much is.) And despite its flaws, he does vastly prefer it to actually having to interact with the library patrons, as there is literally nothing worse than that. Especially academics, who come in with their laundry lists and their obscure texts, their pet projects and their insistence that if he just looks harder, he's sure to find it this time. Ivan has entertained many, many happy visions of just walking out, locking the doors behind him, and setting the whole thing on fire. Not that he has done that, and he probably -- probably -- wouldn't. He needs this job. Employment for a notorious ex-special ops soldier is thin on the ground as it is, and especially when it means he can, if he plays his cards right, spend most of the day completely alone. But still.

It is now, however, winter break at Os Alta Imperial State University, which means the throngs of panicked students trying to finish their last-minute assignment have mercifully receded, and Ivan can mostly organize his boxes in peace. Or so he thinks, until the accursed tinkle of the Please Ring for Service bell summons him like a wrathful specter, sweater-clad and glowering, to the front desk. "What?!"

"Uh. Good morning to you too." The newcomer -- young, dark-haired, and holding a large manila folder which portends absolutely nothing good, raises both eyebrows. "Can I speak to the archivist?"

"You're speaking to him," Ivan growls. This welcome has caused more than one quaking undergraduate to flee in abject terror rather than ask for even one book, and he fondly hopes for a similar effect this time. But the newcomer -- too old for an undergrad, so probably an advanced doctoral candidate or junior lecturer -- is made of stronger stuff, and doesn't flinch. "Can I help you, Mr... ?"

"Doctor," the annoyingly handsome interloper (not that Ivan has noticed) informs him. "Dr. Fedyor Kaminsky. I'm the new lecturer in the history department, Modern Ravkan History, and I was hoping that you could retrieve a few records for me? Boxes..." He consults his notes. Ivan contemplates murder. "T-1343 and T-1345 especially?"

Oh, great. Not again. Kaminsky -- yes, he vaguely recalls that name, from a department telegram welcoming the new faculty and staff, but it is absolutely not germane to Ivan's further actions in any part. He knows what is in those boxes, and someone always thinks they'll find something there that hasn't already been found, removed, and/or heavily censored. Ravka's last tsar and tsaritsa, Nikolai Lantsov and his half-Shu queen, Alina Starkov, are a figure of fascination and mystery for plenty of people, even after the revolution and the establishment of the Konsilium and everything that befell them as a result. Especially their relationship with the so-called Darkling, Aleksander Morozova, one of the most enigmatic and controversial figures in all of Ravkan history. Doctor Fedyor Kaminsky thinks he's going to jump into his new job with that? Good luck.

"We don't have those boxes," Ivan says, which is almost true. The Konsilium strongly prefers, in general, that people don't look at them, and any other uncomfortable bits of their history. "Go away."

Fedyor Kaminsky folds his arms. "No."

Saints, Ivan thinks sourly. What has he done to deserve this purgatory? (The Konsilium has also tried to outlaw the Ravkan Faith, since they're all supposed to be modern and secular now and because nobody wants another Apparat, but old habits are hard to break.) He stares at Fedyor, who stares back. This is confounding. Why hasn't he run away in terror yet? Everyone else does.

"Sorry," Ivan says, and turns away. "Can't help. Good day."

Naturally, Fedyor Kaminsky does not take the hint. He's back again the next day, still politely and stubbornly repeating his request for those boxes, and when Ivan loathingly suggests that the library is on winter-break hours and does not have to accommodate him at all, cheerily asks if Ivan's boss, the director of special collections, would agree. The threat of workplace discipline (or Saints forbid, a note in his permanent file) is stiff enough to make Ivan finally, furiously recant. Fine. If Kaminsky wants to get himself fired before even finishing his first year, it's nothing to Ivan. Might be a perk.

So, when they're into the second week of the requests, Ivan gives in, stomps to the back, and angrily hauls down the boxes, which are gathering dust from all the times he has, according to the rules, refused access to them before. It's not wise for Fedyor to look at these materials in the open, so Ivan tells him to take them to one of the backside reading rooms -- which is right across from Ivan's office, and makes him grimly reflect that he should have planned it better. But Fedyor works steadily and mostly silently, which is always a commendation in Ivan's book, and finally, on one dead-silent freezing morning right after the Winter Fete, when they are literally the only two people in the library and probably all of campus, he gives in. "What are you looking for?"

Fedyor jumps, glancing up in patent surprise. They eye each other for a long moment, as if to be sure that Ivan Sakharov actually did, entirely of his own volition, initiate a conversation with another human being. Then finally, warily, he says, "What's it to you?"

Good, Ivan thinks. Good instincts, just in case I was in fact an informer for the Konsilium. "I don't care," he says aloud. "I was just curious. They seemed so important to you."

"I'm just working on something," Fedyor says, after a long pause. "Confirming a hypothesis. It'll probably get me into trouble, but -- " He shrugs, with no small amount of bitterness. "I'm used to that."

Ivan thinks about it. This can't go anywhere good, but they've been made a strange sort of partners in this buried secret, and he's almost gotten used to Fedyor working away outside his door. "What?"

"I think they were lovers," Fedyor says, after a final, reluctant moment. "Alina and the Darkling, that is, and then also Alina and Nikolai, and maybe all three of them together. I think it's a love story. And as for why this matters, well -- it wouldn't change anything about our own history right now, how it all ended. But the narrative has always been that the Darkling was this awful monster who had to be destroyed, and the Grisha were his secret shock troops determined to overthrow the country on his behalf, and that pulled Alina and Nikolai into some regrettable circumstance they couldn't control and that led to their tragic downfall -- you know. It's just..."

"What?"

"I don't think it's true." Fedyor shrugs again. "I think everything we know about our own past, about the fall of the Imperial House of Lantsov, and about the Grisha, is a lie. And if that's the case, then the Konsilium knows it, or has covered it up, and that means -- "

"Shut up," Ivan interrupts roughly. "Saints. Don't talk like that. Someone could hear you."

"You could hear me." Fedyor smiles a little, a shadowed eclipse, and it does something very strange to Ivan's innards. "Does that matter?"

"I... " Ivan's mouth is dry. He can't look away. Not for any reason that means anything. "Never mind," he says, which seems the best and safest option, if it isn't already far too late. "Go back to work."

Fedyor eyes him a moment longer, then nods, a deliberate motion indicating that he knows and understands Ivan is choosing to keep his secret. Ivan himself doesn't know why, or what it is about Doctor Kaminsky, the feckless and foolish and fearless, that's gotten under his skin. It could be -- but no, it's not, it can't be that. From time to time, the very brave or very stupid actually think that Ivan himself is good-looking and try to flirt, and once a woman actually asked him on a date, which was the worst moment of his entire life (does he look like a heterosexual?!?!) But it's just shallow, surface-level, not like they're seeing him. Not like they know what monstrosity lies beneath. I think it's a love story. As if love matters. As if love, and the simple truth of it, can change the course of history.

Ivan shudders, once and then again. He looks at Fedyor for a very long moment, allowing himself -- just for that short and fleeting instant -- to imagine something he can never, never have. He grieves for it as if it was real, and then he lets it go. Turns, and walks away.

#mearcatsreturns #ask #fivan #fivan ff #heartrender husbands #darknikolina #winter prompts

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writerslittlelibrary · 1 month ago

Text

"You is a meanie!"

masterlist smolina masterlist

summary: Alina meets the Tsar and Tsaritsa, but, of course, she is merely a toddler, and she doesn’t like the Tsaritsa one bit, which she insists everyone should know…

pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alina Starkov

warnings: nothing

genre: fluff

words: 1545

a/n: all the Darklina fics I write are accessible on my ao3 :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ☆ ———————————|

“I ‘on’t wanna,” Alina whines as Genya helps her into a tiny blue dress. Light blue, to symbolise her service to Ravka. Not that Alina understands the importance of the colour of one's clothing.

“You have to meet the Tsar and Tsaritsa, Alina. It’s proper manners,” Genya explains, gently braiding her hair.

She has to be careful when she does, as Alina once cried for hours because her braid was too tight and her head was hurting. It was the General who found out why she was in so much discomfort. Alina couldn’t explain to anyone that it was her hair that was hurting her.

She’s a sensitive girl, little Alina.

“Sasha also coming?” Alina asks, sitting still in front of the vanity while she plays with a sparkling comb from Genya’s kit.

“Of course, Linka.”

Alina smiles and looks up, seeing her pretty hairs all brushed back into a braid that Genya gently lays over her shoulder.

There’s a knock at the door, and when Genya calls out that they’re free to come in, Fedyor steps inside. Alina likes him far more than his scary counterpart.

“The Tsar is waiting in the throne room,” he says, smiling at Alina when she waves at him.

“Let’s go.” Genya puts her hands on Alina’s shoulders, helping her stand and taking her hand when she does. Together, followed by Fedyor, they walk to the throne room.

When Alina had first walked through these halls, she wasn’t as quick as she was now. Back then, she had stopped at every turn, wanting to look at the pretty wallpapers or the paintings. The door of Aleksander’s room was her favourite. A sun in eclipse was carved into it, and when she asked Sasha about it, he told her it was because she was the sun.

Their rooms were in the same hallway, so close to each other that Alina could always come to his room when she wanted. And every time she did, he would always accommodate her.

She held tight on to Genya’s hand, bringing her other hand to her mouth and biting at her fingers. Sasha had told her that she shouldn’t suck her thumb anymore, so she had resulted to biting it.

After walking for nearly three entire minutes, Alina started slowing down a bit, dragging her feet and tugging on Genya’s hand.

When she stops walking entirely, Genya stops as well, crouching down so she can look little Alina in her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Linka? Are you nervous?”

Alina shakes her head and plops down on the floor. “I ‘on’t wanna walk, ‘enya. I tired.”

Genya shakes her head with a smile on her face, and when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s already smiling. “Shall I carry you, Alya?”

Alina looks at Fedyor, nodding her head and raising her arms towards him.

“Uppies,” she demands, and Fedyor happily obliges. He’d argue that he was assigned as the official guard for the Sun Summoner, but really he spends most of his time indulging a tiny toddler tyrant.

Once Alina is safe in his arms, she lays down her head on his shoulder, her eyes already starting to droop. She has more energy than she used to, but still she is a sleepy child, and the Tsar demanded to see her during her nap time, no less. No one could blame her if she dozed off for a moment.

Genya and Fedyor walk to the throne room in silence, allowing Alina to get at least 10 minutes of sleep before she will have to be awake again.

The General is waiting at the door, smiling when he sees little Alina content and dozing in Fedyor’s arms. He reaches forward, gently stroking her cheek while trying to coax her to wake up.

“Time for your big meeting, Alinochka,” Aleksander says when Alina sleepily blinks her eyes.

She lets Aleksander lift her from Fedyor’s arms, and she only protests once when he goes to set her down.

“Hush now, Alinochka, it’ll be over soon, and then we can go to my rooms and read a story.”

After that, Alina is quiet. An example of a perfectly behaved girl, all with the promise of a story if she behaves.

Aleksander grabs her tiny hand into his own, leading her through the double doors into the throne room. He’s always hated the extravagant thrones, the golden detailing, the lavish decor, when there are people starving and Grisha dying.

He will change it all, soon enough.

Alina is silent while taking in her surroundings, squeezing Aleksander’s hand just a tiny bit tighter when she notices the king and queen looking at her.

She frowns, and once Aleksander stops walking, she hides behind his legs.

Aleksander lets her, and instead focuses on the Tsar and Tsaritsa in front of him. He bows, as is proper, according to what Genya told Alina, and he introduces Alina to the court.

“Her name is Alina Starkov, and she is the Sun Summoner,” he calls out.

Alina doesn’t like the looks she receives from the people attending the court, and in a desperate attempt to hide she gets down on her knees and crawls beneath Sasha’s kefta.

A few of the nobles gasp, while Fedyor attempts to stifle a laugh in the background.

Genya is sure to laugh, too.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Tsaritsa snaps, obviously annoyed by Alina’s behaviour. She may have mothered two children, but it seems she does not understand them in the slightest.

“My apologies, Moya Tsaritsa. Alina does not yet understand the ways of the court,” Aleksander justifies, bending down and pulling Alina from beneath his kefta. He sets her back on her own two feet, standing beside him, and he takes her hand firmly in his.

Now that the king and queen can get a good look at her, the queen frowns.

“I thought she was Shu?” she says, motioning to one of her ladies to come closer. “Well, I suppose she is Shu enough. Tell her, oh, I don’t know, good morning.”

The lady tending to her is about to speak, but Alina beats her to it.

“You meanie!” she screeches, leaving the Tsaritsa entirely gobsmacked. Even Aleksander is at a loss for words.

“I pretty!” Alina continues, her words, while a little jumbled, very clear. “I ‘ave pretty eyes, I ‘ave pretty hair, and you meanie!”

She stomps her feet on the ground, clutching to Aleksander’s hand while she yells at the queen.

“You is not nice! You ‘pposed to be nice! You a meanie! Meanie, meanie, meanie!”

Aleksander can hear Fedyor absolutely losing it, laughing together with Genya and a few more of the Grisha. The queen looks like she has never been this offended in her life, and the nobles appear shocked at Alina’s outburst.

Aleksander crouches down, whispering in Alina’s ear, and when he stands, she is quiet.

She does not look at the queen again, and instead occupies herself with playing with her dress. It makes such a nice swishy movement if she moves around, after all.

While Alina is preoccupied with her dress, Aleksander offers a former apology to the Tsar and Tsaritsa, insisting it might be best for Alina to remain in the Little Palace, hidden away from the people and the court, until she is older and can be properly schooled on the rules of court.

The king agrees, although reluctantly, and waves them off, saying he doesn’t want Alina in the Grand Palace any longer while she misbehaves.

Aleksander thanks them and bows, offering his hand to Alina.

Instead of taking it, she looks up at him and frowns. She raises her arms up, making grabby hands at Sasha. “Uppies,” she demands.

Aleksander complies immediately, lifting her into his arms and carrying her back to the Little Palace. Genya and Fedyor follow along, and when they arrive at Aleksander’s war room, Aleksander allows them inside.

He hands Alina to Genya, who takes her into the General’s bedroom where another, more comfortable outfit has already been laid out for Alina.

He converses with Fedyor for a moment, and dismisses him when Alina is changed and ready for bed.

“Good job today, Alya,” Fedyor says, sending her a wink before he leaves.

Alina rushes to Aleksander, jumping into his arms when he sits down on the couch. Her book is already on the table, and a cup of tea, together with a plate of cookies, have been prepared.

“I ‘ave ‘ookie?” Alina asks, blinking up at Aleksander with the best puppy dog eyes she can manage.

“Of course, Alinochka.”

When Alina is happily munching on her cookie, Genya steps forward, her curiosity too big.

“What did you tell her, back in court?” she asks

Aleksander looks at Alina and smiles fondly. “That if she ignores the queen entirely, I’ll give her a cookie.”

Genya laughs, knowing how much better it is to simply ignore the queen.

“We’ll get you away from the Grand Palace soon enough, Genya, I swear it,” Aleksander promises, his voice firm and his words final. There is no room for doubt in his statement.

Genya nods, sparing one more glance at little Alina before she too leaves the room.

“Now, Alinochka, how about that story?”

#shadow and bone tv #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone #darklina fic #darkling x alina #the darkling #aleksander morovoza #aleksander x alina #aleksander morozova #grishaverse #ivan kaminsky #fedyor kaminsky #ivan x fedyor #alternate universe #nobody dies #smolina

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darklinaserver · 2 years ago

Text

Secret Sankta Countdown: Day 5

Of Clockwork and Sunlight, or Aleksander Morozova's Surprise Encounter by @midwinterspringwrites

“Of Clockwork and Sunlight, or Aleksander Morozova’s Surprise Encounter” by midwinterspring is an entry from last year that serves steampunk AU vibes in a Ravka that is Victorian inspired, with Grisha powers and a Grisha-run country.

So when Aleksander, grandson of tsar Ilya, needs his camera repaired, he stumbles upon the Starkov’s shop and hopes to be helped. And here he not only discovers that they can indeed help him, but also something more than he expected!

#darklina #darklina secret sankta 2022 #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #fanfic #au

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marvelmusing · 3 years ago

Text

Line of Succession

Pairing: Tsar!Aleksander Morozova x Tsaritsa!Reader

Summary: As Tsaritsa of the Ravkan Empire, many see it as your duty to provide the Tsar with an heir. You are more than happy to serve your king.

Warnings [18+]: smut directly under the cut, we jump right into the action here, unprotected sex, breeding kink, tiny bit of size kink, voice kink I guess?

My Masterlist

“Sasha,” you whine, your back arching against the soft mattress, fingers grasped tightly onto the black sheets beneath you. You whimper as your husband continues to thrust into you, and you shake your head. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can milaya.” Your breath comes in desperate pants as Aleksander thumbs over your clit. “You can, my perfect little wife. Moya tsarista.”

Your eyes roll back a little, you’ve always been weak for him using your title in the bedroom. The way his tongue rolls around the words never fails to have you wanting him.

He groans, profanity slipping easily from his lips as he loses himself in the pleasure of your body. Aleksander never swears, even when council meetings go awry, or negotiations fall through. Which is why his unfiltered words have you clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck. Such a beautiful cunt.” His lips move against the skin of your throat, and his words burn through your body as you tighten around him. “Do you like that? When I tell you how perfect your cunt is? That you were made for me?”

Squeezing your eyes shut hard, you nod, and Aleksander breathes out a small laugh against your neck. His angle is perfect, sending sparks of pleasure through your body with each thrust hitting deep inside you.

“Give me one more milaya.” You’re already on the edge of another climax, even as you doubtfully shake your head. You’re certain another orgasm will shatter you completely. “One more, then I will fill you up, as you deserve.”

You moan loudly at the thought of Aleksander’s cum inside you, coating every inch of you in his spend. He knows how much you want it, as he leans down and sucks blooming marks over your throat. Nevertheless, he continues to tease you with his words.

“Would you like that, moya tsaritsa? Would you like me to fill you with my seed? Give you a little tsarevich, or a tsarevna?”

You could listen to Aleksander speak all day long, his smooth, silky tone always enthrals you. But his Old Ravkan accent remains, emphasised by the roughness in his throat as he continues to rock into you.

“Sasha.” You plead, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes. Your entire body tingles, and sharp gasps leave your lips as your legs fall wider apart. Aleksander watches as your eyes become unfocused, lids fluttering as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you.

He can feel you holding back. Smoothing his hands over your stretched out thighs, he grits his teeth as he attempts to reassure you.

“It’s alright milaya, you can fall apart. I’ve got you.” He sounds just as breathless as you feel, and your eyes flutter open. His gaze is locked on yours and a series of broken moans leave your lips. “That’s it, my love.”

He chokes back a groan, continuing to add to your pleasure with his mouth, fingers, and cock, all working in tandem to ensure that you reach your peak before him.

Pleasure engulfs you, and you press your head hard against the pillows as you cry out, swept away by the most earth shattering orgasm you have ever experienced. You’re barely even aware that Aleksander is still going, until you feel him spill inside you.

A soft moan sounds from your throat, and Aleksander lies his body over yours as the two of you breathe shakily. His forehead presses against your collarbone, and you shiver when you feel him press a kiss there.

He lifts his head, and your heart flips when you see the bright smile on his face. Taking your chin in one hand, he guides your lips to his. You whimper against his mouth when you feel him grasp your hips, tilting them upwards. He shushes you tenderly.

“Relax, my love.” He reaches behind your head, seizing an unused pillow which he slides underneath your hips. “We need to keep it all inside, don’t we?”

Your smile widens, and you nod.

“Yes, moi tsar.” He nips on your lower lip, and you hum delightedly. You’re both still smiling, foreheads pressed together. “I love you, my Aleksander.”

He brushes a hand gently over your stomach, where he can feel his cock is, still snug against your walls, and you shiver. Aleksander’s lips press tenderly against your forehead as he whispers.

“I love you, moya milaya.”

#the darkling #tsar!aleksander #tsaritsa!reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x y/n #the darkling x you #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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x-ximenas · 4 years ago

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the amount of times i let out unnatural, inhuman screeches whilst watching Shadow and Bone is impressive

#there were so many good moments tbh #this is a longshot but i would love to know what were your favourite moments #mine were any scene with milo #milo is the true tsar #shadow and bone #six of crows #alina starkov #mal oretsev #aleksander kirigan #aleksander morozova #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #nina zenik #matthias helvar #netflix

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thebadgerclan · 2 years ago

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Bow

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Summary: All will bow before the Queen...

A/N: Idk what exactly this is, I just like the idea of our Sasha being King (and I’m hyped for S2) 😂

The Lantsovs had been dead for only three days, and while the new King sat the throne, the old King’s court remained. And they were not happy. Their King was dead, and a heretic had claimed his crown; the woman he had made his Queen nearly as horrific. Of course, not every member of the old King’s court hated Grisha and thought they were cursed by the Saints, but many of them did.

But their opinions did not matter. Aleksander was King, and you were Queen. Soon, you would have your own court, made up of your trusted Grisha and smartest advisors. Even so, your husband couldn’t execute Pytor’s entire inner circle, not if he wanted a chance of winning over those who opposed him, but they would respect their new monarchs. The old King’s court either feared or respected the new tsar enough that when the summons arrived, none of them ignored it.

Aleksander had arranged for your maids to dress you in the finest silk gown, the rarest gems, the most ornate crown from the dead Queen’s collection. It was slightly unsettling to wear a dead woman’s tiara, but your Sasha had reassured you that soon, he would have an entire set of crowns, tiaras, and diadems commissioned for you. But for now, for your first appearance as Ravka’s new tsaritsa, it would do.

You stood before the closed doors to the throne room, hands folded before you. Your husband was at your side, adjusting the crown atop his own head. “Everything will be fine, my love,” Aleksander said, taking your hand and kissing it. “They will respect you…or they will suffer.” Ivan and Fedyor, who had been appointed Aleksander’s head guards, opened the doors to the throne room, and your husband took your arm.

You kept your gaze focused on the thrones at the head of the room, what Aleksander had fought so hard for, fought to give you. When you reached the dais, your husband allowed you to step up first before coming to your side. “These past few days have been…busy, shall we say?” the tsar began, chuckling to himself while the dead King’s court looked on, some with anger in their eyes. “So I regret that I have been unable to introduce my darling wife to you all until now.”

Some of the court began murmuring amongst themselves, but Aleksander pushed on. “There has been neither time nor resources for a coronation, one that my beloved wife deserves, but nevertheless; I present to you, your tsaritsa, Queen Y/N Morozova.” Whispers and murmurs broke out at once, and you fought to keep your face calm and neutral. But that failed when one of the courtiers screamed, “Burn the witch!”

Aleksander was eerily calm when he next spoke. “I fear there may have been a miscommunication. You will bow before your Queen…” Your husband raised a hand and shadows slithered from every corner of the room, seeking out the woman who had insulted you. With a flick of his wrist, the offending woman’s head was severed from her neck. “Or you will die.”

Like a wave, the old King’s court fell to their knees, whispers of “moya tsaritsa,” filling the air. Aleksander smiled, taking your hand and kissing it as he gestured for you to sit. “Now, does anyone else have anything to say about our new Queen?” Shakily, a man rose to his feet, and Aleksander leaned forward. “Moi tsar,” he said, voice trembling. “I never favored the old King’s ways, especially his stance on Grisha. I admit, I do not know much of your people, but I know that your wife is kind. She is merciful, and I will bow to anyone who can promise to fight for Ravka, to truly fight for Ravka.”

You pulled yourself upright, willing your hands not to shake. “I will,” you said. “I may be new in the crown, but I will lay down my life for my nation. I will ride into battle alongside my soldiers if it is asked of me. I vow to all of you that I will never sit idly by and watch my people suffer like the old King had.” Aleksander felt pride swell in his heart at your words, and he felt the mood in the room shift. The man standing bowed his head, placing a hand over his heart. “Then long live the Queen.”

#aleksander morozova x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #shadow and bone reader insert

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kasagia · 1 month ago

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I love you... I am sorry V

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!witch! reader Summary: The truth is told and the enemy is exposed. But will your saviors make it in time before it's too late to save you? Warning(s): smut, 18+, violence Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 4 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 6 ~•♤♤♤•~

Aleksander had had many sleepless nights.

Most of this time he spent on reading reports and creating plans and strategies in his war room. The rest of them – which is very little, considering how many were to do in the Second Army – he spent in his bed. Those nights were the hardest. On those nights, he tried to push away the memories of his time with you that his treacherous mind loved to torture him with. He tried to throw them out as quickly as they began to disturb his peace of mind.

But could he ever say he felt at peace?

He knew he could. He had only felt it a few times in his very long life, and almost every time you were around.

He remembers perfectly well that one particularly sleepless night in which he realised... in which he allowed himself to think that you were his peace.

It was after one campaign against Fjerda. Most of his men were either dead or badly wounded, but they had won. At a high cost. But he could take a moment's respite from the Drüskelle hanging around the Ravka's border.

He was in his tent, his shadows moving calmly around the room as if they too needed to take a breath and calm down after the fight he had had hours ago. He absently wipes the blood from his hands, watching the water in the bowl turn various shades of red. He winces as one of the wounds on his hand begins to burn from the contact with the water.

He closes his eyes and listens to his surroundings, trying to block out other stimuli, especially the growing feeling of hopelessness within him. Another life lost. Another escapade against Fjerda. Another hours wasted negotiating with the Tsar.

Once again he watched the deaths of those devoted to him. He was starting to have enough of all of this.

He is torn from his dark thoughts when he hears the movement of his tent flap. He turns and nods at the bowing young heartrender. Ivan if he remembers correctly.

The young soldier surprisingly doesn't tremble before him or act all hot-headed like most of his Grisha did after his little sideways shadow show on Fjerdans. Aleksander barely suppresses a smirk as he accepts the sealed letter from him.

"What is this?" he asks, opening the letter with a sigh, expecting another irritating note from the King or the General of the First Army.

Instead, he saw your handwriting.

Dear Sasha.

He swallows, his lips suddenly chapped, and he knows Ivan can feel his heart racing as he reads the nickname that only two people have dared to use on him. Ulla, when she was little, and you.

"Some woman asked me to bring this. She said it was a matter of state. She seemed to know you, moi soverenyi."

"Where is she now?" He asks, swallowing as he sits down in the chair in front of the makeshift desk, not daring to let go of the letter. How pathetic he was to allow you to continue to have such power over him.

The years spent away from you had done nothing to his foolish heart. His mother would have mocked him if she had had the chance if she had seen the reverence he gave to the scrap of paper you had written to him.

"I left her with the Oprichniki. Should I bring her here?" He nods at the other man's words, sending Ivan out, too focused on the piece of paper in his hands. Too focused to stop them from trembling with the flood of emotion only you could cause in him.

He knows perfectly well that the man will not find you in the camp anymore. You probably left as soon as his Grisha set off to give him this letter.

Typical of you. Dropping in and out of his life whenever you felt that way. Although the last time it was him who threw you out.

Aleksander stares at the yellow note, wondering for a moment if he should not burn it in the fire of one of the candles. It would certainly spare him unavoidable suffering that reading even one of your words carried with it. And hours of thinking about you.

But his life was anything but merciful. And he himself could not stop the longing and curiosity festering inside him from desperately following each line you wrote.

I've heard what happened. I'm sorry. Don't blame yourself. You probably did everything you could and more. Sometimes there are things we can't control… and sometimes we regret doing anything about it. But it's better to do too much than too little, right? I'm thinking of you. Often. Even if you don't want it. Take care of yourself, You know who. P.S. Go to a healer. Don't try to be a bigger hero than you already are. I saw what you did, and it was both impressively stupid and brave. Even for you.

He snorts, shaking his head. He wants to crumple up the scrap you dare call a letter of state importance, tear it into little pieces, but all he does is press his nose to the paper, inhaling the scent of your perfume.

And saints only know that it's been a damn while since he last smelt that scent.

Disappointment settles on him, tightening around his chest like the ropes that Fjerd had recently bound him with. But what exactly did he expect from that letter? What did he expect from you? That you would stand before him, trying to comfort him in his darkest hour as only you can? Pathetic. Weak.

He tucks the letter into the pocket of his kefta and stands up to actually go to the healers' tent. Instead, he stops halfway out of the tent as a healer in a red kefta enters.

"Can I help you in any way, moi soverenyi?" She asks before Aleksander can question her presence. He sighs and nods, reluctant to explain to her what hurts him most.

He strips off his kefta and shirt and lets her work on his wounds. Her hands roam over his skin, soothing him from the pain. His thoughts still circle around you. Was it you who summoned a healer to his tent? Or was it Ivan who sent someone to check on his wounds as a precaution? Were you on the battlefield, since you claimed to have seen what he did?

"Could you lay on your stomach, General? I'd like to work on your back." He nods and does as she says, his thoughts still on you.

It was a nice change from the compliments of the bloody battle he'd just fought. Still, it made him feel like a naive, lovesick teenager.

And then he notices it. A small pendant hangs from the healer's neck. A glass heart. He stiffens a little at her touch. At YOUR touch, because he knows it's impossible for you to willingly part with the necklace that grants you immortality.

He tries to take calming breaths, planning what he'll do with this newfound revelation. You were here. You ACTUALLY were here. You'd been healing his wounds under disguise, knowing full well he wouldn't want to see you.

And somehow this turn of events seems better to him than if you had just listened to him and actually left him all alone.

"It was dangerous… what you did today… you used up a lot of your powers, my general." He hears you comment in a fog, too busy thinking about his next move.

He almost winces at the strange, high, almost squeaking voice instead of your mid-tones that would probably do more for his wounds than your strange witch powers.

"It's nothing I haven't done before." He responds, sitting up as you remove your hands from him.

He wonders how long this transformation spell will last on you. And what exactly were you planning to do by coming to him in disguise?

He gets his answer pretty quickly when you bow to him, trying to get out of his tent. He automatically reaches for you, holding your wrist in a tight grip. Without thinking, he pulls you onto his lap, and before you can even say a word of protest, he wraps his hand in your hair and pulls you into a needy, desperate kiss.

You gasp against his mouth in shock, only to return his kiss with an equal amount of passion and fire. You grip his hair, pressing that foreign body against his, and he almost growls. He would give anything to have your real curves pressed against him, to have your quiet moans echoing off his lips as he gave you small breaks to breathe, just to devour you again. But he knew you both had fucked up too badly to go back to how things were. That's why he takes every fake, stolen time you give him.

He closes his eyes, his lips brushing the line of your jaw, caressing every tiny inch of skin you give him access to. He feels you freeze in his arms as you realise your necklace is on display. For a moment he allows himself to wonder what your next move will be, but any rational thought or plan quickly slips from his mind as you run your hands along his chest, over his abs, to the waistband of his pants.

And for a moment he allows himself to think that you are as hopelessly into him as he is to you.

Any control he had crumbles as soon as the healer's kefta is ripped from you. He lays you on his bed of bearskin and pillows, unpacking the rest of your clothes, tracing the curves of his new body with his lips. A body that, with every second spent beneath him, becomes more and more like the one that haunts him at night in his sleeping chambers in the Little Palace.

You don't seem to care, though, too busy trying to rip the last of his clothes off of him. Soon enough, you're a chaotic mess of limbs as both you and he try to touch, caress, feel, rub, kiss, and bite every bit of skin you can reach.

Your soft moans and whimpers change over time, becoming more and more like the ones Aleksander knew, the ones he had enjoyed countless times. He presses himself against you, his mouth devouring every quiet gasp you make, every tiny hint of pleasure.

He wants to get lost in this feeling.

He wants to forget everything that happened today; he wants to forget how much he shouldn’t be doing this, and most of all, he wants to forget how much he longs for another moment like this with you.

He pulls away from you for a moment, just enough to look into your eyes – your real eyes and face – and for a moment something inside him breaks. Years of suppressed longing momentarily overwhelm him so much that tears begin to appear in his eyes.

Only at that sight do you realise that your spell has broken, that now he's seen the real you. But he doesn't let you move even a millimetre. With one hand he presses both of your wrists above you; with the other, he cups your cheek as he finally brings you together as one after years of separation.

And only saints know that this feeling is the closest to heaven that he will ever be.

You gasp, grabbing his arm, digging your nails into him – into the same spot you had healed with such urgency earlier. All you can do is moan softly beneath him, squirming against him, pressing yourself even closer to him, allowing him to take from you whatever he wants.

And he has no control. He takes what he wants, lets his lust and greed take over him completely, and for all of this, he is rewarded only by your sweet sounds, your scent, and your feeling close to him.

In his mind there is nothing but you, nothing but how you feel in front of him, how you have so easily gone from complete shock, even fear, to lust, to complete surrender to him.

Maybe he held the same power over you that you held over him?

“Aleksander… Sasha…” You mumble against his temple, shuddering beneath him as you both reach your long awaited fulfillment.

His grip on you tightens, practically trapping you in his chest as he continues to burrow deep inside you. He knows you could disappear at any moment, that as willingly and unexpectedly as the saints had given him this moment, they could so quickly take it away from him. He could be alone in the darkness of his tent again. So he clings to you, clinging to you like a lost sailor to a lantern, and for that brief moment you feel like the only light in his shadows. His poison and salvation all in one.

"Don't call me that." He mumbles against your neck and bites. You gasp, biting your bottom lip, holding back a cry as he marks you, wanting you to carry at least some permanent piece of this encounter.

"I... I missed you." He growls at your confession, like a rabid animal sensing danger. But... were you really one to him?

Was it really wise to hold on to that grudge from ages ago when this... when what happened tonight could be his everyday reality? Yes. Otherwise, his persistence would have been for nothing. Otherwise, all of this... all of this separation would have just been wasted time between you two.

"Did you miss me or the way you could have used me?" He growls, not letting your sweet words fool him even as you reach for his cheek with all the tenderness he lacked and gaze at him with an adoration that makes his heart momentarily stop being overwhelmed by your feelings. Your remorse.

"I… I love you, Sasha… I'm sorry that.." He kisses you, cutting off anything you might have said.

He kisses you with anger, an intense burning passion, wanting to punish you for even having the nerve to try to explain yourself and whitewash yourself from such obvious guilt as you have.

He rolls you onto your stomach and onto your knees for him, his hand in your hair and your head pressed against the fur so he doesn't look you in the eyes as he takes you with all the fury he has for you.

He wants to make you feel as used as he did the day he found out you used his blood to create that damned necklace. He wants you to feel as violated as he does when his doubts got the better of him, convincing him your love was a sham, that you had planned to use him for his immortality all along.

And when you're both exhausted, when he holds you safely in his arms with your head on his chest, his hand in your hair, your ear pressed to his heart, he doesn't feel the festering resentment or the disgust for you.

He feels fulfilment. Safety. Peace he hasn't known in ages. He had peace in you. Home. Even after all these years.

And this realisation it's like a healing balm to his broken heart and a poison that eats at his insides worse than merzost ever did.

He trembles, tightening his grip on the necklace he kept safe in his kefta's pocket. He will find you. He will find you and bring you back where you belong. To him.

And he will do it even if you no longer want it.

Mijomir mumbles the words – in a language that Aleksander strangely does not understand – as he reads them from your book, tracing his finger over each line you have written.

He thought he had learnt patience over the centuries. But with every second of delay, when the wizard mumbled some strange words surrounded by a few of your crystals and things, it seemed to him that this patience was just an illusion.

"How much longer will it take you?" He grumbles, leaning against the wooden pole supporting the tent. Ulla gives him a reprimanding look for rushing him, which Aleksander conveniently ignores, staring warily at the mage.

"An hour, maybe two. It would be faster if you gave me that damn necklace instead of being a jealous and possessive dog in the manger."

Aleksander automatically tightens his grip on your necklace, which he kept safely in his kefta pocket. Giving it to this strange man meant risking losing it if he was indeed a fake reptile. A risk Aleksander was not willing to take.

So he stubbornly looks away and decides to wait a little longer. Maybe if he summoned his shadows, it would motivate the wizard to search for you more effectively?

"We've sent our best heartrenders out to scout. The Fjerdans shouldn't get very far with her. We'll find her. Sooner or later." Ivan reports to him as he enters the tent they have pitched in a clearing near the border with Fjerda.

Aleksander regrets not having placed a fold here. Or that he was not more persistent and ruthless in his plans to enlarge it. If a wall of shadows guarded the borders of Ravka, you would never have been kidnapped. Even witches, tempted by the bounty on your head, would be afraid to venture into the unknown territories of the lands protected by the wall of shadows.

"That's not enough." Aleksander cringes at the sound of your little friend's irritating voice. Mal annoyed him with his stupidity and impulsiveness, but Mijomir with his… cocky confidence was a bigger test of his patience. Patience, which he had already run out of after you disappeared.

He still couldn't get out of his head the way that magical scum tenderly took care of you. If he could, he would cut off the wziard's hands just in case to make sure that he would never have any opportunity to touch you agin.

"Maybe she was kidnapped by a Fjerdan, maybe not. We don't know for sure. Those... witched who were hunting her could as well take part in this."

"Maybe she ran away of her own free will? It wouldn't be the first time this has happened." Zoya says mockingly, earning her three enraged, irritated looks.

"Y/N isn't that much of a drama queen. She wouldn't do something like that. Besides, she wouldn't leave me, Mijomir, and my brother alone without a word or anything." Ulla huffs, moving away from Zoya and approaching him and Mijomir to stand closer to the wizard.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that last person, but Ulen'ka's right. This is a kidnapping, not an escape. We just have to find out by whom. And if someone were to so generously give me an item she hasn't parted with for practically centuries, I might be able to establish a connection with her to find out." Mijomir comments, staring meaningfully at Aleksander.

"And how do I know for sure you didn't have a hand in this? You showed up just a few hours before she disappeared. Maybe you were after her head too."

Ulla snorts indignantly at his words, but before she can even utter a word in the magician's defense, he approaches him, undeterred by the dark gaze and shadows that Aleksander summons around him.

"The last thing I want is for her to die. She is my dearest friend. And even if she wasn't the truth is that If she would die, I will die too. And believe me, general, I am not a suicide."

Aleksander frowns at the confession. The possessiveness in him comes back to life with a vengeance, thinking that it was more of a… romantic confession. As for his little witch. His Y/N. As soon as this carrion is no longer useful, he'll squeeze the life out of him.

"What do you mean? Why would you die with her?" Ulla asks Mijomir, causing all eyes in the crowd to focus on him.

"I… it's a long story. And Y/N should probably tell it herself, but since she's been too much of a coward all these centuries and doesn't want to involve you in her affairs, I will." Mijomir comments, shifting his gaze between Aleksander, Ulla, and even Baghra. "Where to starts... ugh. We… when Y/N found out that you live much longer than us… she could have looked for the answer to that problem in some pretty old, morally questionable books. And of course, as stubborn as she was, she found it. It was old magic, probably from when Baghra was a child."

Mijomir earns a snort of amusement from most people and a crooked, nearly invisible smirk from Aleksander, who is nevertheless more focused on absorbing the answer to the question that has always plagued him, and which you have avoided.

What exactly did you give in exchange to be immortal like him?

Aleksander knew that you killed your witches' coven to which you belonged, sparing no one, that you put him to sleep and took his blood for the spell. What else was in it?

"I… I stuck close to Y/N back then. We still are. But… we weren't exactly alone. Before she met you." Here Mijomir nods reluctantly in his direction. "We… we had a trio of sorts. Me. Her. And Luke."

Aleksander frowns, certain he’s heard that name before. His memory flashes back to the not-so-flattering moment when one of the witches attacked you for gold on your head the first time.

Aleksander and the others watch in disbelief as you fight the witch who attacked them earlier. He knew he should have protested against being tied up from the start. If he hadn't had to fight David's shackles that bound his power, he would have broken free from the witch's spell long ago. You've taught him this many times. Just in case.

"Not so vulnerable." You gasp and use your magic to throw the witch off of you. You sigh, pressing a hand to your neck and feeling the sticky blood on your fingers. Aleksander is seething with rage. The necklace. You didn't have a necklace. "I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. So if I were you, I wouldn't taste me. What do you want?"

"Kill you. Just like practically all of the witches from Ravka and Fjerda."

Aleksander fights the forces that bind him with a hundred times greater strength and zeal after these words. His shadows try to penetrate both – both the spell and the powers of his best duraste. And probably never in his entire long life has he felt such fear.

"Oh please. I'm not that popular." You joke, earning a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. You sigh, sitting down by the fire and nodding for her to do the same, ignoring the stare he gives you. "I thought you had finished your hunt for me a long time ago?"

"It's nothing personal. The Great Witch has a bounty on your head. And I need the money they offer for your head. I happened to be passing by and heard your name. I decided to try my luck."

"And they say it's a bad thing to gossip." You mock, throwing a quick glance in his direction. "Since when does Reyana want me dead?"

"The leadership in the coven has changed since you were gone. Reyana is dead. Luke has taken command."

"Luke… as in…" Ulla begins, interrupted by Mijomir.

"Yes. Luke, the new leader of all witch covens. The one who sent for her head. It's… a long story. Let's just say he's resentful that instead of being his queen by his side and ruling over us witches, Y/N chose you and this here boor in the shadows." Aleksander grimaces at the nickname. "Anyway. The story is simple. There were three of us - ambitious magicians. And each of us was looking for a way to increase our powers, to exist in a world where we wouldn't have to fear being killed. A bit like you, Grisha. But... we had different visions. And after Y/N met our Shadow Summoner, she wanted to completely cut herself off from the old plans. She only saw you in her future. And Ulla. And maybe Baghra. Coming back. She needed the recipe for immortality. And Luke found it for her. At first I was shocked. To be completely honest, we never liked you; I still do not. You took our companion away from us, but Luke... Luke was just jealous. Damn jealous. To the point that I thought that one day he would kill either himself, or you, or Y/N, or all of you at once. I was... unfavourable about the creation of the necklace and using your blood. Especially since it... it connected our lives. But not in the way Luke wanted. He thought that by bonding, he would have a special bond with Y/N, but... it didn't work like that. The necklace needed the power of the entire coven. Y/N was supposed to be bonded to you. And I and Luke... I and Luke were her connection to the world. Luke thought the main connection, the main bridge, would go between the three of us and you. But Y/N is a wise beast. She changed the spell so that only she would draw from you and only you from her. So we were just side branches, stabilising the power between you two and drawing only one benefit. Immortality."

"So you..."

"Yes. I'll live as long as you live. As long as Y/N lives to be precise. Comming back to the story: Luke got pissed. He wanted to destroy the necklace, but out of the three of us, Y/N was the most powerful one. So she kicked his ass and ran to you. And then it all went to hell anyway. But Luke… he's a retentive person. He holds a grudge. A lot. He's been chasing her for centuries, sometimes even watching you, so maybe it's a good thing you split up. She managed to hide from him, and I was running away from lands to lands, exploring different countries. But now that he's somehow taken over the covens and hold the power over all the witches… I think he decided it was time to get revenge."

"But we found the Fjerdans symbol in her rooms."

"To throw us off course. Chase after someone who didn't take her and start a war with them while they're busy with her." Aleksander interrupts Ulla and meets Ivan's gaze. "They'll be enraged by our patrols. You need to gather our men and prepare for war."

"What are you going to do? Suddenly you don't care about Grisha anymore?" Zoya cuts in, causing him to clench his fists to keep from sending some of his shadows at her.

"I see you and Alina are having a great time playing war without me. You'll manage. You have Baghra and Ivan to help you. I myself supervised the training of the two of you. You will manage. I'm needed elsewhere."

"You came here with us, or rather you were released from your cell for one purpose. To help us in this war. Do you think we're just going to let you go and look for some lost lover of yours?" His once most loyal soldier approaches him, giving him an angry, intimidating look. Aleksander smirks, gently raising his hand, allowing his shadows to envelop all present.

"It's cute that you think you can even try to stop me."

"My brother has fought enough wars in the name of Grisha. And he will surely do so again. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have business to attend to." Ulla butts in and grabs his hand. She nods to Mijomir and the three of them disappear before anyone can react.

Aleksander remembers these tricks. You used teleportation on him a few times, but he hated this mode of transport. He preferred horseback riding. However, he admitted that it had its advantages.

"A heads-up next time would be nice." He snorts at the wizard, skeptically surveying his surroundings. A forest. The middle of a forest. And a small cabin.

"Maybe next time. Now. If I can't find her, then Luke has closed the connection between us. But he's not strong enough to close the connection between you and her. Have you ever practiced magic, Grisha?"

Aleksander sighs at the wizard's excitement. This is going to be a really long day for him…

You wake up with a huge headache – you literally feel like you've been run over by at least 5 carriages with a full team of 4 horses. And your hands and feet are tied. The only good thing is that your cell feels like a room. A fairly comfortable one. You're even lying on a bed. Which is strange enough in itself.

You expected to wake up in some musty dungeon, tied to a tree by the Fjerdans, or not wake up at all. That's why you're so surprised when you're still breathing, when your heart beats in your chest and your power hums, trapped in your body, effectively blocked by whatever your captor has prepared for you. Or rather, what Luke was going to do now.

You shiver as the door to your chambers opens. He enters with two of his henchmen, watching you carefully. They walk over to you, taking you off the bed and tying you to a chair.

You keep your eyes on the wizard before you, once your friend, who is cautiously scanning the room as if you still pose some kind of threat to him when you were all bound and gagged.

Good. At least he has the decency to still be vigilant around you.

“Leave us. Wait by the door.” He orders them dryly, sitting down in the chair across from you. You glance at the departing wizards, more than aware of how close Luke is stepping to you. "Are you going to behave yourself, or should I leave that gag on you? It's been a long time, I was hoping, for a little conversation, but all I need is for you to listen to me if you can't keep your rage in check."

You roll your eyes at him but don’t struggle as he slowly unties the gag. You spit it out of your mouth, tossing it over the side of your chair.

"Persuasive. Even for you." You scoff, watching him closely. He had changed over the centuries.

His once blond hair was now grey, his skin as shiny and smooth without a trace of a wrinkle as the day when the three of you had created a necklace for you, mixing your blood with Aleksander's.

"Big mouth as usual. I see your Grisha hasn't tempered that sharp tongue of yours. Good. More fun for me."

"I have many more intelligent comments for you. All as repulsive as you are. But first, maybe you'd like to tell me why you're after me and Mijomir?"

"Isn't it obvious? You took something from me. I want it back. Where's your necklace?"

"I gave it to the poor and needy." You mock him, which turns out to be a bad idea in your situation. You hiss in pain as he flicks his wrist, causing every cell in your body to burn with unimaginable pain.

"I'll ask you again. Where. Is. My. Necklace?" He growls in your face, breaking the spell, and grabs you by the neck, not letting you catch your breath after the torture he put you through.

"Yours? I don't remember it being your necklace. It was always meant to be mine. To me and to my... to my Grisha." You speak carefully, not saying Aleksander's name out loud. He growls, tightening his grip on your neck again, staring into your watery eyes as you suffocate under his hand.

"Ah yes. Your shadow man. The Starless Saint. The Darkling…it's probably with him, right? How romantic. You grant yourself immortality only to hand it over to some insignificant Grisha who's a freak of nature."

"Aren't we all?" You gasp, spitting out the words with the last of your air, ready to defend him even in your final moments.

Luke lets go of you and steps away from you to pour himself a drink. As you pant, gasping for air in your aching lungs, you see a sudden movement in the room.

If your hands weren't tied, you'd rub your eyes in disbelief. Beautiful. You were hallucinating and seeing Aleksander.

Maybe it was finally your time; maybe at the moment of your death your mind imagined him here to make things easier for you. Because you know that whatever Luke has planned for you, it won't be pretty and easy.

"I told you. Grisha and witches don't mix. Your Shadow Summoner may be unique among them, but he is not like us, Y/N. We are forces of nature. Endowed with a power that is part of ourselves, which is the structure of our bodies. Not a twisted crossbreed of strange genes."

"I think before I kill him I'll show him how perfectly you and I fit together. What do you think, my little witch? Although no… he doesn't deserve to see you writhing beneath me, naked and at my mercy. That's a sight for me alone."

You stare stupidly at both men, coughing as your lungs burned from the excess air. It was a shitty way to die, to say the least, imagining your ex saying… things like that.

"I will take great pleasure in breaking you. You will forget that any Grisha ever touched you." Luke promises darkly, cupping your cheek in his hand, unaware that an imaginary Aleksander had entered your head, that even in this moment all you could think about was your Shadow Summoner and not what you were about to go through by Luke's hands.

"Hang in there, milaya. I promise we'll get here as fast as we can, I'll break his bones and sacrifice him to you, I'll cut him into a thousand pieces for your enjoyment after he begs to die at our hands." Aleksander promises, pressing tender kisses to the top of your head as tears stream down your face.

I love you. You think, closing your eyes and blocking out another wave of pain that Luke throws at you, this time kicking you in the shin, probably hard enough to break your bone.

"I love you too. Only you. Always you. Just wait for me a little longer, please, Y/N. I'm begging you. Don't give up..."

You don't hear the rest of his pleas. You pass out from the pain, relieved to have these few moments of unconsciousness. At this point, the relief outweighs the fear that you'll never open your eyes again.

Don't kill me for this… but I hope you liked this chapter anyway. 🫣🥰

Any comments/messages/hearts are greatly appreciated! Thank you so much!!! If you want to, let me know what you think 🥰🖤🖤

Taglist (As always, I hope that everyone who wants to be here is here): @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat @barnes70stark @meadowshelby

@zeeader @the-desilittle-bird

@thepassionatereader @budugu

@sinistersnakey @diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic

@aryhyuuga

@oh-thats-cute

@meadows5

@dreamtheatre

@sinistersnakey

@lovelydoveval

@shatteredheartofdarkness

@m-ichelles-world

@ariesmai

@flostvs1508

@darkdaydreamer

@intothesoul

@snoopyreadstoday

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ncarnesir · 6 months ago

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Secret Love Song

This is a very self indulgent piece i wrote as a gift to @midwinterspringwrites for the Discord event of Secret Sankta 2024.

I'm not really the kind to write no power AU, but I followed the muse and that's where it leads. It's probably the fluffiest thing I ever wrote.

For a change, Alina is the one who's a total simp for Aleksander in this story 🤭, but he quickly catches up don't worry!

Art on the moodboard is from Lucife56

Chapters: 10/10

Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV), The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, David Kostyk/Genya Safin

Characters: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Alina Starkov, Ilya Morozova, Mal Oretsev, David Kostyk, Genya Safin, Original Children of The Darkling | Luda, Nikolai Lantsov, General Zlatan (Shadow and Bone TV)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Shu Princess Alina Starkov, Half-Shu Alina Starkov, Prince Mal Oretsev, Prince The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Tsar Ilya Morozova, Alina Starkov Loves The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Widowed The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Soft The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Age Difference, Competence Kink, Self-Indulgent, Bit of meh politics, Arranged Marriage, Waltzing, horse riding, Mal Oretsev Being an Asshole, extremely cute toddler, Mention of Luda dying during childbirth, kind of Lizard brain Alina Starkov, David and Genya being cute as a side piece, David is Alina's cousin

Series: Part 6 of DDS Events 2024

Summary:

Alina Kir-Taban Starkov is the only niece of the Shu Han Empress and is betrothed to Tsar Ilya Morozova's grandson and heir apparent as a condition of an alliance treaty between the two countries. But truth be told, Alina has forever been besotted to another Ravkan Prince after meeting him as a young girl. And all she dreams of now is for the chance to see him again, even if she has to get married to achieve that.

#shadow and bone #darklina #aleksander morovoza #alina starkov #fanfiction #fic i wrote

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thereisnolumos · 2 years ago

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Correcting all the atrocities against Russian language in Grishaverse

I think that I might’ve already wrote on this topic here before, but I can’t seem to find it and I’m continuously bitter with the way my language has been expropriated and twisted in the girishaverse series, so, without further ado, 10 things that infuriated me (and the ones I remembered now, for there are surely more) as a Russian speaking person:

1. The first being the Grisha itself. It’s a male name. A shortened version of the name Grigoriy, to be exact. To call an entire group of people like that is… try switching it to “Johnny” every time you read it and you’ll understand the pain. She could’ve at least try and justify it with some “first ever” character with such powers named Grigoriy, so that’s why they’re called that… but no

2. All the names. Listen, if you’re using Russian names while writing in English (or any other language that doesn’t differentiate between genders) you have two ways:

eradicate the switch completely, giving everyone the male version (i.e. default bcs that’s the world we live in), or

FUCKING STICK TO THE RULES OF THE LANGUAGE YOU’RE GOT THEM FROM. The female Russian last names will always have a vowel in the end. So, it’s Aleksander Morozov and Baghra Morozova (I’m dying to know what name she thought that one is a short version of, for it just doesn’t exist). It’s Alina Starkova. Genya Safina (which should be Evgeniya, bcs Genya is a short version). Zoya Nazelenskaya (her name looks to me as of Polish and/or Ukrainian origins, correct me of I’m wrong. I’m only going off from the Russian language rules), etc.

3. It’s Fyodor, not Fedyor. And it’s Kaminskyi or Kaminskyy, there is an extra sound in the end, not just -y. Actually, for this last name use the name of the President of Ukraine as a guide, their names would be of the same origin, same as Zoya’s last name.

4. You cannot use just any word as a name in Russian language. I know that it’s sort of a thing in modern English language, but it’s not a case here. So, if I recall, there was a character with the name “Privyet” in the books. Which means “hi” in Russian. Don’t do things like that. Please. I beg of you. Fun fact, we have Vera, Nadezhda and Lubov (Faith, Hope and Love respectively) as real FEMALE ONLY names, but no such thing as just taking a word like say “Otvaga - Bravery” and making it a name. Nope.

5. Don’t even get me started on the idiocy that “otkazat’sya” is. It’s. A. Fucking. Verb. Means “to refuse” in a slightly different context that “otkazat’”. There isn’t a single version of the reality where it would’ve made sense to call a group of people by verb. None. If she wanted it to mean “the abandoned” as in “the power abandoned them”, she should’ve called them “otvergnutyye” or “ostavlennyye”. If the meaning is more towards “they refused that power”, then it should be smth like “otkazavshiesya”.

6. They have stressed the wrong syllable in the “merzost’” on the show. Supposed to be the first one. Not sure whether or not she meant to use the word “filth” in regards to the forbidden magic, or if, once again, she just liked the sound of this word.

7. “Kefta” should’ve just been “kaftan”

8. I actually hate that she couldn’t just stick to the names that would’ve been found in Russian empire during the time she drew inspiration from. What is Baghra and Malyen???? Where’d she get them??? I can stretch Baghra as being a very strange short version of the name Agrafena (veeeeery old Russian name, which suits her long life), but it’s a big stretch to say the least. Malyen just doesn’t exist. Mal doesn’t exist as a name (it’s a old version of the word “small” though)

9. What is the word “Tsarina” everyone seems to use in fanfiction where Alina and Aleksander rule over Ravka? There is no such word. There are:

Tsar - the male ruler

Tsaritsa - female ruler and/or wife of a Tsar

Tsarevich - son of Tsar and Tsaritsa

Tsarevna - daughter of Tsar and Tsaritsa

No Tsarina.

10. David’s last name is extremely strange. I assume he’s not of Ravkan origins, from his first name, but Kostyk - is a friendly short version of a name Konstantin. I’m debated over the fact whether or not this form of this name has even been in use before Soviet Union actually. I’ve met people with the last name like Kostyukevich and Konstantinov though (there are many last names that originated from first names in Russian language many, many years ago. But there are rules for the ways they were formed)

Feel free to add all the ways Leigh Bardugo butchered other languages and cultures in this series

#grishaverse #russian language #slavic languages #shadow and bone #aleksander morozov #alina starkova #genya safina #baghra morozova #malyen oretsev #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone series #incorrect shadow and bone

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hiraeth-witch-11 · 2 years ago

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Single Glimpse of Relief

Aleksander Morozova x Healer!reader Drabble

Warnings: death, mentioned injuries, grief, burn out, war

Word count: 600ish

Only twenty minutes to sleep

But you dream of some epiphany

Just one single glimpse of relief

To make some sense of what you’ve seen

Your knuckles are white as you grip the back of the wooden chair, listening to the news. Your patient had died while in recovery. The healer on call suspected it was a blood clot, something easy to miss especially when you were focusing on mending bone and keeping the patient from bleeding out. Still, you had been a healer for so long, you should have seen it, you should have known, you were supposed to be one of the best. How did you not catch it? You dismiss the messenger, keeping composure until the door clicks shut. Then you let the tears stream down your face. It had been a long day, a long week really, and you had been so busy. So much stress, so many broken bones, gunshot wounds, lacerations, even a couple amputations along with all the nobles of court requesting a healer for the smallest of injuries and ailments. And of course you spent much of your down time listening to your fellow Grisha as you tried to help with wounds of the soul. You were so very drained and in this moment, you blame yourself for the loss of your patient.

You let out a scream of frustration and wrench the chair towards the wall. It hits with a thud and knocks a painting off the space next to it. You sit down on the floor and put your head between your knees as you sob. That’s where he finds you.

“Malyshka, what’s wrong?” Aleksandar asks in concern as he crouches down next to you.

“It’s my fault, it had to have been my fault,” you gasp without looking up.

“I heard about your patient and I’m very sorry he didn’t make it, but the healers assured me that there was no way you could've seen it.” He places his hand on your back and rubs gentle circles.

“Maybe if I had been there instead of asleep, I could’ve done something. I could’ve healed him before it was too late.”

“Malyshka, baby, can you look at me, please?”

You lift your head slowly and turn to face him. He carefully cups your face in his hands. “This was not your fault. There was nothing to be done.”

You begin to voice your imagined protests, but he cuts you off.

“Do you blame the healers watching when he passed? Would you have them forgo their sleep even to the same extremes you do?”

You shake your head.

“Then do not blame yourself, my love.”

You unfold yourself and allow him to pull you into his arms, tucking your face into his neck.

This knife’s edge the Grisha were balancing on was precarious. The Tsar would use all of you as barely more than cannon fodder. Aleksander was constantly fighting on and off the battlefield to protect your people. You worked night and day to reduce mortalities, often forgetting to eat until Aleksander ordered you out of the infirmary and back to his rooms where you weren’t allowed to leave until you had eaten and hydrated enough to satisfy him. You were one of the few people in the Second Army who slept less than him. Sometimes, he would find you half asleep at your desk or leaning against the wall in a hallway, occasionally flat out on the ground in your chambers because you’d fallen asleep before you could reach your bed. During these times, he would scoop you into his arms and take you back to his chambers where he would sleep with his arms wrapped around you so you wouldn’t sneak off back to work. He took care of you, and you him. Whenever he left Os Alta, you were right by his side. And you never wanted to leave it.

This is probably just a oneshot/drabble

@kayhi808

#shadow and bone #darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader

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shawty-writes-a-little · 3 years ago

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Bad influence

Aleksander morozova x fem reader [one shot]

Summary: Aleksander uses curse words around the two year old who adapts that choice of words very quickly? ~ domestic fluff bc my no1 boy deserves it

Warnings: Swearing (ofc lol)

Word count: 1.6k+

—

Dim sunlight passed through the blinds of main chamber. Y/n was sitting on the floor cross legged looking over Eric's drawing and the colours he had spread all over the floor, it was hard to tell if the page was being painted upon or splashed with excessive water and mismanaged colours here and there but it kept the gremlin busy for at least a while. Besides y/n wasn't the one to disturb his process she had her own book to read while he was up busy making a brown coloured sky with strange looking animals. This was their usual routine for the later part of the afternoon most of the times Aleksander would join them too.

Like today, y/n heard his steps chatting with someone-probably Ivan. "For once if he could stop thinking with his beardsplitter we might just win a war!" A scoff with his voice followed his steps as he entered the room. Y/n and Eric both looked up to him entering as he bid his goodbye to Ivan. Y/n hopes Eric didn't hear what Aleksander said though he was just a toddler he was very quick to pick up on his father's actions, especially his words. It was adorable at times when Eric would draw Aleksander's beard on his face and mimic his voice, do his hand gestures in order to be the same height as him he would ask Genya to lift him up. Almost everyone at little palace contributed happily to his demands.

He had started speaking Aleksander's words too. He would call y/n Miliya and run away hoping he tricked his mother into thinking Aleksander had called her. It was pretty alright till then, he has started picking up Aleksander's cuss words too apparently.

Everytime he would discuss some council or state issues with y/n he would mindlessly swear and if Eric was around he would surely add it to his dictionary when he could barely pronounce some words right. Erik dropped his brushes and ran to Aleksander as he reciprocated his pace, bending lower Aleksander lift him up at once and hurled him in the air laughing the same time as him.

Putting her forefinger between the book settling the page she closed it putting it on her lap. "How was the meeting?" She asked Aleksander she didn't knew there was one but hearing him use the word thinking and beardsplitter in the same sentence she figured he had met with the 'Tsar today.

"Just the manwhore of a King we have being an arse as he fu-"

"Aleksander!" Y/n quipped interrupting him.

"What?" He asked confused as Erik gestures to wriggled out of his arms, bending he let Erik go and he ran back to his painting probably for the final touch.

"I've told you not to swear around Eric!" She told him raising her brows.

"Oh?" He huffed shrugging his shoulders "Apologies then."

"It isn't trivial! He picks up extremely fast after your words." Y/n debated as a grin spread across his face.

"He probably doesn't even understand them."

"Exactly! He doesn't understand them so he thinks they're normal words and it is alright to use them."

"Are you accusing me of being a bad influence on our child?" He faked a gasp holding onto his chest.

"Yes. Yes I am." She stated at him blankly irritated by his dramatics given not only two days ago Erik asked David if he knew about the word shit.

"Alright." He sighed in defeat taking a seat next to y/n on the floor close beside her. "Eric from now on saying any bad words in this house is treason." He said turning to the two year old with a fake stern voice.

"Tweason!" Erik looked up from his painting and repeated after him.

"Yes and our y/n here could send us to prison or even exile-we wouldn't want that would we?" It was more of a joke directed to y/n who rolled her eyes at him not trying to engage in his banter.

She flipped her book open again as Aleksander shifted closer to her, he took her hand resting on the book inter-wining their fingers together. He looked into the page she was so concentrated on, sneaking his hand by her waist getting her to blush and shifting pages since he was faster reader.

Eric caught both of their attention as she stood up and spoke, "Dada!" He showed his drawing bringing it close to their face.

"Wow! Eric that is remarkable!" Y/n praised the young boy mirroring his smile.

Aleksander tilted his neck trying to make out what it was, "Wonderful I'd say-"

"Do you know what it is?" Eric asked his father with big eyes full of content. Aleksander almost melted at the domesticity of this scene, he paused thinking how many strange paintings he would've done when we was his son's age if the saints were just.

"Uh-it's a—"

"Go on tell him what that animal is." Y/n nudged onto Aleksander's arm finding it funny putting him in the spot.

"I know what it is." He didn't.

"It's a lion!!" Eric exclaimed showing it to her mother too for a better view.

"Yes! A lion!" Y/n laughed sitting up on her knees, bending over Aleksander sitting in the middle she took Eric in her arms kissing his forehead as he went on further explaining her the backstory of the lion.

Aleksander looked at both of them laughing and giggling in awe, he was so foreign with this feeling of a room feeling home, of people feeling home. How he'd catch himself smiling when the day is over to finally he with family. The despair and heavy weight of the war and his ambitions would fade away as soon as Eric would rush into his arms. The day wouldn't begin if he couldn't get a glimpse of y/n smiling even it for a moment. He would long to come home now, knowing someone's waiting for him. If only every fight led him to an afternoon like this-watching Eric play and be close with y/n, jokes and laughter and the indescribable feeling which made him smile even at a single thought of it.

—

Aleksander prepared the bed as y/n walked in the room rocking Eric in her arms getting to the last bit of the bed time story. It was an everyday process to get Eric to sleep where y/n and Aleksander had alternate turns on telling the story.

"Why didn't the fox return the jewel?" Eric asked curiously to his mother in context of the story. Y/n planned to keep the answers short so he wouldn't engage in conversation and drift off to sleep.

"Well-because the fox was a—" she thought to come up for a reasonable word that would make sense to his little mind.

"Cwunt!" Eric replied for her as she paused to think.

"Eric!" Y/n raised both her brows out of surprise with what he said-Aleksander's words were being getting soaked up like water in his mind.

Aleksander right by the bed bursted into laughter as Eric joined him coming to a conclusion maybe the word he said was a humorous one. "Aleksander stop encouraging him!" She scolded him walking over to the bed placing Eric on the bed as she sat beside him.

"It's pretty funny he couldn't even say it the proper way." He added slowing his fit of laughter into a boyish chuckle.

"I—unbelievable." Y/n shook her head in disbelief turning to Eric. "Eric-little sunshine, it was a really bad word that you just used we don't say—"

"Dada says it!" Eric explained raising his brows which made him look just like y/n clearly not understanding his poor choice of words given he didn't knew what it meant. Y/n pointed her hands at Eric for Aleksander to further explain this matter to his influenced.

He nodded taking a seat on the bed across Eric, "Your mother is right Eric we shouldn't say such words they could have a horrible impact if we say it to people we don't want to or mean to, I made a mistake when I said it earlier. Now what do we do when we make mistakes?"

"We deny it!" Eric answered to his question with an answer Aleksander himself had taught him. Y/n's eyes widened at the response but not surprised at this point.

"You taught him that didn't you?" She quipped at him as Aleksander looked away scoffing trying to rub it off.

"Of course not-No Eric not that—we apologise. Sometimes if we use these words out of anger at someone it could hurt their feelings let alone they might think low of us." " He said adding emphasis on apologise, turning to y/n he began "I am truly sorry for the foul words I used I promise not to use them"

Watching his father apologise he felt the guilt for his choice of words "I'm sorry too." He said opening his arms falling onto y/n's shoulders. Y/n couldn't help but smile as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. "Thank you, Eric." she smiled at Aleksander too appreciating his sincere effort that resulted this.

Later Aleksander explained to Eric what a treaty meant and said once he learns to write they could make a not swearing treaty.

—

I missed writing for him AAAAAAAAAA let me know what you think about it :)

Taglist 🏷 (let me know I if you want me to added or removed)

I haven’t posted for him in so long I forgot the one I had

#general kirigan x reader #general kirigan x you #darkling imagine #darkling x reader #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone

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