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#aleksander braids alina's hair
myhairpintrigger · 10 months
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hellooo i would like to request something <33
basically hanahaki disease w/ Aleksander? when alina arrived at the little palace, reader had been coughing and Aleksander noticed then reader found out that she was coughing petals and eventually got to know it was a disease with the help of some of the plant expert grishas i guess perhaps the healers? then reader starts to distance herself from Aleksander so he wouldn't know but he eventually found out because one of the grisha witnessed one of reader's coughing session and maybe an angst to fluff fic 👉👈
first of all, i am so sorry.. she's a long one... this has been tentatively proofread so i apologise for any grammar or spelling errors. this is my first time writing this trope so i hope it will do alright. thank u for ur beautiful req, my lovely anon, i love u!
warnings: hanahaki disease, blood, vomiting, aleksander is an idiot here lowkey.
word count: 11.9k
To Love Another & Be Loved (aleksander morozova x fem!reader)
-
The Sun Summoner had to be one of the nicest people you’d met in your entire life. 
You wanted to dislike her, after all, she was the center of Aleksander’s attention almost all of the time. Not even the scraps of his time had been reserved for you as of late. 
But you simply couldn’t hate her. She was nothing but kind to you. You spent much of your time with her, anyway. You were the only other Tailor besides Genya and often helped her ready herself for important things when Genya was tending to the Queen. At first, your service to her was only out of obligation to Aleksander. After all, he was your best friend and he fought the King constantly to keep you away from the Grand Palace. The least you could do was help a bit. Surely it would be temporary. 
You sat in Alina’s room with her and you focused hard on twisting her hair up and braiding little bits of it to create an elaborate updo. She was to have dinner with the King and Queen and the Prince that night along with Aleksander. You wordlessly pinned up a thin, tiny braid and Alina sighed. 
“At what point does this all just… stop?” She asked warily and you eyed her through the mirror she sat in front of. 
You raised an eyebrow and shook your head, “What do you mean?” You questioned and flickered your eyes back on her hair. 
“Just… the showiness of it all. When do I become a person with capabilities rather than a spectacle?” 
“Likely never.” You replied with a frown and you met her eyes in the mirror, “But that shouldn’t discourage you. Be the best damn spectacle this country has seen.”
Her shoulders squared a bit and she seemed to at least somewhat like what you had to say. You smiled and went back to her hair, your fingers deftly weaving braids and little twists together for a while longer. You sat back after some time and then placed a few decorative pins in her hair, giving her an approving smile. 
“Lovely. I’m sure the royal family will just eat you up.” You teased and rose from the stool you sat on.  
“I’m sure Aleksander won’t like that.” She countered playfully and the smile slowly faded from your face. 
You blinked in surprise a few times and then let out an uneasy chuckle, “So he’s told you his name?” 
You didn’t know why it bothered you. But it did. 
Alina nodded and she slid on her kefta and buttoned it up while she hummed. You eyed her and bit down on the inside of your cheek. It was black, of course. You glanced down at your own kefta and smoothed it down almost self-consciously. You wore a red kefta that was intricately embroidered with blue threads, and you’d never been disappointed in it until now. 
Why not dress her in gold? You asked silently as you stared at her and you felt that same bitter twinge of jealousy you’d felt ever since she came to the Little Palace. Furthermore, the little sparkle in her eyes when she said his name didn't go unnoticed by you. 
“Yes, is it not very common knowledge?” She asked once she finished buttoning up her clothes and you shook your head. 
You opened your mouth to speak but a knock on the door cut you off. You took this as an opportunity to end this conversation before it made you more upset and you hurried to the door. You opened it up and you were instantly met by a familiar pair of dark eyes. A little weight was lifted from your chest and you smiled up at Aleksander who gave you a smile right back. 
“I figured you’d still be here.” He remarked and leaned down to press a chaste and polite kiss on your cheek. Your skin felt warm and tingly where his lips had made contact and as he pulled away, you prayed he didn’t see the way your face was flushing. 
“It probably wouldn’t have taken so long if Alina didn’t have so much hair.” You noted and then tucked a piece of your own back behind your ear, “I haven’t seen much of you recently.” You remarked, trying your best to keep your tone casual. 
Aleksander clasped his hands behind his back and he gave you a wide smile, “Well, as you know, I’ve been very busy. Join me for tea tomorrow afternoon, I would love to catch up with you.” He said earnestly and you felt a tug in your chest. 
“Of course. Tea sounds wonderful.” You replied, and watched as his eyes shifted over your shoulder. 
The look on his face made your own smile falter. His eyes were fixed on Alina who stood behind you and his smile had turned into an awestruck expression, his eyes softening in ways they didn’t even soften for you. 
“Miss Starkov, you look dazzling.” He commented and you suddenly felt very small, standing in the middle of them. 
Her shy giggle sent a gravelly itch up your throat and you blinked a few times, trying to fight back a cough. 
She thanked him and said something else, but you didn’t hear it because a dry, gritty cough came tearing up through your throat. You held your hands over your mouth frantically and doubled over. You felt a hand on your back and slowly you straightened yourself back up and gasped for air, the coughs ceasing. 
“Are you alright? Would you like a bit of water?” You heard Alina ask and you shook your head, shifting your eyes downwards. 
“What was that? Did you choke on a fly?” Aleksander asked with an amused little chuckle. You gave him a terse laugh in response and felt your throat burn again. Another much smaller and shorter cough reverberated through your chest and you held your hands tightly over your mouth. A warm, wet feeling coated your palms and your face paled. 
Once you recovered you frantically balled your hands up in fists and lowered them to your sides, clearing your throat, “I’m not sure where that came from. I think I’ll go make some tea. Have a lovely dinner.” You murmured hoarsely and scurried past Aleksander, not bothering to look back at them. You made it halfway down the hallway before you slowly unfurled your hands and held them up so that you could see your palms. 
They were sporadically coated in blood.
-
“You don’t have a cold, y/n. Perhaps it’s just the dry air. Winter is upon us.” Genya stated as she stirred a sugar cube into her tea. 
You looked over your shoulder and expected to see Aleksander any time now and then you turned back to Genya with a shrug. 
“I don’t know what else it could be. I can’t stop coughing.” You replied, leaving out the part where most of your coughs dragged blood up from your throat. 
She hummed and took a sip of her tea before shaking her head, “No. Grisha don’t get sick, lovely. You can’t have a cold. Perhaps you’re allergic to something you’ve been smelling or using or eating. Anything new in your diet? Perfumes? Lotions?” She pressed and you shook your head, “Well, then I’m not sure what to tell you. See a Healer if you’re concerned about it but I’m telling you it’s likely the dry air.” She urged. 
You looked down at your own tea and watched tendrils of steam climb the air above it. You let out a sigh and reached out to grab a sugar cube, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped and spun around, feeling instant relief when you saw that it was only Aleksander who had his hand on you. You sighed contently and leaned your cheek down against the back of his hand. 
“Please, forgive me. I know I’m a bit late to tea. I just had a rather disappointing conversation with a few trackers.” He hummed and then pulled his hand away from your shoulder, leaving you with a certain kind of emptiness. 
He slid into the chair next to you and grabbed your hand tightly, and you felt your heart beat a little bit faster. Genya must have heard it, because she smirked and quickly raised her teacup to her lips to hide it. 
“You weren’t at breakfast this morning.” He commented and tapped your knuckles with the side of his thumb. 
“I wasn’t feeling the best.” You drawled and looked up at his face. He didn’t seem overly concerned when you mentioned that you didn’t feel well, but he didn’t brush it off, either. 
“Odd. Perhaps you should see my Healer.” He pressed and then he reached out and poured himself a cup of tea with his free hand before he released your hand. 
You didn’t respond. Instead, you turned back to your own tea and took a sip of it, looking up at Genya who cleared her throat and stood up.
“Well. I’ll leave you two to it then. I’ve got to get back to the Queen.” She stated and gave you a small wave before scurrying off. 
“Y/n. My Healer?” Aleksander pressed and you glanced up at him. 
You gave him a polite shake of your head and you smiled, “No, it’s all okay. I feel much better now.” You insisted. And it was partially true. You did feel a bit better now that you had some tea. 
You felt his onyx eyes on you as you turned back to your tea and before you could turn towards him, he reached up and brushed a bit of your hair back behind your ear. 
“You look very tired.” He commented and frowned, letting his fingers linger against the side of your face for only a second before dropping them. 
“I am tired. But I have a lot to do today. Besides, I’m getting fitted for my dress today. For the Fete.” You commented, trying to change the subject. 
He hummed and then picked up his teacup, “What are you going to wear?” He asked curiously and he shifted his entire body towards you. 
You looked over at him and slowly turned yourself to face him as well and you gave him a little smile, “Well, not red. That’s for sure. I picked something soft. Pink. A pretty pink dress.”
“Pink is a form of red.” Aleksander pointed out, an amused little smile forming on his perfect lips. 
You giggled and then shook your head, reaching out to give his arm a very gentle smack, “Pink is a very nice color and even if it is red at the very core of it all, I will be wearing it.”
He rolled his eyes playfully and then he chuckled, “Determined little thing, aren’t you?” He asked and then set his teacup down, “I’m glad you’re coming. I was worried you would skip this Fete like you did last year.” 
“Well, last year Vasily was all over me. And I hated it. Of course I didn’t go.” You remarked with a little snort. Aleksander laughed softly and shook his head, turning back to his tea. 
You looked at him, your face softening. Everything about him seemed so… inviting in that moment. The way his hair was immaculately brushed back and curled around the back of his neck, the little curve of his lips as they stayed in their smile from your antics. His dark eyes shone with a rare light of humor and the light of the afternoon sun illuminated them perfectly as you stared at him from the side. He was so heartbreakingly beautiful. 
And you wanted him so badly. You wanted to kiss him, you wanted him to hold you, you wanted him to look at you the way he’d looked at Alina the night before. You wanted to wear black with him and you wanted to be at his side during the Fete. 
You were desperately in love with your best friend, and the worst part was that you could never tell him. 
Your silence must have concerned him in some way, because he slowly turned to face you, the smile slowly vanishing from his face. 
“Y/n, you look like you are about to cry, darling. What’s going on?” He asked softly and you shook your head a few times. 
“N..nothing is wrong.” You lied and felt your throat begin to tingle with the familiar preceding another coughing fit, “I think I just need to go lie down. I feel… unwell.” You added, your voice getting weaker as you tried to keep a cough at bay. 
“Please,” Aleksander began and slowly rose from his chair, “let me walk you to your room, my dear. You are starting to worry me a little bit, if I’m being perfectly honest with you.” He stated and held his arm out for you to take. 
You reached up to grab his arm but instantly yanked your hands back and brought them to your face as you began to cough violently into your palms. The sharp, metallic taste of blood filled your mouth and you heaved forward on your chair, nearly falling off as you coughed. Aleksander’s strong hands caught your shoulders, and before you could protest, he was lifting you up into his arms. 
“Alright. I’m going to take you to your room and then I’m going to send for a Healer. This isn’t natural. You shouldn’t be coughing like that.” He stated. 
You held your hands over your mouth for a while longer as your coughs subsided and you blinked a few times. Once you were sure no more coughs were to come, you pulled your hands up into the sleeves of your kefta and you cleared your throat, wincing as it burned, “No, you don’t need to. I swear to the Saints it’s just allergies, Aleksander.” You said wheezily. 
He looked down at your face and his brows furrowed together and he shook his head, “You have blood on your chin.” He commented and you gaped up at him. 
You reached up and wiped your chin with the sleeve of your kefta and he simply shook his head. You closed your eyes exhaustedly and let him carry you the rest of the way to your room. Once he’d gotten you to your bedroom, he laid you out on your bed and frowned down at you. 
“I’m sending a Healer up here. Don’t be stubborn, please let them help. I’d stay but I’m taking Alina riding. Promise me you will accept the help I send for you.” He said sternly and you opened your eyes. 
You stared up at him, something snapping in your chest. He couldn’t even stay to make sure you were okay? 
“That’s fine. I promise.” You said bitterly and then shook your head, “Have fun riding with Alina.” 
You were sure he caught the bitterness in your tone, because he scowled slightly and then shook his head. He looked as if he might argue with you but instead he wordlessly turned on his heel and left your room, slamming your door behind him. 
A brutal cough tore itself free from your chest and it sent you shooting up into a sitting position. You held your hands over your mouth to catch the droplets of blood that loosed themselves from your throat. Your throat burned as if you were swallowing acid and you miserably pulled your hands away from your mouth between coughs. You stared down at the blood in your hands and suddenly your stomach twisted. You launched yourself off of the bed and grabbed the waste bin that sat near your bed and you coughed violently into it until something sharp tore its way up through your throat and out of your mouth. You had to blink a few times before it registered what exactly sat in the once-empty waste bin; what exactly came out of your mouth. A small cluster of thorns lay in a thick puddle of your blood, and a cluster of bloody rose petals laid around it.
Your mouth hung agape as you stared down into the wastebasket and you pushed it away from you with a frightened yelp. 
Something soft slid against your tongue and you reached up and shakily pulled a blood wetted rose petal off of your tongue, and it was the last thing you saw before your vision went black. 
-
Something wet and cold mopped across your feverish forehead and you slowly opened your eyes. Someone’s hand moved back and forth in your line of sight and you heard a loud gasp before your hands were being clutched tightly. You cleared the fuzziness from your vision by blinking a handful of times and you slowly sat up a bit to see Genya standing over you with her hands clasping yours. A Healer stood at your bedside with a cloth in her hand and you looked back and forth between the two of them before you let out a raspy sigh. 
“Y/n! Sweetheart! What is going on? Emilia found you this way. She said The Darkling sent her up here to you and that when she came in you were out cold on the floor.” 
Emilia must have been the name of the Healer girl at your side and you looked over at her with a terse smile before you looked back at Genya. Her wide eyes were even wider with fear and you frowned, not wanting to have frightened her. 
“I’m fine, I promise. It just must be aller-“
“It is not allergies!” Genya cut you off viciously and dropped your hand to point at the waste bin, “What kind of allergy has you throwing up… plants?” She demanded and you simply shrugged. 
She exasperatedly squeezed the hand of yours that she still held and she frowned, “Emilia tried to heal you but couldn’t find anything wrong with you. Your lungs sound terrible but other than that, you’re healthy.” She said with worry lacing every word she spoke, “When The Darkling gets back from riding-“
You shook your head and held your hand up, “No. No we are not going to tell him a single thing, do you two understand me? You will tell him I am suffering allergies and will be fine in a week or two. I don’t want him around.” You said in a clipped tone.
Genya looked surprised when you said this but she didn’t protest. Instead, she comfortingly brushed her thumb across the back of your hand and let out a defeated little sigh, “Oh, honey. Are things that bad?” 
You slowly looked up at Emilia and Genya did as well. Emilia looked between the two of you and she let out a little sigh. 
“I’ll go get you some tea for your throat.” She said, excusing herself from the conversation that you so desperately wanted to keep private. 
The moment the Healer left the room, you burst into tears. Your ragged breaths seemed to tear trenches into your throat as you cried and little coughs escaped your lips between sobs. You buried your face in your hands and barely noticed when Genya sat right next to you and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you against her side. 
“Sweetheart, what happened? This afternoon you were all smiles for him.” She breathed and gently rubbed your arm, soothing your cries just slightly. 
“Oh, Genya. I love him. I’m so very in love with him and he hardly gives me the time of day anymore. He speaks of Alina like she’s hung his entire sky. He looks at her like she’s more precious than jewels. He noticed I wasn’t feeling well, and he couldn’t even stay with me. He just tossed a healer at me and left to go with her. It hurts, Genya.” You cried, hiding your face against her shoulder. 
The red haired girl stroked your hair and your back and your arm as you cried against her and at some point, reached out to grab the cool cloth Emilia had left behind. She gently dabbed it against your cheeks and the side of your neck and she frowned, letting you cry. 
Your chest ached terribly at the idea that you loved your best friend who would never love you back, but it seemed to hurt more that you were all in all losing said best friend. Genya coaxed you down until your cheek was against her upper thigh and she ran her fingers through your hair, dabbing the cold cloth against your burning skin still. 
“Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, honey.” Genya said softly, still trying to soothe you. 
Tears rolled down your cheeks still, but your cries subsided for the most part. You exhaustedly closed your eyes and relaxed underneath the Tailor’s touch. You took painful, deep breaths and attempted to calm yourself. You laid in silence against Genya’s thigh for a long time, the only sounds being your sniffles and coughs and little whines. You desperately tried to clear your head of Aleksander, and nearly had, before your door swung open. You heard the handle smack against the wall, and heavy footsteps made their way across your floors. Aleksander. You laid still against Genya and prayed that he thought you were asleep. 
“Emilia says it’s only allergies.” Genya said quietly and you felt her hand slow in your hair until it rested protectively against the crown of your head. 
You heard him shuffle for a moment before he hummed, “She looks miserable.” He remarked. 
He lifted his hand to touch your arm, but Genya shooed his hand away and shook her head. 
“Let her sleep.” She murmured and you heard Aleksander snort. 
“Well, according to my Healer, she’s been unconscious for three hours up until now. How is she sleeping again?” He asked and you could tell he didn’t believe you were asleep. 
That didn’t stop you from pretending, still. 
“Because she is feeling unwell. Why don’t you come and see her tomorrow morning?” Genya suggested and slowly began to drag her fingers through your hair again. 
“I don’t want to see her tomorrow morning. I want to see her now.”
“I don’t think she wants to see you, moi soverenyi.” The Tailor countered. 
The room was silent for a moment and then you heard the rustle of his kefta as he shifted in place. You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting back every desire inside of you that screamed for you to launch yourself into his arms. Maybe if you did, he would carry you like he had earlier. You wanted to scream how you loved him in his face and cry on his chest about how he was hurting you. But you stayed rooted in the bed. 
“Mm, alright then. Let her know that she needn’t seek me out then. If she truly does not want to see me. I won’t bother her.” He said coldly and you felt your face screw up in despair. 
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m only saying she likely doesn’t want to be bothered and roused from an already uncomfortable sleep just so you can ask her what I’ve already asked a hundred times. It’s just allergies. It happens with the turn of the seasons.” Genya explained calmly, her voice steady. 
“I’ve known her for years now and she’s never had allergies at the turn of the seasons.” He stated. 
“Well, that’s the only thing that it can be. The Healer said it herself. She’s perfectly healthy otherwise.” Genya insisted. 
There was another long silence in the room and you could feel his near-black eyes boring into you, traveling your crumpled form. But he said nothing more. After a while, you heard his footsteps as he left the room and the door closed, much more carefully this time. 
You didn’t dare open your eyes until Genya sighed and gently tapped the back of your head, “He’s not here, it’s okay.” She murmured and you slowly opened your eyes. 
Another cry escaped your lips. 
-
The next few days were absolutely miserable. You’d spent the first day and half in your room, and when Genya wasn’t waiting on you, you were alone. Aleksander didn’t come to see you once, and you came to accept that it was just going to be your new normal. 
The first time you emerged from your bedroom in days was for dinner, and Genya held you tight to her side as she walked with you down to the dining hall. Normally, she didn’t eat with the other Grisha, but she had neglected many of her duties to the Queen to take care of you for the past two days. 
Now, three days had passed since you had last seen- or heard, rather- Aleksander, and you sat out in the courtyard on the grass with Genya. The red haired girl had insisted that you needed sunlight and she sat and read under a tree with you while you laid your head in her lap. You could hardly speak, and when you did, your voice was raspy and quiet. Every now and then, the girl would look over her book to check on you, and each time she did, she’d give you a kind smile. 
“Are you hungry?” She asked after a while and brought her hand up to your forehead to feel for your temperature. 
You shook your head weakly and rubbed your cheek with the back of your hand, “I don’t have an appetite, admittedly.” You murmured and she clicked her tongue, but didn’t press the subject. 
You tried your best to enjoy the cool breeze on your feverish cheeks, but you couldn’t seem to distract yourself from the pounding in your head and the raw burn in your throat.
“What are you reading?” You asked Genya absentmindedly and she hummed. 
“Reading up on rare diseases. I found a few books that have information about sicknesses and accounts of Grisha becoming ill with certain ones. I thought maybe it would help us figure out what’s going on with you.” She stated and turned a page as if on cue. 
A warm feeling tickled your nose and you felt it travel downwards until your skin was wet and you gasped and let out a curse. You sat up quickly and held your hand over your nose as it bled and you glanced down at the little bloody spot on Genya’s kefta. 
“Saints. I’m so sorry. I’m such a mess.” You breathed and cupped your hands underneath your nose to catch the rapidly flowing blood. 
The girl simply shook her head and pulled handkerchief out of her pocket and passed it to you, “Don’t be sorry. We can get the stain out easily.” She insisted, and you gratefully took the handkerchief from her and held it against your nose.
“Perhaps we should get you inside?” She suggested and you nodded once. You grabbed onto the tree with your free hand and balanced yourself as you rose to your feet. You felt winded as you stood and your throat began to prickle and you let out a groan that was cut short when you leaned forward and coughed viciously into the sleeve of your kefta. Little petals spewed out of your mouth as you coughed and got stuck with your blood onto the fabric of your sleeve, but you weren’t surprised anymore. Thorns and petals came along with the coughs now. At least now your nose had ceased its bleeding. You wiped your mouth with your sleeve and groaned in pain as you felt Genya touch your back. 
“Oh, Saints. Hurry. Let’s go inside. The Darkling is out here.” She said in a hushed tone, and though you two tried to hurry into the palace, it seemed you weren’t fast enough, because Aleksander called your name.
You looked up at Genya worriedly and she took a glance at your face. Blood was smeared under your nose and on your chin and she let out a huff before she snatched the handkerchief from your hand and quickly cleaned up your face. She stuffed the soiled fabric into her pocket once more and you turned around just in time to see Aleksander approach you with Alina not far behind.
His kefta billowed like smoke behind him in the breeze and when he reached you, his face was nothing short of irritated and accusatory. His beautiful face was set in an angry grimace and his eyes were hard. You shied back slightly and felt Genya’s hand press encouragingly into your back. 
“It must be rather fun ignoring me, since you’ve done it flawlessly for three days now.” He snapped and you looked down at your feet, biting down on the inside of your cheek. 
“I haven’t felt well, I’m sorry.” You mumbled. 
He snorted and reached out to grab your jaw, tilting your face up so that he could look down upon you, “That’s not an excuse. I don’t expect you to be prancing and frolicking around, but as someone who cares about you, I would at least like to be updated about your state.” 
His words sent a shockwave of sadness through your chest and you frowned, your eyes watering. You blinked away your tears rapidly, refusing to cry in front of him and Alina. He let go of your face slowly and he shook his head. 
“My dear, I worry about you, that’s all. I’m not truly angry, oh please don’t cry.” He said softly, his expression ridding itself of all anger as he watched your eyes gloss over with unshed tears. 
You shifted your gaze over his shoulder and watched as Alina gently grabbed his arm and he subtly pulled her into his side. The action had you biting down on your cheek hard, a terrible cough fighting its way up your throat. You felt something sharp rise to the back of your throat and you shoved past all three of them to get inside of the palace, holding your hands over your mouth as you raced to your bedroom. 
You were unsure of how you held it in for so long, but as soon as you got to your room, a violent retching sound ripped it’s way up through your chest and your throat and you fell to your knees and a slew of blood and petals came spewing out of your mouth. The heavy, sharp presence was still in the back of your throat and you coughed, and coughed, and coughed until you felt something shred the back of your throat and come loose. A rosebud tumbled from behind your lips, followed by a thick mixture of blood and saliva. You stared down at the sticky, bloody mess you had made all over your pale blue rug and you brought your shaky hands up to your clammy face, covering your mouth as you sobbed. 
Your chest ached and burned as if you’d swallowed blades and you let out a shrill scream of frustration. You sunk down onto the floor even further and curled up into a ball, your cheek resting a bit too close to the sticky puddle of blood and floral matter. You were too exhausted to care. Everything hurt, nothing made sense. Every breath you took sent shards of glass sliding down your throat and you coughed again, bits of petals getting stuck to your bloodied lips. You slowly closed your eyes and shivered once, reaching down and holding your knees to your chest. 
No one had followed you. Not even Aleksander. Even just thinking his name sent a pang of raw emotion through your chest and a few little tears rolled down your cheeks as you laid against the ruined carpets. Too busy with Alina. Too busy with everything. When did the busy excuses end? At what point did you need to accept that he didn’t love you as much as you loved him, and certainly not in the same way. You cursed yourself for thinking of him. Why were you thinking of him? He surely wasn’t thinking of you. You should have been thinking about why the hell you were sick. 
But all you could think about was Aleksander. 
-
You weren’t sure how or when, but at some point, you’d been moved up onto your bed and your blood-ruined dress had been switched out for a light, breathable nightgown. A hand dragged itself through your hair slowly and you almost thought you were imagining in your half-asleep state, until you heard voices. 
“I don’t really care. I will remove someone from the frontlines if we must. I need a very, very good Healer and I need them promptly.” 
You recognized Aleksander’s voice anywhere, and now that you were a bit more aware, you could tell that it was not Genya’s delicate little hand running through your hair.  
It was his. 
You kept your eyes closed and tried to enjoy the very minimally important action of his hand stroking your hair so gently. 
“Then find someone. But I don’t think this is anything to worry about.” 
That voice belonged to Genya, and you felt a sense of relief that she was still covering for you. 
“Genya, do not give me excuses any longer. I know she is ill. To the extent and with what, I am unsure. But she is my dearest friend, and I will not be so easily deterred from finding a solution to her health.” He spoke quietly, as if he didn’t want to wake you and you felt your lip nearly wobble. 
You didn’t know if you were joyful or devastated to hear him call you his friend. You longed for ignorance. You longed to think that he was here to confess his love for you, you wanted him to play with your hair like this for hours and hold you in his arms while you slept. 
You wouldn’t get your wish, though. 
“Sir, I think it would just be best to give her space.” Genya suggested quietly. 
Aleksander’s hand stilled against your head and went rigid, “And why do you say that?” He asked coldly. 
“Well, you just hardly… see her anymore. I think perhaps she’s a bit bothered by your neglect.”
“Has she told you this?”
“Yes.”
The room was silent and you wanted to sob as you felt his hand slowly leave your hair. You wanted to catch his wrist and bring it back, beg him to never let you go. 
“Well, she always has been a bit of a jealous little thing. She’ll get over it. I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow sometime.” He said dismissively and you felt the bed move and assumed he had climbed off of it. 
You waited until you heard him leave to open your eyes and you let out a long, ragged sigh. You felt the bed dip beside you and Genya was placing her hand against your forehead. She let out a little hum and then shook her head.
“You’re very lucky I managed to clean everything up before he came barging in here.” She said softly and reached down to grab your hand. 
Tears welled up in your eyes and you blinked them away, shrugging. 
“At some point we need to tell him what’s going on, Y/n.” She urged gently and then squeezed your hand as softly as possible. 
You felt a little wave of gratefulness in your chest at Genya’s determined and dedicated presence and you squeezed her hand back, “Eventually.” You murmured and then closed your eyes again, still feeling exhausted. 
“You sound terrible.” She noted and sat up against the headboard, resting her back against it. You very slowly rolled over and laid your head against her thigh and you sighed. 
“You’re my best friend, Genya.” You murmured. 
She let out a little sigh and she laid her hand on top of your head, “You really love him, don’t you?” She asked quietly. 
You didn’t answer her at first. She knew the answer and so did you, but the moment you spoke it aloud, it became real and it became capable of ruining everything. 
“Yes.” You finally answered in a squeak. 
There was a silence that filled the air around the two of you and you felt her lean over the edge of the bed for a moment. When she settled back in her spot, she tapped your head very gently and cleared her throat. 
“I found something. While you were sleeping.” She said almost nervously. 
“What do you mean, ‘something’?” You asked and stared off at the wall ahead of you. 
“I mean about your… condition.” She said quietly and you could hear her flipping through a book above you. 
Finally, she laid the open book down in front of your face and you reached up with a shaking hand to grab it. You sat up slowly with a bit of her help and laid the book in your lap as you peered down at it. The pages were old and weathered but the drawings were clear as can be. Roses were sketched onto the page and you ran your fingers over the paper as you read the text next to it. 
‘In extreme cases of unrequited love, the affected person will become sick with envy and begin to exhibit signs of serious illness…’
You blinked a few times and read through the recorded symptoms. 
Every single one was something you were experiencing.
“No. Absolutely not.” You breathed and looked up at a frowning Genya. 
“The symptoms are all there. This is what’s ailing you.” She said, her eyes growing watery. 
“Genya-“
“I’ll spare you the heavy reading. There is no cure, not unless he confesses his true and honest love for you.” 
You felt dread add itself to your already sore chest and you turned your head to look up at her. 
“Oh.”
She brought her hands up and cupped your cheeks and she shook her head, “I swear, we won’t let you die. We will find a way. Me and Baghra, Saints, I’ll even tell Him-“
“You can’t tell him.” You whispered and looked up at her tearfully, “You have to swear to me that you will not tell him. Genya, I’m begging you. Let him just… let him be happy with his Sun Summoner. He’ll forget about me, he’s already beginning to.” You said and sniffled, reaching up to wipe your eyes. 
Tears were falling down the redhead’s cheeks now and she shook her head, “No, this isn’t how it ends.” She said sternly and wiped her own eyes with the backs of her hands after she lowered them from your face. 
You leaned your head against her shoulder and closed your eyes, “I’m so tired.” You whispered, feeling exhaustion course through your body at a rapid rate. 
“Sleep, sweetheart. Please. I’ll stay here with you until morning.” Genya promised and you nodded. 
She helped you lay back onto the pillow behind you and she tucked the comforter around your shoulders before feeling your forehead once again.
“Thank you for being so good to me.” You whispered and she gave you a heartbreakingly sad smile. 
“What are friends for?”
-
The next morning was excruciating. A terrible coughing fit roused you from your sleep and you’d- yet again- made a bloody, flowery mess all over. This time, you helped Genya clean the mess up despite her protests. Once she’d helped you clean up, she announced that she had a hot bath drawn for you. 
You followed her into your bathroom and pulled your clothes off before you stepped into the hot water and let out a long, relieved sigh as you sunk down into it and sat. 
“I need to go tend to the Queen for a little while. I shouldn’t be too long. Will you be okay if I leave for just a few hours? If you need anything, I’ve already informed Baghra of your condition, you can go find her.” She explained and then gave you a little smile. 
“You’ve been busy this morning.” You commented and she shrugged. 
“Well, I’m just making sure you’ll be alright while we figure this all out.” She said softly and patted your head a few times, “Well, off I go. Please, please be careful. And if you have a coughing fit, do it over the tub. We can drain the water easily.” She said, half joking.  
You bid her farewell and she left your room and you sank deeper into the water, letting it soothe your sore muscles, though it didn’t do much for your stinging throat and aching chest. You brought a hand to your forehead and you felt a wave of melancholia drag you down. 
There was really no way that you were going to get out of this alive. It wasn’t like Aleksander was going to burst in on his knees and confess that he’d loved you the entire time, and you highly doubted that if a Healer couldn’t help you, then you were beyond help. You rubbed your temples very slowly and let out a very long, exasperated sigh, which triggered a few coughs. Little droplets of blood flew forward into the water from your mouth and you winced as a few petals loosed themselves from your throat as well. They floated atop the hot water and you picked one of the soft, pink petals up tentatively. It looked like a rose petal. It was a rose petal. You were grateful that it was only a few soft petals this time rather than the thorns and stems you’d cough up other times. You dropped the petal back in the water and you laid your head back against the edge of the bathtub weakly.
Your chin wobbled slightly and you closed your eyes just as tears started to stream out of them. You soundlessly cried as you sat in the steaming water and you reached up to hold your hands over your face as you cried. Soon enough, your cries were no longer soundless and you sobbed into your hands. Your whole entire body hurt and you were in agony. Emotional and physical agony. You wished for it all to stop and you pulled your hands away from your face and gripped the edges of the tub as you continued to cry with your eyes squeezed shut in pain.
Your mind wandered to Aleksander, something it often did, and you gasped painfully. You could practically feel his fingers running through your hair again, and you pictured what it would have been like if he had gathered you in his slender arms instead of just messing with your hair. The thought brought you a split second of comfort before it brought on waves of pain, crashing against your chest like rogue waves in a tumultuous ocean. 
Oh, you loved him. You couldn’t just stop loving him. Even though you sat and wished so desperately that you could. You gripped the edges of the tub impossibly tight and sputtered out a few heavy coughs that left your chest feeling split open. Your bathwater was tinged pink now and there was an arrangement of fragmented and full rose petals floating around in the water.  
A little tap made you open your eyes and you looked up to see Aleksander standing in the doorway of your bathroom. You made a move to cover yourself but he simply shook his head. 
“I’m not looking, it’s okay.” He stated, staying in the doorway. 
You glanced away from him sadly and you gave him a nod. You heard his boots tap against the marble floor and you heard a bit of rustling before you turned your head towards him again to see that he was now kneeling at the side of your tub. 
“You look terrible. Really, really terrible.” He commented. 
“Thanks. You really know how to make someone feel great, Aleksander.” You snapped and narrowed your eyes at him. 
He let out a sigh and shook his head a few times, “You’re still lovely. You just look miserable. Have you looked in a mirror recently? You look malnourished, you look poorly rested. Your face is sunken, your eyes are lifeless, you look terrible.” He explained and you laid your head down on the edge of the tub. 
“I’ll be fine.” You said nonchalantly. 
“Yeah, you all keep trying to tell me that but I don’t believe it all that much. Look at you. You can’t even move without it looking like it’s causing you pain.” 
“What do you care?” You asked and closed your eyes, biting back a sob. 
“What do I care? What do I care? Are you an imbecile? I care more than you seem to even care to imagine!” He snapped angrily and stood up abruptly. 
“Whatever. I know you’d rather be with your Sun Summoner right now. Please just go.”
“Saints, you’re such a bitter thing! You knew what the Sun Summoner coming here would mean. You know what it does mean. Get over yourself, this is bigger than you and your need for attention!” He exclaimed. 
Though he hadn’t, you felt as if he’d lifted you to your feet and slapped you until you fell. You slowly opened your eyes and looked up at him. Your eyes grew glossy with tears and you bit down on your cheek before you shifted your eyes away from a seething Aleksander.
“Please just go away.” You whimpered and brought your hands up to your face, hiding it from his sight. 
You cried silently for a moment and you rubbed your eyes vigorously before lifting your head out of your hands to tell him once more to leave. 
But he was already gone. 
-
The week leading up to the winter fete was exhausting. 
Not that you had been doing much other than laying around in your room and taking brief walks whenever Genya had a moment to accompany you outside. 
Nothing had improved though. 
You were still weak, still coughing, still in pain. Nothing was better, in fact, it seemed to only worsen by the day. 
The day of the fete was upon you and you had argued with Genya for nearly two hours so that she’d let you go. Finally, she had conceded and told you that you could go as long as you left early and were very, very careful not to cough around anyone. 
“And if you start feeling worse, you’re going right back to bed. Do you understand me?” Genya asked critically as she held a big, white box to her chest. Your dress. She was holding it hostage until you agreed to her terms. 
“Yes, fine, anything! I’ve waited so long to go.” You weren’t sure why you were so excited to go to the fete. You had previously been excited to go because you’d be going with Aleksander, but of course, that wasn’t the case now. You hadn’t seen him in nearly a week. Genya told you he’d been in to check on you while you slept, but you doubted it. You doubted a lot when it came to Aleksander these last seven days. 
Genya set the box down on a small table near the fireplace in your room and she opened it up, humming softly to herself as she did, “Pink? I didn’t pin you as a pink girl.” 
“Well, I am one. And it’s pretty, isn’t it?” You asked and watched as she pulled the gown out from the box. 
It was beautiful. It was a pale shade of blush pink with long sleeves and lots of beautiful embroidery and bead work. The dress earned you an approving sound from Genya and she looked over at you as you sat on the edge of your bed. 
“It is pretty, yes. I’m a bit worried you’ll stain it.” She said and eyed you with a frown, “Are you sure you want to go? You’re still so sick. Worse, even.” She said with a frown as she walked towards you and laid the dress out on the bed at your side. 
“I want to go. We can go together. Besides, I’ve been stuck in here for so long now.” You said, sighing dramatically. Your throat burned with your sigh and Genya watched as you brought your fingers to your throat. 
She quickly grabbed the waste bin next to your bed and held it up to you and you grabbed it. You coughed over it painfully for a few minutes, an array of petals and a few small thorns freeing themselves from your inflicted lungs. Genya held her hand against your back comfortingly and waited for you to spit the last of the sticky blood out and then she gently took the waste bin from your hands. She passed you a glass of water from your bedside table and you sipped it, even though it felt like you were swallowing broken glass. 
“Y/n, you look awful.” Genya said sadly and pushed some of your limp hair away from your face. 
You knew she was right. Your entire face had sunken in and you were aware of the dark circles under your eyes. Any luster your hair or skin once had was now gone and you looked dull and lifeless. You looked almost like a walking corpse. Your nails were thin and brittle and your lips were chapped and had traces of dried blood on them. You did look awful. 
Realistically, you could use your abilities and make yourself look better, but you had absolutely no energy to do so. You were lucky if you had the energy to get up and take a walk with Genya. You sighed quietly and wiped your lips with the back of your hand and shrugged once. You shakily passed the glass of water back to Genya and you rubbed your eyes. 
“Will you help me get ready? Nothing fancy, I just don’t wanna look so unhealthy.” You asked quietly and she nodded a couple of times.
She leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead and then offered her hands down towards you. You accepted them gratefully and pulled yourself to your feet with her help and she passed you your dress. 
“Go change, I’ll help you button up.” She prompted and you took the dress from her and wandered off towards the dressing screen in the corner of your room. 
You slid behind it and undressed yourself with weak, shaking hands, and you pushed your nightdress off of your body. You tossed it aside and then took on the next task of stepping into the soft pink gown. You climbed into the dress clumsily and once you’d pulled the sleeves on and gotten it situated on your body, you wandered out from behind the screen. Genya awaited you by your bed and you made your way over to her and turned around so that the undone back of your dress faced her. 
“You need to promise me one more thing.” Genya said quietly as she began to button up your dress nimbly. 
“What is it?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at the redheaded girl. 
“Avoid the Darkling at all costs tonight please. Your condition worsens after he’s around, I’ve seen it. Please just, don’t seek him out, stay away from him. Have fun, mingle, have a drink, but leave him alone. For your sake, please.” She begged softly and then finished buttoning your dress. 
You nodded compliantly and you ran your hands down the front of your dress, smoothing it all down before turning around to face her. You smiled up at her and she pointed at a chair in the middle of the room. 
“Sit. I’ll fix up your hair and make you look a little less tired.” She said softly and you walked towards the chair. You sat down in it and you closed your eyes, a prickling becoming bothersome at the back of your throat. You swallowed it down and winced at the sharp pain sliding back down your throat. 
You just had to get through tonight. 
Genya stood behind you and she worked at your hair for a while until it was in simple waves. She then walked around to face you and she determinedly waved her hand over your face a few times slowly. After nearly fifteen minutes of this, she pulled away from you and handed you a hand mirror. 
“I did all that I could. How do you feel about it?” She asked. 
You glanced at yourself in the mirror and hummed. Though you still looked frail, you didn’t look nearly even half as bad as you had beforehand. You looked as if perhaps you hadn't slept in a few days but otherwise you seemed healthy. You looked up at her with a smile and you nodded, passing the mirror back to her. 
“Thank you. Truly, thank you.” You said softly and she gave you a sweet smile in return and kissed the top of your head. 
“I have to help the Queen get ready. Will you wait for me? I’ll come back and accompany you to the party.”
You looked over at her and gave her a little nod and stood up from the chair you sat in. You gave your friend a little hug and she hugged you back delicately, as if she was afraid you’d break. 
“Thank you. Really, Genya. For everything.”
“Don’t start talking like that. It almost sounds like goodbye and I won’t have it. I’ll see you in an hour or two.” She stated and then marched out of your room. 
Goodbye. You scoffed. You didn’t even want to think about goodbye yet. 
But of course now you were faced with the reality of it all. There was no obtainable cure to your ailment. The thought of it spread dread through your body like you’d never felt before and you felt even sicker than you ever had prior to today. 
A particular wave of nausea had you sprinting to the waste bin by your bed and you dropped to your knees and retched into it, your throat getting sliced up with an especially sharp slew of blood and thorns and a few battered petals. The door behind you opened and you heard a gasp from the doorway and wiped your face with the back of your hand before you turned around. 
Still on your knees, you looked up to see Aleksander’s personal favorite Healer, Emilia, standing in the doorway. The two of you stared at each other for a moment before she walked towards you and gently helped you to your feet. She looked over your shoulder into the wastebasket and then she looked up at your face, her mouth making a little ‘o’. She glanced back in the bin and then she shook her head. 
“Are those…?”
“Yes. They’re petals. Why are you here?” You asked and slowly sat down on the edge of your bed. 
“The Darkling sent me to check on you.” She whispered and then she placed her hand on your head, feeling your temperature. 
“Genya is doing a fine job on her own, thank you, Emilia.” You wheezed and then leaned your head into your hands. 
She stayed put for a moment and looked back and forth between you and your bloody, flowery vomit and then she gave you a tedious nod, “Yes, okay. I’m sorry to have intruded.“ she said quietly and you gave her only a small hum in response before she scuttled out of the room, retreating as if you were some feral dog, before you could even think to stop her. You would have certainly been wise to. 
You glanced at the door and felt a cold, sick dread fill your stomach. She was going to tell Aleksander. 
-
 You sat, slumped, in the chair by your fireplace and you closed your eyes, letting out labored breaths. Your chest had become impossibly tight and you sat in fear that Aleksander would burst in and berate you at any moment now. 
Your eyes filled with tears at the thought of just Aleksander and you wrapped your arms around yourself. It wasn’t like you couldn’t miss him. He was, at the end of the day, your best friend. Or at least, he had been. You didn’t really know where you stood with him now. 
Panic gripped your lungs when you heard hurried footsteps down the hallway and when the door swung open you winced. No yelling ensued and you turned around to see Genya standing in the doorway, gazing over at you with a little frown. 
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” She asked softly as she strode towards you. 
You simply gave her a little nod and you rose to your feet off of the chair and grabbed onto the hand she was now extending for you. She helped you steady yourself and she frowned once, pulling you into a gentle side hug. 
“Okay. The party has already started, I hope you don’t mind. There was a… choreographed display. Of shadow and light.” She explained slowly and then glanced down at you. You knew who she was talking about. Aleksander and Alina.
She gave you a sympathetic smile and you realized your face must have fallen, “I just figured you didn’t want to have to watch them.”
“No, I appreciate it. Thank you, Genya.” You said quietly and then nodded towards the door, “Let’s go. I don’t want to be out long tonight, I don’t think.” You murmured, a frown ever present on your face. 
She nodded just once and whisked you out of your room. The walk from the Little Palace to the Grand Palace was made in comfortable silence and you leaned your head against Genya’s shoulder. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and gently patted your arm, and you let out a small sigh. As soon as the two of you walked inside of the Grand Palace, you instantly regretted coming to the fete. 
People were crowded around the hallway and spilled out from the room of the event, leaving you hardly any space to breathe. You wrapped both of your arms around Genya’s and you nearly buckled under the wave of nausea that crashed over you. 
Genya slowly pulled away from your side and she grabbed your hand and nodded towards the grand hall, “I’m going to go get a drink. Would you like one?” You nodded idly and she gave your hand a little squeeze, “Okay. Stay here. Don’t get around too many people.” She advised and you nodded again. 
She scurried off hurriedly down the hall and you looked down at your dress. You ran your fingers down the embroidered bodice and you let out a little sigh. You sorely regretted not staying in bed and you looked around at the other partygoers. Some were drunk, others were just boisterous. Most hid their sordidness underneath fine clothes and expensive perfumes. You looked down at your feet and felt guilty for making Genya drag you to the party and you turned to go find her. 
“Y/n!” 
You turned around to see Alina bustling towards you with two guards in tow behind her. You had to blink back the urge to cry when you saw her. She wore a black kefta with yellow and gold embroidery and her hair was done up beautifully. The nausea hit you harder and you held your hand over your stomach instinctively, giving her a terse smile. 
“Hello.” You breathed and leaned back up against the wall behind you. 
“You look beautiful.” She commented sweetly, “Feeling better?” She asked and you gave her a bleary nod. 
“Mhm, so much better.” You mumbled and sucked in a deep breath through your nose. A sharp feeling began to climb the back of your throat and you began to panic. 
“I’m glad to hear, you look so pretty. I’ve missed you readying me.” She admitted and then chuckled nervously. 
One of the guards leaned forward and mumbled something in her ear and she frowned, but nodded. 
“I have to get going. But please, come see me tomorrow.” She pleaded and you gave her a simple nod, your throat and chest beginning to ache and burn all the same. 
The guards urged her forward and everything began to sound as if you were underwater. You stared off absentmindedly after Alina and frowned deeply. Aleksander strode down the hall towards her and his eyes fell upon you. His stern expression seemed to falter a bit when he looked at you and you glanced down at the bundle of flowers he had in his hands. Your eyes filled with tears involuntarily and you watched as he stopped the guards that stood with Alina and he passed her the flowers before he locked eyes with you again. 
Your face burned with shame and sadness and your vision began to blur and shift and you pushed away from the wall dizzily, ignoring the muffled shouts of your name coming from his mouth. You shoved past a few people and gathered the skirts of your dress up in one hand and you rushed down the hallway. You stopped briefly a few times to steady yourself against the wall and you felt a sickening pressure at the back of your throat. You just had to make it back to your room. 
You carried on almost deliriously and you made your way into the nearly totally empty Little Palace. You bustled up the stairs with your hand over your mouth when a sharp cough ripped its way up your throat and you heaved forward, falling to your knees on the stairs as you coughed violently. Tears burned in your eyes and fell down your cheeks helplessly as you spewed the hot, metallic mixture of your blood and bile over your gloved hand. You crawled up the stairs weakly and you pushed yourself to your feet, leaving a bloody smear on the marble floor. You stumbled hurriedly down the hall to your room and you threw your door open as soon as you could. You fell to your knees again and let out a long, sad wail before you were coughing out thorns and petals all over the pristine skirt of your dress. 
The flowery vomit looked even worse tonight, and the blood mixed in with it was darker and there was much more of it. You coughed and heaved and choked on whatever was in your throat until an entire rose bloom came hurtling out of your mouth. You stared down at it shakily and reached out to touch it before you coughed again, much harder this time. Blood flew from your open mouth all over your carpet and your dress and your chin and you cried loudly, lowering yourself to the floor weakly. You reached up shakily to wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and you looked around at the bloody mess you had made and you whimpered. 
You thought about Aleksander again as you coughed more, your chest feeling as if it was going to collapse at any moment. You missed him.  You desperately wished it was you that he gave his affections to. You loved him. It became impossibly hard to breathe and you could see black spots dancing in your vision and you could swear you heard him calling out for you; Something so bittersweet that brought you so much comfort as you laid in a mess of your own blood and shredded flower petals. Your heart pounded against your chest and you could feel cold exhaustion climbing up around your mind. You could still hear his voice, closer now. You weren’t sure if you were ready to die, but at least you could try and make peace with it. You drew in a labored breath and then found yourself gasping in fear as you felt two hands grip your arms. 
You were yanked up against somebody and you slowly looked upwards to see Aleksander kneeling over you, holding you against his chest. 
“Say something, dammit!” He ordered, but his voice sounded far away. 
You tried to speak his name but your chest seemed to collapse in on itself and you turned your head to cough away from him, not wanting to get any blood on him. As soon as you finished coughing, he gripped your chin and turned your head towards his and he stared down at you wildly. 
“Y/n, I really, really need you to say something.” He pleaded and you weren’t sure if you were imagining the glint of unshed tears in his eyes or not. 
You let out another wail and you tried to push away from him, but his arms were like steel around you and you were too weak to even attempt to get away from him, so you resigned to crying in his arms. 
“Aleksander.” You wheezed and weakly grabbed onto the lapel of his kefta. 
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” He demanded and cradled you gently against his chest. 
“You don’t care!” You cried, finding your very, very weak voice suddenly. 
“I do care!” 
“You don’t! You just care about Alina, you want Alina, you need Alina, you’re in love with Alina. You don’t care, and I don’t expect you to. Why should you? It’s my own miserable fault for falling in love with you.” You sobbed and felt as if you were going to vomit again. 
Aleksander didn’t say a single word. Instead, he leaned down until his forehead was touching yours and he nudged his nose against yours just slightly. You fought to get away from him, but he didn’t allow you to move. He shushed you softly as you cried and attempted to get as far away from him as possible and you sobbed, grabbing at his wrists.
“Stop! Please just leave me alone! I can’t take this.” You cried and hit his chest, but he still didn’t move. 
Tears rolled down your cheeks and you sniffled and eventually stopped trying to get away from him. He seemed to want to make it hard for you until your bitter end. One of his hands was gently moving through your hair as it had many nights ago and you whimpered, a sound that broke his heart. 
“I care. More than you know, little love.” He murmured and kept his forehead pressed against yours, “You think I don’t care? How could I not? You are so special to me.”
You cried and subconsciously leaned into his touch as he ran his fingers through your hair. 
“Please stop.” You begged. You wanted to cover your ears. 
“Stop what? Do you not want to hear how I care? How I feel ashamed of myself for making you feel as if I don’t? Do you not want to hear about how in love with you I am?” He asked in a whisper and you froze. His hand continued to sweep through your hair and you let out a loud cry and struggled against his arms as he lifted his forehead away from yours. 
“You’re lying.” You sobbed and brought your hands up to your face as you cried into them. 
“I’d never lie to you about something like this.” He insisted softly. 
“You are lying.” 
“How can you accuse me of that?” He asked, his tone incredulous. 
“Because I’m dying! I’m dying and you know it’s what I want to hear!” You argued, but you let your head fall against his chest nonetheless. 
“I don’t lie. I’ve never lied to you. Saints, you’re inconsolable. I have my own reasons for getting close to Alina, but none of them are even close to being because I’m in love with her. No, my love is saved for you and you alone.” He murmured, “I have loved you for years. Ages. For so long, hoping and praying that perhaps you’d see me in the same light one day. I never wished for it to be like this.” He finished, voice breaking just slightly at the end. 
You felt the tightness in your chest ease up just a little bit and you pulled your head away from his chest so that you could look up at him, only to find him already gazing down at you. You studied his face for any sign that he might be lying to you and when you found none you leaned your head against the side of his arm. You weakly nuzzled your cheek against it and you could hear him let out a long sigh. 
“Are you going to tell me what is wrong with you? Or are you just going to leave that to my Healer relaying information to me?” He asked and you shrugged once, more pressure leaving your chest. 
You let out a pathetic sounding sigh and you clung to him as if someone was going to take him from you and you quietly began to explain your condition to him, leaving little to nothing out. When you finished, the silence around the two of you was painful and you looked up at his face. He seemed angry and he seemed as if he was going to cry, but he looked down and met your eyes, and everything on his face melted into sadness. 
“I did this to you?” He asked quietly and you shook your head. 
“You couldn’t possibly have known. I mean, I didn’t. None of us did until Genya found it in a book.” You murmured and he gathered you entirely against his chest. 
“I’m so, so sorry.” He breathed, his voice practically trembling. 
“No, please. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, everything is okay now.” You said hoarsely and he shook his head once but didn’t argue further. 
He stayed quiet for a moment before he sniffled and then slowly rose to his feet, pulling you with him, “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? And then you can lay in my room.” He suggested quietly. 
“Okay.” You whispered, leaning against him entirely.
-
You sat in Aleksander’s bed an hour or two later, wrapped in a few thick blankets. You watched him scurry around his room as he tried to ready himself for bed and you smiled affectionately. After a moment he turned to you and let out a small sigh.
“What are you smiling at? You should be sleeping.” 
“Can’t. Not without you.” You murmured and he blew out a few candles in the room before he came and crawled into bed next to you, his arms snaking around your waist. He tugged you against his chest protectively and he let out a long sigh. 
Your damp hair was splayed out over the pillow behind your head and you pushed it away from him, clearing a little space for his head on your pillow. He took the hint and scooted his face closer to yours and he nudged his nose against yours a few times. 
“You looked so beautiful tonight. In the hallway. In your pretty dress. I think pink might be your color now.” He said sweetly and you shook your head, leaning in to peck his lips a few times. 
He took the opportunity to capture your lips in a deep, long kiss and finally when the two of you were properly breathless, you pulled away and shook your head. 
“Forget pink. Black looks nicer on me, anyway .”
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stromuprisahat · 2 years
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hi! i've seen the post about how shadow and bone is no rep for slavic/russian culture and was wandering how could it have been better in u're opinion? only if you feel like talking about it tho, no pressure or anything
I'm no expert on Russian culture, so I'll add some more general Slavic stuff:
NAMES- The only Morozova introduced is Baghra. Both Sasha and Ilya's surname should be Morozov. Patronymics would be a sweet bonus: Aleksander Ilyich Morozov, Alina ? Starkova, Evgenia "Genya" ? Safina, Zoya Suhm?ovna? Nazyalenskaya, Nikolai "Kolya" Aleksandrovich Lantsov... Malyen would be bullied SO badly! Мальен-малeнький! He’d be “tiny” as a “so grown up” child, he’d be “tiny” in different way as an adult...
Stereotypes shouldn’t be used merely as set pieces. If you want Grisha play balalaika, make it some side character's hobby. Not a thing you mention once to get some Russian points.
Apparently, you can't get drunk from kvas, and there is champagne in Grishaverse, so why not make vodka soldiers' best friend? Why not make it a widely overlooked problem- the army is poorly supplied, and soldiers' prospects are bleak. If you want Ravkans to be a nation of drunks, give me a reason why are they like that.
Stay consistent. Either there is a Tsar, or a King. You can't have both, OR you can have the same person with more titles, bound to different territories, but it should be established as such (for example: In Austria-Hungary, Hapsburg emperor could either be crowned the king of Bohemia, or he could just rule it as an emperor of the realm Bohemia was a part of...).
More culture, traditions, holidays...
Plenty of topics touched upon and ignored almost immediately. Serfs, child marriage, sexism so deeply rooted a wife is basically a slave, it's weird for a woman to stay unmarried and/or run a business of her own, yet women can serve in the army...
Religion. First it’s just uneducated peasants’ pastime, then it’s a world-changing force without any character doing anything to make it so, or shoulder the responsibility. Is there a God? Who establishes the Saints? What’s the structure of Ravkan church? Its relationship to other religions? Why was Alina a living Saint without moving a finger? Why are we supposed to believe Nina yelling “Sankta Leoni” persuades a whole town of people it’s the Truth™? The whole religious theme is handled very badly, not that there were no interesting ideas. It’s obviously meant to be some form of Orthodox Church with the Apparat as some creepy Pope/Patriarch/Ra-Ra-Rasputin combo, but it doesn’t make much sense...
Pretty, pretty Slavic clothes. Reds and embroidery, lace, flowers, white shirts, studs, high boots, vests, scarfs, aprons, muffs in winter, weapons as a part of an outfit- sabres, kinzhals, daggers, long light axes... hairdos- braids thrown over one's shouldes, made into crown around one's head, ribbons in hair...
Food, not just one stupid fucking fish! Pirozhki baked or fried, borsch, shchi, bazilion versions of dumplings, honey cake, mead, roasted goose or duck, sauces, gulash, lecho, I’m getting into Czech cuisine here- buchty, koláče, kyselo, kuba... Sorry, I couldn’t resist.
Like I said, I'm no expert, there's just so much SO wrong, even I notice.
Feel free to add more.
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jomiddlemarch · 2 years
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in the magic of her locks
“What if I cut it all off?” Alina said. She tried to speak lightly, as if the thought had just occurred to her, instead of being one she’d been ruminating about for the past month. Aleksander, who had been brushing out her hair while she sat at the gilded vanity that had been a gift from the Kerch ambassador upon their wedding, paused, but the hand that rested on her shoulder didn’t tighten. He continued to draw the brush through her hair, unbound from the elaborate braided and jeweled coiffure Genya had spent a full hour perfecting.
“You’d still be the most beautiful woman in the room wherever you went,” he said. “We might find something else to occupy this time after state dinners and balls. Perhaps a game of shatranj.”
“Genya keeps saying she’s happy to do it,” Alina said.
“Taking your hair down after big events or cutting it off?” Aleksander asked. His face in the looking-glass was hard to read, his eyes downcast, focused on her hair. He was very careful and never pulled, no matter how recalcitrant a knot was.
“Both. Either,” Alina said. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“It is entirely your prerogative, milaya,” he said. “There is no place for me to mind.”
“That’s not really an answer though,” she said. She would miss this, she realized, the particular soothing that came from the brush stroking through her hair, the touch of his hands at her crown and at her temples, the sensation of him behind her, visible only in the silvery mirror.
“You cannot alter your appearance in any way that would lessen my regard for you,” he said. “However much pleasure I derive from caring for you this way could be found in some new manner if you decided you would rather not deal with the upkeep of long hair. And I’m sure the Fabrikators would outdo themselves in creating new head-dresses and coronets that would be shown to advantage if your hair was short as a Kaelish pixie’s.”
“People would make a fuss, I think,” she said. “It would be a huge distraction, especially with the treaty negotiations. The Apparat would have a field day—"
“People make a fuss about all sorts of things, especially when it comes to their leaders,” Aleksander said. “You must please only yourself in this, Alya, and not worry over how anyone will react.”
“Ivan would be happy though. He’d say I’m less vulnerable to being attacked or abducted,” Alina mused.
“I don’t think you’ve been listening to me all that much,” Aleksander said, his hands quick as he plaited her hair for the night. He bent down, kissed the bare nape of her neck with lips that were very gentle and very deliberate. “This would be easier, but I don’t know that easier is better. It would be different, but you could let it grow back again if you didn’t like it.”
“I could wear the most outrageous wigs. Four feet high with peacock feathers,” Alina said and then Aleksander laughed, a sound of wonder and delight, almost as if he were young.
“Yes, you could. Though Ivan wouldn’t like those. Security risk, for all that you might hide a dagger in one,” Aleksander said. “There’d be a wig-room to patrol, wig-makers to vet, a whole production.”
“I don’t suppose I have to decide right now,” Alina said. “Perhaps I’ll just surprise you one day.”
“Milaya, you surprise me every day,” he said. “You dazzle me.”
This ficlet was inspired by the recent gif of Jessie in her new haircut next to Ben, see below:
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them1lkteeth · 1 year
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"A DREADFUL NEED" coming soon to an a03 near you!
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a snippet, for your enjoyment:
Alina Snow left Winterfell a sobbing girl of nine and returns, stoic, at ten-and-six.
When young, she had been affectionate and beloved, but scrappy and untamed. The day a handful of knights from the Vale came calling for their foster, she had elbowed her Septa in the throat and was caught halfway through the Wolfswood by guards before being dragged away from the only home she had ever known. The villagefolk would whisper, later, about the tears Aleksander Morozov, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, had unabashedly shed at his bastard daughter’s departure— the first and only time they would see their liege lord cry. Many would swear, for moons afterwards, that they could still hear Alina screaming for her Papa echoing in the rustle of the hearttree’s crimson leaves. 
Alina’s homecoming is even moreso somber than her departure. She slips past the darkened procession trailing up the Kingsroad, amongst merchants and first sons come to pay their respects, with a towheaded valeman at her side. He glares at the passersby who leer for a closer look beneath the cornflower of her traveling cloak, flexing a broadsword of Valyrian steel quietly. 
Lord Aleksander blinks, slow on the uptake, when the woman is presented unobtrusively in front of him. If not for her ash-darkened hair, so stark against the stone, and the ragged lamb tucked beneath her arm, meant to go unnoticed, her lord father would not have recognized her. 
Seven years, and it is as if Alina was never the chill of the North, but the delicate river breeze of the Vale her whole life. Twin braids twisted into looping ovals above her shoulders, freshwater pearls from Gulltown adorning her illegitimate throat, a thin gown of sapphire and mint silk draped on her curved frame. A sworn sword, the strong nose and frigidity of an heir of House Helvar, in her shadow.  
“My condolences, my lord,” Alina murmurs, enacting a low bow, the straightened spine of learned etiquette. It exposes the tops of her breasts, flushed from the effort of affecting indifference— a crack in the elegant porcelain. 
Lord Aleksander looks stricken, beneath his fine furs and graying beard. He whispers to his youngest between pleasantly-bared teeth. “I am your father, Linka, not your lord.”
Alina raises a single eyebrow, as if to question his simple statement, before disappearing inside the Great Hall, flanked by her lordling and a direwolf of pure alabaster. 
The tension is as sharp a taste in the air as fresh butter and spring radishes and reaches her half-sisters swiftly, tucked behind their father as they wait for their lady mother’s mourners to pass. Genya and Nina, hands clenched so tightly their knuckles are white, exchange woeful glances. But Zoya, a gaudy Lantsov brooch gleaming on her otherwise modest mourning gown, smiles instead at the hardpacked dirt. Her mouth is twisted, ugly, in a spiteful smirk of victory.
It does not go unnoticed. 
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This might just be me, but I felt like Alina's charcoal gray/black running away outfit was very similar to Young Aleksander's black/gray soldier's uniform. The long outer layer with pants definitely invoked a similar feeling. Also, I noticed Young Aleks also had a cut on his forehead similar to Alina's. His was right above his right eye. And even before the LP, I noticed Alina had tiny braids in her semi-loose hair like Young Aleks rocked. That was a very noticeable detail in his longer hair.
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I can definitely see where you are coming from. I do think it is interesting that after Alina wears the black Kefta we see her alot in those darker colours. Excluding the gold kefta (although it did have black detailing) we see her in dark clothing. In these scenes after she has runaway she has that dark grey coat and the black clothes under it. I agree that I do think they have similar vibes to Young Aleks' soldier uniform with the long coat and trousers. Also Alina is wearing a belt which appears similar to Aleks' you can see the buckle better in this slightly better quality picture:
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I like that she has that black clothing but then over the top is the grey coat, its darkness, something uniquely linked to Aleks, but mixed with a bit of light for Alina, maybe it could also be a hint that she will go down a morally grey path later. For some reason it also makes me think of her light grey dressing gown that she wore during darklina's first kiss and the war room scene in ep 4. As I think you have pointed out in the past she also wears that black cloak over a dark purple dress in the finale when she and co board the ship at the end.
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Again the darker colours is an interesting costume choice, especially when the colour black is so linked to Aleks. It's hard not to think of them as a pair when you see Alina in that colour. Of course her wearing this black cloak makes sense within the story as I am pretty sure its the cloak Aleks gives her at the end of ep 7, its a good cloak and its cold so on one hand of course she would keep it, but I think in the book, if I remember rightly, M*l buys them new clothing and they must have got the dress from somewhere so you could argue that they could have traded that cloak for another cloak or supplies, especially as it must remind her of Aleks. But its also possible I am thinking way too much about it.
Also like you mentioned there are the braids. We actually see Alina with these braids quite often, particularly after she gets to the little palace. We see her with them at her demonstration:
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Also she has them during the fountain scene as well:
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But the other thing I noticed is that she also has little braids in her updo look for the winter fete in episode 5 so she has them in both darklina kiss scenes:
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And yes I am using this as an excuse to post pretty darklina pics. What is also interesting is that during the scenes where she is with M*l post LP she has her hair completely loose. So I do think that the braids and the dark colours are suppose to draw a link between darklina. It is definitely a similarity between the two them. Also, I think this might be something you've pointed out before, but it could be significant that there are several occasions mostly in ep 5,7 and 8 where Alina has her hair up when with Aleks, but loose with M*l, which again is interesting because typically it was married women who wore their hair up. That coupled with the scene in the war room where they are in their nightclothes and the scene where Alina is helping Aleks into his Kefta and there seems to be alot of domestic/marriage/husband and wife vibes when it comes to darklina. Again interesting choice considering one of them is supposedly the villain of the story. But as I said before I could just be looking way too much into it.
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luxmaeastra · 5 months
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"Mama!"
Aelin burst into her mother's rooms, moving toward her mother's dresser.
"Mama can I borrow some of your jewelry? Please!"
She opened the drawers, her dark hair twisted in a loose braid down her back. Alina followed her and pouted at Natalia.
"Mama why can't I come to the ball? I'm old enough now. Even Aelin agrees right Aelin?"
Aelin paused in rooting through their mother's things and looked to Alina. She beamed at her and winked.
"Yes. Mama you let me attend when I was 10! She's 11 she can -"
And if Mama disagrees we'll just sneak you in Alya.
Azriel and Aleksander would always help in her schemes and no one could resist Alina when she gave her those wide eyes of hers.
She loved her daughters, as much as anyone would say she was a boy's mother, her daughters were precious. However, she knew very well they had their father wrapped around their fingers.
She knew she didn't need to worry about them, she didn't need to smother them with love. She smiled as she watched them enter her room, watching them rummage through her draws.
Natalia rose from her vanity, tucking some of her hair behind her ear as she approached them. "You will have to ask your father that question, he made it clear he wanted you to wait a little longer." She answered.
Though she knew very well that no matter what she said, their little Alina always found a way in.
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thebadgerclan · 2 years
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Beautiful Wife
Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader
Summary: Nikolai has the most beautiful wife...
A/N: Not requested, but semi based on the dream I had last night 
Also I messed with the canon timeline quite a bit lol.  It’s briefly explained, but know that Alina actually died during the attack during Siege and Storm, earning her her martyrdom, as did Aleksander and Vasily.  IDK IT’S JUST WEDDING FLUFF OK
Dress reference at the end
Your maids were all smiles as they laced up your wedding gown, as unable to hide their joy as you were.  Today, you were marrying Nikolai Lantsov, the heir apparent to the Ravkan throne after his brother’s death.  Shockingly, the people rejoiced at the news, already praising the name of the future king.  But today wasn’t the day to worry of fret over succession.  Today, you were getting married, leaving room only for joy.
Alya, your lady’s maid, pinned your veil into your hair, shimmering gold lace, and took a step back.  “You look beautiful, my lady,” she said.  “Thank you,” you said, looking at your reflection.  Your gown was gold, following Ravkan tradition, the sleeves hanging from your shoulders, the neckline swooping below your collarbones.  The bodice was fitted and covered in golden lace that shone when you moved.  The full, ballgown skirt was pale gold tulle, the intricate pattern of gold lace picking up a few inches above the hem.  
You wore diamond earrings and a diamond necklace gifted to you by your sister, your hair twisted into braids along your hairline before falling down your back.  Your mind wandered to your Nikolai, how badly you longed to see him.  You’d spent last night apart, and you’d spent much of the night awake without his arms around you.  But a knocking at the door drew you from your thoughts.
“Lady Y/N?” Genya said, poking her head inside the door.  “They’re ready.  Saints, look at you,” she added, opening the door more fully and stepping inside.  Her red kefta was pressed in crisp lines, her eyepatch embroidered with the Lantsov double eagle.  “Thank you, Genya.”  “Are you nervous?”  “No,” you answered, smoothing your skirts.  “I’m excited.  I can’t wait to call myself his wife.”
“Well, let’s get you married then!”  Genya extended her arm, and you took it, your maids gathering your trailing veil in their arms.  You descended the grand staircase of the palace, everyone in your path pausing to bow or curtsey.  You weren’t yet royalty, but in a matter of a half-hour or so, you would be, and there wasn’t a soul in the palace who wasn’t eager to call you their princess, and then, their queen.
The day was warm and sunny, birds chirping in the trees.  You, Genya, and your three maids made the walk to the Royal Chapel, the building draped in Lantsov blue and gold for the occasion.  You entered the antechamber of the chapel, eyes landing on the painting of Sankta Alina, martyred after the Darkling’s ambush on the Palace at Nikolai’s birthday dinner.  Alina had taken down the Darkling, but lost her own life soon after.  The chapel had been rededicated to her after the rubble was cleared and the palace rebuilt, to commemorate her life.  You said a quick prayer to your lost friend before smiling, focusing your mind on the positive.  And there was so much positive today.
“Are you ready?” Genya asked, squeezing your arm.  She was walking you down the aisle, your parents having lost their lives in one of the many attacks on local villages.  “More than ready,” you replied, and Genya rapped on the solid oak doors, alerting the minister that it was time.  Your maids arranged your veil on the ground, trailing behind you in elegant waves, before curtseying.  “Congratulations, moya tsarevicha,” Alya said, turning and exiting with your other maids following behind her.
Genya squeezed your arm once more as the doors swung open, and you began your procession.  Nikolai was standing at the altar, clothed in his military dress uniform, his ceremonial sword at his hip, medals and sash decorating his chest.  He wore his crown as well, gold twisted into eagle’s wings, the metal resting atop his golden curls.  Upon seeing you, walking down the aisle to him, Nikolai’s face softened, a tear rolling down his cheek.  
You wanted to hike up your skirts and run as fast as your legs would carry you to your husband to be, but you kept your composure, walking in measured strides down the aisle.  When you reached the altar, Genya stood up a bit straighter as the minister approached her.  “Who gives this woman away?” he asked.  “I, Genya Safin, Lady Y/N’s trusted confidant, give this noble lady away, in the absence of her father.”  Her words stung, but only because you wished your father could be here.  
Nikolai stepped forward, and Genya took your hand, lifting it from her arm and onto Nikolai’s.  She hugged you, pressed a kiss to your cheek, and took her seat next to David, who took her hand as she sat.  Nikolai led you the short few steps back to the altar, his hand firmly in yours.  The minister smiled, folding his hands before him.  “We gather today to celebrate the union of our beloved Prince Nikolai and Lady Y/N L/N.”
“You look absolutely stunning,” Nikolai whispered as the minister spoke about the Saints and their blessings, the gift of marriage and whatnot.  “I am so lucky, my Y/N, you are radiant.”  “Kolya, thank you,” you replied, face heating up.  “You look quite dashing yourself.”  “Do you, Lady Y/N, take His Most Royal Highness, Prince Nikolai Lantsov, as your beloved husband?”  “I do,” you said, the two words carrying all the weight in the world.  “Please exchange your vows.”
“Here,” you began.  “Witnessed by our Saints and friends, I speak words of both love and duty.  It is not a chore but an honor to swear faith to you, to promise to love you, to offer my hand and my heart to you in this life and the next.”  “Prince Nikolai, do you take Lady Y/N to be your beloved wife?”  “I do.”  “Please exchange your vows.”  Nikolai repeated the same words you’d said seconds ago, tears welling up and falling as he did.
The minister placed the thorn wood crowns on your heads, reciting a blessing in Old Ravkan.  “The Saints have decreed it: this man and this woman are wed.  You may kiss your bride.”  Nikolai pulled you into his arms and kissed you as the guests cheered.  Your husband kept you close when he broke the kiss, but the minister appearing at his side broke him from her revere.
“I believe there is one last order of business before we all get properly drunk,” Nikolai called, quieting the assembled guests.  From the minister’s hands, he lifted a jeweled tiara, the gems in pale blue and gold, the Latsov colors.  “Princess Y/N Lantsov!” he intoned, pinning the tiara into your hair.  The guests repeated your new title, and your husband swept you into his arms, carrying you down the aisle and into the sunlight.
Outside, servants were gathered, and they cheered gleefully at the sight of their new princess.  Nikolai was running now, on his way to the ballroom where your reception would be held, and when he arrived, long before any of your guests, he set you on your feet, pulling you into a deep kiss.  “My Y/N, my beautiful wife, I love you so much.  You’re perfect.  Saints, I’m so lucky.”  You returned the kiss, equally as passionate, your palms resting on his chest.  “I love you more, Kolya.”
“Impossible,” he scoffed, cupping your cheek.  “For I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone or anything.”  “I think you mean ‘improbable’, darling.”  Nikolai looked at you with a blank expression before bursting into laughter, lifting you up and spinning around.  “I knew I married you for a reason!” he cried, and you giggled, happily accepting the kiss he gave when you were on your feet once more.  Your guests began filing in, but it took a moment for either of you to notice their presence, as you were too absorbed in each other.
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malewife-darkling · 2 years
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Omegaverse pack Au where the pack has daily grooming sessions, usually centered around their Omegas.
It used to be Fedyor very patiently sitting surrounded by Alphas, where Ivan would fuss over him and Aleksander would attempt to clean his face as Zoya combed his hair.
But now Alina and Fedyor sit together and chatter as Aleksander lovingly puts Alina’s hair into braids, and Ivan fussed over combing Fedyor’s hair in exactly the right direction to make it cutest
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nihilism-sofia · 2 years
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Alina's wardrobe and updo hairstyles around Aleksander was very wifey in general. Even in the finale, she was still wearing darker colors like he'd prefer (ex. That burgundy-*almost royal purple*-velvet dress). And thanks to Kaz, we learned Aleks specifically had her decked out in jewels that belonged to an actual former queen. Either way, she was always matching Aleks to some capacity. 😅 Young Aleksander even wore his longer hair similar to Alina's Blue Kefta look, tiny braids and all. 🤣
I don’t know about all these but they really fooled me in the end when she was still wearing the black cloak and then I remember it was hers, he gave her one like his own too lol
That man. He would probably had a heart attack if he saw her wearing his clothes.
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qqueenofhades · 2 years
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38 or 39 from your spooky prompts for Darklina
38. Stargazing + 39. Midnight on a Full Moon
The harvest moon is huge and yellow, casting pale shadows on the huddled rooftops and onion domes of the city and almost washing out the stars, but Alina can still make out a few. From her perch on the highest parapet of the Little Palace, she gazes down at Os Alta spread out and sleeping below her feet, as the night wind snatches dark locks from her braid. Technically, she reminds herself firmly, this is supposed to be training. This is training. It's just that, well, doing it like this.... that can make it feel like something else entirely.
"Again." Aleksander's voice is low in her ear, and the tone of calm command sends a shiver down her spine. "Like this."
The warmth of his body presses against hers -- the wallwalk is narrow, though that's not the only reason they are standing so close together. Not stepping away, he raises his hands, sketching a swift, elegant pattern, and a thick, seething cloud of pitch-black smoke gathers from every corner of the night, eclipsing even the broad bright face of the moon and the scattered lights and etherics lit in the twisting warrens of the city. Alina can feel the thrill of it, like her own power but different, a dark mirror and another half, the Shadow Summoner working his art in the knowledge that the Sun Summoner is about to immediately undo it. Is that an easy thing, for a man as old and strong and proud as General Aleksander Kirigan? He has been nothing but delighted by her arrival, or at least so it seems. And yet.
When the shadows have closed in so thickly that the two of them seem to be standing in the Fold itself, rather than on top of the Little Palace in the Grisha stronghold, in the capital city of Ravka, Aleksander lowers his hands and nods to her. "Now you."
Alina draws a deep breath, preparing herself. She obviously much prefers this method of training to Baghra's slaps and insults and all the other baiting and badgering that she seems to think is the best way to tap a reluctant Grisha's power, but it comes with its own pitfalls. Namingly, Aleksander's hands have settled on her waist, bracing her and steadying her, and she momentarily can't think of the light, can't draw it up -- even though he himself is an amplifier and it was always involuntary before -- because her senses are full of him. His nearness, his breath on her cheek, the soft rustle of his hair in the breeze, the lingering allure of the darkness that hangs around him like a veil. Just then, she doesn't want to summon light and destroy this moment. She wants to stay inside it, with him, forever.
"Now, Miss Starkov," Aleksander repeats. "If you please."
Yes, of course. Alina shakes it off, raises her hands -- with Aleksander touching her, it is easy -- and a brilliant glow blossoms between them, spidering out between her fingers in iridescent white trails of brilliance. It easily pushes aside Aleksander's shadows, the light and dark curling together like the philosophical principle that the Shu Han call yin and yang. Matched, perfect, balanced. Companion. Completion.
Alina turns to Aleksander, hungry for his praise. "There," she says. "See, I did it."
"It would be harder if I wasn't touching you." His unfathomably dark eyes hold hers, challenging but questioning -- does she want him to let go? "This time you have to do it by yourself."
"And what if," Alina says, measuring her words carefully, but unable to hold them back, "I did not want to?"
She has the satisfaction of seeing surprise flicker across that impossibly handsome face, the little half-smile like a schoolboy flattered that his crush has noticed him. Then he clears his throat. "Business before pleasure, Miss Starkov," he reminds her, his voice dark and rich with promise. "But after that, perhaps we will see."
[spooky season fic prompts]
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malghra · 3 years
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the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
Written for Darklina Week, Day 2: Role Reversal, Light!Aleksander & Dark!Alina
Aleksander's body tries to object when he is pulled to his feet. His limbs feel heavy, and he's bruised and stiff all over. He tries to shake off the grip of the two oprichniki who are dragging him along,
When he sees the Grand Pavilion looming up before him, he knows that he's fucked up, and that there's a good chance this will be his last day among the living. In the next moment, he is swallowed up by a sea of charcoal grey as the ranks of the oprichnina close around him, and he is pushed inside.
He blinks as his eyes try to get used to the dusky inside of the tent, taking a stumbling step forward as the back of a rifle pokes his spine.
"Bring him closer," a clear, high voice calls out.
When two pairs of arms try to take hold of him again, he pulls back, an involuntary hiss escaping his lips, and he takes a reluctant step forward.
At the other end of the path that has been cleared before him, on a raised dais, a woman is sat on an elaborately carved throne of dark, glossy wood. She is clad in robes of black and gold, and she's craning her neck to get a better look at him.
Aleksander has never seen her before, but he doesn't need anyone to tell him who she is. Queen Alina is both loved and feared throughout Ravka.
"Closer," she says softly yet still commanding.
She sits her throne with a straight back, but her shoulders are relaxed with the certainty that she belongs there. Aleksander briefly wonders where that moment of insight came from. Her long white hair is braided and piled on top of her head like a crown, adorned with a simple circlet of gold and onyx.
He takes another single step forward, and the Queen tilts her head. Aleksander thinks he can see the hint of a smile playing around her lips.
"What is your name?" she asks him.
He takes his time to study her. Her face is pale, and a bit too sharp and long to be called beautiful, and yet, there is something so regal and coldly proud about her features that he finds almost irresistible. Her eyes are black pools against her pallid skin, but he thinks they might be brown.
"Aleksander Starkov, moya soverenya," he finally replies when she arches a thin eyebrow, "but my friends call me Sasha."
Her answering smirk tells him she can see right through him. He doesn't have any friends. Only his mother had ever called him Sasha. His mother had tried to protect him, had done everything in her power to stop this moment from ever happening.
"Is it true, what they have told me?" she asks, fluidly rising to her full length, and suddenly she's only four feet away from him. "Can you—there's a short pause while her dark eyes roam over his face—summon light?"
Playing dumb and denying it is his only chance. He shakes his head, eyes wide and mouth agape, hoping it will be enough.
"No," she concludes, and he can't tell if she's disappointed by his lie or because she believes it.
"Where did you grow up?"
He throws glances at all the other people in the tent, who are watching in silence. "A tiny village in Dva Stolba, you wouldn't have heard of it. Moya soverenya," he adds hastily.
The corner of her mouth curls up. "You might be surprised. And when were you tested?"
He never was. His mother made sure of that. He doesn't have to play dumb this time. He probably looks like a fish out of water trying to come up with a suitable lie. He should have thought of one much earlier.
"You don't remember," the Queen offers, saving him from stammering his way through a poorly fabricated story. "Well, then, Sasha," she says pleasantly, taking a slow but deliberate step, "we had better make certain."
She's right in front of him now and he can't help but notice he's about a full head taller than her, and from up close, he can tell that her eyes are definitely brown, a surprising speck of warmth against the coolness of her pale face and snowy hair.
He can feel a hunger rolling off her body, the air around them humming with anticipation, and something else he can't quite name. She tilts her head and offers him half a smile.
"Roll up your sleeve."
She's going to test him, the way Grisha do with the children of Ravka, to reveal any latent talent for the Small Science. He can deal with that. His mother taught him to resist his instincts, to ignore the shock and the pain. Still, he puts up a bit of a show of defiance as he reluctantly unbuttons and rolls up his sleeve. He's ready for her test.
She spreads her arms and inky, black shadows ooze out of her palms, pooling and coiling through the air as if they were underwater. “Now,” she says in that same soft, conversational voice, as if they were sitting together drinking tea, as if Aleksander wasn't clenching his teeth so hard they might crack, “let’s see what you can do.” She claps her hands together and thunder rolls through the tent, raising gasps and whispers, spreading darkness until the tent is pitch black and Aleksander is blind and frightened as a child.
Nothing could have prepared him for what happens next. Queen Alina does not produce any needles or other pricking instruments. When he turns his palm up, offering her the vulnerable inside of his arm, she simply clutches his wrist, wrapping her thin, cool fingers around it in an iron grasp.
Something swells inside his chest, a mix of joy and power, so sure and calm and yet so thrilling he already knows he will never get enough of it. He wants more. More.
She is calling to him, and every fibre of his being, every vein in his body wants to answer. He reaches out, into the darkness, beyond the confines of the tent, until the light is gathering like a warm, ringing coil inside his chest, and then he lets it out. Aleksander and the Queen are encapsulated by a shimmering golden dome. Involuntarily, he pushes it out, until it's sheltering every single person inside the tent.
The gasps and whispers that rise up this time have a different edge to them. They ring in harmony with the song humming inside the light that is emanating from his core. He is panting, but he doesn't want it to end. He's never felt so powerful before.
"Sankt Aleksander!" someone calls out, and the Queen releases his wrist.
The light disperses, retreating back into him and creeping into corners and out of the tent. For three hammering heartbeats, the tent remains covered in darkness, and then everything returns to normal.
But nothing will ever be normal again, Aleksander realizes as the Queen orders everyone to leave. She leads him to a small table behind the dais, where servants soon bring in trays of food, setting out a meal that could feed a small family.
She is looking at him with that same hunger in her eyes again, and he would swear that he can feel it, too. Part of him wants to reach out and touch her again, to feel that call of power, that low trilling hum that made him feel so strong and unafraid.
When she catches him staring, she smiles that half-smile again. "I've been waiting a long time for you, Sasha."
He doesn't know how to respond to that, so he just nods.
"Sit," she says, halfway between a command and invitation. "Eat."
Slowly, he sinks down into a cushioned chair, eyes roaming over the array of dishes that have been placed on the table. He doesn't know whether he's hungry or not, and he isn't quite sure his stomach could handle food. And even if it could, he wouldn't be sure where to begin.
He glances up. The Queen is sitting in the chair opposite him, legs crossed and eyes still focused on him. "Not hungry?" she asks him.
"I don't know."
That hint of a smile graces her lips again. "Perhaps just a bit of fruit then," she suggests, waving at five bowls filled with at least as many kinds of fruit. She slides a small one holding a halved pomegranate over the table.
"They're so messy," he objects, suddenly certain that he is not hungry.
She leans back and spreads her arms. "As is life," she sighs, and he believes her voice is laced with sadness when she says that, before she offers him a full and dazzling smile. "But it will only become better for you, Sasha."
He wants to trust her, wants to feel that certainty and strength again that coursed through him when she touched him. He knows he would believe it then.
"You and I are going to change the world together," she breathes, full of hope and wonder.
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justice4harwin · 3 years
Text
Light’s Corruption-Chapter IX
Summary: With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.
After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.
Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.
It won’t be pretty.
Pairing: The DarklingxAlina
Rating: 18+
As usual, the tags are in the comments; if you no longer want to be in the list or wanna be added, please don’t hesitate to let me know :)
Click here for chapter VIII if you missed it
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Chapter 9: Dancers
Aleksander
When Alina met with him at the entrance to the Little Palace just before dawn, she looked slightly green.
He suppressed a small smile. A still half-drunk Genya had reported to him of his summoner's activities, and while it was technically not allowed to hold celebrations, he'd make no comment nor punish Alina for it. Did it really count if it was just the two of them anyways? They had already developed the custom of eating and drinking the afternoon away together. Besides, he needed her on his side.
"How are you feeling, Alina?" he asked, starting to walk towards the gates, where two Oprichniki were posted.
She followed slowly, her feet dragging across the floor.
"Great. Cold and tired, but I'm peachy." she said in the most monotonous voice he had heard from her so far.
She was truly amusing sometimes, more so than Ivan, maybe.
"Let us go." he offered her his arm, and she eyed it like she suspected it to be a disguised rifle before gladly taking it.
They strode out of the Little Palace into the biting cold of the ravkan winter on their own. There was no need guards when Alina was with him.
They walked far down south, nearing the woods that formed part of the Palaces grounds.
"Why do we have to do it so early?" Alina complained, taking a fist to her mouth.
If he did not know any better, he would think she was about to vomit.
"So nobody else gets to see you." he explained as they came to a stop at the edge of the woods. She dropped her hand and he immediately missed the warmth of her body. "Most people enjoy sleeping in late, especially during this season."
"You mean the king is a lazy bastard?"
He smiled, briefly.
"You learn faster than I thought."
"I'm insulted." Alina said, brows frowned, looking sicker by the second. "Everyone keeps saying that."
He felt tempted to tease her further, but he caught himself before he did such nonsense and cleared his head.
"Call the light."
It was still dark enough that they would not need to summon his shadows during the first few lessons.
She gulped, cheeks puffing for a second, and then did as asked. A big orb of light appeared from her pretty…from her hands, warming up the space they occupied.
"Now what?"
"Do it again but try to control the size."
Alina obeyed, the light fading before she made it re-appear again, smaller. She did it again and again without need to be told, making the orb of light smaller and smaller until it was nothing but a candle's flame.
"Good. Now make it bigger."
He watched as she did it, the orb growing, taking over her arms, then taking over her entire body, then taking over his as well, and then grew a little more, maybe a meter or two, before it began to flicker.
"You are afraid." he said plainly.
"I'm not!" of course she would have it in herself to argue with him, even in such a state.
"You will not loose control, Alina." he told her calmly, sure of his words as he was sure of his name. "You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for."
She looked at him, her dark eyes full of hope, and something deeper he did not accomplish to decipher. Saints, he hated when she did that.
Alina closed her eyes then, and with a deep breath, she bought her hands in towards her sides and expanded again. The orb grew and kept growing, melting the snow in its way, leaving everything drenched and in various shapes of green and browns, as if autumn had not abandoned them.
He watched her in fascination as she dropped her hands and still, the light remained.
She truly was stronger than she realised.
She looked at him.
"Now what?" she asked, her voice, so soft and lovely, anyone else would not guess her to wield such a great power.
"Now the real work begins." he breathed out, his hands itching for something. He was not sure what. Her? or her power?
In the blink of an eye, the light disappeared, and she hunched over, heavily throwing up on the damp, green grass.
He sighed, walking over and around her to hold her hair back.
The real work would begin after she was feeling better.
Alina liked it when mommy made water dance. It made her giggle, and she loved chasing the flow, even though she knew she'd never catch it.
Daddy liked it when the water danced too. One time, when Alina asked him if he could make something dance too, he had pulled her up into his arm and grabbed mommy with his other free arm and made them all twirl until the world spun and their humble, temporary home was full of childish joy.
They didn't have much, but love, that was something that overflowed the small hut they lived in.
When she was maybe four, or at least that was the amount of fingers Alina showed the people of the village when they asked her age with a little smile, her parents decided to go live in another village near Caryeva.
Little Alina was used to that. They never stayed too long in one place. It did make her a little sad though, for she always had to say goodbye to her little friends, and Alina hated saying goodbye.
"Why don't we live in one place, pappa?" she asked, her tiny hand clasped in his.
He looked down as they advanced, his hair almost shining in a colour that was very close to black when the sun hit it right.
"Because exploring is fun!" he had said, although his smile didn't quite reach his blue eyes.
"I know you like exploring." she said, rolling her eyes. She knew that already, why was he so dummy and didn't answer her question? Watching as her mommy walked a few paces ahead, she smiled. "That is how you met mamma isn't it?"
"Exactly!" he said, pinching her nose affectionately. "And we get to make lots, lots of friends!"
"But then we never see them again." the child complained.
Her father frowned slightly.
"The memories are what count, Alinochka."
The child felt sad anyways. She wanted to stay in one place for more than a season. Besides, she didn't like being lied to, and as small as she was, she could tell there were things her parents didn't tell her.
"Tell me again how you and mommy met!" she asked, taking a small leap. If he didn't want to listen to her, then he could talk.
He sighed dramatically, but smiled and placed her in his shoulders before he began the tale.
Her pappa had always liked to travel. He wanted to know the entire world. When his parents died when he was fifteen -Alina struggled to count with her fingers, but he showed her how much with his own hand-, he set off to see all of Ravka, even making it through The Fold. He wandered up north, where the fjerdans lived in their eternal winters -or so he said-, and quickly got bored, so he decided to go back to Ravka and continue south.
He found himself in Shu Han, where he stayed longer. He headed northeast, where he discovered a small village of people who could make things dance, just like mommy. And Mommy was there!
He was allowed to stay there, so long as he kept quiet about their dancing abilities. He learned the language, and he went on pursuit of mommy. Daddy always said that she just couldn't resist his 'charms' -whatever those were, they sounded gross-, to which mommy would raise an eyebrow and question him. Alina loved that part, for mommy and daddy would start teasing each other about who loved who first. She always giggled like mad as mommy playfully splashed water on daddy's face.
The part of the story Alina didn't like was the one that took place a long time after pappa had settled with the dancing people. He told her, with a small, almost scared voice, that one day, mean people showed up uninvited at the village, and he and mommy ran into the mountains, for the mean people didn't know how to dance and wanted to learn how to.
"They didn't ask nicely?"
"No, Alina, they didn't. They didn't think it was normal for people to make things dance."
"Oh; …but it's so pretty!" she would say, not understanding why those mean people couldn't ask nicely to be taught.
They realized Alina was in mommy's tummy halfway through their journey back to Ravka through the mountains.
They both told her of how she was born at sunrise, in the middle of a field surrounded by nothing but two old stone columns.
That was where they were headed to again.
Alina couldn't wait to see the place.
They stayed in a village nearby first, during a few weeks, much to the child's frustration. She wanted to see the place with the columns! But her parents had to work.
They stayed in a muddy inn Alina didn't like, where neither she nor her mother would walk around by themselves. The people there stared at them funny, they didn't wave their hands back when Alina did it with a big grin; but they were nice enough to pappa.
Alina asked why.
"We don't look like them, my love." her mother had told her one night as she undid what was left of the braid she had sported during the day. "That makes some people wary."
"What's wary?"
"It means that things and people that are different or look different make them uncomfortable."
"But pappa isn't uncomf-con-comf-uncomfy-"
"Uncomfortable." she laughed serenely, tucking her into the bed they all had to share.
"That! And look!" she said, turning and taking her hair in her tiny hands, expanding it to both sides. "I have ugly hair like him." her mother laughed again, her own, silky black hair falling down her back in a mesmerizing way. Alina sat on the bed, hands pinching the thin sheets. "He likes to be around us."
"He does." her mother agreed.
"Will you take me to see the place with the columns tomorrow?"
Her mother placed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"We can't go yet, my love." she answered softly.
"When?"
"When we find a small place to live in while we stay here, your father will take you."
Alina rolled her eyes. She knew they'd probably be long gone before that. It had something to do with her mother not wanting to join an army of dancers like her. Her parents wouldn't tell her, even though she now needed a second hand to show people how old she was!
She said nothing though, and let her mother lean down and place a kiss atop her forehead.
"I love you." her mamma whispered.
"Me too. And pappa." she yawned, turning on her side. The bed was big, and they had to share, but even at the tender age of six, Alina was so small she could get lost in it. "Tell him when he gets back from work."
"I will."
The little girl fell asleep.
The little girl woke up only a few hours later, to the smell of smoke, gunshots, yelling, fire everywhere and startled.
It had been years since she had dreamt about her parents, and those dreams were not usually pleasant. They were filled with blood and fear and cold, and it would make her sneak out of the girls' room to go snuggle with Mal, her face buried into his thin pillow as she cried.
This dream though…she didn't exactly remember all those things, yet she knew, deep inside, that they had occurred.
She laid in bed, blankets up to her chin, staring up.
Saints: she couldn't even remember their names.
She was supposed to head down for breakfast, but instead she buried herself further into the clear sheets of her bed, a few stray tears falling down her eyes.
Despite the warmth of the blankets, she couldn't stop shivering.
She was still in bed when Genya found her later, right after lunch. She hadn't been happy about it and had all but dragged and untangled Alina out of her bed like one might rudely bring down a scared cat from a tree.
Once she was laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and her friend's unimpressed face, she deigned herself to speak.
"What?"
" 'What', she asks?" She extended a hand and Alina took it, noticing the maids tending to the fire and the ones preparing her a bath. "It's just the Winter Fete and you're expected to perform in front of all the nobles of Ravka, but go ahead and lay in bed all day looking like that." Genya went on as she pointed in the general direction of her face and then grabbed her kit and opened it. " 'What?' she asks" the Tailor snorted. "Go wash yourself, lazy."
"Crazy."
"I'll make you look like a toad."
"…I'll roast your hair."
It was hard for Alina to focus while Genya worked on her hair and face. She kept on thinking about her parents but, as much as she tried, she could scarcely recall their faces.
Pappa was a good dancer. That she remembered.
Mamma made water dance. That she remembered now.
Alina could almost not believe that she had forgotten them, and that fateful night, and the days that followed after.
A chill settled deep in her bones as she looked at herself, clad in her blue and gold kefta -The General had sent a black one,  along with a strange pair of gloves, but she rejected them-, and she couldn't shake the background noises of people yelling and the heavy smell of smoke.
Then nothing.
A strange nothingness that made her eyes fill with tears.
"Hey, you will be fine." Genya, standing behind her as she added the finishing touches, said demurely, placing a kind hand on her shoulder. "There's nothing to worry about. You show some light and then it's over. I promise."
Alina nodded absentmindedly, but the words glossed over her just like droplets of rain against glass.
"You know," her friend continued, leaning against the vanity and intertwining her fingers together. "You never told me when your birthday is."
At this, Alina looked up from her hands at her friend's waiting gaze.
She cleared her throat, her thoughts, and tried to form an answer.
"Uh, um…back in Keramzin, I was one of the kids celebrated in March."
"Celebrated in March?" Genya asked, her brows coming almost together.
"Uh, I was very young when I was placed there; I don't remember my exact birth date." she looked down at her hands again, feeling somewhat amazed that she was still here and feeling a great deal of nothingness at the same time. "I believe it was sometime during the summer." she murmured, mostly to herself.
She had a vague memory, of two faceless people with flower crowns on their heads, water dancing, and Alina, with a flower crown of her own, chasing it all day long.
It had to be summer, when the rivers weren't frozen, and everybody danced.
She didn't really recall walking out of her rooms, nor the path towards the halls of the Little Palace, where the Winter Fete was being held.
She didn't register the looks she got from the nobles, the members of the royal family, and her fellow Grisha. She didn't remember when Genya had left her side and The General had taken over.
All she could think about was dancing water.
As she was guided up into a dais, she pictured fingers moving at the tempo of a song, and a thin strip of water doing the same thing.
As she was placed upon the dais, and The General's touch abandoned her just like the dancers had, she thought of a faceless man twirling her around until she felt dizzy.
And as the lights receded and shadows took over the space, surrounding everyone in the same nothingness she was feeling, Alina felt the yells of ravkan men and foreign ones, taking the strongest dancers they could find away from them and ending those who dared to resist them.
So she lifted her hands, called upon her light -a thin stream of gold- and made it dance. Orbs and strings shot out of her hands, waltzing about the room, slowly bringing the light back to it, dancing over everyone's heads, tantalizing them, teasing them.
The room was clear now, and Alina could see all the nobles gazing up in amazement, awestruck with her performance.
"Run!" her mother had shouted, so she did. Away from the people who wanted to learn how to dance by ugly means.
Her gaze shifted towards the two golden seats at her left, where the Tsar and the Tsaritsa sat and watched the spectacle. The woman was smiling up at the lights, while the man ran his greasy fingers through his chin, like a child trying to solve a puzzle far above their age capacity.
Alina looked at The General, taking him in for the first time. There was nothing on his face, just like there was almost nothing in her heart.
She nodded towards him once, and he made his shadows recede just as Alina abruptly called her light back to her, leaving everyone in uneasy darkness for a few moments before the natural lights of the candles and lanterns returned.
There was a round of applause, and some of the nobles even knelt before her, calling her 'Sankta'.
Alina wanted to laugh. Sankta? For what? Making light dance? Then every Grisha should be a Saint as well, in her eyes.
She stepped down with the help of Kirigan's offered hand, and was soon swarmed by an avalanche of nobles who wanted to talk to her, touch her face, her hands, her hair, or ask for a blessing.
"The only blessing I could offer is the lost of sight, but they haven't had that in a while."
She was rescued by Genya and Nina, each of them taking one of her arms and nudging their way out of the crowd and into a more darkened corner.
Alina looked at the Tsar, who spoke quietly with The Apparat, that strange, unnerving man who had given her a book shortly after her arrival at the Little Palace. Alina tried to avoid him.
The Apparat kept on looking at her, and she didn't like what she saw in those dark eyes of his.
"I need a favour." she said to the two women at her sides.
Shortly after, Genya was guiding The Apparat towards a most pious noblewoman and her husband as Alina made her way to the king.
"Moi Tsar." she bowed respectfully, although on her insides, she felt such a rage upon his sight she wanted to claw him open with her bare hands. A man who forced a young servant into his bed was deserving of nothing but endless pain. "I hope the demonstration lived up to your expectations."
"It was quite enchanting, my dear. Very, very lovely." the queen offered, seeming to be in a good mood. This time, her voice did almost sound ethereal. Maybe she was getting better, maybe she was just half drunk.
"Thank you, Moya Tsaritsa." Alina bowed to her as well, and it took all her willpower not to spit on her golden shoes.
If she had been feeling nothing before, she felt everything now.
"Yes, I suppose it was acceptable." the king said, regarding his audience. "I was expecting something more, dramatic, more…"
"Grand, perhaps?" she offered, her voice quaint and her smile soft. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nina subtly moving her hands, her green eyes trained on the king.
"Yes, I think so, yes." he nodded eagerly.
"Well, with all due respect, Moi Tsar, I have only discovered my abilities barely two seasons ago, and I wouldn't want to cause any accident, you understand?"
The king looked at her, almost indulgent, and smiled in what he must've thought was a lovingly way. She wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and choke him.
"Yes, that is very smart of you, Miss Starkov. I do remember the incident by the lake." he giggled, like it was the funniest thing in the world. The queen did as well, although hers was noticeably forced.
"But I assure you, with more training under General Kirigan's command, I should progress just fine." her smiled sweetened, and she all but battled her eyelashes at him. "Just have a little more patience, please."
"Of course, dear, of course." the king agreed whole-heartedly. "I trust Kirigan is training you well."
"Only the best for the Sun Summoner, Moi Tsar." Kirigan showed up next to her, bowing as she had done, although at a lesser angle.
"Good, good. Good job, you two!" the man congratulated them. "Keep it up, and we might be taking care of The Fold-"
"Soon." The General said, a glint to his grey eyes.
The king nodded, and as his gaze caught that of a young, pretty noblewoman, he dismissed them.
Alina took the arm Kirigan was offering her, slowly guiding her out of the main hall.
"What was that about?" he asked quietly.
Alina could tell he was not exactly pleased, but neither angry or disappointed.
The Summoner remembered everything he and Genya had said about the king, and she turned towards Nina to give her a nod of gratitude, but she was nowhere to be seen.
"The king is an impatient child." she said, her voice as low as his. "I just bought us some time."
"You should leave that to me and worry only about increasing your power."
"I was trying to help you." she said, turning to look him in the eye. It hadn't been just about her, just about giving them enough to love and not fear her, to admire and not haunt her; it had also been -to her embarrassment for some reason- to help him. "You once said there was no one else like us, so it only seems right that we should help each other." she looked around, and saw Lady Anastasia, the young woman from the queen's tea party, waving at her. She was accompanied by two other women. "Besides, compared to all of what you've done for me, this was nothing."
She left, again, before he could reply, putting on a happy face.
"Lady Anastasia. It's been a while."
"Oh! You remember me. Good!" the girl smiled, taking her arm and leading her to the two women who awaited patiently. She pointed at a tall, blonde woman; her hair only slightly lighter than Lady Anastasia's. "This is my sister Zasha, and her wife Galina." she pointed at a redhaired woman clad in a lovely green dress, who smiled softly at Alina. "Sisters, this is Miss Alina Starkov. We had the pleasure of making our acquaintance at one of the queen's tea parties."
At that, both women snorted, looking, for the briefest of moments, unpoised.
"I never heard of pleasure at those torture sessions." Zasha laughed softly, her voice like velvet, while her sister's was sweet as sugar.
"I can only imagine." Lady Galina said, rolling her eyes. "Did she mention at least one black sheep of each member at the table and then-"
"Finished with an 'oh, well' and moved on to the next victim." Alina did a small gesture with her hand, her voice raising to imitate the high-pitched tone of the queen.
All four women laughed quietly.
Alina stayed by Lady Anastasia's side for a few minutes, making idle conversation. It could do her good to have a friend on the court of the Grand Palace. Her sister, Zasha was very polite and elegant, always seeming to know what to say, causing her younger sister to shrink sometimes, although this was not malicious. Her wife Galina, on the other hand, was slightly more outspoken; she was like a rose: pretty, but full of thorns that could pinch anyone, and Saints did she like to pinch at some of the people at the Fete. Alina decided that the redhaired woman was alright, so long as she didn't get on her bad side.
"I must be going now," Alina said, disentangling her arm from Lady Anastasia's grip. "I mean no offense, but I'd like to spend some time with-"
"Your friends?" Lady Galina asked, taking a sip from her drink. She waved her hand off, smiling kindly. "We understand. Go, have fun, if its possible at this kind of circus."
Lady Zasha turned on a charming smile on her, and Alina's cheeks threatened to turn pink.
"It was very lovely to meet you, Miss Starkov. I know you will do great things for the good of Ravka." she bowed her head slightly. "Thank you for that scintillating demonstration earlier."
Alina awkwardly bid her farewell, turning to her right so she could whisper into Lady Anastasia's ear:
"I heard Nadia and some other Etherealki were headed for the banya, if you're interested."
The blonde woman's eyes sparkled, and she nodded subtly, a great grin giving her away.
Alina walked around the Palace grounds aimlessly. She had no destination in mind, and she didn't really care whether she got lost or not. She knew she was being followed anyways; The Darkling had said so to her weeks prior but still, she failed to see the Oprichniki in charge of her safety.
She rounded the lake slowly, seeing some Tidemakers trying to turn the ice back into liquid water so they could fool around. Smiling without feeling much, Alina lifted a hand and threw an arch of light over the surface of the lake, not being so afraid to burn anything.
By the time she finished her round around the lake, there was not a sign of ice in it. The Tidemakers whistled at her and asked her to join them, but she politely declined.
Reclining against a tree, she watched them play around with the water and the snow, making beautiful shapes and playfully fighting off each other.
They made the waters dance.
"Just like mamma." the thought came to her like a monotonous occurrence, yet as soon as it entered her head, she headed towards the stables, kicking that thought out of her head.
"Alina!"
She turned to see Nina running towards her, her breath visible due to the cold.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself, sun bean." the Heartrender linked their arms together. "You're hard to find, you know."
"I was just walking around."
"What a walk it must've been," she said, slightly panting. "I've been looking for you for over an hour. I only knew where you were when you did that thing on the lake."
"Oh, that."
"Yes, oh, that. If you want to go unnoticed by the Tsar, melting the ice of a lake is not a good way of doing it."
"How did you-?"
"Please," Nina rolled her eyes. "If I were in your shoes, I'd want to stall as much as possible too. king's an idiot and he knows nothing about Grisha."
That was true, and everyone except the Tsar himself seemed to know it.
"Why are you out here anyways?" Alina asked, allowing Nina to lead her back inside. "Wouldn't you rather be at the Fete?"
"If it was a real party, maybe." she turned her green gaze on the Sun Summoner, questioning. "Do you know what it takes to make a real party, Alina?"
She was afraid to answer, so she shook her head. Nina leaned in until their breaths mingled, and Alina could clearly see every freckle on her pretty face.
"Waffles."
"What are those?" she asked innocently.
Nina leaned back with such a force she almost took Alina down and gasped loudly, placing a hand to her chest.
"You've never had waffles before?"
"I-I don't even know what those are." Whatever they were, the kitchen staff back in Keramzin hadn't cared to make those for the orphans.
"It's only my one true love. C'mon!" she said, leading her around the Little Palace towards the Grand Palace. "The cooks love me and they'll make some for us."
"We'll get in trouble."
Nina barely gave her a glance.
"Please. They will barely notice. The party is still in full swing."
She turned to look at the Little Palace, filled with figures moving about and muffled music making its way out, harder to hear with every step she took in the direction of the ugliest building ever built.
Nina ushered her through a back entrance for servants and, true to her word, the few people still at work were more than happy to make them some waffles before heading out for the night.
The Sun Summoner watched them and realized that such a thing was simply not doable in Keramzin.
Alina then sat at a small, wooden table in front of Nina, staring down at a plate with a weird, circle cut into four with small squares inside of it.
"It won't bite you, you know; it’s the other way around."
That got a little laugh out of her and for a moment, she let herself relax in Nina's presence.
They took a small piece and Alina bit into it, feeling its crisp texture filling her mouth.
"Is it supposed to be sweet or savoury?"
"Both!" Nina exclaimed, taking another big bite, eyes alight. "That's why they're so amazing."
Alina tried a second and third bite before deciding she didn't like the dish. The brunette sitting across from her watched her in horror as she gulped down a glass of water to be rid of the taste.
"I can't believe it! I knew you couldn't be perfect …but I never imagined you could be this monstrous." Nina said, gesturing at her. "I'm sorry," she said, as Alina stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter, laughing to herself, feeling good for the first time that day. "But I can't be with someone who doesn't like waffles."
"That's a deal breaker for you?" she asked, not turning around, staring out the closed window, to the grand view of a blank wall. "Not, I don't know, creating The Fold or being a Drüskelle maybe?"
"Damn right!" She felt how Nina's hand came down to knock on the hard wood of the table. "Those I can forgive, but not liking waffles is just too horrendous."
"See it this way: more for you." she offered, looking down at her hands, wishing their conversation would never end. It was silly, meaningless almost, but in the best way and she wished she could have more of those types of talks.
"But I didn't want it all for myself;" she heard Nina say softly, and a few seconds later Alina saw the shadow of her figure over hers. She turned. "I wanted to share with you."
The Sun Summoner looked away for a moment, taken off guard. Was Nina saying what she thought she was saying?
She tried to think of it coldly: Nina grew up at the Little Palace and she was very popular around; she'd make a great ally.
But Alina couldn't just see it that way without feeling sick. Nina was pretty, smart, funny, nice, and she had been giving her straight signs since the moment they met, unlike some other people.
She looked her in the eyes: green against brown. Like a tree
"We could share something else." she whispered, too caught up taking up in her pretty features to think straight.
Nina closed the gap, taking her face in her hands. Alina closed her eyes as their lips met and danced together, soft against soft.
The Summoner's hand travelled to Nina's waist and she pulled her closer, clutching at the material of her kefta.
Their faces twisted to a side, their tongues danced with each other, and even though Alina couldn't forget about a pair of grey eyes, she clutched her eyes shut tighter and held onto Nina. For she was so lonely, and Nina was here. She had felt nothingness, and Nina made her laugh.
Alina began to pepper her jawline with kisses.
"You really are warm, sun bean." Nina gasped, holding her even closer still.
"You're warmer." she answered between kisses.
She didn't know if she'd regret it in the morning, but after years of pining and awkward, unreciprocated little affections; after months of uncertainty, and a day filled with a dreaded void, Alina let herself get a fill of Nina. This was something that felt good.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't powerful or all-consuming and it didn't feel righteous, but it was finally something good and nice after so much peril, and she was glad to try and get lost in it.
 The Darkling
 He watched quietly, from the safety of his shadows, as Miss Zenik easily lifted Alina into the kitchen counter.
The Grand Palace kitchens.
"Truly. So uncouth." he thought.
Alina deserved better than a quick hand here and there on a kitchen; she deserved to be worshipped.
Or maybe she could be worshipped on a kitchen counter, just not by Nina Zenik.
He turned and left them to their activities, none of them aware of his presence.
The tether that bound them together had bought him there to talk to her, to find her…in someone else's arms.
There was no doubt that Alina felt a pull towards him as well, and although he was still struggling to maintain his control around her, that didn't mean he was willing to share in the meantime.
And Miss Zenik had been on leave for too long. Maybe it was time for a new assignment.
Click here for chapter X
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jomiddlemarch · 3 years
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what it is to be a thin crescent moon
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Chapter 6
“I think I’ll like it even better cold,” Aleksander said. His dish was clean. He had a healthy color in his face and he was sitting comfortably on the bed, the table dragged over to stand between them. “But you must give the recipe to the head cook in the kitchens of the Little Palace.”
“What recipe?” Alina asked, eating the last bite from her bowl. “And you can be the one to tell him, because I think the best seasoning of this dish was hunger. And a breaking fever.”
“If it tasted of anything besides salt and grains of paradise, it was my relief that gave it savor,” he said. “Though I will be even more relieved when we are back in Os Alta.”
“You’ll feel better then, when we get there,” Alina said. She knew they would have to leave and that Aleksander was getting stronger; it was only a matter of days before he was able to mount and ride the stallion, even if one arm was wrapped around her waist.
“I will. To be back among my Grisha, to have what we need readily available, to know you are safe, yes, I’ll feel better for that,” he said.
“I guess so,” Alina said, biting her lip. When he said the Little Palace or Os Alta, her mind went blank, unable to imagine the actual places, to wonder whether the streets were cobblestones or what kind of trees were planted on the avenues. She could imagine riding with him again, his cape draped around them both, the tickle of his beard at her temple, but she couldn’t imagine an arrival other than a vague and pervasive dread, Aleksander disappearing and only General Kirigan somewhere, far away from her.
“What are you scared of, Alina?” he asked. Not why are you scared? as if she had no good reason and not you shouldn’t be scared, impatient or incredulous.
“The truth?” she asked, an unnecessary question. He shrugged and nodded.
“I hope that’s what you want to tell me,” he said.
“I’m scared of everything, except being here with you, like this,” she said.
“What do you mean, everything? And, except being here with me?” he said.
“A week ago, I was Alina Starkov, assistant map-maker of the First Army, orphan of Keramzin, Mal’s friend, that homely half-Shu brat Ana Kuya couldn’t wait to wash her hands of. And I didn’t have a very big place in the world but I understood what it was and what the days were going to hold,” Alina said. “Then I burned the maps and got sent across the Fold and without trying to, summoned the Sun. Then you called for me and asked me what I was and told me when I didn’t give the right answer. And then I was about to be murdered for it or sanctified. You were in such a desperate hurry to get me to the Little Palace and I have no idea what will happen there, especially since all Fjerda wants me dead and the Tsar probably wants me alive to serve him, but I don’t think I will be Alina there or Alya and I don’t think you’ll be Aleksander anymore. And certainly not Sasha.”
He sat quietly and there was not a hint of a shadow in the corners of the room, nor in his dark eyes. There was only the fading daylight that would soon require the candle to be lit.
“I understand this. Four walls, water to be fetched and drunk, food to be eaten. I know a healer could have taken care of your wounds better than I did and I’m a bad person, a terrible one, for not wishing for whatever would help you get better faster, but I’m still myself here and you’re here, listening to me, and I don’t think when we get to Os Alta either of those will be true any longer,” she finished. “I’ll be alone again and I won’t even know myself anymore.”
“Alina, when I came for you, when you were being attacked, I had no intention of leaving you to your own devices when we got to Os Alta. But now, it would be impossible,” he said.
“It would be impossible,” Aleksander repeated, “impossible for me to be far away from you, for me not to want to hear what you have to say, to answer your questions. To look for you in every room. There is no other room than this one for me, not anymore. I just hadn’t thought to speak of it so soon. It didn’t seem fair.”
“What about any of this is fair?” Alina said, then surprised herself by starting to cry, her hands flying up to hide her face.
“Nothing,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t wish it were. That I can’t wish to do more than keep you safe. Would you come sit by me now?”
“The dishes,” she muttered.
“We’ve nearly licked them clean, they can wait,” he said.
“Ana Kuya would have your hide for that,” Alina said but she got up, dragged the rickety table away from the bed and sat down next to Aleksander. She pushed a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
“What happened to your hair?” Aleksander said. She couldn’t blame him for wondering. When he’d rescued her, she’d had braided in keeping with First Army regulations. It wasn’t flattering but it was neat and unobjectionable which was no longer the case.
“I rinsed it out in the spring by the new cache and then bundled it back. It dried like this,” she said, reaching back to touch the tangled, lumpy mess she’d imagined chopping off except that it would mark her as even more of an outcast when they got to the Little Palace. She had been too busy calming Aleksander down and then preparing a meal to do anything about it.
“I could help you with it,” he offered.
“With your Small Science?” Alina asked. “I don’t see how shadows will make it better.”
“No, I can use a comb,” he smiled.
“That would be good if we had a comb,” Alina answered.
“Will you let me try anyway?” he asked.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
“I’d like to,” he said without any more explanation than what she saw in his eyes, the curve of his lips after he finished speaking. She nodded. “Turn around a little,” he said, “you’ll be more comfortable.”
Alina wondered for a moment whether he meant because she wouldn’t be facing him, watching him touch her, or simply because she wouldn’t be contorted so that he could reach her easily, but she only wondered for a moment, because then his fingers were combing through her tangled, hastily tied back hair, disposing first of the bit of ribbon and few pins she’d used and then, very gently, teasing apart every knot.
“This was a right mess, wasn’t it, Alya?” he said, his hands still moving steadily, pausing when a particularly robust knot defied him, a far cry from Ana Kuya yanking a brush through Alina’s hair and threatening to smack her bottom with it if she wiggled again. “That’s better,” he said, grazing now her temple, now her cheek, his fingers stroking the nape of her neck as he lifted the heavy mass of her hair to settle it down her back. She thought he was would stop then and she’d weave a simple braid but she felt his hands separating the strands and starting to plait her hair in a pattern she couldn’t recognize, far more elaborate than any she’d ever worn, not pulling or tugging at all.
“What are you doing?” she asked and he stopped, resting one hand on her shoulder.
“I was going to finish braiding it, so it didn’t trouble you as much,” he said.
“General Kirigan knows how to braid a woman’s hair?” Alina asked in disbelief. He laughed.
“Yes, though it was Aleksander who learned, not the General,” he said. “It isn’t so difficult, it just requires attention and patience and I’ll tell you a secret—it’s nice to do something with my hands that isn’t summoning. Shall I stop though?”
“No, don’t stop,” Alina said. He squeezed her shoulder slightly before he lifted his hands back to her hair, resuming the steady rhythm he’d had before, lulling her into a dozy calm that was threaded through with thrill when he touched her skin. He started humming softly, singing a few lyrics here and there in that same dialect she didn’t know, the melody unfamiliar to her, though she sensed it had something to do with a pair of lovers, with beckoning and returning after a long time apart. He finished braiding and stopped singing at the same time, tracing a finger along the braid at the crown of her head that was like a diadem.
“Beautiful,” he said and she might have thought he only meant the work of his own hands but then he added, “Not homely, not ever at all, Alynoshka.”
“Did you braid Luda’s hair?” Alina asked. He grew very still behind her and she felt cold within herself, a sunless day in the depth of winter. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything—”
“Yes, I did,” he said. “When she let me.”
Alina sat, clasped her hands together tightly, feeling miserable. “Aleksander—”
“It doesn’t hurt me to talk about her with you, Alya,” he said. “It was a long time ago—I’m glad someone else besides me knows her name.”
“You called it out in the night,” Alina said, a little less miserable. The hand he’d had at her head he dropped, reached forward to loosen her own in what should have been an awkward sort of embrace but wasn’t at all.
“When?”
“When I called you Sasha,” she said.
“Ah, well. That makes sense,” he said. “When she was killed, that was the last time anyone called me Sasha. Something was broken in me, past healing I thought, and I decided that could never happen again. That I could not live in a world where it might.”
“And now?” Alina said.
“I learned I was wrong,” he said.
“About yourself?” Alina asked.
“About myself, about the world. About how they can be mended,” he said. “I’m tired. Are you tired, Alya? It would be good to sleep now.”
Aleksander lay down, turned on his side. Alina moved to lie beside him, watching him settle his kefta over her legs and then his cape. She had just closed her eyes when she heard him speak.
“My favorite place at the Little Palace is the Observatory. You have to climb a narrow staircase for what seems like forever, but when you get to the top, you can see all of Os Alta below, the lights of the city like fallen stars, the golden domes of the Tsar’s palace nestled against the clouds. You can see beyond the city’s walls, into the countryside, Ravka ready to dream in the night. When we get to Os Alta, I’ll take you there, Alya, and you can see everything yourself,” he said.
*
When she opened her eyes, it was dawn and there were a handful of snowflakes falling. Aleksander was already awake, watching her, his hand warm at the small of her back. She hadn’t dreamt of an observatory but of a vast library, of looking up and finding Aleksander watching her in just the same way, of his hand reaching to caress her coronet of braids. She made a low sound of contentment, remembering there was broth to heat and sfera to cast, to make him smile.
“I’ve been lying here wondering about something you said. Why would a cartographer burn maps? I’m asking you now because someone will surely ask in Os Alta—Alina, are you a Shu spy? Whatever you say in Os Alta, tell me the truth now.”
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orlissa · 3 years
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Darklina Hair braiding + I didn't mean to turn you on
Oh, damn.
So it's at night, and it's time it's Aleksander seeking Alina out. He has Something Important(TM) tell her. Only he finds her in her nightclothes at her vanity, just brushing her hair out. And he just... stops for a moment. Then wordlessly reaches for the brush, and finishes brushing her hair. Then starts braiding it, a French braid, his fingers caressing her scalp parting her hair into sections, starting from her hairline, pulling the strands back, and it's so nice and he's so gentle, and she finds herself thinking about what else he could do with those fingers, end... it either ends with platonic pining and Sasha leaving for his own quarters, or with Alina giving in to her desires and the two of them ending up having a hot tumbling session right then and there :P
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The contrast between Darklina's rooms also made me think about their contrast in physical appearances. Even the flashbacks, I noticed Aleksander was dressed fancier than Baghra or Luda. His black robe had silver embroidery, a black fur collar, and as pointed out before, he had tiny braids in his hair similar to Alina's LP braids. Even then, he was a leader and royal advisor, and thinking of his mirror check in 1x05, I think he always had a thing for wanting to dress to impress. Cont.
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I actually find the costume Aleks wears in the flashback really interesting because its actually the same as the uniform that the old King Anastas' soldiers wear but in black:
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I mean they are identical right down to the fur collar and cuffs and the belt, the only differences are that Aleks has undone his top few buttons so his collar is settled more on his shoulders than around his neck and that Aleks' is black. Obviously this is suppose to show that Aleks is the king's soldier, his servant, his property. But there is also importance in that the King put a Grisha in his uniform and I think that would have been a big deal back then and I think there may have been a time when Aleks felt pride in being allowed to wear the uniform, that he was deemed important enough to be granted a uniform. I do wonder if this feeling of importance is what inspired the grisha's keftas. Aleks knew how something as simple as a uniform can make you feel important, can give you confidence and more importantly make you feel like you are part of something bigger than yourself. It's really interesting to me that even after the King turns on him Aleks continues to wear the uniform given to him by the king. I don't know for sure but I like to think that he does this as a kind of f*ck you to the king and the soldiers hunting him and the grisha. It's like he's saying hey remember when the king made me one of you and then turned on me, how do you know he won't do it to you? He's reminding them of the importance he held with the King. They are trying to erase the impact he made, his importance and station and he isn't letting them.
I do agree with you when you say that Aleks likes to dress to impress but I think that is because he knows how these politicians and royals, lords and ladies at court work, he knows that to them your value is based on how you dress and your station within society. How you dress is what influences them and that they are more likely to take you seriously if you wear fine cloth and look the part, look like you have wealth and look like you are powerful and important. Alina is only just learning this, she gets a glimpse of the impact something as simple as your wardrobe makes when she puts on that black kefta and sees others reactions to it, they treat her differently when she is in the black kefta. It's like when Alina is presented to the King for the first time. She even says to Genya shouldn't she be wearing a kefta if she is grisha and not the uniform of the first army? Genya tells her that she is wearing the first army uniform because the King will want to take credit for her. The first army uniform is the King's uniform and the uniform of his army. But if she had come in a kefta, well that's Aleks' uniform and the uniform of his army, his grisha and so it would have been Aleks who could take credit for her. When Aleks puts her in the black kefta he is telling everyone that Alina is his equal and that she is of high station. All of these outfits aren't just wardrobe choices they are political statements.
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feckyeswriting · 3 years
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Into the Horsieverse -- 1 scene cut for time
When they say to kill your darlings, sometimes those darlings are adorkable scenes between your love interests that you feel compelled still to finish and post 3 weeks after the fact.
Title: Untitled Fluff in Horsie Minor No.1 Rating: T Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV) Pairing/Characters: Aleksander/Alina Starkov Critical Tags: Horses, Hair Braiding, Fluff Summary: While they're traveling together, Alina wants something to do to keep busy since Aleksander is the one maneuvering Harbinger. | Cut scene between Ch 10 and 11 in WHHT. Excerpt:
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Alina replied quickly, stilling her hands. Aleksander was not so easily fooled. He craned his head over her shoulder, amusement making his lips curl when he realized what had occupied her attention for the recent minutes.
Riding together had been a matter of practicality, but even he knew that it couldn’t have been terribly easy for Alina. Their rough truce was just that - a ceasefire between whatever inevitable conclusion their disagreement would reach. And she had to sit through the whole day’s ride between his arms.
When they did have the opportunity to give Harbinger a break or to stretch their own legs, she had put considerably more space between them. She would check on Zarya or refill their canteens or divert on some small offshoot of the trails they were moving through to return a few minutes later. Now he knew what he had spotted only in the corner of his eyes being tucked into her bag.
There were green stems threaded through Harbinger’s dark mane in a simple plait. The blues and purples of the wildflowers stood out starkly, and somehow Alina had managed to put in quite a few before Aleksander had noticed.
“Irises?” Aleksander asked.
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