Work Text:
She had not known. She had trusted Mal. And Nikolai. And everyone else.
She had believed the Apparat when he had said that the Darkling would bring destruction, and that this would be right for Ravka.
She had trusted the tsar and the tsaritsa, when they had told her about their plans to make Ravka a better place.
She had put her faith in Mal, when he had said that it seemed like General Kirigan was conspiring against the crown and would enslave her to reach his goals.
She had trusted them all. Like a naïve little girl.
What had she done? Alina sat in her rooms, guards at the doors watching her every move, and watched from the window as the First Army rounded up the Grisha from the Little Palace. Alina could only hope that a few had escaped. She had been watching the proceedings since she had returned from her round in Os Alta with the Apparat, having to wave at the common folk, handing out charities, praising the Royal Family and Church, and listening to Ravka’s supposedly the holiest man condemn all Grisha into eternal hellfire. The only reason she was not included in that condemnation herself was because they needed her still. And that they had separated Alina’s Grishaness from her and proclaimed her a living Saint.
When the door opened, accompanied by the sound of heavy steps and the screeching of a servant’s serving wagon, Alina flinched. But it was only Mal. Not the Apparat. And not Prince Vasily, who had sought her out a few times in the last weeks. Something about him made the hairs on Alina’s neck rise. He always stood a bit too close to her, found too many excuses to accidentally touch her or let his hands wander a bit lower than was proper when dancing.
“It’s so fancy here. Do you always get such good food and so much wine?” Alina had almost forgotten that Mal was here in the palace. They had brought him in, maybe to bring her to their side, maybe to threaten her into compliance. It had worked at first, Alina had to admit to herself. She had missed him, and had hoped they could rekindle their relationship. Maybe he would finally see her as a woman. As someone, he could love.
But she barely saw him these days. Way too often he was off hunting with Prince Vasily. Or chasing some skirt. Or doing something which he did not tell Alina. In a way she was at a point where she didn’t even want to know.
“I’ve always eaten well since coming to Os Alta.” Alina moved her lips into a smile to at least not alert the guards who were watching them, or better watching her , too much. “Nothing like it was in Keramzin or the rations in the army.”
Mal poured himself a glass of wine. Alina was not sure how many he had already had, but lately, she saw him more with a glass in his hand, than without. She doubted that this was his first today.
He burped afterwards and grabbed the jug again, making the servant girl have to work around him while she set the table for Alina. These days it was often more than she would be able to eat alone, so Mal’s presence would at least assuage her guilt in eating so well, while others in the country, in Os Alta, and even in the Grand Palace were going hungry. The maid, Ana if Alina remembered correctly, was trembling slightly while dishing up. Fresh, crispy bread, juicy apples and grapes, sliced oranges from the Grisha hothouses, half a pomegranate, and at least three different meats.
Alina could not bear to look at Mal any longer and started to look out of the window again. The Little Palace was a bit further away, but still, it was pretty clear what was happening.
Baghra it seemed had managed to disappear, so at least the old woman was safe for now. But Alina saw a few of the children being herded outside. One of the guards pushed a little girl when she could not walk fast enough, and she fell.
Alina looked at Mal, gorging himself with the delicacies that had been delivered to her rooms in the palace. Probably a reward for her work. Her stomach was turning at what was happening outside, even the smell of food left her nauseous. She had believed them, had believed Mal’s assurances, had felt flattered by all the attention that had been heaped upon her.
But he had laughed with the others at the dinner when the Apparat had announced Aleks… General Kirigan’s upcoming death. Had not blinked an eye when Alina had complained to him that she disliked being used as the Apparat’s mouthpiece and felt disingenuous to lie to the people of Ravka about the state of the country. Mal had just shrugged and told her to just do it. So they would get enough money for afterwards. As if they still would retire to a farm in the countryside together.
Looking outside did not make it better. But it was better than watching Mal eat and drink his way through the palace kitchen. Or was it? Alina was not sure.
But she stepped back from the windows, sitting down at the table, where Mal had slumped down munching on the food. He grabbed pieces of the chicken, then the pomegranates, then the beef steak. Just spearing his fork into the piece he desired and then directly to his mouth, biting off a piece like some animal, letting all the juices drip onto the pristine white tablecloth. And just dropping it onto the next plate with enough space, uncaring what else was on it.
“Why aren’t you eatin’?” Mal asked in between bites. Pieces of meat and bread flew out of his mouth.
Alina hesitated, unsure of how much she could tell him. But maybe this was it. The last test of their friendship.
“They’re Grisha. So, what does it matter?”
“They’re still children, Mal. Like you and me were when we arrived in Keramzin. Some of them have no parents any more or were surrendered to the Little Palace as soon as they showed any powers. No one wants them.”
He just huffed, not really paying much attention to her, but more to the food.
“And yes, they’re Grisha. But so am I, Mal. I’m Grisha as well.”
“Na, you’re the sun saint. "It's different.” Alina could not understand how he could just eat like this, watching as he now shoved half a piece of cake into his mouth. “An’ as soon as you’ve banished the Fold, your power will vanish with the Fold. T’s what the Apparat said.”
For a moment, Alina wanted to say something. Wanted to answer, that being a saint, and being Grisha seemed to be one and the same in most of Ravkan’s history. That her power would not just disappear if she ever managed to banish the Fold. It was a part of her, just like the colour of her eyes, or the sound of her voice.
Her mouth was already half open. But then she closed it again.
It was of no use. If Mal had not understood by now, that she was Grisha as well, no matter what the Apparat had said, if he had not managed to feel any empathy for the people who were being forced out of the only shelter they had ever known or for the children who were now once again without anyone in their lives, he would not understand her.
Alina knew what she had to do. As soon as night fell, and the palace quietened down a bit, there was a task for her to fulfil.
She only hoped that by then she would not be too late.
Hours later, Alina was on her way to the last stop for the night. The dungeons. Freeing Aleksander. Hoping he would forgive her. At first, she had not known that he was imprisoned in the dungeons below the oldest part of the Grand Palace. To her shame, she had only realized what had happened to him when the Apparat had gleefully announced his upcoming execution, which was to be held on Os Alta’s main square for all citizens to see. An example to be made, he had said, and the tsar’s dinner party had laughed and wished for a dull sword for the execution.
The guards had long abandoned their posts with all the chaos going on in the palace now. Either they had joined the attempts to rescue what could be rescued, or they had fled, with no loyalty to the tsar. For them, Alina hoped it was the latter. The tsar, the whole Royal family, as well as most other nobles in this palace had no loyalty to the common people, only themselves. It was not worth risking their lives for them.
Seeing Aleksander again, after these months, was a bit of a shock. In her heart, Alina had started to call him Aleksander again. So often in the last weeks, she had to call him by his title to appease the Apparat. To play the role they had wanted her to play.
She had not dared to imagine how they treated him here.
His hands were bound in some weird contraption, so he could not summon. Imported from either Shu Han or Fjerda, Alina could not recall the Apparat’s gloating about it. Otherwise, he looked almost the same, his face was as Alina remembered it.
“Are you here to stare at me or to gloat?” He had heard her approach, had seen her standing like a statue in front of his cell.
She deserved that. And now, with a closer look, he looked different. His face was a bit slimmer than before, Alina doubted he got the same luxurious table that was served to her, and then he had to be fed by someone. But it was hidden by his beard, which was longer than she had ever seen it. A far cry from the well-groomed man she had got to know.
“No, I have come to repent.” It was more difficult than she thought to look him in the eyes and admit that she had been wrong. Alina swallowed; her throat suddenly parched. The guilty conscience had been eating on her for a bit. But especially now, that she knew everything could have been different, it was worse. Maybe they still had the chance to turn this around.
“To repent?” His laugh was hollow. Tired even.
“What will they all say when they see you here?” His tone had become sharp, mocking even. “What would they say if they saw their perfect little saint here with an abomination, a heretic?”
Alina did not say a thing. Could not say a thing. Aleksander was throwing her bad choices into her face, in a way she felt she deserved that.
“Will they all storm down the steps and invade my cell in a few minutes and drag you away?” Alina had to remind herself that he had a right to his bitterness here. Moving her gaze from the floor to Aleksander’s face, showed her something else, though. His dark eyes were looking directly at her, as beautiful as they always had been, and the same yearning, the same affection that had shone in them since the infamous Winter fête was reflected in them. Maybe not all was lost. Maybe there was some hope for his forgiveness.
“No one will come.” She whispered.
Aleksander raised an eyebrow at her statement. He did not believe her.
“I…,” it was harder to admit than she thought. “I have burned them all. Parts of the Grand Palace are burning to the ground. First and foremost, the quarters of the Royal family and the rooms where the Apparat sleeps.” Letting her deeds sink in, Alina had to correct herself. “Where they slept.”
Aleksander stared at her like he had never seen her before. Alina could barely hold his gaze, the guilt for her role in his treatment as well as what she had been doing earlier tonight, were eating at her, so she did not see the small smile appearing on his lips.
“My, my, Miss Starkova. What a revolutionary, you’ve become. And everything without my dreadful influence.”
She huffed at that. From everything she had observed in the last months, his ‘dreadful influence’ very likely had been what held the country together. At least better than everyone else. She had just been too blind to see it, or had been blinded by her own prejudices that she had not overcome and that were only reinforced by the tales that were spun about him.
“And why have you come here then, my little saint?” A sigh as if he was carrying the weight of the world accompanied his words. And if the documents she had found in his chambers, and the suspicions that had built up during the long hours in the library were true, he had carried a lot of weight for so many people over the last centuries. Heretic indeed. If the tsar, or the Apparat had known what she suspected, they would have executed him on the spot.
“I’ve come to free you.” Alina stepped closer, pulling the keychain she collected from the guard station from her pockets, and kneeled.
Alina opened the chains on his legs, then the one keeping his hands locked and unable to move. They were heavier than she thought.
When all was done, and Aleksander rubbed his wrists to get some feeling back into his hands, she backed away. Standing up, giving him room. Unsure of what to do, Alina just stood in the doorway, listening with one ear in the unlikely case that someone was coming, but mostly observing him. Aleksander was getting back onto his feet, how long had he not stood with those chains attached to him? He stretched like a cat, starting with rolling his neck, his shoulders, and then all the way down. Alina could have watched him all day. And as she was doing it, a realization came upon her - she had missed him.
After what felt like an eternity, but could surely not have lasted more than a few minutes, Aleksander was finished. And focused back on her. The way his eyes bore into her again sent shivers down her spine. She had not realized how much she had missed this.
“So, what are your plans now, Alina.” The way he said her name had always given her goosebumps in the most delightful way. But the way he purred it now, made her conscious that this feeling had intensified. Or she was just starved for it.
“Well…”, a deep breath to collect her thoughts, “I thought with you free, we could do exactly what they had accused you of.”
His right eyebrow was high on his forehead again, but this time accompanied by a smirk that Alina had difficulty interpreting. Was it amusement? Was it pride?
“Freeing the Grisha and having them resettle again in the Little Palace if they want to. And then see if Ravka cannot do better without the Lantsovs and the Apparat.”
He moved as quick as lightning. Alina had not even closed her mouth yet. She was in his arms, his grip tight around her waist and the other hand resting at the base of her neck. He tilted her head up, licking the seam of her lips. Alina gasped in surprise, and his tongue darted inside her mouth. Aleksander was kissing her in full force. Kissing, licking, devouring her, rubbing himself against her like the aftermath of the Winter fête had never happened. Like he was just picking up where they had left off that night.
The blood was rushing into Alina’s ears, and the way he was moving against her was robbing her of all rational thought. She could only clutch onto him, as if he was her anchor during this high tide.
She had no feeling how long this kiss had lasted. Minutes, hours, days. Nothing would have surprised Alina at this point. The whole First Army could have stormed down the dungeons, Alina did not hear anything beyond her own whimpers and his groans of satisfaction.
When he let her lips go, Alina had to find back to reality.
“Now then, solnishka.” Free from his chains, Aleksander was as nimble as always. It seemed that the captivity had not robbed him of his strength too much. And in contrast to herself, the kiss did not seem to affect him too badly. What a shame, Alina wished he would feel as wrecked and distracted by it as she was.
He took her right hand in his and bestowed a gentle kiss on it.
“Shall we go and rescue whatever is left of the Grand Palace?”
Aleksander holding and caressing her hand was quite wonderful, his skin touching hers was giving her the most delightful feelings. “What?”
“We’ll appear as their saviours, bemoan the tragic fate that the Saints bestowed upon them, and then…” another kiss on her hand. “Then we’ll work on rebuilding Ravka for Grisha and otkazatsya, moya tsaritsa.”
Oh. That was his plan.
Not exactly what she had expected, but not entirely surprising.
“Let’s go, then.” Alina smiled at him.
Hand in hand, they made their way up to see what was left for them to do, and to free all Grisha that had been rounded up today.
They had much to do.