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Aleksander has seen many Lantsov tsars over the centuries.
None of them have been truly good leaders, although some have been decent enough. It is not until Tsar Pyotr III – who embodies all the worst excesses and faults of his family – that Aleksander thinks that Ravka might finally be ripe for a revolution.
It takes time, of course, but the country is exhausted war and famine, tired of newspaper reports that focus on the tsar and tsarina’s endless parties rather than on the never-ending lines for bread and the young men and women dying in droves on the battlefield.
Ravka is ready for a change and Aleksander is the one who will give it to them.
“As requested, Alina Petrovna Lantsova is here to see you, General Morozov.”
“Thank you, Ivan, send her in.”
The former Grand Duchess is a frail little thing, pale and unsteady on her feet, and she sinks gratefully into the chair in front of his desk when he gestures towards it.
This is the least trying of his meetings with the former royal family, but also the most difficult.
It had been easy enough to confirm that the old tsar, tsarina and tsarevich deserved to die and their executions are to be in two days. They have refused his offer of the Cut, a quick and relatively painless death when he so chooses it, and will instead be subject to a firing squad.
The girl, though, is a different story.
She does not seem all that concerned with the loss of her title or status, has not demanded it the way the rest of her family did when he interviewed them.
There are no stories of excess surrounding her either. Her half-brother Vasily spent the country’s money on horse racing and his mistresses, while the old tsar and tsarina had no sense of economy even while the country starved, and no head for military or political matters either.
Alina is something of a mystery. He saw her at court when she was a small child, before he had given up on being able to make any real change from within and had abandoned Os Alta to seek out like minds elsewhere, but she had been entirely overshadowed by her toddler younger brother, the heir Pyotr longed for and doted on.
Most would call her a poor girl, to have features so much like her Shu mother. After all, relations with Shu Han had crumbled after the first tsarina – the sixth daughter of the Empress of Shu Han – had died giving birth to a daughter and Pyotr had chosen a Fjerdan princess as his second wife, leaving Alina in the uncomfortable position of wearing the new enemy’s face. Personally, Aleksander thinks she is lucky to look almost nothing like her loathsome father.
In view of her health, which has been poor since she was a child, Aleksander had thought to extend some mercy and put the girl into a small establishment with servants loyal to him. She would not be permitted to marry or have children, of course, less the monarchists get ideas, but she would have books and fresh air and simple amusements and, most important of all, she would avoid the fate of her family and be allowed to live.
Before he makes such an offer, though, he wants to talk to her himself. After all, he has not got where he is today without caution and some not insignificant paranoia and he cannot discount the idea that her ill-health might be feigned to arouse sympathy and give the monarchists time to whisk her away so that she can be married to some minor lord or prince who could give her sons that might one day challenge the new order that Aleksander plans to bring to Ravka.
Looking at her now, it is clear that her illness is very real. From the corner of the room, Ivan gives him a slight nod, a sign that his own brief assessment concurs with appearances. There is no faking this level of ill-health.
In fact, Aleksander looks even closer, examining her so thoroughly that the girl begins to tremble, nervous and fearful, and he realises that he has seen this sort of sickness before.
Wasting Sickness.
She would never have been tested, he realises. Grisha testing had been outlawed not long after Aleksander left the court, when Pyotr realised that the Grisha had begun banding together with the dissatisfied otkazat’sya to oppose his rule. She had only been about five then, he thinks, and children were generally tested when they were around eight years old.
“Hello, Alina,” he smiles at her.
“General,” she nods respectfully, more sensible than all her family put together.
“I have no doubt that you can guess the fate that awaits your father, half-brother and step-mother.”
Another nod.
“I have no quarrel with you, Alina. All reports indicate you were confined to bed often, and you spent the rest of your time reading, painting, making care packages for soldiers and visiting Os Alta orphanages. Your lineage, however, is a problem. I am sure you understand my concerns that unscrupulous people may seek to use you for their own ambitious ends.”
“I understand, General,” she says with a bitter resignation that suggests she believes the sentence of execution is about to be pronounced upon her.
For all her seeming acceptance, however, her eyes flash with a fire that her physical ailments make her unable to fully express.
A tenacious soul, he thinks, stifled by her frequent illnesses.
Instead of pronouncing the sentence Alina expects, Aleksander stands and comes around to lean against his desk, close enough to offer her his bare hand.
She stares at him in confusion, but takes it, clearly presuming he wishes to shake hands for some reason.
He keeps hold of her hand, his thumb brushing across her pulse point. And he senses something buried deep, deep down.
Alina shudders, eyes wide, “what … what are you doing?”
“You are Grisha, Alina,” he tells her, “you have buried your power, likely an instinctive response to your father’s repressive policies, but it is there, waiting to be called.”
She stares at him, wide-eyed and fearful.
No doubt she has been told all manner of lies about Grisha by her family and the royal court. He will seek to correct that as soon as possible. For now, though, he wishes to see her Small Science.
Aleksander squeezes her hand, coaxing the power to the surface.
He is not sure what he is expecting. It is both a great surprise and, somehow, makes perfect sense when her skin begins to glow with a faint but clear light.
Of course it is her. Of course he has found her at this particular moment, right when all his plans have come together and he is finally in a position to make real and lasting change in Ravka.
“Sun Summoner,” his eyes glitter with delight, “my Sun Summoner.”
Alina is overwhelmed, near tears. He helps her to her feet and wraps his arms around her in a warm embrace.
To have her here with him, to have his triumph blessed in such a way, seems like a sign from the Making that all will now be well.
For what limits are there to what can be achieved when he finally has his destined other half by his side.
“Oh, Alina,” he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, “my Alina, we’re going to change the world together, I promise.”