In The Shadows
A collection of OneShots written for Darklina Week 2021. I only recently discovered the books and TV show for myself (despite the books having sat in my Kindle for 2 years) and still feel like a bit of an intruder in a fandom that has been around for so long, so I decided to use Darklina Week to sort of put my foot in the door here and say hi to everyone who's been a fan for so many years :)
Day 1: Loneliness
Set a few weeks after Alina's arrival at the Little Palace.
The days at the Little Palace stretched into weeks, into months. The Darkling no longer remembered when those had begun to turn into years or even decades. While everyone rushed past in a dark blur like a second hand, he remained standing and unmoving in the vastness of time – and he would until their bones had long turned to dust. He wore his loneliness like armour against those who got too close, those fleeting connections that seemed to end before they even truly began.
The Darkling hadn't noticed the shadows that crept along the walls, he hadn't noticed the darkness that engulfed the room like a heavy blanket of silence until he heard her gasp. He spun around and spotted Alina by the door of the war room, a startled expression on her face, though what had shocked her, the Darkling couldn't say. This young woman had crossed the Fold, she had bested the Volcra, she had only recently said goodbye to everything she had ever known. A few simple shadows shouldn't be enough to scare her.
"I'm sorry." Her words were soft, quiet, barely audible over the background hum of the Little Palace. Even though it was late at night, it never went fully quiet. The only thing that could ever bring about a sense of deafening quiet was his shadows.
Alina shuffled her feet, her eyes flicking back and forth from his face to an unspecified point behind him. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
You didn't mean to get caught, the Darkling thought and smiled at the idea of it. It had happened so many times that he had lost count; women and men, too, just wandering past his quarters by accident, eager to catch a glimpse. Most of them, he had kindly sent on their way, others, he had stopped to have a word, few, very few, he had invited inside. She was the first he had actually wanted to seek him out in the dead of night. The Darkling only realised that now.
"Trouble sleeping?" he asked and gestured for her to enter.
Alina hesitated for only a second, then stepped closer towards the table. She stopped an arm's length away from him, her eyes set on the map laid out across the table. The Darkling remembered now that she used to be a cartographer, something that, in time, she would forget, too.
"I guess I'm still not used to all of these comforts," she admitted, a shy laugh escaping her lips as she glanced towards him, searching his face for reassurance.
The Darkling smiled back at her. Alina seemed just as out of place in the Little Palace as he had often felt walking among his fellow Grisha. They were his kind, but they were not the same. Their short, fleeting lives were nothing compared to what he had seen in all the lifetimes he had lived. All the other Grisha – except for Alina. She was young now, but with her power, she could live a life to equal his own.
The Darkling chuckled. "Would you like me to remove the bed from your chambers and replace it with straw?" he quipped. "Would that make you feel more at home?"
At last, the laugh he received from her in return was genuine. Her insecurities fell away at the shared joke. "We did have beds at Keramzin, you know? And no, I think I'll take my chances with the luxurious mattress."
"You'll get used to it," the Darkling promised her. "You're home now, Alina."
As if he had cast it, a shadow passed over her face – so swift and brief that he couldn't be entirely sure it had been there. When she smiled once again, it seemed a little more forced than before. The Darkling thought he understood, even though, he didn't, not really. Alina had, at last, arrived where she belonged and she seemed to spend every single minute mourning the life that should never have been hers in the first place. He felt a pang of anger, maybe even jealousy, at the thought that Alina might still choose to return to who she had been before if given a choice. Keramzin, the First Army, that tracker she kept writing all those letters to – as hard as it was to let go, surely what she had now was more appealing than what she had left behind?
Once she came into her own, once she decided to abandon who she had been and become who she was destined to be, Alina would see that it was meant to be. She would take her rightful place in this world. Then, and only then, would the Darkling be lonely no more. She was the one he had been waiting for all those centuries.
"I should go," Alina reasoned. "I don't think Botkin will appreciate it if I fall asleep during our training session."
As she walked past, the Darkling moved to stop her, but she glided past just out of reach from him and never saw the hand that failed to take hold of her arm. He hated to see her go – and he hated that he hated it. Her mere presence gave him a glimpse of what it would mean to no longer be alone and he found himself wanting more like a greedy mortal who was aware of the ticking clock heralding his demise.
Patience, the Darkling reminded himself. Alina had found her way to him, time would take care of the rest. He had lived for centuries, so what was another year, another decade? He could wait.
"Alina." Still, he couldn't entirely stop himself from catching a last glimpse.
She turned around one last time, smiling softly. "Yes?"
The Darkling took a deep breath, considering what to say, but all he could think of was: "Sleep well."
Alina's smile widened, genuine again. Then, she was gone.
Once he was alone, the Darkling exhaled sharply and leaned back against the table. Patience. At some point very soon, all of his hope and dreams would come true. All he had to do was wait.