Chapter Two: Don't you ever tame your demons
The Darkling

I had known I was extraordinary since I was old enough to talk. Mother often told stories about my childhood. Most Grisha don't reveal their abilities independently until at least the age of five. This was the reason I implemented testing programs for all Ravkan children. If we could mold them and shape their abilities before they even realized they had power, they would grow up with more power and control. I, however, had been a fussy baby incapable of sleep without complete darkness for a very long time.

So, at two months old, I brought my own darkness and had lived in it ever since.

My childhood had not been a happy one. Most of my life had not been a happy one. For all that mother and I were extremely powerful, we were all but helpless against our enemies. We wandered from place to place throughout my childhood, protecting ourselves from all otkazat'sya and Grisha that would do us harm.

There were pockets of happiness, of course. We'd found a few villages with Grisha children, some of whom were not afraid of me. I'd had a few friends for weeks or months at a time. Still, inevitably, either an errant touch-a hug, a tag, even a brush of fingers handing over a ball-would reveal that I was a living amplifier, or else mother would decide we needed to move on before someone else was hunting us down.

It hadn't been pleasant, but it certainly hadn't been ordinary. I had never been ordinary.

At least until I'd been stuffed away in this wretched cell, anyway.

The Fold had been both my greatest triumph and my greatest mistake. It had been born of grief and a desire to show those who would mock Grisha that we were a force to be reckoned with, that we could be both dangerous and vital.

But I had miscalculated.

Alina had once asked if I ever made mistakes. I'd told her I didn't make them often, but that was because I'd made so many over the centuries that I learned not to repeat them. There were layers of regret in the Shadow Fold. The retribution against Grisha, the destruction of fertile farmland, crippling Ravka's trade routes...

The volcra.

Despite what mother believed, I regretted the loss of human life more than anything else. It was not my first kill, not by a long shot, but it was my worst, my biggest mistake.

Until her.

My mistakes with Alina were numerous. From the first moment in Kribirsk, I had underestimated her, assumed she was weak. I had assumed she would be mine with no effort, a kindred soul bound by our shared immortality.

And I'd punished her for her failings.

I deserved her hatred.

I'd tried to use her, assuming she was meek enough to go along with my vision for our future. My little mouse.

But Alina was no mouse; she was more like a beautiful young filly, full of grace and fire under the right guiding hand. If her trust was earned, she was fiercely loyal, but like any animal, she would lash out when wounded and mistreated. Horses may not be known as deadly, but I'd been thrown from enough mounts to know they could kill a man under the weight of their hooves.

In retrospect, I couldn't blame her, not for any of her part. Not for her lack of trust after my lies-even if most were by omission and didn't truly count. Not for choosing the otkazat'sya over me. Not even for her repeated attempts to destroy me. We'd had a common goal in mind: the best for Ravka.

Footsteps on the stairs distracted me, but I didn't look away from the stone floor of my cell. That there were guards only at the top of the steps was insulting. Even without my powers, I was still a formidable opponent. I was strong and fast in battle, and I could kill a man with my bare hands should the need arise. They should have at least had one armed guard watching me, at minimum bind my hands when they came to bring my meals and empty the chamber pot.

I was being petulant, and I knew it, but what else did I have left other than my bitterness?

The footsteps stopped in front of my cage, but I still didn't look up.

"I'm trying to decide if I should kill you."

I looked up to see Ravka's soon-to-be king examining me. He flexed his fingers in his gloves subconsciously—another regret.

"You tried to destroy me," he accused.

There was no point in denying it.

"You nearly killed my father, besides. You had him poisoned and sat yourself upon his throne. I wonder how many treasons you've committed over the centuries, Black Heretic," he asserted.

I considered his words silently. The number was probably technically vast if we were counting actions against some of the terrible rulers of the past.

"And now, you are nothing."

I bridled at his words, even if they were true. "I am not nothing." I could not show weakness, even if I were without my powers.

Nikolai regarded me cooly. Waiting.

"What I have done, the lives I have taken… it has been for Ravka. Do you think your father was a good king? A man who tumbled every servant girl he could, whether they were willing or not? You know Genya was fourteen when he first laid hands on her?"

"You allowed it," Nikolai reminded me.

"What choice did I have?" I asked. "What good could have come for the rest of the Second Army if I confronted him? Do you think he would have allowed me to remain as General? I am-was-responsible for all Grisha-for all Ravkans."

Nikolai's hazel eyes regarded me levelly.

"I did what had to be done," I told him. "For Ravka. You will find that to lead sometimes means sacrificing the few for the benefit of the many."

He looked at me once more before sighing. "The trouble is, I believe you. You really do love Ravka." His brow furrowed. "What of Alina?"

"What of the Sun Summoner?"

He flinched at her title.

"Or is she to be Queen Alina?"

He shook his head. "Answer the questions, Darkling. Although I suppose you aren't the Darkling any longer. What is your name, anyway?"

"Kirigan will suffice," I told him. I'd hang before I'd let him call me Aleksander. That name was reserved for- "Miss Starkov was an unfortunate sacrifice for the greater good of Ravka. Nothing more."

"You forget, Kirigan, that I have seen you with her before," he reminded me. "The looks I saw you give her were not of a man seeking only her power."

"She was a beautiful woman," I told him. "And I am a man who appreciates beautiful things."

"Is," he argued. "Alina is a beautiful woman, though she is… recovering. I believe it's more than that, Dark-Kirigan. You wanted to truss her up in black and mark her as yours. I understand the appeal, though you should see her in cobalt lace…" His expression was wistful, and I didn't like it.

"You wish to use her as well," I observed. "You want to make her your Queen, build on the goodwill the people have for the Sun Summoner… Sankta Alina. It would add legitimacy to your rule, given the question of your parentage."

His expression turned angry for a moment before his features relaxed, and he ran his fingers through his short dark golden hair. "For the good of Ravka, I suppose."

I arched a brow at him, waiting.

"The trouble is, I still don't know what to do with you," he continued.

I didn't respond; I didn't know what to do with me either.

Nikolai was far kinder in his accommodations for prisoners than I was. Even as the most wanted man in Ravka, he had provided me a comfortable bed, a table and chairs, a few books for entertainment, and even a modicum of privacy with a screen for the chamber pot. I'd been allowed to shave and trim my beard every other day under the strict supervision of a guard. Again, it probably should have offended me that they trusted me with a razor, but I mostly felt gratitude at being allowed this small comfort. The selection of books I'd been provided left something to be desired. They had provided mostly anthologies of stories: Mify o F'yerdane, Istorii Sankt'ya, Skazki Shu Khan', and a few collections of Ravkan folktales. Children's stories. Still, as I dealt with hour after hour of immense unending monotony, they provided some relief.

Later, hours after Nikolai had left me to contemplate my existence, I heard footsteps on the stairs again. Assuming it was my dinner tray, I looked up.

Alina was staring at me. My stomach dropped, but I didn't betray this on my face. I leveled my eyes at her, saying nothing but taking her in.

She was slender, concerningly so. Her cheekbones were prominent, and her collarbones jutted out above the neckline of the simple gray dress she wore, Morozova's collar conspicuously absent. While our war may have stolen some of the womanly curves she had earned at the Little Palace, it hadn't taken the inches of height she'd gained. She would never have been tall after all the years she's spent fighting the light insider her had stunted her growth, but at least she no longer looked like a child. Gray-white skin stretched over her features, and the only part of her that had any vibrancy was her hair. The once bronze strands were now a shimmering white. It did not escape me that this stood in stark contrast to my own black hair: Black and white, sun and shadow, day and night.

She was beautiful even now.

I stomped the thought down. Alina had destroyed my powers-destroyed me. I should hate her.

And yet…

I arched a brow as she settled herself on the floor where she could see me, gathering her skirts around her knees as she leaned against the stone wall. When I looked into her brown eyes, I almost recoiled. I was wrong; her hair wasn't the only vibrant part of her. I didn't see the hate I was expecting; I could have dealt with that, having felt her revulsion a million times. No, what I saw was absolute anguish so deep in profound, I could feel it by looking in her eyes.

I have no idea how long we stared at each other, but when the guard finally did descend the steps with my dinner tray, she unfolded herself from the floor and left without ever having said a word.

Leaving me alone.

I was bored as I reclined in the Grisha tent at Kribirsk. Being a general certainly wasn't an easy job, but I had years of experience under countless kings. This king was worse than most. He was not cruel, thankfully, but he was vain, wasteful, and weak. The first two I could forgive, but the third I could not. Ravka deserved a ruler that would fight for them and with them against the Fjerdans and the Shu Han that would torture our Grisha, our citizens.

When a soldier from the First Army made her way into the tent, I barely registered her presence. I ignored her as she spoke in hushed tones to one of the oprichniki. Perhaps a tumble with a willing Grisha woman-and they were all willing-would be a nice distraction in the evening. Zoya was in the latest company, and she was feisty enough that it was enjoyable for both of us.

"General Kirigan," Petyr, the head of my guard, interrupted.

I met his gaze and lifted an eyebrow.

"There was an incident on the Fold. Volcra," he informed me.

I sighed. "A volcra attack is hardly worth alarm from me. Did we lose Grisha?"

"No," he said haltingly. "There was an attack, but something stopped them." He hesitated. "They claim to have found a Sun Summoner."

I suppressed another sigh. There had been many so-called "Sun Summoners'' brought to me through the years. Most were particularly powerful Inferni, but there had been a Squaller that made lightning and a Materialnik who could cause explosions from the elements in the air. How any of them had escaped testing as children, I didn't know, but still, they had become valued members of the Second Army.

"Of course," I said. "Bring him to me."

"Her," he corrected.

"Her?" I queried. "Fine. Bring her to me."

Petyr turned on his heel and marched off.

Colonel Raevsky entered first. He paused briefly before ascending the dais at my nod. Always appropriately deferential.

"What news?" I asked. "I have heard a rumor an otkazat'sya thwarted a volcra attack."

"The regiment insists the mapmaker killed them, sir," he told me.

"And how has this miracle occurred?"

He hesitated. "They say she called the sun, and they fled."

He was still whispering in my ear when a group of soldiers entered. Even though she was at the front of the pack, it took me a moment to notice the girl. She was plain. Most otkazat'sya were entirely unremarkable, but there was something almost aggressive about her plainness.

This mouse of a girl was tiny, so much so that I would not have assumed she was old enough to enlist in the First Army. She had to be an entire foot shorter than me and bony enough to appear malnourished. The soldiers of the First Army weren't always the healthiest, but they were much better fed than one would believe looking at her. Her skin was sallow and pocked with spots. The circles under her eyes were so dark and heavy they looked bruised.

The rifle jammed into the small of her back was most certainly overkill. Even throwing a punch would be more likely to break her than do any damage to the person on the receiving end. I hoped the mapmakers were given a decent guard if she were to survive. As she stumbled forward, her eyes would not stop moving, alternating between wonderment at our pavilion and frantically searching for something or someone.

"Bring them," the Colonel ordered.

The oprichniki brought forth a group of battered and bewildered soldiers, evidence of the volcra attack present in their filthy ripped clothing and apparent injuries. The girl, for that matter, had a large bleeding gash on her shoulder that had torn through her ragged green coat. All of them stank of the grave.

When a group of trackers came forward, the girl's relief was palpable upon laying eyes on a particularly pale and haggard tracker with blue eyes. Interesting. Raevsky was muttering something about names and ranks, but I was still staring at the girl staring at the blue-eyed tracker with such relief. When her gaze darted back to me, she tensed again.

"Kapitan, report," Raevsky ordered.

The captain stepped forward. "Approximately thirty minutes into the crossing, we were set upon by a large flock of volcra. We were pinned down and sustaining heavy casualties. I was fighting on the starboard side of the skiff. At that point, I saw… I don't know exactly what I saw. A blaze of light. Bright as the moon, brighter. Like staring into the sun."

I looked at the other soldiers. Even the girl nodded along.

"The volcra scattered and the light disappeared. I ordered us back to drydock immediately," he continued.

"And the girl?" I didn't need to look at her to sense her fear.

"I didn't see the girl, moi soverenyi."

Of course not. He wouldn't want to risk being incorrect. I looked at the other survivors. "Who actually saw what happened?"

They muttered to each other, probably realizing they'd seen a flame, not sunlight. A soldier stepped forward, the patch on his sleeve indicating he was the senior Cartographer.

"We… we were under attack," he started. "There was fighting all around. Such noise. So much blood… One of the boys, Alexei, was taken. It was terrible, terrible. They were everywhere! I saw one go after her-"

"Who?" asked Raevsky before I could.

His eyes darted to the mousy girl, who now wore an angry frown like a badge of honor.

"Alina… Alina Starkov, one of my assistants."

I could hear Zoya giggle and watched the girl's-Alina's-jaw clench.

"Go on," the Colonel prodded.

"I saw one go after her and the tracker," he explained, waving a hand toward the blue-eyed boy.

"And where were you?" she burst out. "You saw the volcra attack us. You saw that thing take Alexei. Why didn't you help?"

Perhaps she was not as timid as she appeared.

"There was nothing I could do," the Cartographer told her. "They were everywhere. It was chaos!"

"Alexei might still be alive if you'd gotten off your bony ass to help us!" There was definitely some fire in this Alina Starkov. An Inferni, perhaps?

"Enough!" Raevsky shouted both at her and the murmuring crowd. "Tell us what you saw, Cartographer."

"The tracker went down. She was beside him. That thing, the volcra was coming at them. I saw it on top of her and then… she lit up."

I studied her as the Grisha giggled and whispered. She looked utterly confused. Whatever she was, she didn't know it.

"I saw it!" the Cartographer insisted. "Light came out of her."

It was pandemonium. Most seemed to be in disbelief or outright denial.

"This is absurd! What are you suggesting, old man? That you've found us a Sun Summoner?" Of course, Zoya would speak. Even a suggestion that this scrap of a girl could wield power was threatening to her. Her pride and jealousy were not her most appealing traits.

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm only telling what I saw!" insisted the Cartographer.

"It's not impossible. There are stories-" began one of the Fabrikators.

"Don't be ridiculous. The man's had his wits rattled by volcra," Zoya scoffed. She was getting too self-important. Perhaps she thought the occasional tumble meant more than it did.

I watched the girl in front of me shrink into herself as arguments burst out. She was something more than otkazat'sya, but what, I couldn't say. She was a curiosity I would need to explore.

"Quiet." At my word, the talking ceased. "Tracker, what did you see?"

The blue-eyed boy shifted uneasily, looking from the girl to me. "Nothing. I didn't see anything."

An obvious lie. "The girl was right beside you."

The tracker nodded, eyes darting to her once more.

"You must have seen something."

The look they shared was desperate. There was something between the two of them, though I couldn't say what. Friends? Lovers? They were too unlike to be siblings.

"Just tell us what you remember, tracker," Raevsky ordered.

The tracker grimaced in pain as he shrugged. "I was on my back on the deck. Alina was next to me. I saw the volcra diving, and I knew it was coming for us. I said something and-"

"What did you say?" I asked, my curiosity surprising me.

"I don't remember." Lie. It was probably some trite declaration of everlasting love. I let him continue anyway. "I smelled the volcra, saw it swooping down on us. Alina screamed and then I couldn't see anything. The world was just… shining."

"So you didn't see where the light was coming from?" Raevsky asked.

"Alina isn't… she couldn't… We're from the same… village. If she could do anything like that, I would know."

I looked at him long and hard, contemplating. He wasn't lying now. He thought he knew the girl so well she couldn't possibly hide anything from him. I knew better. Over the centuries, I had hidden countless secrets from friends and foes alike. Perhaps there was more to this mouse of a girl.

"We all have our secrets."

The tracker was angry, but I silenced his retort with a hand. I stood, stepping down from the dais. To her credit, she didn't cower as I approached. She was so short, she barely reached my shoulder.

"Now, what do you say, Alina Starkov?" I asked as pleasantly as I could. There was no particular benefit to scaring her.

"There's been some kind of mistake… I didn't do anything. I don't know how we survived."

I tilted my head, studying her face. She was telling the truth. "Well, I'd like to think that I know everything that happens in Ravka, and if I had a Sun Summoner living in my own country, I'd be aware of it." The idea that this mouse was a Sun Summoner was almost laughable, and yet… "But something powerful stopped the volcra and saved the King's skiffs."

I waited. For what, I wasn't sure.

"I didn't do anything," she repeated. "Not one thing,"

I suppressed a smile. She was stubborn. Perhaps a mule rather than a mouse. I examined her tiny frame and watched her flush under my gaze. No, definitely still a mouse.

"Is your memory as faulty as your friends?" I inquired, nodding to the tracker.

"I don't…" Her face displayed a range of emotions. I suppressed a sigh, growing tired of the whole thing.

"Hold out your arm."

"What?" she squawked.

"We've wasted enough time. Hold out your arm."

Her eyes darted to her comrades, desperate for someone to save her. When no one came forward, she trembled and extended her left arm.

"Push up your sleeve." It would be easy to tell as soon as I touched her bare skin.

"I didn't do anything," she insisted in a frightened whisper.

I just looked at her. I could easily overpower her, yank up her sleeve and expose her fragile arm, but I found I didn't want to force her.

She pushed up her sleeve, trembling even harder.

When I spread my arms to bring the shadows, I was almost afraid she would faint. "Now, let's see what you can do."

When I clapped my hands together as I had so many times before, she emitted the terrified shriek of the uninitiated, those who had never seen my darkness before. I stepped forward, a hair's breadth away from her, and clasped her bare wrist.

I knew immediately.

The power, the call, whatever it was that made a Grisha-was overwhelming. This wasn't fire or thunder; it was the light of the sun.

And yet she was stamping it down, determined to be ordinary.

Why?

"Nothing there?" I murmured. I felt her relax, her power shrinking back. Oh no, you don't. Silently, I drew my knife and sliced into the tender flesh of her forearm. I felt remorse at her pain for the briefest moment before her pained cry released a torrent of light, banishing my shadows.

This slip of a girl-Alina-was the Sun Summoner.

In the light, I could glimpse what she would be when she stopped fighting her power. No longer colorless with limbs like sticks, the curves of a woman clothed in black and gold.

I wanted to laugh in triumph. At last, the key to the Fold, the key to saving Ravka.

At last, you're not alone.

I let go of her arm at that last unbidden thought. I couldn't allow myself to consider that, not yet anyway. When she nearly collapsed, I caught her easily, cradling her briefly against my chest. "I guess you only look like a mouse."

I looked to Petyr. "Take her."

I needed to get her to the Little Palace as fast as possible before word spread. Eventually, she would be all but unstoppable, but now she was more vulnerable than a young school child. I handed her over, an odd sense of emptiness filling me.

"Ivan!" I shouted. He was there almost instantly. "Get her to my coach. I want her surrounded by an armed guard at all times. Take her to the Little Palace and stop for nothing." I realized my fingers were sticky with her blood. "And bring a Healer to see to her wounds."

"Wait!" Alina protested. I was shocked when she grasped my arm. "There's been some kind of mistake. I don't… I'm not… I'm not what you think I am."

I stepped back to her, meeting her terrified gaze. I wanted to reassure her, but it was more important to protect her. "I doubt you have any idea what you are." I looked at Ivan. "Go."

My advisors mobbed me instantly, but I could still hear Ivan's overly rough command. He was a brute but an excellent Heartrender. He could defend her life and calm her if need be. He just needed more delicacy. "Ivan," I reminded him, "mind your tone. She is Grisha now."

He bowed, pulling her away as I turned back to the dais. There were plans to be made for the mousy Miss Starkov.

The chapter title comes from "Arsonist's Lullaby" by Hozier.

I am my own beta. All mistakes are my own.

A few structural notes (in case they weren't completely obvious): This story will be told from alternating first-person point of view. I will note the narrator at the top of each chapter. Chapters narrated by the Darkling are significantly longer because they will contain major Darkalina scenes from the books/show re-written from his perspective.

In terms of canon, I'm borrowing from the books and the show as I see fit. I'm in charge here lol. I would say it leans 80% book, 20% show. Yes, there is dialogue ripped directly from the books. If you wish for me to format future chapters to denote which dialogue/text is from the books/show and which is original, please let me know.

Please note that the draft of this fic IS complete but I will not be publishing all at once as I am editing/revising. Given that the original draft is just shy of 75,000 words, the aforementioned editing process will take some time. I'll be shooting for a chapter every other day.

This story will be cross-posted on and ao3 so if you see the same story in both places, don't worry. My username is different on the two platforms.

I welcome reviews, including constructive criticism. Seriously, knowing if people are enjoying my writing fuels me on. :)