Summary: Alina thought Grisha didn't get sick, but apparently she has to be the exception. Her feverish dreams soon start plaguing her with guilt and a confession is made to the Darkling. (Darklina fluff).

AN: I have only watched the show, but read through enough fanfiction and Tumblr to know all the major spoilers. This is show based, because our boi Bin Bons did it just too well.

Even with all the Healers around, it wasn't enough. There were some things that just had to take their course. Such was life.

Like the damn flu, that swept through the Little Palace like a tidal wave. Although Grisha didn't normally get sick, the youngest and the staff all got infected quite quickly.

Along with the Sun Summoner.

The Healers explained that after years of suppressing her powers, her body was still adjusting and probably went into shock when the flu came. For all their powers, interfering with the flu was amazingly complicated for them, so they decided that she would simply stay in bed like others that got sick. Most people had it bad for a day or two, with some fever, a bit of coughing and then they were done.

Unless you were Alina Starkov, who was stubborn and tried to attend daily life at first and was all but physically put back into her room by Genya and two oprichniki. At that point she had almost coughed her voice away, and soon the fever followed. After that there was no return.

Genya barely waited for the knock to register before she entered Alina's room early the next morning.

"You look awful," were the first words out of her.

"I know," was all Alina managed to croak out. She had been going between freezing and sweating from fever the whole night. Her bones ached. She was still coughing, which woke her up every hour, and her voice was but a whisper. Obviously she looked awful. The only bright side was that she hadn't had her usual fevered dreams, which were surreal and strange and massive.

"The Healers are going around. They'll be with you later today, although there is remarkably little they can do for something like this," Genya continued, strutting around the room. "And you probably made it worse by going on about your day as if nothing was wrong," Genya added. Alina shot her a look, and the red head seemed to take a small pity on her. Of course Alina didn't want to be perceived even weaker than the other Grisha thought her to be already. "But maybe they can ease your pain a bit. Do something for your throat."

"Mhm."

"Is there anything you need?" Genya added in a softer voice and sat down on the bed. Alina shook her head. "You haven't eaten since yesterday."

"Just sleep. I just want to sleep this off. Wake me up when it's over," she whispered, before going into a coughing fit.

"Very well. I will try to check on you later today as well." Alina heard the words, nodded and thought she had closed her eyes for only a second, but when she opened them again Genya seemed long gone and the sun was high in the sky. She ached all over, but the thought of taking off her clothes to take bath filled her with cold dread. She would freeze to death in those few seconds it took her to enter the bath naked. So instead she rearranged the pillows so she sat upright and wrapped the covers even more tightly around her. A touch of hunger filled her stomach, but there was no food that seemed appetizing. This whole thing was absolutely ridiculous, she never got this sick!

And with that thought her feverish dreams started.

Alina had been like that her whole life. Any small flu that brought up a fever threw her into the most ridiculous situations in her head, often a mix of what was going on around her and whatever else her mind caught. She never showed many physical signs of being sick, but her head was a different matter. Sometimes it was funny, sometimes thoughts that plagued her mind started to scream at her. Of course it had to be the latter this time. Worse than ever before.

It was Alexei, from her cartography unit, who jumped through her window, which had no glass anymore, and told her that Volcras had the weirdest lullabies. His blonde hair was unruly, and he was wearing the same uniform as the day he jumped off the skiff in the Fold. And then he disappeared, only to jump again through the window, this time talking about his time as a cloud quality controller, disappearing after walking through the wall on the other side. Alina lost count of how many times he jumped through the window, couldn't keep up any conversations with him and tried to ask him to leave her alone, to no avail. Sometimes he didn't say anything, he just found papers around to burn, reminding her of the maps she had burned to be sent with the skiff. Along with her whole unit. To their deaths.

The window filled up with people. People from the skiff, people that died in the Fold when she forced her way with them over it. Cartographers that she had never even met, but still knew who they were somehow. It made sense in her head. No one was blaming her for what happened, not directly, but she could see it in their eyes and the tone of their voice. Sometimes she saw their faces change from the corner of her eyes, their eyes wide and mouth agape, almost screaming in terror, but as soon as she looked directly at them, they looked all but bored, their expressions completely neutral.

Then came Raisa. She had her arms full of maps and luggage.

"What did you do?" she asked Alina accusingly. Alina couldn't even answer. Raisa dropped everything she was holding to the floor, looked horrified up at Alina and started asking "what do we..." without ever finishing the sentence. Had those been her last words? Really? She sat on Alina's bed and asked "what do we...?" in every possible tone of voice, always hesitating before finishing or cut off by something that interrupted, whether it was Alexei jumping through the window again, books thumping to the floor, cats fighting behind her or people sitting in the window, singing songs that were mostly sung by drunk soldiers sitting around a fire.

The Healers woke her up once during that. The window emptied quietly, but she wasn't quite sure if she was awake or asleep. She could hear her friends talk about map making in the distance, at the same time something warm was pushed down her throat. She was quite sure the Healers did not leave by melting into the floor, looking like big blobs of ink on paper.

"What do you need?" asked a voice from beyond. At least Alexei had stopped talking. Alina groaned. They had died, her whole team, because of her. Her friends! All because she didn't want to part with her childhood friend! All her fault! She felt them knock on the window, which finally had glass again. Raisa kept asking "what do we...?" in an increasingly louder voice.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want them to go away," she answered. "I can't... I know it's my fault they died. I'm so stupid. They all died because of me. I don't want them through the window again." She wanted her friends back. "Raisa was right, it WAS my fault we were sent with the skiff." She wanted to cry, scream, punch and kick. Most of all though she wanted to have a nice, quiet sleep. "I'm so sorry. I burned the maps because I wanted to go. It wasn't for them. They weren't supposed to go." She didn't want to be sick. She wanted to feel normal again. She wanted someone to tell her it would all be alright. "I just want a hug."

Darkness engulfed her.

Or so she thought.

Alina shivered awake, head buried in a black clad shoulder. Two arms gently around her, stroking her back. Her lungs ached, her throat stung, every limb was stiff.

The Darkling was holding her, and she wasn't quite sure if she was still dreaming. Alina closed her eyes again and breathed in. He smelled nice. She didn't know the names of any fancy perfumes or soaps, but whatever he had on him, it was nice, fresh and reminded her of a cool, crisp morning.

She was quite sure that this time she truly was awake and yes, this was General Kirigan holding her. Her, Alina Starkov. Sweaty, feverish, tired and voiceless Alina Starkov, to be precise. Oh, Saints. But she was sick. Everything could be blamed on the fever, she decided.

With that thought she slowly lifted her own arms and wrapped them around the Darkling. It was probably the strangest thing she had done in the last few weeks, but at this point she truly didn't care. The embrace was comfortable in ways she had barely ever experienced, and she was fully planning on enjoying something in this place for once.

The hands stroking her back stopped.

"Are you there?" he asked in an even lower voice than usually.

"I don't know. I think I'm still dreaming," she answered truthfully, throat sore and head still buried in his shoulder. He hummed back at her, and she felt it through his chest rather than hearing it. She didn't even attempt to keep up any conversations, but focused on the embrace. He had started stroking her back again, moving his hands gently up and down.

Alina had no idea how long they sat like this, but she was quite sure she drifted off at some point. The next thing she knew was how much her neck was starting to hurt after being in the same position for an extended period of time. Reluctantly she shifted and raised her head from him, slowly letting go of her own embrace as she sat up. The Darkling noticed what she was doing and helped her sit up, his arms softly letting her lean back into her pillows.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered eventually, noticing it was still the middle of the day and the sun was shining through her windows. General Kirigan must have work to do. He raised one eyebrow at her.

"I heard that my Sun Summoner was sick," he answered. Alina didn't look convinced with the answer, still blinking from the brightness, so he continued. "I have been waiting a long time for you. I went through quite a lot of trouble bringing you here, alive and unharmed. I would rather make sure that you stayed alive."

The part of her brain that was still working whispered "his Sun Summoner?" but out loud, although in a whisper, she said with a bit of a smile:

"Isn't that the Healers jobs?" She squinted around. "It's so bright in here," she added muttering, bringing her palm over her eyes.

"Ah. There I can be of service to you, unlike the Healers," she heard the Darkling say. She peeked out between fingers, only to see him motioning gracefully with his long arms and soft shadows enveloped them. She blinked a few times, finally being able to open her eyes properly without the harsh sunlight hurting them.

"I suppose there is some irony in this," she whispered to him, the ghost of a smile on his lips. The sun hurts the Sun Summoner. How does that even work?

"There is," he agreed. The shadows around them were not cold and foreboding, but a warm and gentle caress. Alina tried to draw a deep breath, only to end up coughing. The Darkling stood up and went to a nearby table to retrieve a cup, which he handed to her when the fit was over. Whatever it was, was lukewarm and sweet.

"But the Healers do have their merits," he said as he took the cup back and put it down on a table. She felt her throat calm down. The Darkling stood by her bed, his shadows still surrounding them. Alina cleared her throat.

"I thought Grisha didn't get sick. They told me my body was... adjusting?"

"Yes. You suppressed your power for years, almost decades, which did make you considerably ill even though you might not have realised it. Now your power has finally been unleashed, but your body is still trying to... figure out what to do." He walked slowly around and to the foot of the bed. "And it is considerable power. This will most likely be the last time you ever get sick."

Alina grimaced.

"So what you're saying is, is that I should enjoy it?"

The corners of his mouth twitched ever so little, but before he could answer there was a quick knock on the door. He turned on his heel and opened. Ivan stood there, face almost unmoving as he talked to the Darkling in a quiet voice, who stood with his back straight and hands behind it. No matter the situation, he was always commanding and in control.

Alina suddenly had the strangest of memories appear. It had probably been scratching at her mind since she laid her eyes first upon the Darkling, waiting to burst.

Years ago, back in Keramzin, she and a few other orphans had been sent to work on nearby farms. She and two boys had ended up on a small farm run by a mother and a daughter, who looked almost exactly the same. Come to think of it the mother had most certainly been a Fabrikator, her way with every possible material couldn't have been normal. But Alina had been left with the daughter, a scrawny young woman or a teenager. She had never been quite sure how old she was, with her petite body, pale and sleek skin and a nose too big for her face. But the girl could talk forever about their sheep, which had bored Alina to death most of the time.

But now she clearly remembered a part of those long one-sided conversations. It had been a sunny afternoon. The girl had pointed to the herd, to a spot where a few black and brown sheep with horns on their heads were laying, away from all the white sheep, which had no horns and were the bulk of the herd.

"Can you see that group over there? These are the leader sheep."

"The what?" Alina had asked.

"Leader sheep. Originally from Fjerda, but imported down south in the last centuries. They are extremely important in the north. They can sense when the weather will change and will lead the herd to a safe place. They recognize their own name, will attack any lone wolf that tries to attack their herd and always know the way back home. They're quite clever."

"Clever sheep, huh?"

"Oh, yes! And they look different physically as well. They're thinner, we don't really breed them to be eaten although we eventually will. They stand taller, which makes it easier to climb through the snows of Fjerda, and down here of course as well."

"How do they know they are the leaders?"

The girl looked extremely excited at this question.

"It's in their blood. It's who they are." She pointed at two lambs that were sleeping by their mother. "Those lambs are born with the instinct, the knowledge that they are different from other sheep. That's why they are all there together, but not spread around the herd. They like to stick together, because they are the same."

Like calls to like.

Alina hadn't wanted to get interested in sheep, but she couldn't help noticing that some of what the girl said might be right. Two sheep now stood side by side, one brown with a bright, white nose and a white spot between the horns, and the other completely black, horns almost like a crown or a halo. They were looking at her. And not the lazy look of a bored sheep chewing her grass, but actually looking and analysing what they saw. Their heads were held up high as they moved their gaze from the girls, over the herd and around the area. Regal was one of the words that popped up in Alina's head. The girl continued:

"They just know that they are different, that they are better than other sheep."

Alina hadn't realised the Darkling had come back into the room until he was by her side again.

"What occupies your thoughts?" he asked as he sat down on the bed. Alina looked slowly at him, head still stuck in the past on a small farm with a strange girl and regal sheep. She could feel how she was slowly drifting back to sleep, his shadows almost caressing her.

"Sheep."

She guessed it was years or decades of practice that kept him from showing an even more surprised look than he did, but for a split second she saw the utter confusion in his eyes.

"Sheep?" he echoed.

"Yes. It... it's doesn't matter. From my days in Keramzin. Just a memory." She yawned, eyes barely open, hoping he would drop the subject. She had no wish to explain to him how he reminded her of clever, fancy, regal sheep that came from Fjerda. Or how sometimes, some creatures just knew they were different, better than others. But she didn't understand why they had let all those sheep into her room. Raisa was herding them. She looked at Alina.

"I just know that somehow, this is your fault," she said as she shooed the sheep through the doors, which were now huge barn doors that let in the sunlight. Except she was no longer herding sheep, but people. All people that Alina had met through her life, Mal in the middle of it. She tried to call for him, for anyone, but her voice was still only a whisper. She heard him mutter "Grisha" under his breath. She heard more words from the rest. Stick. Shu-trash. Orphan. Enemy. Raisa closed the barn doors behind them, shaking her head and leaving the room covered in darkness. Alina was almost crying as she managed to croak out:

"Please don't leave me. Everyone keeps leaving me, please don't go."

"I will never leave you," the darkness answered.

It was the sensation that woke Alina up.

Fingers, tracing over her forehead and into her hair. A soothing touch that made her feel relaxed and content. She didn't know for how long she just lay there and enjoyed it, until she finally allowed her eyes to flutter open, not moving at all besides that.

The Darkling was sitting on a chair, right next to her bed, a small stool supporting his legs. Her view was rather restricted, but she saw enough to know that he had a few papers in his lap. His right hand he used to go through those papers. His left hand was draped over her, fingers stroking her hair almost absent-mindedly.

Alina closed her eyes again and shifted slightly. The hand stopped immediately and he seemed to wait until she was still again. She took a deep breath, but didn't open her eyes. A few moments later the stroking continued. She heard papers rustling, left hand disappearing from her for a second and then resuming yet again. She felt too relaxed to even bother thinking of how strange this situation was. She had already woken up once this day with his arms around her, this was no stranger than that. She planned to simply fall asleep again like this, but a small coughing fit kept her from it. The hand disappeared from her head.

"Alina?"

She kept coughing and opened her eyes. Both of his hands were now in his lap holding a small stack of papers, as if they had never left that place. She cleared her throat and sat slowly up.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked. Alina drew another deep breath and tried to focus on something else than the memory of his touch on her hair. Her throat was still sore, but her head felt clear. Her limbs were stiff, but then again it seemed like she had been in bed for a whole day so that shouldn't be surprising.

"I am," she finally answered. His dark eyes watched her intently, so she felt the need to elaborate. "I think the fever has gone down, but, well, we can both hear I still have the voice of a drunken sailor." He cocked his head to the side, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I can't imagine you have met many sailors in your life," he said. Of course not, with the east of Ravka cut off from the sea. Alina shrugged.

"It's something that was said to me once, at the orphanage. Has been stuck in my head ever since." The kids had made a game of trying out their best drunken-sailor-whiskey-voice once. "It was a long time ago," she added, in such a low voice she wasn't even sure she was talking to the Darkling or herself.

"A part of your past," he answered. She nodded. He put his legs back on the floor, pushing the stool away and turned his body to face her completely. "I do have a question for you." He gathered the papers in his lap together and put them on the table next to her bed. "Concerning your more recent past."

"Yes?"

"Who are Alexei and Raisa?"

Alina just stared, her breath getting shallower by the second. He waited for an answer.

"They're... it... it doesn't... " Doesn't matter? Did they not matter? "How do you...?"

"How do I know their names? You talked quite a lot in your sleep earlier." He didn't sound angry. He sounded concerned. He moved closer to her, taking a hand gently in his. "You seemed quite distressed."

Alina could barely breath. She could hear their screams, mixing with the screech of the Volcras, the smell of blood and fire.

"Why were you on the skiff?"

The question caught her off guard and Alina could feel all breath being sucked out of her, the room turning and her brain shutting down. She shook her head, but he had such intense look in his eyes that she had to get some words out.

"You will throw me out of the Little Palace for it," she managed to choke out. His grip on her hand grew stronger.

"I can promise you now, I will do no such thing. This place is your home, your haven. You are safe here." He held her hand with both of his, leaning forward to her, eyes staring intently into hers.

Alina tried to control her breathing again, the small logical part of her brain screaming. He might know more than he was letting on, who knew how much she had said when she was dreaming? Was he just testing to see what she would answer? Was this some kind of treason?

"I wasn't supposed to be there," she started. "But Mal, my best friend, my only friend through childhood, he was supposed to go." How she wished she actually had her proper voice for this, not a croak and a whisper. "And I couldn't just... I had to go with him. Going through the Fold is always dangerous, I couldn't stand the thought of him just going through and... never returning." She could feel the tears stinging already, not sure how to continue.

"And what did you do?" the Darkling asked gently, now using his thumb to stroke small circles on the back of her hand. Alina drew a shaky breath. There would be no turning back now.

"I sneaked into the Documents tent and found maps of West Ravka and burned them." She couldn't look at him as she continued. "The coastline, Os Kervo and the river system that runs through it. Nothing that would compromise the war indefinitely, but enough so a cartographer would have to be sent along with the skiff and redo them." Now the tears started streaming down her face. "I offered to go. I thought it would only be me, but my whole unit was sent. It wasn't their choice, they weren't supposed to be there." She wanted to pull her hand away and use it to hide her face in, but his grip was too tight. She used her free hand to wipe away the tears. "Alexei and Raisa were in my unit. They were my friends. And then they died, they all died, because of me," she said at last, tears flowing freely. She shook her head, every single part of her hurting now from the pain of that memory, her head ringing, still not looking at the man sitting in front of her, holding her hand in a gentle but firm grasp.

He shifted, sitting on the bed instead of his chair, moving closer to her. She saw his hand come closer, until it stopped under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. She couldn't decipher the look in his eyes, which stared earnestly into hers.

"Miss Starkov," he said, voice almost a whisper, "they died, yes. But how many lives do you think you will save in the future? How many millions do you think will now have a chance to survive, because you burned a few maps?" His thumb brushed her tear-stained cheek. "Your decision changed the course of a nation. Of the world."

He said it with such quiet determination that she had no choice but believe it. That didn't stop the crying and the sobs though, which shook her whole body.

"I would have welcomed you with open arms, no matter how many would have been on that skiff and died because of you. Because we will never be able to even count the lives you will save." He put down the hand stroking her cheek and let go of her hand to reach into a pocket for a black handkerchief. Alina accepted it gladly, a small part of her thinking that she probably looked like a complete mess this moment.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry," was all she could muster. The Darkling shook his head, brow furrowed and eyes dark.

"Never be sorry for that day or the decisions that you made." He moved even closer to her, hands now resting on her shoulders. "Your decision brought light and hope to all of Grisha, all of Ravka."

He leaned forward and it looked like he was going to say more, or move even closer, but a sudden knock on the door jolted them apart. He quickly rose to his feet, as they heard the sweet voice of Genya calling gently.

"Alina, are you awake?"

The Darkling strode to the door. Alina barely managed to croak out a weak "sir!" after him, making him turn. She shook her head.

"Asleep?" he whispered back. She nodded eagerly. She had no wish for Genya to see her like this, she would have questions. She didn't want to tell that story again. He gave her a curt nod, increasing the shadows in the room with barely a flick of his wrist and opened the door as Alina sunk back into the pillows. The only thing she managed to hear was a sharp "what are you doing here?" from Genya before they lowered their voices. She didn't hear the rest of the conversation, but heard the door close and the Darkling parted the shadows surrounding them as he went back to her.

"She will come back later," he said as he sat down in the chair again. Alina tried to bat away the thought that she wished he had sat back on her bed.

"That's alright. I do like her, and do want to spend time with her, but… not now." The ache in her chest had nothing to do with her coughing. She hadn't cried like this since her first evening in the Little Palace, and then it had been an outburst at everything and nothing. This had been more specific.

"I do feel like your sadness now is partly my fault, for prying," the Darkling said. His eyes were glinting. "But I do have a few suggestions on how to bring back your good mood."

Now it was Alina's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Do I remind you of… some certain sheep?"

Alina wanted to be shocked, but after her recent outburst all she could do was let out a snort and a small laugh.

Oh, Saints, I said everything out loud, didn't I?" she asked. The General nodded at her, practically grinning, and she wished she could do anything to keep that grin on his face.

"I beg of you, don't ask me about that comment," she finally added, smiling wider than she had for a long while.

"I will bring it up again when you least expect it," he answered, grin fading into a content look on his face.

"Thank you, General," Alina answered, all but rolling her eyes. "Any other suggestions for my good mood?"

"Yes." His brown eyes grew darker, along with the shadows surrounding them. He held out his hand. Alina put her hand in his without a second thought.

"Call the light," he whispered. She took a deep breath, reaching for that spark inside her. His touch, solid and warm, made it easier and she felt her whole being bursting, banishing away the rest of her fever and whatever sickness was still lingering in her body, as it started to glow.

"More," he said, his voice almost nothing but a breath and she pushed herself harder. The Darkling never looked away from her. The shadows in the room receded, until they were completely gone, banished by her burst of light. Very slowly she allowed the light to fade back into her, and as she did he brought her hand up to his lips.

"There. Don't you feel better now?" he asked as he gave her knuckles a light kiss. She felt as if she could explode the windows with her light at that moment.

"I do," she answered in a surprise. It was as if calling her power had boosted her, and although she felt stiff, she certainly didn't feel sick anymore. The Darkling just nodded at her. A sharp knock came on the door, interrupting them a third time that day.

"That sounds like Ivan," the Darkling said as he stood up to open the door. Sure enough, she could hear the gruff baritone voice of Ivan for a few seconds. The door closed yet again, but the Darkling took a moment to turn around and get back to her.

"It seems I am needed elsewhere again," he said, something like regret sneaking its way in. Alina nodded. Of course, he was the General of the Second Army. He had duties. He couldn't spend his whole day with her, the Sun Summoner.

His Sun Summoner.

His long fingers re-arranged the papers he had been looking at, easily managing them and tucking under his arm.

"I will see you soon again," he said, his free hand so quickly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, that she barely had time to register it and enjoy the touch. At the door he turned around. "Would you like me to let Genya know you have awoken? And can I send you some dinner?"

Alina was still reeling from the unexpected touch and the leftovers from her summoning, so she didn't answer as quickly as she should.

"It will not be herring," the General added kindly, misunderstanding her hesitation. Alina smiled gratefully at him.

"Yes, please, to both Genya and food."

He nodded at her.

"General?" she called out when his hand touched the doorknob, making him turn around.

"Thank you. For… everything," was all she managed. He shook his head.

"No, Alina, thank you." And with that, he was gone.

It was a few days later, as Genya sat on Alina's desk and trying out colours on her face, that a maid entered the room with a package.

"For Miss Starkov," was all she said and handed it to Alina. It didn't have her name on it and bore no indication of having been sent as mail. It was thin and wrapped in a simple, brown paper. Genya raised an eyebrow.

"What's this now?" she asked, prodding Alina to open it.

"I have no idea," she answered, fingers quickly pulling the paper gently away. Inside was a framed picture. Well, not actually a picture.

It was a rather small, framed map of the river system in Os Kervo. She could see from the ink that it was quite recent.

Underneath it, in an elegant handwriting, was simply written:

"Thank you."

Epilogue

It was months later, as they stood in court, that it was brought up again.

All the highest ranking Grisha had to be present, along with the Sun Summoner for some fancy-ass political reasons. Alina hadn't really been listening, and she certainly wasn't listening now to the king as he droned on and on. Unfortunately she had to keep a neutral expression, being situated in the front row of the Grisha. General Kirigan was standing right beside her, completely still, his breathing even. At one point he leaned closer to her, edging himself halfway behind her, his breath tickling her ear.

"So, what do you think of the King?"

Alina turned her head ever so slightly, barely raising an eyebrow. There was clearly something else waiting to be asked.

"Does he seem like a leader… sheep?"

Her reaction had been compulsive, after years and years spent around Mal and his stupid remarks. Her elbow shot up and headed straight into his stomach. She didn't know what self-control he possessed, but he barely let out a grunt and an extra breath at it. And she was certain no one would ever believe that she elbowed the General of the Second Army and got away with it.

"Worth it," he muttered into her ear, both of them trying their best to fight off a stupid grin.

AN: So, "leadersheep" are absolutely a real thing, native to Iceland and I can talk about them forever, because they're the coolest! (Gotta keep true to that username, you know).

Also, I was really planning on ending this fic on the heartfelt "thank you" but I just HAD to add in the short epilogue and didn't feel like it deserved a whole chapter! All prompts for more fluffy, feel-good fics are appreciated!

(I'd like to thank all of you that have been writing delicious Darklina smut, because I have been devouring them with passion! Only reason I'm not writing it myself is that English is not my first language and I have no experience in writing smut. And badly written smut is just the worst. So I'll leave that to the pros, meanwhile I'll do some light hearted fluff for people that need to calm themselves down, but aren't quite ready to let go of Darklina).