Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy and its characters – it belongs to Leigh Bardugo. I do not own the Shadow & Bone TV series, which was developed by Eric Heisserer for Netflix and based on Leigh Bardugo's books. Any recognisable dialogue is from the books or TV show – some lines may be included verbatim, others in an amended form.

This is book based and an AU set after the first book. Alina doesn't know the Darkling's true name at this point (since she doesn't find it out until a later book).

Nightmares

She thinks they are just nightmares at first.

Visions of the Darkling, faint scars decorating his face, shadows leaking from his fingertips.

"I'll find you, Alina," his voice echoes in her head, "there is nowhere you can hide from me."

He's dead, she tells herself, you left him to be devoured by the volcra.

Along with a skiff full of people, her mind unhelpfully adds.

She winces. The screams still echo in her head.

Some of those people had been willing disciples of the Darkling. But others had simply been collateral damage, sacrificed so Alina could get herself and Mal to safety.

"You think yourself better than me," the Darkling says one night, as she tosses and turns, trying to sleep, "but you can be just as ruthless, if it suits you."

She squeezes her eyes shut, tries to pretend she can't hear him, attempts to convince herself that he's wrong.

She's a good person.

She is.

Isn't she?

Alina doesn't summon.

Mal says they can't draw attention to themselves and she nods along, because this is true.

But the real reason she doesn't summon is because she fears it will be some sort of beacon, a signal for the Darkling to follow.

She gets weaker and weaker, a shadow of the girl who had performed at the Winter Fete.

The Little Palace feels like another life.

In truth, she yearns for it. Thinks she'd like to see Genya again, despite her betrayal. Misses the warm rush of her power, the Darkling's awed expression, the way she'd felt when he kissed her during the Fete.

It's all tainted by the collar around her neck, by how the Darkling had used her to wipe out an entire town.

Still, though … she cannot forget.

And she is such a little fool.

Because Alina still desires his touch, still craves him.

She thinks she always will.

One night he appears in her dreams as she sleeps uneasily, grey eyes watching her intently.

This time, though, he doesn't content himself with only words.

His hands grip her wrists, keeping her from trying to flee into the vast emptiness that surrounds her in this dream.

"No running away this time, my Alina," he murmurs.

He looks her up and down and then shakes his head, "letting that otkazat'sya stifle you again. Killing yourself in some futile attempt to be normal."

He spits out the last word as if it is a curse. Perhaps, for him, it is.

His thumbs caress her thin wrists, sending sparks of power into her body.

No.

It's a nightmare. She shouldn't be feeling the effects of the Darkling's amplification, shouldn't have to concentrate just to stop the light from flaring outwards.

His mouth quirks into a smirk, "figured it out, have you?"

"You're dead," she says.

His smirk widens, his grip on her wrists tightening until it is painful, "am I, Alina?"

He vanishes then.

When she wakes up, heart racing, there are bruises on her wrists.

She hides the marks, doesn't breathe a word to Mal about her nightmares.

Her paranoia grows, though.

Suddenly, it seems like the Darkling is everywhere. A figure in the corner of her eye, hidden in the shadows.

Watching her. Always watching.

Haunting her dreams, coaxing her to call her light.

"Just a little, Alina," he whispers to her, "don't you want to feel strong again? Don't you want to be whole?"

How does she know? How has he figured out that she doesn't feel like a complete person now?

Alina embraced her light at the Little Palace and it is part of her.

It hurts, pushing it down. It takes something from her.

But she can't.

Her fingers trace the bone collar around her neck, her skin tingling with power as she does so.

It feels like her. It feels like him.

And doesn't that just terrify her.

News from Os Alta reaches them slowly.

It does reach them, though.

The King, Prince Vasily, the Apparat. All dead.

No one knows what has become of the Queen.

Prince Nikolai is in hiding. However, there are few willing to support a bastard, especially since copies of the letters between the Queen and Fjerdan shipping magnate Magnus Opjer are circulating throughout the country.

The Darkling has taken the throne.

There are rumours of terrifying shadow monsters that prowl through the palace, creatures that the Darkling can summon at will whenever he visits a battlefield.

Ravkans live in fear, hold their breath, wait to see what will happen.

Throughout the land, a proclamation is issued.

The Darkling seeks the return of the Sun Summoner.

He promises that with Sankta Alina by his side, there will be no more war, only Ravka.

It is an attractive proposition for a population tired of fighting, sick of countless men and women dying young on the battlefield.

Novyi Zem had seemed so far away from Ravka, the True Sea a barrier between her and the Darkling.

Now it seems too close.

Far too close.

Mal is spoiling for a fight.

"You beat him once," he tells her, "you can do it again."

Alina nearly weeps with frustration as she tries to make Mal understand that they have to move, that he'll find them soon enough.

She never beat the Darkling, only claimed her power back and then ran as fast as she could, leaving him to fight off a horde of volcra.

The mere fact that he is alive shows just how powerful he is, just how entirely outclassed she is despite her amplifier.

"So wound up," the Darkling coos to her, when Mal has stormed off.

She's not even asleep. He's simply stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room.

He's behind her now, his fingers caressing the tender skin around her amplifier, "don't you just want to be free, Alina?"

"I am free," she growls at him, stepping out of his grasp, "free of the monster who tried to enslave me and my power for his own ends."

"The power you are hiding away like it's something to be ashamed of," he retorts, "why would you make yourself small for that unworthy otkazat'sya tracker?"

"You've got your throne," she says, "why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Perhaps it would be easier," he laughs bitterly, "but we are meant for each other, my Alina, a perfect balance. And yet, here you are, caging your power, running from your destiny."

"You are not my destiny!" she screams, uncaring of the countless people who can probably hear her crazed shouting.

She feels tears dripping down her cheeks, frustration bubbling over.

"Oh, milaya," he steps forward, lifts one hand to wipe the dampness from her cheeks, "so young, so confused. You'll see that I'm right, soon enough."

"Go away."

She's begging now, pleading for just a few moments of peace.

"I will be in Shriftport in one week, Alina," he tells her, "I expect you to be there too, without the tracker. I will be … disappointed if that isn't the case."

She takes that to mean that he will leave a trail of bodies behind him if he needs to search for her.

He leans forward, presses cool lips to her cheek, "I'll see you soon, my Alina."

And then she is blessedly alone.

She screams into the silence.

One week later she is sat in the main square in the port city of Shriftport.

Waiting … just waiting.

Then there is movement to her right and she sees Mal walking determinedly towards her.

No. No. No.

She sent him away, made him leave.

He knows the risks, knows the danger, knows who is coming.

He doesn't manage to reach her.

The shadows move, forming a blade that slice her oldest friend into pieces before he can speak, before she can scream.

"I did warn you," the Darkling chides from behind her.

Alina chokes out a sob, "he was supposed to stay away. I told him to leave."

The Darkling simply tuts, "well, he's even more of a fool than I believed. A noble idiot."

"Stop," she tells him, "just stop."

"Oh, Alina," his arm is around her waist now, tugging her to his side, pressing his lips to her neck, "he'll be nothing but a distant memory soon enough. You and I – we are eternal."

His bare hand encircles her wrist, forces his amplification onto her in a way that she cannot resist.

Sunlight spills outwards, lighting up the square in spite of the clouds and drizzle.

"There, that's much better," he says, his satisfaction clear.

It is true that she feels stronger already, as if a heavy burden has been lifted, like she can finally breathe again.

"Time to go home now," the Darkling tells her, "there's a throne waiting for you, if you're a good girl for me."

Alina pinches herself once, twice, three times. Just in case this is a dream she can wake up from.

Nothing happens. She is stuck with this nightmare made real.

She lets him lead her away, allows him to turn her head so she can't see the broken pieces that were once Mal, doesn't fight when he presses a palm to her neck, his amplification so strong that it makes her lethargic.

Somehow, she knows it was always going to end this way.

The Darkling is her nightmare, her reality, her future, her other half.

He's right, she thinks – they are inevitable.

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.