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.

Werewolves AU and wolf mates. The wolf gene triggered by killing someone like in TVD.

Warnings for murder and brief domestic violence (Mal against Alina).


Alina only has a handful of memories about her family.

She knows she was happy. A big house, lots of people – mama and papa, together with aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents (some her blood and others not) – and always a game to play, or bonfire to attend or lessons to learn with Uncle Botkin.

And then a trip with her parents, meant to be a little holiday, marred by a car accident that left her mama and papa still and cold.

The EMTs take her to the nearest hospital for assessment, and then to a foster home. For a long time, she wonders why they had not returned her to her surviving family, and it is only when she is older that she realises she was too young to give coherent directions, and none of the names she mentioned – not even her own – could be found in the government system.

(much, much later, when Aleksander has investigated what had happened so many years ago and reunited her with her long-lost pack and the family she has left, Alina will discover that her parents' pack had been undocumented, a roaming group who did not entirely trust their government and wished to keep themselves to themselves).

At five years old, Alina lost her parents, her family and her home.

So, she can be forgiven for letting her herself forget how she saw the adults of her family change into wolves like it was something normal.


Every wolf in Ravka, and many beyond that, know to fear Aleksander Morozov.

There are alphas, after all, and then there are Alphas – Aleksander is certainly in the second category.

However, despite his undisputed power, and his position as Ravka's most formidable wolf, Aleksander is still unable to unlock his full potential.

He has not yet found his mate.

She is out there, somewhere.

Every day for the last nineteen years he has experienced the same pull, a yearning to find her.

However, he has visited every pack in Ravka at least three times and never found her. He looks when he is abroad too, but instinct tells him that his mate lives somewhere in Ravka.

The worrying thought, one that plagues him constantly, is that she has no pack. That she is alone and unaware of who she is. After all, the wolf gene is triggered by a kill, and in any established pack this kill occurs at a coming-of-age ceremony for a young wolf between sixteen and eighteen years of age.

His mate's wolf, though, is still dormant. He can barely sense that side of her, gets only occasional flashes of emotions that are not his own. She would surely not reach nineteen years of age in a pack without triggering her wolf, and so his worry must be correct – she has no pack, possibly has no idea what she is.

And doesn't that make him furious. No wolf should be alone – they are meant for packs, for a community – but it burns even more than it normally would because it is his wolf, his mate.

The one comfort he has is that his mate is a wolf in her soul, even if she has not triggered the gene yet. The wolf always wants to be free, and hopefully all it will take is one incident to set her free.

He's waiting.


Alina has spent almost a year ignoring the signs.

She was so happy when Mal asked her out, years of pining finally over, that she was willing to overlook a great deal.

The late nights, the constant arguments, the lipstick stains on his shirts, his laziness, how he always seems to conveniently 'forget' his card or cash whenever they go out.

This is the last straw, arriving early at Mal's apartment to find him in bed with a vaguely familiar girl that she thinks he works with.

The other girl makes a swift exit, although she pauses to smirk at Alina, and Mal just starts to pull on his boxers, not even trying to apologise.

"You were supposed to be here at four, Lina," he mutters irritably.

Her sorrow and hurt turns swiftly to an all-consuming anger, stronger than anything she has ever felt before.

It's like an out of body experience as she screams at him, venting all her rage, all her fury at having the misfortune to love someone who treats her like this.

The slap seems to surprise both of them.

Mal looks down at his hand, as if he can't quite believe what he has done, and Alina clutches her cheek, feels the dampness of blood oozing from the cut caused by Mal's class ring.

How dare he, Alina seethes.

She feels like there is a creature inside her chest growling, desperate to be free, to claw Mal's eyes out, to make him hurt the way he has hurt her.

"I …" Mal begins, before he just shakes his head.

No apology. Not even a lame attempt to pretend it was an accident. Only a sullen silence, an accusatory implication that this is her fault, not his.

Her vision goes blurry. Her mind goes feral.

Four steps in the tiny apartment to get to the kitchen, to grab one of the knives from the block on the counter.

Four steps back to where Mal still stands there.

It's easy, in the end.

He doesn't even bother to put his arms up, clearly doesn't see her as any kind of threat.

Well … that's his mistake.

Years of frustration come to the surface as she lashes out, manically slashing and stabbing.

Later, she'll think of it as something like a fugue state. She can see Mal's terrified expression and all the blood, but it feels as if some kind of force takes over her body and does what Alina has never been brave enough to.

The room is a mess.

Mal is … well he is a mangled body, barely recognisable as human any more.

As for Alina, she is …

She is …

Happy. Relieved. Vindicated.

… not feeling quite like herself.

The metallic smell of blood is everywhere, nearly overwhelming her.

It isn't just that, though. Every sense seems to be heightened. She can hear the neighbours three floors down hissing at each other, can smell the pretzel stand half a block away, can look out of Mal's window and see through the window of one of the apartments across the road well enough to know what show is playing on the TV in there.

It's too much, far too much.

She can't breathe in here.

Too enclosed. To penned in. Not enough room. Need to run. Have to be free.

She's covered in blood, her hands soaked in it, her clothes and skin liberally splattered.

No time to change. Have to go. Must leave this place.

She stumbles out of the door and into the stairwell, thankful to find it empty.

Her stomach is cramping, her nerves all on fire, her forehead burning up. She can't stop shivering and shaking as she makes her way to the door at the back of the apartment building, knowing she can't go out onto the street looking like she does.

In the alleyway, the stench of the bins making her feel sick, Alina falls to her knees, hand pressed over her mouth to muffle her pained screams.

What is happening to her? Sure, it's probably normal to feel sick after viciously stabbing a man to death, but this is something else entirely. She feels like she might be dying.

Everything hurts, her mind is a mess of emotions and panic, and she suddenly feels like there is a piece of her soul missing.

Her whole body spasms and she throws her arms out to stop herself from faceplanting into the concrete.

And then her vision blurs, her panic rising as her arms and hands seem to shift right in front of her eyes, covered in pure white fur, her hands distorting into paws.

As she screams, she can hear the human shrieks become low growls.

Run. Find Mate. Run. Find safety. Run.

Animal instinct takes over and Alina tucks herself into the corners of her mind, confused and scared.

A wolf flees through the city.


Today is a celebration for the Grisha Pack.

It is Nadia's ceremony, the day she triggers her wolf gene and experiences her first run as a wolf.

The sacrifice for tonight's ceremony is Avtonom Zlatan, a man from two towns over who had tried (and failed, thankfully) to hunt a group of their wolves two weeks ago. No one had been killed, although Marie and Sergei had suffered minor injuries, but justice had to be served. Ivan and Fedyor had been dispatched to apprehend Zlatan, and he had been chained up in the basement of Aleksander's family home ever since, waiting for this day.

A wolf can shift at any time, but the urge is strongest during a full moon. For that reason, Aleksander always arranges his pack's ceremonies to coincide with the full moon, making the first transition as easy as possible for his young pack members.

The pack is sitting in a circle, chattering noisily, exuberant and exciting for the show.

It is the choice of the soon-to-be wolf whether they opt to make a spectacle of their kill. Some decide simply to slit the throat of their victim. Others might spend hours playing. It tends to depend on how deeply rooted their dislike is for the person they are killing. Aleksander expects this particular ceremony to last a little while – Marie is Nadia's best friend, after all, and Nadia had been furious that someone had hurt her.

He finds he cannot be quite as cheerful as the rest of the pack, however. Of course, he is happy for Nadia, but he's been feeling odd for the last few minutes and the flashes of emotion he has become used to are stronger and darker than usual.

Something is wrong with his mate.

It is as Zlatan is dragged out to the pit, to shouts and jeers and insults from the pack, that Aleksander feels a sharp stab of pain, enough to make him double over.

Fear. Confusion. Horror. Disorientation. Panic.

"Ivan," he hisses.

His second appears at his side, "Sasha?"

"I need you and Fedyor to take over here. Tell Nadia I give my blessing, but there is an urgent matter I must take care of."

Ivan frowns. They both know how important the ceremonies are – Aleksander has not missed one in nearly a decade.

"Is it …" Ivan tilts his head significantly, the one who knows the most about Aleksander's long search.

"I believe so," Aleksander confirms, trying not to tremble with anticipation at the thought of possibly meeting his mate within hours.

He won't think too long about her emotional state – he will find her and he will take care of any trouble so she can be safe with him.

"Fedyor and I will take care of everything," Ivan promises, "and Sasha … congratulations."

"Thank you, Vanya," Aleksander allows himself a satisfied smile, before he turns and heads into the forest where he will be able to shift and go searching for his distressed mate.

He won't let her be alone one moment longer than she has to be.


She is a wolf.

No, she is a woman … isn't she?

Run. Hide. Run. Hide. Run. Hide.

The sounds of the city are behind her. The forest welcomes her.

There is a tugging in her chest, guiding her, something important, someone she has to find.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

She doesn't know what is happening to her.

There are flashes of images in her mind. Paintings of wolves on the wall. Curling up as a child with a large wolf. Hearing howling during the night and laughingly joining in as best as she could.

"When can I be a wolf, mama?" she asks eagerly after her older cousin's ceremony.

"You'll have to wait, Alinochka," her mama laughs ruffles her hair affectionately, "you're still too little."

"But I'm five now, mama!"

"My big girl, yes, but you must be grown, Alinochka, so that you are ready."

Why has she never remembered this conversation before. All she's had, ever since the accident, are fragments of memory, nothing concrete.

And now she thinks of wolves.

Now she is a wolf.

Am I crazy? Am I dreaming?

Alina keeps running, hoping to find answers.


There is no trail or scent to follow, but he can sense where he needs to go anyway.

Some wolves are foolish, try to think too much like humans when they transform, ignore their instincts and pay for it (often with their lives). Aleksander knows better, trusts the guide inside himself.

He can see her in his mind, a small wolf with bright white fur, almost seeming to glow under the light of the moon. She's confused and scared and all the things a newly-turned wolf should never have to be.

He picks up speed, wildlife scattering in his wake as he hurries to reach her before something happens to her.

Aleksander will not allow harm to come to his mate, especially not when he's only just found her.


She's exhausted, curled up under a tree, trying to work out where to go next.

She can't stay still, not for long. She doesn't feel safe, ears pricking at every tiny movement or noise.

What help will she be able to find, though? Humans will at best shy away from this wolf form, and at worst they will try and hunt her.

The emptiness she felt earlier is still there, an ache she cannot ignore. Something is missing, but she does not know quite what it –

Twigs snap and Alina scrambles up, ready to flee.

She freezes, though, when another wolf appears from the underbrush, padding towards her softly and carefully, as if wishing to cause as little alarm as possible.

This wolf is huge, with black fur and dark eyes. He (for she somehow knows it is a he) watches her intently, curious and excited.

There is power in this wolf, she can tell. Not an ordinary wolf either, but one like her, although he seems far more comfortable with his wolf than Alina, who still has no idea what has happened to her.

Magic? Curse? Fever dream? Hallucination?

The other wolf moves closer and, although Alina tenses, she allows him to brush his muzzle up against her own.

The moment they touch, she feels a frisson of electricity, a sense of clarity and rightness and completeness.

It's all going to be alright, she thinks, as long as he is with her.

He bumps noses with her, to bring her attention back to him, and when he lays down on the ground, Alina feels safe enough to do the same, albeit a small distance away.

He frowns, as much as a wolf can, and she feels the urge to bend her head to him. Instead, she simply makes no attempt to shift away when he moves closer so that he is right by her side.

Warm and soft and showing more care for her in his expressive eyes than Mal ever has.

Alina has spent the last few hours cold and frightened and confused. Now, though, she finally feels safe.


He's found her.

His mate, right here, lying down next to him.

Aleksander will kill for her. He will fight whoever he has to. He will tear the world apart if he needs to.

Minemineminemineminemine.

She's fallen asleep, clearly exhausted, and he nearly preens at the fact that she trusts him enough to let down her guard and rest.

He, of course, stays awake and alert for any potential dangers. There is no way he's letting her slip away now she's here with him.

Besides, he is practiced enough to shift at will. His poor mate, her first change clearly traumatic, won't regain her human form until she is relaxed and calm. If he lets her sleep then hopefully she will transform by morning and he can explain everything to her.

Until then, however, he will watch over her for as long as he has to.


Alina is human when she wakes.

Human and naked, save for the thick black cloak draped over her.

She screams as she senses movement, only for a strong hand to wrap around her waist and tug her into a lap.

"Hush, milaya," a low, soothing voice murmurs, "you're safe, I promise."

"I … I … Mal … we … I …" she stutters out.

The man – handsome, dark-haired, reminding her of the wolf she'd met before (or was that a dream, she can't quite be sure?) – smooths her hair back, running one hand up and down her arm like she is a skittish horse he needs to calm.

"Who … who are you?" she asks.

"I am Aleksander, milaya, but you can call me Sasha."

He looks at her expectantly and she mumbles her own name in return, confused when his eyes light up as if she has given him precious information.

"Alina," he says her name like no one else ever has, with a deep and almost holy reverence.

"I don't know what happened yesterday," she admits, wondering if he'll think her crazy with her story of wolves.

And Mal. Saints, what is she going to do about that? It's been so long that surely the crime scene has been found. They've probably got her face on every news channel in Ravka. It's only a matter of time before the police find her and they're never going to believe her crazy story. It'll be prison or a psych ward and she'll never see the light of day and –

"Breathe, milaya," Sasha says, and she realises she's hyperventilating in his arms, behaving like an absolute lunatic in front of this stranger who has clearly just tried to help her.

"So … sor … sorry," she wheezes.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about, Alina," he presses his lips to the crown of her head.

His behaviour really is far too familiar for a complete stranger, but he doesn't feel like a stranger. In fact, she has the oddest sensation of coming home now she is in his arms.

"I did something terrible," she whispers, almost compelled into honesty simply by the intensity of his gaze.

"Tell me," he coos, resting his head on her shoulder, lips brushing the bare skin of her neck, "tell me, milaya, and I promise I can help you."


Aleksander is so proud of his clever little mate.

She tells him about the despicable boy she had wasted so much time on, of love turned sour, of the fact that he had the temerity to strike her, of how she had snapped and killed him.

Even without a pack, her memories of their traditional ceremonies locked in the back of her mind, Alina had still managed to trigger the wolf gene in the usual manner – the righteous killing of someone deserving of death.

How he wishes he could have seen it. His Alina, covered in the blood of that pitiful boy, radiant and bloodthirsty. Still, he is sure he will get another chance to witness her make a kill – the Grisha Pack lives in relative peace for the most part, but there are always hunters seeking to destroy them, or others trying to take their land or power, and every member of Aleksander's pack is trained to fight and protect themselves.

She watches him with scared eyes when she finishes her story, as if waiting for some kind of betrayal, for him to drag her off to the police.

Poor thing, grown to expect cruelty from the world. He'll show her how different it can be with the right person, when she has her mate to protect her.

He folds her into his arms, "such a brave girl, Alina."

"Not brave," she mumbles, "I –"

"Brave," he repeats sternly, "and perfect. You don't need to worry anymore, milaya, we were meant to find each other."

She buries her face into his chest, and he is pleased to find that she trusts him despite her clear concerns about the situation she's found herself in.

"Now, Alina," he murmurs, "why don't I tell you a story."


Magic. Wolves. Mates.

The tale that Sasha weaves sounds like madness.

And yet … what can Alina do except believe him.

She was a wolf only a few hours ago, after all, even if she had tried to convince herself it was some sort of delusion or dream. And if that isn't enough, he shifts right in front of her, going from man to huge black wolf and back to a man in barely the blink of an eye.

It's real. All of this is real, she can shift into a wolf and Sasha … Sasha is her mate.

Alina can hear Mal's voice in her head, snidely pointing out all her flaws, telling her that Sasha won't want a weak, sickly thing like her as a mate once her gets to know her. She pushes those thoughts – the voice of a dead man – away far easier now than she ever had when Mal was alive.

Even after this brief time, there is one thing she knows for sure – Sasha looks at her like she is his personal sun, and that is enough for her to trust him.


"You lived with the Keramzin Pack," Aleksander tells Alina softly when she shyly explains her brief flashes of memory, "Botkin has been with them for at least the last twenty-five years."

"He … he's alive?"

"Alive and well," Aleksander confirms, glad to put such a radiant smile on her face with the news, "it is quite a small pack, but they do well for themselves. I'll take you, once things are more settled, and you can see them."

Perhaps it would be kinder for him to escort her to Keramzin as soon as possible, but he wants her to put down some roots with his own pack first. Botkin isn't the sort to fight against a mating bond, but Alina might feel obliged to stay with her family's pack if she isn't securely tied to his own.

He stiffens as Alina's wide grin twists quite suddenly – and with no warning – into a frown, tears dripping down her cheeks.

"Alina?" he asks, alarmed at this change in mood.

"I … I just never … after my parents, I never thought I had any family left."

"Pack is family," he tells her.

Her parents are gone, and that is a shame, but she has Botkin and the Keramzin Pack, and now she will have the Grisha Pack too, all sure to welcome her. Most importantly, she has Aleksander, who will spend the rest of his life ensuring she is safe and happy, who will shower her with love and affection, who will give her children that he hopes will look just like her.

She is warm and soft in his arms, lets him dry her tears and kiss her sweetly.

The wolf under his skin itches to claim her properly, but the man recognises that he has to tread gently with Alina.

She is new to this life, will likely have to be coaxed to embrace some of his pack's bloodier and rougher traditions.

Aleksander has no doubt, though, that Alina will grow into a mate worthy of Ravka's most powerful wolf. After all, she is made for him.

After nearly two decades of waiting, he finally has her by his side and all feels right with the world.


Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.

You can find me on Twitter under the username Keira_63. At the moment I pretty much just post mini prompt fics.