First, he feels the slight brush of a hangover playing at the edge of his mind. Aleksander takes in a steadying breathe of morning air, fully waking himself up and steeling his mind for the day. Second, he takes stock of the rest of his body, and feels normal hints of soreness and exhaustion but nothing out of the ordinary to keep him in bed and out of his kefta. As if he would ever allow such human ailments to do such a thing to him. Perhaps, he will grant, he has woken up later than anticipated but that blame can land on his traitorous son. Adrik wanted to go be a soldier, then let him. What need had Aleksander to wake up and check on the younger Morozova if he had been so headstrong of him staying away. The fool didn't need his father observing from the sidelines. Even if he still is, indeed, a fool.
As Aleksander slips his arms through his kefta and begins to button it up, a bristle instinctively runs through his body.
It's too quiet outside.
No one had awoke him this morning with any daily reports or breakfast.
Ah, so it was to be one of those mornings. Rotating his wrist, a small pool of shadows form at Aleksander's feet. A flick of a finger and they dart out of the flap of the tent with the swiftness of a cat on the prowl.
It only takes a moment for an answer to come, as someone screams rather embarrassingly.
"Get out here, Darkling!"
A shout he's heard a thousand times over. As empty as a threat every single time.
Sighing, Aleksander straightens his back and marches out of his tent. The morning air is chill, but even more chilling is the empty camp. Chilling to a human, of course. To Aleksander it was a kind of graveyard he's seen time and time again. To greet him is a band of Frejdan soldiers, with a handful of Ravkan ones between them. At the lead, the General. He looks as cocky as ever, smirking like he's won himself a fine prize.
Aleksander resists the urge to Cut him right then and there. "It seems I should have let my wife behead you when she felt so inclined."
The General's face reddens at the insult, and he shifts on his saddle. "I think you should be begging for mercy right about now."
"I was about to say the same to you."
"Enough!" The General snarls, spit flinging form his mouth. "You are surrounded, your men captured. I made sure your precious Grisha wouldn't be around to aid you either. You're alone and at a disadvantage. Surrender now."
True, Aleksander can't see any of his Grisha soldiers present and the Ravkan otkazat'sya kneeling on the ground were few and unarmed. Much more must have been killed or captured elsewhere for the camp to be so empty. Which begs the question, how could have Aleksander not have heard such a commotion?
How could he have been so weak?
"You've had spies among my ranks."
The General smiles broadly, visibly pleased at having fooled the all-powerful Darkling. "It wasn't too difficult with the pathetic state you've been in. No, not too hard at all to slip something into the drink you've been emptying damn well every night."
Ignoring the ugly and pathetic truth of that, Aleksander observes rather calmly, "But you didn't kill me."
The General's grin curls downward. "I don't care for this conversation anymore, surrender and let's be done with this."
"You didn't kill me, because I am worth more to you alive. Is it the price for my head Frejda will give you? Are you so easily persuaded to turn on your country for coin?" Aleksander doesn't given him a chance to answer. "No, that couldn't be it. Well, you certainly are a pathetic traitor, that part is true, but not about the price for my life. I doubt Frejda would care if I was delivered to them dead or alive. They'd probably prefer dead as to not have to deal with the threat I pose with air in my lungs."
"I've had enough of this, go, restrain him now!"
But as the soldiers begin to make the smallest step forward, a wave of shadows rushed across them, like the rush of a river stopping the path of a moving herd.
"And if you were looking to take Ravka for yourself, keeping me alive wouldn't help you make a move for the throne. A dead King is better than a captive one."
"Move you bastards!" The General bellows but those shadows continue to puddle in front of their group, riveting faster and faster.
"Which means I must be some kind of leverage for you. And there is only one other person in this world who I can be used against." Aleksander looks square in the General's eyes, and lets the man see his own gaze submerge into complete darkness. Let's him see the ageless, all powerful demon that lays beneath his bones at all times, waiting to be let loose. "What have you done to my wife?"
The whole of Adirk's body feels numb, and the only real sensation he can acknowledge is the pressure against his temples.
There's…dirt, under his fingers. He curls them slightly, feeling the dryness of the soil and the way it fills under his fingernails. It's so quiet, that he tries to process where he is and what has happened. His mind if sluggish with thoughts, barely conjuring up the image of getting up this morning, riding away from camp, and then-
"Mila," Adrik gasps. His body snaps up, and his bones and muscles roar in protest. Numbness is swiftly replaced by pain, every cell in his blood seemingly bursting in flame. But it's nothing compared to the pain of remembering his sister getting wounded, his mother crumbled next to her, and the fear tgar death was about to be dealt to them both.
"Mila," Adrik now sobs, remembering every fine detail of seeing her in the castle and the blood that soaked her clothes. A fear that resonated from her spirit and transferred to his. And how he couldn't do a damn thing to help. How just as quick as he was somewhere there with his sister, he was gone and back here at the battlefield.
Then that memory comes back.
Now, Adirk sees the dead bodies around him. The smell of blood and burnt flesh thickening the air, and the smoke making the sky a char covered haze of yellow and black. Ravakans. Frejdans. Human and Grisha. All dead because of him. Because of the horror he had unleashed.
Adrik realizes he is crying long after he starts. At by that time his sobs cut the air off from his lungs, his body has fallen back into dirt, and his mind surrenders to a far great amount of guilt, fear, and hurt he's never experienced in his life.
Alina hasn't remembering feeling this sore in quiet some time.
Granted, she hadn't gone into battle for some time either, so she supposes it comes with the territory. This fear, though, this is something she was quite happy to forget. The fear of losing someone so close to you that their death would destroy you. She hasn't felt this since she had been young and mortality still running in her veins. Even with her long years with Aleksander, there was always the steadfast belief he would come out triumphant when facing an enemy. But she wasn't truly prepared for the fear she now feels for her daughter.
Mila is asleep yet she looks anything but peaceful. Her breathing is shallow, miserably pained at times, and her skin eerily pale and slick with sweat. It looks as if some terrible disease has taken over her small fragile being, and has brought her right to the cusp between death and life.
And Alina has no idea how to save her.
The wounds inflicted by the group of Frejdans had been terrible, much beyond just the sharpness of their weapons. The healers had discovered that the arrow heads used during the attack had been laced with some distant form of jurda parem. Enough of the components had been used to inflict the delirious hurt the drug caused, but lacked the addictiveness and increase of Grisha power. A small blessing, but a very small one. Because then there was the pain Mila had inflicted on herself. She had used too much power, so raw and consuming that it bled her dry of every amount of strength. That, plus the drug, has left her baby knocked out, struggling to cling on to life.
And Alina can do nothing but watch.
"Empress," a voice timidly says behind her. "You should get some rest as well, the drug runs through your veins too."
Yes, Alina had been a target of one of the cursed arrows as well. But only one had struck her, compared to Mila's three, and while she does feel the sickness sucking her of health, she knows it's not enough to kill her.
"No, I will stay," Alina replies sternly. "And send in here whoever isn't dead and now in charge and not stupid enough to have allowed this to happen."
The attack had been small. A handful of soldiers meant to make a quick entry and exit, the Queen and Princess as their newly claimed prizes. They had planned it perfectly, picking a day the staff had been thin, soldiers ordered to be separated and sent to odd points in the Palace, and any Grisha told their duties lie at the Little Palace for war efforts.
Which could only mean someone within their ranks with the power and means could have orchestrated such a feat.
Alina curses, not for the first or hundredth time, at her own foolishness. She had been so preoccupied with the war, using it to an exhausted extent to distract her from the troubles with Aleksander, she hadn't noticed something amiss or that one of their own had turned. It has been so long since she had to deal with the possibility of traitors the thought had slipped between the cracks. Now Mila would have to suffer the consequences.
The door behind her opens and an aged but strong voice announces politely, "Empress, I am at your service."
Without looking Alina knows it is Colonel Petrov. Old enough in his years to be less active on the field and unable to hold the title of General, but revered enough for his experience and skill that he remains a valued figure in the First Army. Alina had always liked the man, seeing him as some elderly father figure she never had. Even though she was ages older than him.
His tall stature has curled inward with age, with the gold of his blonde hair and beard diminishing as well, but an air of respect and kindness always radiates off him. Petrov has never shown a lack of love for his country or disrespect for his rulers, even earning the respect of Aleksander with the help he has provided. He had been on the outer rim of the city when the attack had happened, and had been stationed there for some time to ensure the safety of their barriers. The need to return home to the palace only came with the requirement to attend meetings of importance. But once word had reached him of the recent tragic news, he had returned swiftly back to the aid of his Queen.
"Colonel," Alina faces him with a tired smile. "I need assurances this will never happen again."
Petrov bobs his head without hesitation. "Never, Empress. I will see to it personally that our Shpiony ranks are interrogated and weak links rooted out. They clearly were lax in the ranks."
"You do know it must have gone higher than that."
"Yes, my lady," Petrov sighs. "I come to you with more grave news in that regard. As you have been attending your daughter, I was the one to call for all Palace guards, soldiers, and Grisha to come back and account for themselves. Major Sidorov had been missing, as well as Captain Golubev, and a number of other under their command."
Weariness settles heavier in Alina's sickened bones. "All names very close to the General, if I am remembering correctly."
Another sigh. "Yes, I'm afraid that is true."
"So he's to blame for all this then."
"It seems that way. But, my Lady, he is currently-"
"At the front," Alina interrupts. More steely fury and fear burn her blood. "With my husband and son."
"I have already sent scouts with warnings-"
Alina raises up from her seat, feeling every muscle that moves with the effort. Lightness hits her head, and acid gurgles threateningly in her stomach. It's as if every way her flesh can protest against her, it's trying. How could Mila possibly be surviving this tenfold? Alina grimaces. "It will be too late by now. An attack on my daughter and I wouldn't allow time for any news to reach the rest of my family without the possibility of retaliation. A move must have been made against them as well. This was meant to take us all out in one fell swoop."
"Not necessarily, love."
Alina nearly lets her body win and crumple to the floor right then and there when that dark velvety voice reaches her ears. There is Aleksander, finally, standing across from her on the other side the bed holding Mila's struggling body. He looks weary, as if sleep has eluded him and anger has too long kept his will alive.
Alina's heart stutters at the mere sight of him after being denied for so long, that she's rendered speechless.
"Empress?" Petrov shifts questioningly behind her.
"Leave me," She breathes.
Petrov must sense her change of mood, for he obeys without question. The door shut softly behind him.
"You are well?" Aleksander asks after a moment of them just looking.
"Mostly."
"Mila?" His gaze shifts down to their daughter. He frowns and reaches forward, seeming to forget that he cannot touch her. But his fingers still try, grazing on what should be her damp cheek. The brush against the hair stuck there, but fail at moving it.
"The Healers believe they can counteract the poison. But…"
His dark gaze snaps up. "But?"
"She used a frightening amount of power during the attack. Had her body been healthy enough when injected, there would have bene a better chance."
"And now?"
"And now," Alina moves forward to do what Aleksander can not. With the light touch of her fingertips, Mila's skin feels both hot and cold, and her hair thoroughly wet. Puffs of breath blow against Alina's wrist. Other than that, the girl shows no other sign of life. "We wait."
Aleksander stares at them both with a tight lipped frown. "Of course, what we excel in."
"She is strong, she will get through this."
Aleksander doesn't comment on that, making Alina feel suddenly furious. "So this is when you decide to show your face again? When your daughter is on the brink of death? Do you feel satisfied with your pettiness, Aleksander?"
His fists clench at his sides but he makes no other response to the accusations.
"You've come, you've seen. Why don't you go now? Your presence isn't bringing me any comfort. Not after I've had to beg for it and be denied for so long."
It's all a lie. All of it a terrible, awful, pathetic lie. She means the opposite. She wants anything but what she's saying. She wants for him to never leave, to come back to the palace with Adrik, to hold her and Mila, and bring them the comfort and security eh has always provided.
Aleksander's eye grow wearier, if possible. "Alina…we've both made mistakes-"
She snarls. "I've tried to make amends for the mistakes I've made. You wouldn't let me. Don't come to me now with our daughter in this state, to just. Say. That."
"I shouldn't have stayed away," He fires back with equal parts anger and shame. "It was a mistake to divide us like that. To make us vulnerable. But Saints, Alina, do you even realize the pain you dealt me? Can you even fathom-"
"What it feels like to have your heart broken by someone you love?" She retorts with a sudden exhaustion. A very familiar one. "Yes, Aleksander, I know what that feels like. I know more than most."
Scoffing, Aleksander steps hastily back from the bed. "Again, with our past. Again, throwing it in my face. If I am never to be forgiven for my wrongs against you, then what is the point of this?"
"This?"
"You and I. Our bond. Our marriage. Our supposed eternal love. What is the point?"
"Are you proposing we end it? I have to say that's a new ploy I haven't heard before."
"Alina!" Aleksander all but shouts. "Listen to me. Perhaps it hasn't gotten through you thick skull that I am not your villain anymore! I am your husband. The father of your children. The man you chose to stand with against the tides of time. I need you to accept all that and let go of the rest."
Alina's vision shakes then blurs with a quick prickling of tears. Her hearts beats with traitorous guilt and though her mind instinctively tries to rationalize and argue Aleksander's points, she finds no answer. There is a part of her that has never let go of the past. Of Mal, Nikolai, Genya, Zoya, and so many others. Of the bonds they held, the friendship and love shared. Then of what Aleksander had done to them. The pain he caused and suffering that even now she can recall if she tries hard enough. They always came together, her first life. The goodness of it all, as well as the bad. And Aleksander is so thoroughly attached to that bad. Forgiving him for that, forgiving the bad completely and truely, seems like she is betraying the good. Betraying her friends. That somehow she's doing something wrong to give such a concession.
That if she forgives Aleksander for all that, it might make her vulnerable to what he could possibly do now, with her children. With her new-found goodness.
She tries to explain this all without ripping his heart from his chest a second time. So she starts slow, and lets the tears trickle down her cheeks. "You've always been my villain, Aleksander, to some extent. You've always been a symbol of darkness, yours and my own. You became that for me when I was 17 years old and you never truly stopped being it. Even when I fell in love with you and decided to stay with you, it has always there in the back of my mind."
Aleksander stands patiently.
"And with Adrik and Mila, it just…it came back. That threat you can pose, the fear I have that you're going to hurt someone I love. It's…if I-I let that go-then I'm afraid that I can't-"
"You can't protect them," He finishes for her. Stoic but with some reluctant understanding. "If you trust me with every fiber of your being, then that means you're not protecting them as much as you possibly can."
"I don't want to think like that," Alina sputters out. "I love you Aleksander, I love you so much. And I want to forgive you-I want to so badly. I know how good of a father you've become, how much you love Mila and Adrik and they you. But I'm just…Saints, I'm just-just a mother! A mother to two beautiful children who never wants any harm to befall them."
Aleksander looks down to Mila. His beautiful daughter. He tries to imagine the depths of Alina's protectiveness. He's never considered to what lengths they surpass his own. He's never imagined how much fear fueled hers, while his own lacked such motivation. He can understand, he supposes, but it's a bitter taste of understanding. It makes him feel hollow, somehow, and not satisfied at all.
"Where does this leave us then, Alina?"
She rounds the bed before she can think better on it, before any other hesitating impulse stops her to do so. She joins her husband and reaches high to cup his bearded cheeks. Loves the feel of them against her skin, loves how close she is she can see the beauty that is his eyes. "It leaves us as we always have been, Aleksander. You always on the brink of being a truly better man, and I on the brink of being a true monster. That we both acknowledge and respect the darkness and light within us both, and that when it comes to our children, we have been on guard in a way we hadn't with each other before. Because that comes with the responsibilities of being a parent, of not being just you and me anymore."
At some point, Aleksander covers his wife's hand with his, and squeezes them.
"I will be better," Alina continues. "I promise I will. I have seen all the strides you have made for our family and I love you all the more for them. You know I can be a brat and have a hard time thinking before I speak but, Aleksander, I will try."
They both smile slightly.
"But then try to understand me when I fail, and when I fear for our children's lives more than anything else in this world."
"Alina, I love you," He whispers, leaning into her touch.
"I love you, Aleksander," She replies right back. "And let this distance between us be over. Let's get our family and our country back together. Safe, under our watch."
Aleksander squeezes her hands again. "Let's end this all."
