AN:

Here we are... more than half a year later... to finish the arc with a short lil thing that probably deserved to be longer, i originally planned more showing than telling but wow. the creative cells in my brain forgot their purpose.

/

Apparently the book!Tsar is named Alexander (but why with the "x" tho?) so of course here he has a name of his show!self, Pyotr. (considering Darkles' name is out for everybody there to know, no wonder they changed it!

Also, a casual reminder that the Muse doesn't care about the correct plan of Os Alta. the captial shifts to suit the story ;) the whole Ravka does, probably

With his clenched fists hidden by kefta's sleeves, the Darkling marched through the corridors of the Grand Palace, once again summoned by the King. He wasn't having a bad day – he was having a bad century.

Passing the final group of guards, Aleksander pondered over the events of the last few days. The dramatic reveal of Grigoryevna's trickery at the royal court of course had to happen when he was too busy (nursing poor, weakened Alina back to health) to attend the gathering. He never truly expected his favorite Inferni's conspiracy theory to be proven true, not even when something as ridiculous as his mother kidnapping Alina to interrogate her on their plans could occur. (Was he going to become as mad as Baghra at some point in his old age?)

And unfortunately, this whole fake-Sun-Summoner plot had much more unpleasant repercussions than listening to Alina's "I told you so!" a few times a day. Dropping morale of the Second Army, unfulfilled dreams of controlling the Shadow Fold and simple childish disappointment aside, Aleksander had to now handle the fury of a man with too much power. No matter how many times he wanted to say something along the lines of "Don't worry, Pyotrek, it was just your son planning a coup!", something stopped him. Probably the last bits of control left.

The Darkling wondered why the King wanted him again so soon. It's been few hours since he was finally given a chance to meet with imprisoned Grigoryevna in the dungeons (surprisingly, the most sensibly looking space in the whole Grand Palace), but instead of being able to interrogate her freely, he was brought there only to prove if she was a Grisha, like

The girl was utterly otkazat'sya.

What a sloppy job. Had it been Aleksander who has planted a fake Sun Summoner in Os Alta, he would at least choose a Grisha. Logically, the best choice (other than non-existent other Shadow Summoner) would be an Inferni. He briefly entertained the idea of plotting such a thing with Alina. He wanted her in black, but she would look magnificent in golden kefta as well...

Aleksander hid a smile and the Darkling bowed too deeply before the King.

"Moi Tsar. How can I-"

"The Darkling, good. Good," Pyotr the Third coughed, nearly bending in half on his gilded throne. Looked like Genya's Alkemi experiments weren't sparing him these days. When he was done spreading phlegm everywhere, King got into an unusually lengthy monologue and the Darkling tried not to zone out.

For the first time since that madman joined the royal Court, Aleksander missed the Apparat. The latter would now only preach from the tiny window of the Cathedral's tower where he was locked on the King's orders soon after the reveal of Grigoryevna's lies. How did Lantsov connect the outlandish machinery and convenient excuses with the head of Ravkan Church, the Darkling had no idea.

He himself has never said a word about the possible connection between impostor's fake abilities and a certain rogue Shadow Summoner, hell bent on embarrassing the Darkling and perhaps suffering from mental sickness. Nobody but Alina knew about Baghra, and not even she was aware of everything.

"-and I would like to show something in the Palace Yard. Go now, I will join... in a minute..."

Eager to leave the tardy King and get precious few moments alone, Aleksander bowed his way out of the throne room and hurried to the yard.

The vast space on the other side of the Grand Palace where you couldn't even glimpse the Little Palace was usually favored by the courtiers and sometimes available for more ordinary Ravkans. It had actually a rather simple architecture, other than the pretentious columns that were an unpleasant reminder of the insides of the otkazat'sya Palace. It was rarely crowded on cold summer days like today, so Aleksander hurried through the massive outer door in hopes of-

Whatever he hoped for, it was surely not what he saw.

From all sides, the Palace Yard was filled with people. Courtiers and commoners alike stood in a chaotic crowd, most craning their necks to see above others' shoulders the thing at the desolated square in the middle. For in the center has been crafted an enormous...

Pyre.

And on frozen Aleksander's left side, in perfectly formed columns, stood the Second Army. And not just army - all the Grisha from Os Alta were there as far as he could see, soldiers and instructors protectively surrounding the younglings. What were the children doing here? Who allowed it?

Somehow, among the locals and members of the First Army there needn't be any kids.

Nothing good was going to happen here, but if the Lantsovs try to touch his Grisha-

Finally able to move, Aleksander forced himself to walk slowly towards the Second Army. Ivan got to him first and the Darkling clenched red material on Heartrender's chest in his fist.

"Why-" he hissed, and Ivan didn't even let him finish.

"At the same time as you received the request from the Tsar, we were all given copies of the official message. Every Grisha from the capital was being formally ordered to arrive here... All of us."

Above his shoulder Aleksander noticed familiarly-unfamiliar hair. He closed his eyes and released Ivan. "How can she be here?! She's supposed to-"

Ivan's look dangerously bordered on condescension. "Try stopping her, moi soverenyi. Try stopping her..."

Alina was joking with a bunch of sweet little Inferni (she wasn't even thirty yet, but she finally realized why the adults always loved to pinch cheeks of every kid they saw) when she noticed the fury incarnated walking in her direction with a glare worthy of Ivan. She rolled her eyes pointedly at him and blew the two unruly locks of hair from her face. Those two strands of hair that always framed her face were turned bone white ever since her fight with Baghra. (Alina felt terribly vain begging Genya to get rid of them but the Tailor straight up refused. She even helped some of the younglings and teens alike paint their hair white – temporarily, but still! The sight of those children following her scared Alina more than Baghra ever could.)

"You should be in bed!" Aleksander wasted no time scolding her. (Alina still shivered sometimes when she thought of him with his name. It was so lovely and intimate. She could bet nobody here knew it-) "The Healers said-"

"-that everything was fine, three days ago! You can't keep me in your bed forever," Alina flashed her teeth at him triumphantly.

"That's not- I just made sure you had a peaceful place for your recovery! I would never-" The Darkling blushed slightly.

"Yeah, unfortunately..." Alina muttered under her breath and twirled one of those damn white locks around her finger, knowing it would distract him. "We were all forced to come here anyway – any idea what for?"

That was of course stupid question – the construction in the middle of the yard spoke for itself.

Someone was going to burn.

Alina turned around to watch along the even lines of Grisha soldiers. She counted the younglings among them, their path already chosen and leading to war...

She took a deep breath and welcomed the warmth inside her.

Let them try take those people, her people. There will be no holding back-

As if summoned by her grim thoughts, the presence of Ravka's royal family was announced in the heralds' nasal voice. Alina faced them, standing straight like a good little soldier and noted happily that the Darkling remained at her side, his expression as blank as hers.

"People of Ravka," Prince Vasily spoke, "In the last weeks we've seen lies and trickery-"

Honest to the Fold and all that's holy, Alina tried to listen. It wasn't her fault that the Crown Prince was about as interesting as the Apparat, or even less. (According to Aleksander, it was a family thing.) The emphasis on the wrong words weren't helping either, "-forces... fabrication... deceit... Grisha!"

Wait, what?

Alina blinked furiously and realized that, during her sneaky little nap, the one and only Vasilissa Grigoryevna had been brought to the pyre in the middle. Two bulky guards that probably dragged her there in chains were now busy tying her to the wooden construction.

Alina forced herself to listen and stole a glance at the Darkling. He was mouthing something across the yard to Genya, who stood with other white-clad servants from the Grand Palace. Apparently half of the Os Alta was gathered here today, or at least enough representatives of each group to make sure everybody knows what happened at the end of the day.

She focused again on Lantsov and realized that Grigoryevna... was being described as a Grisha who tried to fool the entire country (Tried? More like succeeded...) and now... she is being punished for what she has done to the Crown.

They were going to burn her alive?! Like Fjerdans did to Grisha since the dawn of time? The most dreadful horror, the scariest nightmare of any Grisha was going to be made a terrible spectacle in front of all those- No! Alina tried to turn and saw some of the instructors do the same as they too realized what the Lantsovs had planned, but the Darkling stopped them all with a single gesture. Loud enough to be heard by the nearest commanders, he said "We're all going to stay. They need to see it indeed. They need to know who the real monsters are."

"She's not even Grisha!" Alina protested idly, but the Darkling nodded.

"Exactly."

Protests in the crowd of otkazat'sya were quickly silenced. Soldiers and civils alike had to watch helplessly as the royal orders were painfully slowly executed.

Vasilissa's screams got louder in the silence that fell once Vasily was done.

This was unexpected. All of it was. All except maybe the Crown Prince saving his own hide and not caring about anybody else.

Of course, Alina had a glorious plan of revealing their plot – but it all went wrong the moment Baghra took her. She couldn't even blame her for leaving all the important details to Ivan when she went with the Darkling to hunt the Stag again. The plan was almost perfect... And it had no executions. Humiliations, yes. In the worst case scenario, perhaps an assassination, but not... this!

There was something wrong with the flames – Alina squinted. She needn't be an actual Inferni to know it – the pyre wasn't burning enough. One of the guards poured something on the rags that one of the yellow dresses of Grigoryevna became, and the sounds she made-

"They've added something that will make a fire the longest possible," suddenly, there was Genya at their side, and the Tsarina was trying to burn a hole in her back with an ugly scowl.

"He really wants to torture her..." the Darkling muttered. He gritted his teeth.

Alina's hand found his. Her locket throbbed and there was a pleasant tingle in her palm.

Trying not to move her lips too obviously, she glanced briefly at a group of Inferni soldiers.

"Together."

It was an ugly, cold day, but suddenly the sun shone through the clouds and blinded the guards and the spectators, those both willing and unwilling, for a long moment. When it hid again, the harm was done, and Ravkans saw an enormous fire, burning brightly and happily consuming the remains of the pyre. All that was left was ashes and bones of Vasilissa Grigoryevna.

Somebody was yelling indignantly from the direction of the royal entourage.

"This means war," Alina said softly to Aleksander.

"I know," he sighed. "I know."

"Genya," the Darkling nodded at the woman in white. "Take off this kefta."

Not trying to hide her surprise or bothering to listen to Alina's protest, Genya swiftly skimmed out of the material, but before she could even shiver in her thin chemise, Ivan was helping her into a deeply red kefta with gorgeous dark blue embroidery.

At the Darkling's command, ignoring the confused otkazat'sya and the King shouting, all of the Grisha left the Palace Yard in perfect coordination.

Nobody dared to stop them.

AN:/ So yeah, sorry fully-white-haired!Alina fans, but I always planned for her to look like Rogue ;) my theory, of course there is one, is that misc!Alina at every point is waaaay more powerful than her canon counterpart (even if we don't usually see it, sorry ;D), so Baghra the Tree wouldn't tire her as much as making/taking over Nitchevoya (whatever happened. Two years after starting this fic and I still haven't reread the books – and neither have I seen the show. I am saving those for later I guess?)

/

tell me what you think!