Alina was stark naked on the Darkling's table, legs around his shoulders, head thrown back and gasping, when the call came from outside the tent.

"Whoever that is can fuck - right - off," She fought to catch her breath, glaring at the entrance.

"I said that I was not to be disturbed, Ivan," The Darkling said from between her legs, voice cold and irritatingly even.

"Apologies, moi soverenyi," The Heartrender said. "There is... concerning news from Os Alta that requires your urgent attention,"

For Ivan to admit that a matter was concerning - and to go against the general's explicit orders - meant that something truly cataclysmic must have happened. The Darkling knew this too, as he got to his feet, straightening his own clothes and throwing her a blanket from the bed.

Alina stared at him, incredulous. "I'm not letting Ivan see me wrapped in nothing but this, covered in fingerprints,"

"There has never been a man alive less interested in naked women," He said, careless, wiping his mouth almost as an afterthought as he moved over to the tent flap.

That was a good point, though Alina was still annoyed at the interruption. There was no time to pull together her clothes, however, only hurriedly wrap herself in the blanket and move from the table to the chair behind it. Ivan entered the tent along with a nervous-looking young man dressed in the king's livery. The messenger's eyes widened at the sight of her, bare aside from a blanket, lounging moodily in the Darkling's chair like she owned it. He clearly did not know where to look. Ivan, of course, hardly blinked.

"Well?" The Darkling asked. The bite to his tone was only slightly more pronounced than usual, but gave away that he was just at irritated at being interrupted as she was.

"Someone better have died," Alina muttered.

Ivan looked pointedly at the messenger, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, but swallowed and spoke. "The king writes to inform the General of the Second Army of the recently announced betrothal of his son and heir, Prince Vasily Lantsov,"

The look on Ivan's face, the fear on the young man's, and the hesitation on both, was enough to confirm Alina's worst suspicions. The Darkling asked the question, however, his voice even but dangerous. "And who is his bride to be?"

The messenger's eyes darted her way for a split second, and her stomach dropped. "The Sun Summoner, moi soverenyi. Alina Starkova," The shadows in the room flared. Every vein in Alina's body felt like it was frozen solid. But the messenger seemed determined to blurt out everything now he had started. "The announcement has been made public and preparations have already been made for Miss Starkova's return to the Grand Palace. To celebrate the wedding, as a gift to all of Ravka, the new tsarevna will bring down the Fold in its entirety,"

Alina knew that the Darkling had expected there to be backlash for not destroying the Fold, particularly after her creation of the tunnel. The king could not go back on this decision to betroth her to the prince without looking weak, not after making it public. In theory, this would leave them no choice but to go along with it. It had been an unusually smart move from the Lanstov tsar. No doubt the Apparat had a hand in it. He'd always wanted to tear his precious little saint away from the leader of the Second Army.

Even before she had begun to spend her nights in the Darkling's tent, every single Grisha and every single oprichnik knew that Alina was his. She could admit that that's what everyone thought, at least, even though she resented it and vehemently disagreed herself. He made his claim on her plain to see, no matter how she riled against the idea of belonging to anyone. As she had predicted, sleeping with him had only increased that possessiveness, though she had no time for such unnecessary theatrics.

And now, the Darkling was being asked - no, told - that she was to marry another, a man he disdained and despised? For a moment, Alina almost forgot her own rage (and horror, distress, panic, etcetera) at the news as she glanced at him, watching for a reaction. For a moment. Almost.

It was her who broke the silence, of course, wishing she wore something more impressive than a blanket as she leaned forward in the chair, placing her arms on the table and looking the messenger dead in the eye with an unnerving smile. "Tell the tsar that if his vile son comes anywhere near my bed, he will return as a eunuch. The day I wed that pathetic excuse of a man will be the day the General joins the ballet,"

The Darkling raised a hand to silence her, which she bristled at, smile turning into a snarl. "Don't wave that hand at me. I'm the one being sold off to the prince, not you," Alina turned back to the messenger. "Tell the king I've lain with most of the Little Palace, and gotten drunk with half of Os Alta. That you found me dancing naked around a campfire to entertain the soldiers. That I'm little more than a common peasant girl who won any privileged position I have on my back. Tell him every depraved thing you can think of. Saints, say that I'm pregnant and have no idea who the father is. They can't make me a princess then,"

"Alina," The Darkling's tone was not to be argued with. Not that that would normally have stopped her, but for once she fell silent as he addressed the young man, feeling her voice catch in her throat. "Miss Starkova is not the tsar's to take,"

She hated that he meant she was his instead, hated that she would rather be his, because at least this man was somehow (somehow!) the lesser evil. The parts of her he took were ones she could live without. The ones he gave her were impossible to give up. And she took from him equally in return. The realisation that the idea of being in another man's arms repulsed her had been a startling one. She despised the Darkling often, but it was a familiar kind of hate, a monster she knew almost as well as she knew herself.

Whilst the messenger floundered at the Darkling's question, Alina's breath started quickening in that familiar feeling of panic, even as she fought to compose herself in front of the other two men. She remembered the feeling of the prince's lips, his grasping hands, the utter powerlessness she had to stop it despite being more than capable of killing him where he stood. If she was married to Vasily, every part of her that made her Alina would be stripped away, chained and shackled, forced into the mould of a princess, a future queen, a saint. Well, that was if she let them. Perhaps she would just be so vile that they could not keep her? She would break before she bent.

Or...

Alina's panic abruptly stilled, as though cut off at the neck. It was obvious, really, what their next course of action was.

The Darkling caught her eye, clearly ready to dismiss the other two so she could fall apart, but blinked in evident surprise at the faint smile he found on her face instead. That smile clearly concerned him more, as he sent Ivan and the messenger away at once. "Why are you not raging and screaming?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion the moment they were gone. "Don't tell me you want to marry that weak-chinned rat of a prince?"

"Obviously not," She scoffed, looking up at him from his own chair. "But there's an easy way out of this. Don't act like you're not already thinking through exactly how to do it,"

"Do enlighten me - what is this easy way out?" His tone was too careful, his eyes like a shark's.

Alina's smile widened. "Treason," The Darkling said nothing, just blinked slowly, so she continued. "General Zlatan has the right idea. The Lanstovs are lazy, incompetent and spoiled, while Ravka bleeds and starves. Let's kill the tsar," Sorry Nikolai, but he's not your real father anyway.

He stared at her, then barked a laugh, though his eyes were shrewd and calculating. "Just like that? And who would you have take his place?"

"Nikolai, I suppose. Or maybe no one at all. Ravka could be a republic, a haven of anarchy with the heads of the aristocrats mounted on the city walls. I'd like that," She grinned at the look on the Darkling's face. "Though I have a feeling you would much rather take the throne for yourself. You wouldn't be my first choice - not by a long shot - but between that or marrying Vasily, I'll choose the lesser of two evils,"

As ever, a flicker of irritation crossed his face when she called him evil. She didn't care. "It is one thing for scheming courtiers and disgruntled First Army generals to speculate on such things," He said, testing her rather than disapproving. "It is another for us to do so - we could succeed, Alina,"

"Yes, 'we'," She said. "You couldn't do it alone, and you know exactly why,"

The Darkling's eyebrow rose. "And why is that?"

"You haven't tried in four hundred years for a reason. The otkazat'sya would never support a Grisha king. You could win the throne easily, but you'd never keep it without the First Army on your side. The Grisha are strong, but not that strong,"

"I'd keep it," He said, sounding so sure she had to concentrate on being cynical. "The Second Army has a weapon that could make all of Ravka so afraid there would be no choice but to accept a Grisha as tsar. Shu Han and Fjerda would never trouble our borders again,"

"Do we?" She frowned. Had he had the Fabrikators working on something in secret? What weapon could possibly be so terrible that it would hold a whole country hostage?

"Think, Alina," Shadows rose up behind him, framing him in darkness.

She thought. Then realised exactly what he meant, and her blood ran cold. He smiled, seeing she understood. The sight chilled her even further.

"No," The word left Alina's lips at once, crystal clear and unrelenting.

His smile dropped. "No?"

Surely he could not even be considering... "Do you want the whole country to despise you?"

"It matters little, so long as they are scared enough to keep in line,"

"The whole country includes me, you evil bastard. You need me to use the Fold like that, and I won't play any part in setting that monstrocity on our own people. Not to mention, you'd make a hundred thousand enemies in one blow and spend the rest of your life putting down constant rebellions. Ravka would be begging for the Lantsovs back!"

"You said it yourself," The Darkling's tone was cold again, clearly not pleased by her flat refusal. "They will never accept a Grisha tsar willingly. So we will make them,"

"Just to be clear," She got to her feet from his chair, eyes narrowed, wishing she wore something more impressive than a blanket but refusing to show any discomfort. "You refuse to simply back Nikolai's claim, have his family die in mysterious circumstances and rule the country from the shadows?"

"The prince might have been your friend as a child, Alina, but by now he will be a grown man, with ulterior motives and his own agenda. Whilst he may be more intelligent than his oaf of a brother, that is not necessarily to our benefit - the tsar and Vasily are easy to manipulate. Nikolai would not be. If he learned we murdered his father and brother, he is not likely to take that in stride. Not to mention he has not been seen in court for years,"

"Fine, not Nikolai," She brushed him off, knowing that would be his response before he said it. "I wanted to make sure there was no easy way to avoid your inevitable tantrum at me refusing to murder thousands of Ravkans,"

The glare he shot her may have had lesser Grisha losing control of their bowels.

"And what exactly do you propose to do?" The Darkling asked, dangerously softly. "Do enlighten me, Alina, in all your worldly experience, how you are going to gently persaude Ravka - a country which dislikes, mildly resents and is highly suspicious Grisha at best - to accept the most infamous of them as king?"

She smiled a twisted, humourless smile. "Sankta Alina," That was enough for him to actually appear interested in what she had to say, but she realised how that sounded and quickly cut that horrifying train of thought off. "No, not like that. I don't want to be your queen any more than I want to be Vasily's,"

The Darkling's reply was scathing. "In which case, how is the saintly figure who you've claimed does not exist as long as I have known you going to be of any use?"

"Careful," She narrowed her eyes. "It sounded like you just asked how someone who can summon the sun could be of any use if they don't marry you," She held up a hand to stop him interrupting. "I'll tell you now, the only other plan I'm willing to follow involves me turning my back on Ravka entirely and disappearing across the sea. So you will listen to me, and not force me to do anything I don't want to do, or you'll never see me again,"

"I would find you,"

"Then I would fight you,"

They fell into a tense silence, glaring at each other.

As usual, Alina broke the silence. "For such a good military strategist, your political strategy is surprisingly poor. Brute force and intimidation - or waiting four hundred years for a mythical Grisha to appear - will not let you keep the throne," She unable to stop herself riling him. "But I'll compromise. At some point, I will help you move the Fold into Shu Han and Fjerda. Just enough for their armies to back off our borders. If that doesn't warn Zlatan and the First Army enough, then I will help you move it a short distance into West Ravka - nowhere near the town,"

He surveyed her for a long moment. "I would not have expected you to be so idealistic," And? Catching that look, he gritted his teeth and continued. "You said 'at some point'. It will have to be sooner rather than later. You will be expected to leave for Os Alta within the next few days, or else the king will grow suspicious,"

She smiled, then. "My plan isn't just taking the teeth out of yours. First, before you set the Fold on all your enemies - without making any new ones - we're going to convince all of Ravka that the Lanstovs are unfit to rule. And that you would not be a terrible replacement, so long as I am there to keep you in check,"

"You have some nerve," The Darkling said, though did not sound angry. "How are you going to accomplish that miracle, sankta?"

"Rumours, some true, some not, spread across the whole country. Mila Tarasova can handle that. Alliances, bribes, threats, blackmail. And my new position at court, as the prince's bride-to-be,"

He stilled. "You can hardly mean - "

"I'm not actually going to marry him," She pulled a face. "I'll go back to court without you. It will be half a year before the wedding at least, given what that messenger just saw and will certainly report back to the king," Alina was certainly not with child - the only thing she did religiously was take that contraceptive tonic every morning - but they would insist on waiting to be sure. "I can make friends in court. Play at being Sankta Alina. Make the royals look bad," She grinned. "I could be the most popular person in Ravka, if I actually try. I've already put a dent in the Fold,"

"You are not that good an actress to suffer Vasily's company for months on end,"

"I promise you, I can if it means his death is on the horizon. They won't leave me alone with him anyway, not until after the wedding. They won't let me anywhere without a shrivelled old nun as a chaperone,"

The Darkling fell silent for a long moment. Then, "Fine. But this is not a fun little game to entertain yourself with and run from once you get bored. As you insist on doing things your way, you will see this through with me,"

He knew her too well. Alina scowled, but supposed that was fair enough. "Fine,"

"And we will do this properly, not your usual reckless, haphazard way of doing things. These next few days before you leave for Os Alta, you will sit with me and plan down to the letter, and I will not hear a word of complaint,"

"Sounds delightful,"

"Alina..."

"Oh, no need to sound like that - of course I'll do it," She grinned. "You'll be eager to send me off to court after spending three full days in my company, planning. And I'll be eager to go,"

He did not smile back. "If the prince attempts anything untoward again, then do what you have to. His death will come sooner rather than later regardless. I'm sure you are capable of leaving the city without assistance, if the need arises,"

She flickered herself invisible and back again. "Obviously. Careful, Aleksander, or else I might think you actually care beyond not wanting someone else to touch what you consider yours,"

"What I consider mine?" The Darkling stepped into her space.

Alina looked up at him, tilting her head to one side. "I'll never be yours, nor anyone else's. You will have the whole of Ravka soon - that's enough for anyone, surely?" She grinned. "But you can pretend, if it makes you feel better,"

The kiss he gave her then was bruising, punishing, domineering and made her knees weak. "Are you sure?"

"Without a doubt," She said, honestly.


"You can't be serious," Zoya's mouth was pressed in a hard line.

"We're coming with you," Viktor said. "You're not going into that snakepit alone,"

"The prince sounds like a nasty little shit from what you've said, Lina," Mal shook his head, concerned. "Surely this is a bad idea,"

"I'm a nastier little shit," Alina shrugged. "And I'd love for you to come with me, but there is no chance that any Grisha or oprichniki are being let near me once I'm in the Grand Palace," She forced a smile on her face, the reality hitting her then that she would have to leave everyone she knew and loved for months and months. "I thought you're meant to congratulate your friend when she gets engaged to a prince?"

"Stop it," Zoya narrowed her eyes. "There is no chance you'd agree to this willingly,"

"If I wasn't willing, do you really think I'd still be here?"

"Then you're up to something. You and the Darkling. There's no chance he'd hand you over to the Lanstovs willingly, either,"

Alina shrugged. "I can neither confirm nor deny. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough, though,"

"Saints," Mal pulled a face. "The thought of the two of you secretly plotting is terrifying,"

"The amoral, shadow-summoning megalomaniac with an army at his back teams up with the chaotic sun summoner revered as a saint by half the country," Viktor shuddered. "An unholy combination,"

"Those are some big words, Belsky," Zoya cut in, patronising as a result of her irritation. "You need to be careful, Alina. Playing a saint is one thing - playing god is another,"

"If playing god is what it takes to avoid marrying Vasily Lanstov, then so be it," She snapped, then reined in her tone at Zoya's expression. "We came to a compromise. Trust me, that was the best outcome. He'd act with or without me,"

"True enough," Her friend still did not look happy. "I hope you know what you're doing, Alina,"

"When do I ever?"

Zoya huffed a laugh. "Fine. But you have to know that we're with you if you need us. Not him," Viktor and Mal both made sounds of agreement.

"Brave," She laughed rather hollowly. "If I ever need to take you up on that, I'll let you know,"


Alina rode into Os Alta to cheering crowds and disconcerting cries of 'sankta', 'princess', and 'sol koroleva', and countless praises for creating a way through the Fold and saving them from the darkness. Although royal guards lined the streets to stop the masses getting too close, for the first time in her life, she humoured them. It was a great effort to raise her hand that first time to wave - like once she did it, there was no going back - but after that, it came easily. Too easily. As did the smiles. She felt dead inside, of course, her other hand clenched in a white-knuckled grip around the reins, but the people of the city loved it. The roar of the crowd became almost hysterical when she summoned light to the palm of her hand, creating dancing figures, swirling tendrils, putting on a show.

It didn't feel worth it until she saw Prince Vasily waiting for her at the palace gates. He made a good show of being gracious and gallant towards his bride-to-be, but she could see the irritation behind his eyes that the people were cheering for her infinitely more than they had ever cheered for him. Alina couldn't help it; she ignored his offered hand, casually enough to simply have not noticed, and rode into the palace courtyard alone.

"His majesty has requested your presence, Miss Starkova," A guard informed her, the prince catching up to her side as she dismounted, unassisted.

"Allow me to escort you, Alina," Vasily smiled a sickening smile, taking her arm.

She took in a breath at his touch, conjuring a smile on her own face that was so unnervingly forced that it seemed to take the prince aback. "Of course," She leaned forwards to mutter in his ear. "Though if that hand wanders before the wedding, I will burn it,"

Her skin heated in a fraction of a second, enough to shock but not burn, and he flinched, letting go of her with a noise of surprise.

Alina took his arm herself this time, giving him a sharp grin, full of teeth. "Shall we?"


Again, sorry it's been ages since I last updated. I have been writing a dissertation, which I think is excuse enough.

That being said, I still watched the entirety of season 2 in a day. My main takeaway from this may be slightly controversial. I thought the production and the actors were nothing short of incredible. I was slightly disappointed they used so many scenes from Crooked Kingdom without the buildup but it didn't ruin the show for me, it was still fun to watch and they were clearly concerned they might not get a third season commissioned so I get why they did it; I do think as well they can bring the Crows' story to new levels now the emotional buildup has been kind of covered already (though of course it won't be the same). Most importantly of all, I absolutely LOVED what they did to Alina and her storyline. Mal is so much more likeable, Nikolai's actor was incredible, Alina's character is far more interesting, Alina and the Darkling's scenes were amazing together, Baghra features more prominently, it's not so dragged out, and that last scene where she marries Nikolai and shows her darker side (that little smirk!) was gold. I hope to god they get a third season because I would watch the shit out of wherever that storyline goes.

Anyway, what did you all think of season 2? And more importantly, what did you think of this chapter and where this story is going? Thanks for reading, I love you all!