Mila Tarasova was an unnerving person to talk to, even for him.

The Heartrender was too still as she sat in front of his desk, her hands folded motionless on her crossed legs. She didn't blink nearly often enough, and her expression never gave anything away unless she intended it to. For Aleksander, who prided himself on reading people's tells, being faced with a woman who had none was... unpleasant.

She was good at her job, though, which was the most important thing. Thanks to her and her network, an insidious campaign of rumours had spread across Ravka, all intended to undermine the Lanstov dynasty. The queen's affair and the bastard prince. The way the king and prince preyed on women who couldn't say no. The lavish expenses, whilst their country bled and starved. There were more outlandish ones too, such as the prince being afflicted with an unfortunate disease, the king buying a solid gold bed-frame and stealing from the church, and the queen reportedly being partial to sharing her bed with two household guards at the same time. More recent was a proposed tax on those with assets above a certain margin, which was likely to cause more of a stir than any of the others of course.

And then there were the highly topical ones. Like the king sending a third of his own army to their deaths because he didn't want to wait for reinforcements.

It was not a pleasant scene outside of this tent, even nearly two weeks later. The battlefield - ending scarcely ten miles from the town of Ulensk - was still smoking, littered with Ravkan and Fjerdan corpses alike. Many of those wore the bright red and blue of Grisha soldiers. Despite the fact the Second Army had turned the tide of the battle and driven Fjerda back in one long, bloody push, they had still suffered their losses. Regardless of whether or not Aleksander had delayed them to be a day late, he knew how to win a battle in a timely manner. It was a shame to lose any of his Grisha as a result, but calculations like that had to be made in war. However unfortunate they may be.

It had been a hard fight, though. Even for him. As a result of the intensity of Fjerda's firepower, he had been forced to personally make his way the front of the Second Army ranks in the battle, something he rarely did. There was a moment where Fjerda had nearly overwhelmed them. His presence there turned the tide, likely preventing the deaths of the straggling remains of the First Army left fighting. Many Ravkan soldiers had sobbed in relief when the Grisha swept forward; never had they been so popular afterwards. Never had the king been so hated.

"You are looking well," Tarasova said. "Considering you are supposed to have a severe injury - an almost crippling blow to the leg, I've heard. One which the Healers are still struggling to fix,"

"You of all people would know how easy it is for events to get muddled over a long distance," Aleksander said, unapologetic. It was good for the king to believe he was in recovery from a grievous wound, unable to even stand. The wretched man may finally turn his focus elsewhere; especially considering the inevitable fallout from this particular fiasco. Speaking of... "How did the court react to the unfortunate news of the battle?"

The woman smiled faintly. "This bloodbath could not have been timed more perfectly. The day the news arrived, Alina had spent the day charming her way through the Outer City - giving gifts to orphans, would you believe? They rushed her back to the palace, fearing unrest in the streets, only for her to shout at the king in front of his entire council - and in front of enough servants for tales to spread,"

"I suppose it was too much to expect her good behaviour to last," This was not necessarily a setback. Alina would have unknowingly endeared herself to a great many people with her actions, even if she made enemies of others. The king could not touch her, either way. Aside from her being too powerful to let him, Lantsov's reign would not survive the murder of Ravka's sweetheart; and wasn't the idea of that abrasive girl being anyone's sweetheart amusing?

"It's clear she's getting bored of playing the game their way," The woman agreed. "Though that doesn't mean she's stopped playing at all. Not only did she shout at the king like he was a foolish child, she martyred herself over it too,"

"What do you mean by that?" His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Alina saw a blow from the king's guard coming and didn't move, or so her maid informs me," Tarasova let out a breath of what may have been laughter. "Apparently Ivan was at her side in seconds, grumbling and fussing over what would happen if he returned her to you as a drooling invalid. She had the nerve to laugh at him from where she lay in a bloody puddle on the floor. Poor man,"

Aleksander did not laugh. "I assume she is not a drooling invalid?" Ivan was right to worry.

His tone didn't seem to bother Tarasova at all, however. "Alina is no more unhinged than normal - a Healer was sent to her. I could argue that she's too healthy, in fact,"

Something about her sly tone made him suspicious. "And why is that?"

Tarasova smirked. "Her imprisonment was a very public affair - servants talk, as do the old men on the council. It was the spark the city needed to riot over news of Ulensk. I ensured, of course, that the commoners knew who's fault this whole disaster was. In all the king's wisdom, to prove that the Sun Summoner is alive, well and on his side, he had Alina dragged out to the gates of the Outer City to address them - he even sent a Squaller to amplify her voice,"

The tsar's sheer stupidity somehow still managed to irritate him, even when it worked in his favour. Aleksander closed his eyes for a moment. "We might as well not bother with making Lantsov look a fool - he goes above and beyond to accomplish that himself," Allowing Alina to speak to a rioting crowd was inadvisable at the best of times, let alone when she was fresh from imprisonment; bored, angry, with a sore head, willing to provoke the entire world just to get a kick out of it. "Go on, then. What did the reckless girl do?"

The woman seemed genuinely amused. "Told the crowds to go home, but made it clear whose words those were. She then went off script to say that the king's pride was the reason their sons and daughters were dead. It got quite sincere, actually - something about the First and Second Armies being united in grief. It was quite a rousing speech. I was... almost moved," As if; the woman's heart was colder than his own. "She was fending of guards the entire time with a wall of light. After dropping it voluntary, she got dragged away, but laughed to herself the whole time,"

"And I am sure the riots stopped right after that," His tone was dry.

"They were only just dying down when I left Os Alta nearly a week later,"

He thought on that for a long moment, able to imagine the scene - and the look on her face - exactly. Of course she was laughing; she knew how to get out of Grisha manacles. "How did the king react to this well-thought out, measured decision of Alina's?"

Consequences were not something the Sun Summoner was good at considering, even if they had caught up with her many times in the past. Alina had a bad habit of interpreting 'not dying' as 'getting away with it'. The jaunt to Fjerda, many of her riskier moves in battle, the time she was kidnapped, her affair with that wretched Inferni boy (who had been sent packing to a miserable posting north of Chernast, and in Aleksander's opinion was lucky to have escaped with both hands still intact). Saints, the day he met Alina, she had run towards the murderous Druskelle, without a plan, just an intention. There had been consequences for all of these actions, but apparently none severe enough. The girl was an amalgamation of bad decisions, which may make her fascinating company, but was incredibly frustrating at the same time.

"He didn't have a choice but to let her go," Tarasova replied. "They know the people won't rest if she's locked up in a cell. Her security is increased, though. It's fortunate I've got the maid in my pocket, or I wouldn't be able to get near her without attracting the wrong kind of attention. But Alina is swanning around the castle with a glint in her eye and a spring in her step. Half the council prefers her to the king himself. She's befriended most of the important ladies, somehow by being herself, albeit toned down. And she has been going into the Outer City every other day - to make friends, she claims - and brings various charitable gifts. They're all singing her praises," The woman eyed him carefully. "It's a good thing she hasn't got an ambitious bone in her body,"

"Or the experience and patience necessary to run a country," Aleksander said, though privately agreed. "And the prince? Has he kept his hands to himself?" He assumed so, as there had been no tales of Vasily sustaining a mysterious injury.

"They walk in the gardens," She said. "The maid tells me that she is always there to chaperone, as well as a holy sister. Alina chooses the least clandestine locations," The woman paused. "That's another matter - the nun escorting her changed. The maid was reluctant to tell me why,"

"And it was left at that?" Aleksander raised an eyebrow. Tarasova hadn't interrogated this girl to find out what she knew? "That is oddly lax of you,"

"Aleksandra is my one direct route to Alina," The woman narrowed her eyes. Something about that had gotten her back up. And the maid's name was Aleksandra. Of course it was; exactly the kind of foolish thing Alina would find amusing. "I don't want to scare her off. Or scare her into letting something slip - Alina has definitely told the girl more than she should know. She is well aware of the consequences if she does tell, but word would be out regardless,"

"Then I trust you found out elsewhere?" Something so innocuous was only important because the maid had tried to keep it a secret.

Tarasova's sharp smile returned. "Of course. After Alina's first outburst, before the battle, the king sent a nun named Sister Polina to instruct Alina on proper behaviour and suchlike. After fifteen minutes, the nun was seen running from the room, harried, shaking, and with a moderate sunburn,"

"Alina loses her temper frequently, and has no patience with religion," This was hardly a revelation.

"True, I'll grant you,"

There was a pause.

"Enough of Alina," Aleksander changed the subject. "What of Genya Safina? I assume you have obtained the materials she requested?"

Tarasova nodded. "I had it delivered to her before I left. The wedding date will likely be set now - after Alina's misbehaviour, they will not want to risk waiting any longer," The woman chuckled. "I have to say, I appreciate Safina's sense of poetic justice,"

"So long as it has the intended effects," He said. "It must not be too fast nor too slow," The plan was to wait until the king was on the brink of death, and the whole court had grown weary of Vasily acting monarch in his stead, then sweep into Os Alta and take over (after months of forging alliances with powerful nobles, and winning the favour of the common people through a network of rumours, of course). The poison must appear as a natural illness, yet also have its full effects before the Lanstovs had the chance to hold Alina's wedding.

"I know poisons," Tarasova said, with cool certainty. "Trust that this one is perfect,"


By the time they had finished talking, it was early evening. Aleksander left his tent just as the sun was beginning to set, casting a rosy light over the camp, and beyond it, the grisly remains of the battlefield. He made a point of eating with his soldiers at least every other day, as he did in the Little Palace. Only now, with so much of the First Army regiment dead, including high ranking officers, they had combined camps for security reasons. Grisha and otkazat'sya alike were sharing supplies and sitting around the same fires. And digging the same mass graves.

Aleksander sat to eat with a group of officers, both Grisha and First Army. Fedyor was amongst them, as was Zoya Nazyalensky. All of Alina's little friends were here in the camp; Nazyalensky, Oretsev and Belsky had come with the regiment from Kribirsk, whilst Falken, Zenik and Volkova had been escorted from the Little Palace. Alina needed to only worry about herself, if the worst happened; Genya was too crucial to remove, however. And the more cynical side of him whispered that keeping everyone she loved close would ensure her loyalties remained constant. Not that he expected anything otherwise; just in case.

"Moi soverenyi," Nazyalensky said formally, respectfully, so unlike her deliberately defiant friend. "Forgive me if it is not my place to ask, but is there any news of Alina?"

He was not surprised the girl was sat in company above her rank. Zoya was a young Grisha he favoured; perhaps if Alina had not been around, she would have been his most favoured. The girl was confident, obedient and a formidable Squaller, with strong leadership potential. For this reason - and the fact that the several First Army men had looked up in interest at the question - he indulged her.

"After news reached Os Alta about the battle here, Alina was beaten and imprisoned for disrespecting the king in front of an audience. She and many others had vocally disagreed with the decision to send the First Army into the battle first," No need to describe the exact level of disrespect; let them think her punishment was unjust, whilst if someone (other than Alina) spoke to Aleksander like she had spoken to the king, they would suffer much worse.

All the Grisha made noises of outrage at his words, whilst the First Army officers frowned; no one here in Ulensk was feeling particularly friendly towards the Lantsovs at the present, nobles and commoners alike. Grief and anger were great levellers, as well as a bloody battlefield where everyone was going through hell on earth.

Aleksander was well aware his words here would spread. He held up a hand and they all fell quiet. "The people of the city rioted in protest. Alina was sent to placate them," Zoya snorted at that, making his lips twitch. "But made a controversial speech condemning the king for his pride leading to the great losses suffered by the First Army. She was dragged away when she was done, but the riots continued all week. I am told that she's now Os Alta's little darling, going into the city with charitable donations and open arms,"

Zoya looked even more amused, but had the sense to not voice her incredulity. "She's always been very kind," She lied well, at least.

"And genuine," Fedyor chimed in, more honestly. "Alina isn't one to stand by and keep her opinions to herself when people are dying,"

"His Majesty needs to be careful, then," One of the First Army men said, tone carefully neutral. "An angry, beloved Sun Summoner isn't one to cross,"

Aleksander smiled tightly. "More than he already has,"

The others exchanged glances at his loaded words. Let them take from that what they will.


Lord Artem Vorontsov was one of the most powerful men in Ravka. He was from an old family - old even when Aleksander was young - his noble bloodline going back countless centuries. Even with such impecable heritage, however, earning the position of General of the First Army took hard work and skill, unlike the lower ranking officer positions handed out freely to every highborn son that wanted one. Aleksander had as much respect for his First Army counterpart as he did for any otkazat'sya, a feeling that seemed to be mutual. Vorontsov had never been one to suck up to the king for the sake of status - why would he, when his family name was older than the name Lanstov? - though he was barely ever present in court, preferring to operate from the front or various camps.

As such, his visit to the camp near Ulensk was considered an Occasion. The man had travelled from Poliznaya after hearing of the disastrous battle, arriving with a face like thunder. He had publically thanked Aleksander for getting there in time to salvage a win out of the whole bloody affair 'despite the king's best efforts' and ensuring those lives lost were not completely in vain. It was plain to see that Vorontsov was not best pleased by the Lantsovs - nor was anyone - but the consequences of that were yet to be seen.

The man requested a private meeting later in the day. Aleksander went into the meeting after consulting Tarasova; as it turned out, Vorontsov had lost a close childhood friend in the battle, which explained his open disdain towards the king.

"Myself and many of those high up in the First Army have been in correspondence," Vorontsov posed carefully, sat on the other side of Aleksander's desk. "It has always been clear that the tsar is... lacking. But we are all loyal sons of Ravka, of course, and would not oppose the natural order without good cause. In light of recent events, however, many - myself included - have begun to think differently,"

"You are referring to the battle?" Aleksander knew full well that whilst that played a considerable part, that was not all he was implying.

"The battle was what solidified me on this course of action," Vorontsov said, frowning, no doubt thinking of his own personal grief. "But that was the worst and latest in a series of poor decisions. I don't suppose you heard of those controversial tax reforms that got leaked?"

"I can't say that I have," He remembered writing them, with Tarasova, ready to be distributed to those who would care the most. "I have not been in court for months,"

Vorontsov shook his head, disgusted. "I cannot imagine what his Majesty was thinking, planning to tax his most staunch allies into the ground. That level of greed is not a quality that befits a king," To say nothing of the devasting effect of these false reforms on the common people, if they became a reality. Saints, Alina was rubbing off on him.

"I hear that Prince Vasily has his ear more often than most, nowadays," Aleksander lied, planting a seed.

"Of course - that says it all," The other man scoffed. "Let us speak very bluntly here. It would be one situation if we were just waiting for a capable heir to take over, but I do believe the tsarevich is, somehow, worse,"

"What are you suggesting, Lord Vorontsov?" He raised an eyebrow, very carefully maintaining the upper hand in this conversation, letting the other man tread the edges of treason without implicating himself just yet.

Vorontsov snorted. "No need to play coy, Darkling. I've seen the look on your face when the king demands your Grisha perform like a circus troupe to amuse his guests. In truth, I'm not sure what I am suggesting. That is part of the reason I wanted to speak with you. Everyone else is too cautious to say it outright, but what's a little treason between two men of equal standing?"

The word treason landed heavy in the air.

The Darkling's lips twisted. "You are asking how far I would be willing to go?" He didn't wait for an answer. "The kindest option would be an abdication. Hasten Vasily's ascent to the throne and retire the tsar to a quiet country estate,"

"The prince has the advantage of being betrothed to the Sun Summoner," The man said, considering. "Her popularity has reached new heights in these past few months. Alina Starkova is no longer just whispered of as a saint, but as a true queen of the people. But is one young woman enough to outweigh a prince who is even more lazy and incompetant as his father?"

"If we are speaking bluntly," Aleksander said. "I have known Alina since she was a child. She does not suffer fools lightly, nor would she accept any place in the prince's bed - this was why I never proposed any match between them myself. Any marriage she has to Vasily will end in bloodshed, and not her own. She may be beloved, and for good reason, but she lacks the patience and willingness to carry the weight of the crown herself. A loose canon, if you will," He felt no guilt in saying that; Alina herself would agree.

"Then what of Prince Nikolai?" Vorontsov suggested. "I saw them in each others' company often when they were children, before the prince left for war,"

"Nikolai has always been more competent than his elder brother, and yes, he is good friends with Alina. However, I fear the consequences of placing a young, untested prince who is quite blatantly a bastard on the throne at such a... delicate time. And that begs the question - what will be done with Vasily, to allow his younger brother to take his inheritance? All... effective measures may alienate the younger prince from us,"

"Then what do you propose we do? Because I will not allow... this to continue," A note of not just anger but also grief shone through Vorontsov's tone.

Aleksander leaned forward. "What if - and this is all conjecture, of course - we did away with them entirely. Give the tsar and tsarevich a fair trial before the people of Ravka. Handsomely reward each man who supported their downfall - lowered taxes, or the lands of those loyal to the Lantsovs. And give the crown to someone strong enough to hold it,"

Vorontsov sat back, assessing but not dismissing. "And who would that man be, in this hypothetical situation? You, I suppose?" That last sentence was said with a snort, a joke, but the man's smile faded as he took in Aleksander's silent stare. "You're serious?" It wasn't said with scorn, or even that much surprise. A hint of trepidation, perhaps.

"Deathly so. Though before you start the spiel on why a Grisha could never be king, I will show my hand. I can end the wars with Fjerda and Shu Han in a single day. I can bring Zlatan and West Ravka to heel in the same blow. Because I have the power to harness a weapon that none of my ancestors ever could,"

"The Sun Summoner?"

"No," Aleksander smiled tightly. "The Fold,"

It was a true pleasure watching the colour drain from the face of his fellow general.


It was late when one of the oprichniki outside his tent informed him there was someone to see him.

"Enter," He barely glanced up from his papers to see an otkazat'sya girl dressed in servant's garb at the entrance of his tent. "I did not request a maid,"

The girl bobbed a curtsey, but did not lower her head. Unusually bold. "Lord Vorontsov sent me, moi soverenyi," There was a knowing look in her eye, and she stepped forward. "I can clean the tent and serve you wine, if you wish. Or... any other favours you desire,"

Aleksander looked up then, truly looked up. The girl was tall, with dark eyes and long black hair. Clearly Shu, or of Shu descent. Young, but not too young. And confident enough to walk into his tent like this. Brave, particularly for an otkazat'sya. Or maybe just stupid. No, that's Vorontsov, for sending her.

"What is your name?"

The girl was quick to reply, with a wicked grin. "Anything you like," No moi soverenyi followed.

For a moment, he was tempted. Not because he was incapable of going several months without laying with a woman - he was over four centuries old, not sixteen - but it had been too long since he had seen her. He wondered if Alina would care. Perhaps she would not care about the act itself - the girl was too proud to be jealous - but she would care on principle; he had been angered by her... regrettable liaisons with other men in the past, and would be even more so if she attempted such a thing now. She knew it, too. No doubt that would get thrown in his face if she found out about this. And if she found out he had slept with a girl who (on paper, at least) looked like her... Aleksander would never be in the mood for the mocking comments that would inevitably follow. Nor the fact she would no doubt take the opportunity and seek out a fling of her own.

The temptation was easy to rid himself of. This girl's cheekbones were not as sharp as Alina's, her face was more round. Her hair was poker straight; Alina's had a slight wave and was never this neat when it was loose. This girl's nose was smaller, and her lips more full. She was tall, true, but her body was slender and full-chested, rather than lean with muscle. She was pretty, but in a completely different way; soft, elegant and inviting, whereas Alina was all harsh angles and biting retorts, scornful looks and callused hands.

Aleksander had always preferred to take control, particularly between the sheets, and rarely faced any opposition. Yet now he had experienced an equal, someone who would meet every one of his moves with just as much force, that seemed less... entertaining.

She knew his name, too.

"You can tell Vorontsov that this ploy worked," He returned his eyes to his work. "Take the evening to yourself. He may still pay you, if you're convincing enough," He had unnerved Vorontsov enough that the man felt the need to win his favour; and that thought was sweeter than the idea of bedding this girl, which was more a reflection on him than her.

The girl's eyes widened in surprise, but then she dropped the act with a rueful smile. "Was I not convincing enough for you? I've never met the Sun Summoner, but many men like to call me her name in bed. I'm half-Shu, which seems to be enough for them,"

Saints. In his long life, he should not still be able to be surprised by the depravity of mankind. There was anger, at the idea of lesser men even pretending that they were fucking Alina. But also a sick sense of satisfaction; he had the real one. "You were not unconvincing," The Darkling said idly; he had finished most of his work for the night, and found himself rather bored. "Though Alina has a... let's call it confidence rather than recklessness, that can only come from being able to summon the sun,"

The girl gave a snort of laughter. "A little out of reach for me. Any other advice?"

This was an odd experience. "You're almost bold enough," He remarked at that, to which she smiled sheepishly. "She scowls a lot. Hates being told what to do, and likes to insult people she shouldn't. She's slightly more unhinged, too - the type of person to get a thrill out of her life being in danger. Granted, those things are not likely to be helpful in your line of work,"

"You never know," The girl said, amused. "You might change your mind," That made him raise an eyebrow, but she continued. "Is she also the jealous type?"

He smiled wryly. "The opposite, actually,"

"Ah," She said that with a grin that was all too knowing. "I see. Thank you, sir, for your advice. My apologies for disturbing you," With that, she ducked out of the tent, leaving Aleksander to his thoughts.


One comment last chapter mentioned whether I should create a playlist. I love music and it was a fun idea so I immediately did so, then realised my music taste is... questionable, and I don't want to make my spotify account public. So rather than share the whole 50 song playlist I've listed below a few of the songs from this playlist that inspired me the most when writing this story.

Venus in Furs (the Velvet Underground, but the version by Siouxie and the Banshees works too. I'm not sure how this got released in the 1960s as it's got obvious BDSM themes - interpret that you how you like). Witches Rune (SJ Tucker, not sure why this is relevent to the story but I was heavily inspired by this to write the chapter about Alina's 16th birthday). Beeswing (Richard Thompson) the song itself is quite folky so bear with me but the lyrics are beautiful and influenced Alina's character, and the title of this story).

Then there are more songs that just give off Alina's general vibe. Cherry Bomb (the Runaways), Blue Monday (New Order), New Kind of Kick (the Cramps), Beyond the Fray (Cassandra Violet), Flowers in my Hair Demons in my Head (the Mystery Lights), Paranoid (Black Sabbath), I Created a Monster (Hello Operator).

The rest of the playlist is obscure music from Russia and Eastern Europe, weird folk songs, nasty punk music and doom metal so I'll leave that with your imagination haha. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please leave a comment!