This chapter is essentially just one (long) scene and contains a lot of dream logic that makes perfect sense to Alina but may or may not seem weird to the reader. There is also some rather heavy-handed dropping of hints, themes, and maybe-canon facts that never came up or were never really explained in the TV show that I am running with regardless (if it contradicts something that the wiki mentions that is because when I looked it up I simply Did Not Vibe with canon). Also foreshadowing like woah that I'm hoping doesn't give away everything in the next two chapters immediately and hopefully only seems so massively obvious because I wrote it.

But yeah, basically everything that happens here is important in some way, please pay attention, Alina is.

Trigger Warnings: references to canon dubcon body modification; minor body horror; very brief and oblique reference to canon Shu practices wrt Grisha; non-explicit references to gore; and whatever the warning is for two people discussing self-defence with the aim of dropping someone via fatal/crippling injury and the logical pseudo-medical extrapolation of that.

Also, I've taken artistic license with respect to medicine because I am not a doctor nor do I have any First Aid training beyond basic CPR but I'm writing a discussion about crippling/near-fatal injuries anyway.


The dream starts normally.

Alina's in her old room at the orphanage, drawing the stag again.

The sunlight warms her back, and she smiles as she draws.

"Alina. Alina! Girl, get down here you have a visitor!" Ana Kuya shouts up the stairs and Alina frowns because she never has visitors.

She picks up the drawing and runs down the stairs into the drawing room.

There's a woman sitting at the window, and she turns around as Alina comes in.

Alina's wearing the nightie she wore as a child and for some reason feels incongruously old but loses the train of thought when the woman smiles at her in welcome.

Alina doesn't truly recognise her, doesn't really remember this woman, but she knows exactly who she is, "Māma." She says, and runs to her.

"Oh Alina, my beautiful xiǎo xīng, look at you," she says and embraces her.

Alina has only the vaguest memories of her mother, a handful of flashes and a soft voice and a floral smell that she's never found anywhere else, but the hug feels safe and protective and makes Alina feel small again, like all of her problems can be solved if only this woman is there.

"What has he done to you, my poor darling?"

Alina flinches, because she can't forget the antlers around her neck, not even for a second, for all that they don't hurt.

"Oh, xiǎo xīng," Māma says, and Alina doesn't speak Shu, but she knows those words, little star, her mother is saying, little star.

Alina cries.

She hasn't yet. Not about this. Had refused to. Rule one: Never let them see you cry.

She wasn't about to let Aleksander see her pain; refused to let Ivan sneer at her tears; wasn't willing to show Fedyor or Genya just how upset she truly was, to show Genya what her anger and sorrow were covering or Fedyor just how deep the betrayal really cut and what it was that had hurt her most, not when she knew they would just take it back to him anyway.

Māma shushes her gently and strokes her hair while she sobs out all of her sorrow and pain and betrayal. All the heartbreak and broken trust and the shattered illusion that she could have maybe had a home there in the Little Palace with people who cared about Alina, not the Sun Summoner or the half-Shu orphan, or the cartographer that was never going to get promoted. The broken promise of a family that wasn't just her and Mal but that had other people in it too, who loved her just as fiercely. The utter betrayal at being held still and forced into a collar that would rob her of autonomy and sole control over the powers that she'd only just discovered were a part of her.

Māma sings a gentle lullaby with a tune that Alina knows deep in her bones, beyond just memory, and words that she no longer understands the meaning of but that sound comfortably familiar and make her soul feel brighter.

When her eyes are dry and achy and her throat sore and her nose has stopped running, she pulls away from where she is cradled in her mother's lap and wipes away the evidence of her tears.

"Do you feel a little better now, xiǎo xīng?" Māma asks.

And surprisingly, she does. It still aches, that the people she had trusted and considered friends and maybe even come to love had never felt the same way about her; that the people she had believed supported her in her venture to gain control of her powers were just waiting to rob her of them, but the stabbing pain of the betrayal isn't so sharp anymore and she no longer feels like she is on the verge of shattering if she lets go of even a fraction of control.

Māma smiles.

"I can't let him win." Alina tells her, is telling herself just as much.

Māma picks up the hand that isn't still clutching the stag drawing and strokes her thumb along the back of it, "And he won't." She tells her, with a steel in her voice that Alina doesn't know from her but recognises nonetheless, because she knows she sounds the same when she has set herself on a path that she will not waver from. "That man has erred in what he has done to you, and he has forgotten the same lesson that many before him have to their own detriment."

Alina turns her hand over so that Māma is stroking her palm rather than the back of her hand. "What?" She asks quietly.

"That a cornered animal will always bite. And that when it comes down to it, little girls and wolves are both very alike. They both have very sharp teeth."

Alina shakes her head and looks away.

"Alina, xiǎo xīng," Māma gently grasps her chin and makes her look at her, "You are not helpless, you are not alone, and you are capable of far more than he would have you believe."

"Māma-" Alina's voice breaks, "I don't know how. He has Mal and this!" She gestures to the bone collaring her in disgust, "He has my power, and my friend's life is at stake if I try to fight back. What can I really do?"

Māma cups her cheek, "You can do anything that you put your mind to, my darling," she smiles wryly, "But in this case at least, It's important that you remember that a door, once opened, will work in both directions."

Alina shakes her head and grips Māma's hand tighter, "I don't understand."

Māma lets go of her cheek and slides her hand down to rest on the awful collar. Alina flinches. "This is more than just a collar."

"Yes, I know, It's an amplifier," Alina says, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, "I don't-"

"No, xiǎo xīng," Māma interrupts her, "Listen to me." She spreads her hand out, the way he did after he put it on her, "This is not just a collar, this is what lets him access your power."

"What-" Alina freezes. "It's a door."

Māma smiles. And Alina follows the thought to its logical conclusion.

"It's not just his door." Alina whispers.

"There will always be people who want your power for themselves, Alina," Māma lets go of her and stands up, pulling Alina to stand with her, "It's why I ran away from home in the first place, and how I met your father."

"Daddy?" Alina asks, voice small.

Māma shakes her head sadly, "The important thing now, is that you make them understand that you will not let them take your power, and that there will be consequences if they try. You are the Sun Summoner, xiǎo xīng, show the world what that means."

Alina looks away and shakes her head, "But what if I can't do it?"

"You can, Alina," Māma's voice is quiet and Alina whips around to see her standing at the doorway and looking over her shoulder, "Because you are not alone, and stronger than you know."

Māma steps out the door and leaves.

"No! Māma! Come back!"

Alina runs for the door but she's too late and the hallway is empty by the time she gets to it.

She runs down the hall, calling for her mother. And that's when she hears voices.

The walls have changed and she's not standing in the orphanage anymore. She's in one of the hallways in the Little Palace.

But It's empty. No servants, no oprichniki, no Grisha.

Alina wraps her arms around herself and shivers. She suddenly feels vulnerable in her nightie and has to consciously relax her grip on the drawing in her hand so that it doesn't crinkle.

The voices get a little louder, and with nothing better to do, Alina follows them.

They're coming from the ballroom, so Alina steps into the ballroom and straight into a memory.

She remembers this. She doesn't think it was quite so sunny and golden when this actually happened, but she remembers that Fedyor had offered to teach her the kind of quick and dirty self-defence that she wouldn't learn in Botkin's classes. Except he hadn't put it quite like that. He'd said that if she wanted to learn, then he would teach her the best ways to make a man bleed when she stabbed him.

"See?" Fedyor says, smiling as he steps back from another version of Alina, "It's not so hard."

The other Alina suppresses a laugh. "Why do you even know this?" She asks him, "You're a Heartrender, you can kill people with a clean line of sight."

Fedyor laughs a little, "Yes, well, a good knowledge of anatomy is rather important for that. Besides, the Small Science requires two hands. But you don't always have two hands free, ah? This only needs one hand and something sharp."

The other Alina snorts, "Fair enough."

"Now, the next one, is here." Fedyor steps closer to her and lifts her arm to press beneath it with his fingers, "It's one of the brachial arteries, and will also catch the axillary nerve if you do it right. Depending on the angle and size of the blade you can also puncture the lung or heart."

"Here?" The other Alina tries to find it on herself once he has moved back.

"Ah, not quite," he moves her hand slightly, "Here. You want to go in and up to make sure you get the artery and the nerve. And you have to make sure you have quite a bit of force behind it too."

"How bad is it? If I were to get stabbed here, I mean."

"If the knife goes in and comes out cleanly?" Fedyor tilts his head, "Mmm, fifteen to thirty seconds for you to bleed to death if there's no healer around to save you. If you are stabbed there then keep the knife in, it will keep you alive until you get to a healer. Don't pull it out until they tell you to."

The other Alina's eyebrows shoot up her head. "What are the chances of survival?"

"If you're standing next to a healer who starts working on you the moment the knife comes out?" Fedyor shrugs and tilts his hand back and forth, "I'd say fifty-fifty depending on the person stabbed and how good the healer is. If the healer's not next to you when the knife comes out?" Fedyor purses his lips and makes a dismissive sound, "Zero."

"None?" The other Alina asks in shock.

"Well maybe not none, but close enough that there's basically no difference. I've never heard of anyone surviving without immediate attention from a healer."

"Wow." The other Alina mutters, "Brutal."

"Ah." Fedyor says gesturing for her to find the place again, "Brutal, but effective. And no one ever thinks to guard by their armpit."

"That seems like a bit of an oversight." The other Alina says, managing to find the right place without assistance.

"Well, Corporalki think of it. We know our anatomy." Fedyor laughs, expression fond, "But the other orders don't, they all rely on their keftas too much, and First Army certainly doesn't teach it. Yes, good!" He adds when she finds the right place on her own and indicates the right angle to stab with.

The other Alina drops her hand. "I'll definitely keep that in mind."

Fedyor laughs again. "Ok, now find it on me."

There's a low laugh next to where Alina's sat down on the floor to watch the memory play out and she turns to see Mal, healthy and happy, the way she hasn't seen him in too long, sprawled on the floor next to her.

"Guess the Grisha only met the nice Alina, huh?"

"Mal!" Alina smiles so brightly that it almost hurts and throws her arms around him in a hug, "You're okay!"

"Of course, I'm ok. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I- I don't-" Alina shakes her head, her reasoning escaping her, "I thought you were in trouble." She eventually settles on.

Mal laughs again, the sound familiar and free, and Alina could almost imagine that they'd never left Keramzin, "I think you've forgotten precisely who it is that always got the two of us into trouble in the first place."

Alina swats him in mock offence, "I did not!"

Mal slouches even further back, his whole body screaming insouciance, "Yeah, you did." He says fondly, "And I'm always the one who had to try and clean up the mess we made afterwards so that we didn't get into too much trouble and were forgiven for it."

You look like trouble. Ivan's voice echoes in her head, and she shakes it slightly, unsure where the thought came from.

"So, the Grisha?" Mal says, nudging her expectantly.

"What about them?"

He smiles indulgently, like when she's rambling on again about something he's not interested in or doesn't understand but he knows that she finds it interesting and so listens to her talk anyway, "They only know the nice Alina. The happy, smiley, friendly one? Or do you expect me to believe that they met the stubborn, petty Alina, who picks fights with bullies and hates taking orders?"

Alina flushes slightly and turns back to where Fedyor is now teaching the other Alina about the best places to stab someone in the abdomen. Because Mal isn't wrong. She had been on her best behaviour in the Little Palace. She'd wanted them to like her, to accept her. She'd been terrified of alienating the Grisha – her fellow Grisha – or worse, by accidentally saying or doing the wrong thing. They already hated otkazat'sya – she hadn't wanted to give them a reason to extend that resentment to her. So, she'd bitten her tongue when Ivan was beastly to her and held back the urge to scowl when someone gave her a backhanded compliment. She hadn't said anything when someone was dismissive about otkazat'sya, or worse, the First Army. She'd kept her thoughts to herself whenever she heard someone complaining about the food and hadn't said a word when any of the staff were rude to her after Genya had sent out all of the maids that first morning. She'd been meek and well-behaved and followed her schedule as given to her and never gone further than illicit gossip sessions when it came to breaking the rules. The closest she'd come to flouting the 'guidelines' that she'd been given for the Little Palace, were the time she'd wandered into the War Room in the middle of the night and convincing Genya to sneak away to see the troupe of performers the day of the Winter Fête. "I…" She starts, and has no idea how to continue.

"You wanted them to like you." Mal says, unbearably understanding, "You didn't want to give them any reason to reject you. To treat you like the outsider that you felt you were."

"Yes." Alina says quietly, furiously wiping away the tears that have started to silently run down her face. "And it was all futile because it was nothing but a lie anyway. They didn't care! They just wanted a Sun Summoner who would do their bidding and were willing to do whatever they thought was necessary to get that."

Mal softens, "Do you really believe that? That none of them cared? You don't think they grew to love you? Because you have a way about you, Alina. You make people care, even when they don't want to."

Alina shakes her head and turns away, "I can't think that. I can't hope. Because even if they cared, they still made me this!" She splays her hand over the antlers collaring her, "They still helped him, are still helping him. Even if they care, their loyalty is to him first." She quiets, but continues, "So, I have to assume it was all a lie. Otherwise, I don't know that I'll have the strength to fight them. And I'm going to have to."

Mal straightens and grabs her hands in his, enveloping them in warmth, when she hadn't quite realised that they were cold, "Yeah, you are." Snow starts to fall, and Alina watches the way a few snowflakes catch on his eyelashes as he keeps staring at her unblinkingly, "You have two options here Alina: you can fight, or you can give up and give in. And I think we both know that giving up and giving in to him now – it's not something that you can do."

"I can't let him win." She whispers, "I can't just do nothing and not fight back."

"Of course, you can't, It's not who you are. It's never been who you are." Mal pulls them both to their feet, "You're the person that pulls a knife on bullies to make them back off, and who picks fights that she can't necessarily win to protect someone else." He spins her around a little, almost jokingly, "And besides, you've got that look on your face again."

"What look?" Alina asks, confused and maybe laughing a little as Mal guides them both through a half dance in the falling snow.

"You know. The one that you always get when you've picked your next bully. It's him, isn't it?"

Alina looks away from him, the seriousness of the conversation at odds with the smile on his face. "Is it wrong if I say this is as much about payback as anything else?"

Mal brings them to a halt, and she looks up at him as he steps closer so that they're chest to chest and almost in an embrace, "No. It's not wrong to be upset with what he's done to you, Alina. And wanting revenge… I'd say that's pretty human. And for all that everyone keeps calling you a saint, you are still only human."

"They used to say the Sun Saint would come and save Ravka. And it turns out that saint is me…" Alina says a bit bitterly, "No one else ever solved our problems but I don't know how I feel about everyone putting me on a pedestal to solve theirs."

"If anyone can do it, you can. But you don't have to." Mal steps back a little, putting some space between them so they're not quite touching anymore, "You can still run." He tells her gently, meeting her eyes, "You can fight only as much as you need to, to get away, and then run. You don't have to stop him, and you don't have to destroy the Fold. You can choose to, but you don't have to."

Alina shakes her head and grabs his hands again, "I'm done running. And who would I be if I did? No." Alina looks up at him and closes her eyes for a moment, "If I run now, I'll never stop. And they'll never stop hunting me. He will never stop hunting me. He won't let me go." She meets his eyes again. "I fight or I give in." She repeats back to him, "Those are my options, and I won't give in. I can't. So, I'll fight. And if it's also a bit about spite and hurting him for hurting me, I can accept that about myself."

Mal nods in acknowledgement. "Then you're going to need a plan." He tells her. "If you're going to fight, if you're going to win, then you need to know what you're going to do."

Alina looks to where Fedyor and the other Alina were standing, only to be met with trees. "They've gone." She says in surprise.

"Of course they have." Mal says, frowning, "It was just a memory."

Alina furrows her brow a little, the logic escaping her, but shrugs. "Maybe there was a reason we were seeing it." She says, instead of questioning it.

Mal dips his head, "Maybe." He doesn't ask further, and she loves him a little more for that. The General – and his Grisha – they had always wanted to know everything, demanding her thoughts and opinions, never letting things go if she mentioned them, even in passing. But Mal knows her well enough to know when she doesn't want to be prodded about something and instead wants to let it roll around in the back of her head before saying or deciding anything.

"Māma said something about doors," Alina says, changing the subject and going back to what he was saying about needing a plan, "And I think what she was getting at was that this collar-" she falters slightly at the word, but continues on, because if she can't even say the word how is she supposed to fight the situation, "-this collar may let him access and control my power, but I think it gives me an opportunity to do it back. David said that the bone piece in his hand and the collar on me was supposed to 'bridge the gap' between us. What if it's not just a one-way thing?"

"A door implies a doorway, and a bridge has two ends." Mal says, nodding in understanding, "Neither of those things are one-directional. But it won't be easy."

Alina smiles at him sardonically, "When have I ever done things the easy way?"

"Fair enough, but you're not going to have many chances. You're going to need to get it the first time if you want to use his power against him and you don't want him to use yours."

Alina nods slowly, "He needs to be touching me for it to work, I think, so if I can't get it the first time, I'll just have to make sure we don't touch."

Then her eyes widen as she remembers why she was so worried that he was in trouble earlier.

"What about you? He'll hurt you if I fight back!"

"Don't worry about me, Alina." He tells her softly, "I doubt he's going to bring me with you, so you've just got to make sure he has no opportunity to hurt me afterwards."

"But what about the guards he has on you."

Mal smirks, his teeth gleaming in the sunlight, the snow in his hair making him look a little wild, "Oh please. Do you really think the Darkling's little Grisha are any match for determined orphans from Keramzin with a goal and only one thing to lose?" He steps back a little and spins around, arms flung wide, "Have a little faith, Alina. The only thing they can use to threaten me is you, and they're hardly going to do that. They can't kill me without losing their leverage." He smiles a little wider, "Besides, I think if it does come to that – they'll have slightly bigger problems." He winks at her, and Alina can't help but laugh a little.

"I almost feel sorry for them," she tells him, with a smile on her face that she can't quite suppress.

"You should." He tells her, smiling still, "Shadow Man and his little followers against the two of us? They've got no chance."

"I like that thought." She says, "But I'm still worried."

"Win." He tells her, losing the smile and getting serious, "If you do, then it doesn't matter that I'm his hostage, because in the end there'll be nothing he can do to me anyway."

Alina nods. "I love you." She tells him, has been telling him for years, just never in so many words.

He smiles softly and looks down a little. "I know," he says, "And I love you, Alina." He reaches for her hands and squeezes them once gently before letting go again and stepping back out of reach, "You and me against the world, remember? We're a team."

Alina half laughs and half sobs in response to his words and has to hide her face in her hands for a moment, "True North." She whispers.

"True North." He agrees.

They stand there in companionable silence for a while, just looking at each other, and Alina can almost forget the weight on her collarbones in the comfortable quiet.

The snow doesn't stop, but the clouds seem to part, as everything gets brighter, and the sun gets stronger.

Mal's eyes dart over her shoulder.

"I should go." He says slowly, "I think there's someone who wants to talk to you." He starts to slowly walk backwards away from her.

"No, wait!" She calls, trying to grab him, only for her fingers to pass straight through his hands like they're not even there.

"We'll see each other soon, Alina. I'll meet you in the meadow." Mal says, as he fades away, his words echoing even after he's gone,

Alina spins around to confront whoever made Mal go away, only to come face-to-face with the stag – her Stag, and her half-formed intent instantly vanishes.

He looks exactly like he had the first time she'd seen him in reality, rather than just in her dreams, antlers full and proud and curved around a beam of sunlight. Alina isn't sure whether she's smiling or crying, and after touching her face to check, she realises that It's both. It's like the General had never killed him.

"Hello, Alina." He says to her, and for a moment Alina is sure that she's dreaming, because he just spoke to her in Mal's voice, even though Mal just left.

"You- you sound like-" Alina looks back to where Mal was and checks to see if he's still gone, and when she sees that he is, she turns back around to face the Stag in confusion, "I don't- how-" she stops and instead just looks at the Stag quizzically.

"I sound like Mal?" he asks, dipping his head down so that they are eye-to-eye and she doesn't have to look up at him, "Of course I do. He's important to you. He's your home. You chose him. So of course I sound like him."

"I-" Alina wants to apologise, but the words die in her throat. She wants to say that she's sorry, for picking Mal over him. Except that she's not sorry. Even knowing what came after, if she had to make the same choice again, she would still choose to save Mal.

"I understand." The Stag says, "I don't blame you. Sometimes, there are no choices but bad choices. You must choose the best of bad options, whichever one it is that you can live with. And in this case, the option that you could live with, was the one where Mal lived. My death was the price for that."

"I didn't want you to die." Alina says quietly, unable to look him in the eye, instead focussing on the centre of his forehead, "I wasn't going to kill you." She whispers.

"I know." Says the Stag, "But even if you had wanted to, I would have let you kill me."

"But why?" she asks, scrunching her face up so that she doesn't cry again, "If you knew that there was a chance I would kill you, why would you come to me? Why send me dreams and let me get close enough to touch?"

"Because I am your amplifier, and you are my Grisha." He says simply.

"No, no, Aleks- the General killed you, he gets your power. You're his amplifier now."

The Stag huffs slightly and butts his nose into her hands, until she's cupping his muzzle and his forehead is leaned against her torso, his antlers framing her collar and head, "That's not how it works." He rumbles.

It's only then that Alina realises that the ever-present weight of his bones around her collar are gone. "What?" she steps back and reaches for her neck, but he steps forward and butts his head into her torso again. She tries to step back again, but again, he follows her. After a few more attempts, Alina gives up, accepting that the Stag wants to lean his head on her, and he will follow her until she lets him.

"I don't understand." She tells him, reaching a hand up to stroke along his cheek.

He snuffles and presses his head more firmly against her chest. "Surely you've heard that a Grisha must have the right amplifier for a noticeable power increase? That some amplifiers barely increase the power of the Grisha that killed them at all?"

"What does that have to do with this?"

The Stag breathes loudly for a moment, if he were human, Alina would say he was weighing his words, "There was a boy once," he starts, "Who was so afraid, but who had the potential to be strong and powerful."

"Please tell me this boy isn't a Shadow Summoner." Alina interrupts, not wanting to hear about the General and his hard choices again.

The Stag makes a huffing sound almost like a laugh, "No, the boy was not a Shadow Summoner, but he was Grisha." He leans into her slightly before leaning back again, "The boy used to dream of a bear. At first he thought nothing of it, for bears were not uncommon in the area in which he grew up. But then he was discovered to be Grisha, and he went to the Little Palace, like so many others. And the dreams continued. As he got older he began to notice that although the contents of the dream varied in parts, many details remained the same, and it was always the same bear that he saw. He grew older still and began to have duties with the younger Grisha, and whenever it came time to tell them stories, he would tell them stories of a bear, although he never told anyone of his dreams. Then, one day, he was called in to see his General. This boy you see, was skilled and dedicated and determined, and he rose through the ranks quickly, his skill serving him well and gaining him notice among his superiors. The boy had long had few friends among his fellows, for he did not interact easily with others and scared many. So he had decided that if he would not be well liked, then he would be feared and respected. And this too, had been noted by his General. Such skill and loyalty was to be rewarded, or so the General claimed. And if he also wanted to encourage that loyalty and keep it by his side, if he was pleased to see certain of his beliefs reflected in this boy, well that was something he kept to himself. This boy was to be promoted to serve the General personally, but that was not his only reward, for the General gave him leave to take an amplifier. The boy was beyond grateful, and when the time came for him to hunt an amplifier, he headed into the wilds. The bear came to him willingly and tested him. The boy proved his strength and won the battle, killing the bear, and in doing so, proved that the bear had been right to choose him. He could not have earned the bear's respect if he had not won, but he needn't have killed the bear for the power his amplifier bestowed."

The Stag moves back and stares at Alina, "Do you understand now?"

Alina frowns and opens her mouth before closing it again. She reaches out to touch him again but he dances out of reach.

"Do you understand?" he asks again, insistently.

"No." she says, point blank. Because she doesn't understand how a boy who dreams of his bear amplifier is linked to the General killing the Stag that she's always dreamed of.

The Stag huffs and nudges her hand where she's still clutching the drawing she'd been doing when Ana Kuya had called her down for her visitor.

Alina looks at the drawing of the Stag in front of her in confusion. "We both dreamed of amplifiers that were supposed to be ours?" she guesses.

The Stag tilts his head to one side, "There was a different boy who never dreamed of an eagle a day in his life, but who killed it to claim it's power anyway. He never learnt that the amplifier was not his to claim, but his power increase was marginal anyway. He died without ever understanding why or where it was that he had gone wrong."

Alina shakes her head, "I don't…" she frowns, "The dreams… this is a dream."

"Yes it is." The Stag blinks at her.

"You chose to be here?" she checks, hesitantly, wondering if she's going a bit mad after all.

"I chose you." He says firmly. "Not him."

"Oh." Alina breathes, the whole thing clicking at last. "You chose me. You chose me."

The Stag presses his head against her chest again, this time in what she can firmly label as affection. "Yes." He says, voice full of that warm fondness that Mal only has when talking to her.

"It's not about death."

"No."

"It's- it's about choice and respect and about proving your worth – earning what you've been given freely." The words come faster and faster, tumbling over each other until she can barely understand herself.

"Yes." He steps backwards, away from her, but she barely notices, too busy staring down at the slightly crumpled drawing of the Stag that she's been dreaming about ever since she was a little girl. The imaginary friend she'd never told anyone about that she had always felt looking out for her. The dream that had never wavered or changed, about the Stag that had chosen her. The first to ever do so, because she and Mal had chosen each other, yes, but she'd first dreamed of the Stag long before she ever met Mal. She's been dreaming about the Stag for as long as she can remember. And now, now all the pieces are falling into place and she can't help but wonder how so many Grisha over so many generations can have managed to get it so wrong.

And finally, she gets it. She understands what he's been trying to tell her all along. She understands why he didn't fight. Why he let the General kill him and does not begrudge her, her choice. Why he would have died willingly at her hand.

She breathes out shakily and tips her head forward and he moves towards her so that they rest forehead to forehead, breathing in each other, nearly eye to eye.

Alina closes her eyes and feels tears slip silently down her cheeks. "You are my amplifier." She whispers, "You will always be my amplifier, because no one can claim something that was freely given to someone else. You cannot steal a power that was never offered to you. The choice belongs to the amplifier and no other Grisha can change that, can steal the power that belongs to another, not even if they try."

Yes. The word echoes in her head, the Stag did not say it out loud this time. He moves away from her, slowly stepping backwards and Alina opens her eyes and straightens.

"Aleksander will never truly have a claim to your power, and by putting your antlers on me, he gave me back what was always mine. I just have to know that to be able to use it."

Yes. The Stag stops and simply stares at her sadly.

"I'm not going to see you again am I?" she says, ignoring the way her voice wobbles.

The Stag simply bows his head to her, a Knight honouring his Sol Koroleva. Goodbye Alina.

"Goodbye." She whispers back and lets go of the drawing.


I have read maybe a handful of fics where Alina's mother is also a Grisha and that's how she met Alina's father in the first place and I love the headcanon so much that I've adopted it. Mama Starkov is a Summoner, I will never headcanon her any other way. I don't know whether she's a Squaller or an Inferni though and I can't pick so she's Schrödinger's Etheralki until I actually manage to choose.

Also Mal and Alina love each other, that was never in question. I wrote it with romance in mind but reading it back it could be either romantic or platonic depending on how you want to read it. They're basically just each other's Person and just love each other so much.