Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy and its characters – it belongs to Leigh Bardugo. I do not own the Shadow & Bone TV series, which was developed by Eric Heisserer for Netflix and based on Leigh Bardugo's books.
For Alina Week Day 3 Dark Alina
"You might make me a better man."
"And you might make me a monster."
One of those things turns out to be true.
And Alina embraces her ruthless side.
He's everywhere.
In her dreams. Whispering in her ear as she sits in meetings and tries to make her way through the mountains of paperwork. In the shadows. Around every corner.
"General Volkov despises Grisha and will sabotage you at every turn."
"Don't let anyone from the Grand Palace see the Little Palace accounts. The only reason we've managed under so many ineffectual tsars is by using the private funds I've amassed over the years – if the Grand Palace catches wind of where the money can be found then they will take it all."
"Lady Irina Sokolova buys indentured Grisha from Ketterdam and smuggles them to her estate to work like slaves."
"The tsarina keeps up an extensive correspondence with many Fjerdan correspondents. She feeds information to the Fjerdan king and is likely indirectly responsible for the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands, of Ravkan Second and First Army soldiers."
"The Apparat has always believed that the best saint is a dead one. Remember that."
"Grisha can't marry without the tsar's permission, you know. And no tsar has ever agreed to it. We have our own ceremonies, but they can never be legal. The First Army mutter that my Grisha are spoiled, but the truth is that we just manage our budget better. And no one ever seems to think about the fact that Grisha are virtually second-class citizens in Ravka – the tsar will let them die for his wars, but he won't even let them be proper citizens."
"Your puppy prince isn't really a Lantsov. What right does he have to the Ravkan throne, a boy without a drop of Ravkan blood in him? Perhaps he would be a better tsar than his father, but that's a low bar and it doesn't mean he is suited to the throne."
He also takes to hovering over her shoulder whenever she's consulting one of the maps.
No matter what province or city or town or village she is focused on, Aleksander has a story of Grisha oppression.
Massacres or indentures or lynchings or persecution, many of the tales from within the last two decades.
Alina briefly wonders if he's exaggerating, but one look into his dark eyes – and the raw sorrow and anger there – and she knows it is nothing but pure, unfiltered and painful truth.
She has always thought of his centuries of life in terms of how long he has had to learn how to manipulate and plot. It's now occurring to her that it also means he's spent centuries watching Grisha suffer and die. The Grishenka come to the Little Palace as children, and Aleksander watches them grow and then watches them die. He fights side by side with loyal Grisha and oprichniki, only to lose them all eventually. After so much time, can she really blame him for resorting to more drastic measures to try and protect his Grisha?
She tries to ignore him, but it's hard not to feel outraged at all the horrors that the tsar and his cronies are responsible for, and all the sins that can be laid at the feet of the Lantsov dynasty.
The history of the Grisha is soaked in blood and she cannot forget it.
She has barely shut the door of her room, exhausted and frustrated by a day of smiling and waving and muddling through her duties as acting General of the Second Army, when she feels a tug on the tether.
"Aren't you tired of performing for them?" Aleksander asks, stepping out of the shadows.
"I don't know what you mean," she mutters, even as she rubs her temples, trying to will away her headache.
"They will never effect real change," he continues, "not even your precious Prince Nikolai. They are desperate to cling onto their power and they are using you to do it. They're giving you the illusion of power so that you will go along with their plan to parade you out as their pet sankta and maintain their hold on Ravka."
Once, Alina would have argued with him.
Now, though, she worries that he might well be correct.
She isn't foolish enough to think Aleksander hasn't got his own agenda, but she's tried to pay close attention these last weeks and she's starting to see how much of what he's been telling her is true.
Even what Alina has discovered about the treatment of Grisha over the course of a little over a month is enough to disturb her. After witnessing it for centuries, she's starting to understand why Aleksander might think radical action is needed.
No matter how often she tells herself that Aleksander has his own agenda, part of her is starting to wonder if she's really on the right side.
News reaches her of the slaughter of a unit of twenty Grisha.
It is not Fjerda or Shu Han who are responsible, but Ravka's own First Army.
They justify their actions by saying Aleksander and his Grisha have been spotted in the area recently, and that the unit were in league with traitors. There is no evidence for their claim, but no one seems interested in questioning it – the tsar ignores Alina's demand for an investigation, and even Nikolai tells her to let it go.
But Alina can't let it go.
Five members of that unit were in classes with her in the Little Palace. She wasn't close with them, but they were friendly.
Katya and Irina, thick as thieves, who liked to play catch with fireballs. Artyom, who enjoyed sketching in the gardens. Freya, boisterously friendly, who Ivan and Fedyor had mentored. Dimitri, always ready to help anyone who wanted a study partner.
Dead and gone just for being Grisha and in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She can't even blame Aleksander, not really, not when she knows this sort of incident has been happening for longer than even he has been alive.
Her anguish must echo through the tether because he appears to her that evening, brow furrowed with concern.
She can sense his simmering anger too, and thinks he must know what has happened to the unit.
While she would normally shy away from his touch, tonight she lets him card his fingers through her hair, gentle and soothing.
And then she gives him details of the soldiers who had massacred the Grisha unit. She gives him names and their last known location, everything she can remember from the report. She has no doubt about what he will do with that information, but she does not care.
They deserve what they get.
The tsar lies weak and dying in his bed. In his absence, Vasily leads the council.
He has no care for the common soldiers or peasants. He cannot seem to grasp the country's poor financial situation. He doesn't like to listen to advice.
His orders show no sense.
Lower the conscription age. Put the soldiers on half-pay. Increase taxes. Sell Grisha prisoners to Kerch.
There are some who try and get him to listen to reason, but Vasily seems determined to ignore them.
Alina knows she could throw her support behind Nikolai, who would certainly be a better ruler than Vasily.
But rumours are circulating about Nikolai's parentage and she can't stop thinking about Aleksander's words – what right does Nikolai really have to the Ravkan throne?
Besides, she's starting to accept that they need radical change. Nikolai means well, but she knows he would stick to the status quo in so many ways, too reliant on the nobility's support to make the hard decisions.
Maybe what Ravka needs is a new start.
Like calls to like, Alina.
Increasingly, it seems like Aleksander is the only one who truly understands her.
She doesn't want to be the pawn Vasily desires to hold onto the crown.
She doesn't want to be the ace Nikolai needs to secure support.
She doesn't want to leave her power behind for the farm dream Mal talks of.
Alina wants to be the woman she feels like whenever Aleksander looks at her.
Strong and powerful and beautiful and eternal.
Vasily corners her in the Grand Palace gardens and propositions her.
Crude and insulting, reaching out to grope her even as he derides her Shu heritage.
And she has no guards of her own to haul him away because all of the oprichniki deserted to follow Aleksander and both Tolya and Tamar are meeting with Nikolai.
And Vasily's guards do nothing to stop him. They stand still and silent, vaguely uncomfortable but unwilling to intervene.
Alina is so sick of this.
She thinks of Vasily's innuendos and groping, and of Nikolai's unwelcome flirting and the kiss he'd surprised her with in front of half the court.
"Don't touch me," she hisses through gritted teeth.
Vasily, though, has clearly been denied very little in his life. He just laughs and lets his hands roam further. She can see from his relaxed demeanour that he does not fear repercussions or believe that she will do anything to stop him.
A tame, pet Sun Summoner. That's what they all think she is.
But Alina won't let anyone push her around, not anymore. Vasily will get what he deserves.
"Get your hands off me now," she demands, "or I swear that you'll regret it."
She gives him a choice, a chance. It's not her fault that he doesn't listen.
The light explodes outwards as Alina vents all her anger and frustration.
Maybe the screams of Vasily and his guards should bother her. Perhaps the stench of burning flesh should make her sick. But Alina only feels giddy with delight at finally ridding the earth of Vasily's loathsome, odious presence.
Through the haze of light and heat, Alina spots Aleksander shimmer into existence.
He says nothing, but she sees him smiling proudly at her.
She grins back.
"Coups are simple," she murmurs as she sits on a golden throne, waiting for those loyal to her to root out the remaining Lantsov supporters, "although I am impressed that you resisted the urge to slaughter them all for so long."
"Killing them would have been easy," Aleksander steps out of the shadows, instantly responding to her tug on their tether, "it's the aftermath that's harder. I was waiting for the right moment."
"Waiting for me?"
His shadows precede him as he climbs the steps, wrapping around her wrists and tugging her to her feet.
"Waiting for you, my Alina," he nods, reaching out to brush his fingers over her cheek.
"Will you come?" she asks him.
Killing Vasily had been like swatting away a fly, as had killing the tsar and tsarina. Nikolai had been somewhat more difficult, since she did feel a shred of affection for him, but letting him live would have been too dangerous.
Now, though, things are getting a little messier. And while her Soldat Sol are loyal, they are also religiously fanatical and, for the most part, not trained in combat. What she really needs is Aleksander, with his centuries of experience leading armies and running the Little Palace, and soldiers who have seen proper battle.
"I'm on my way," he promises, "two days, perhaps a little less."
There's a knock on the door, distracting her.
Aleksander leans down and brushes his lips across hers, "I'll see you soon, my Alina."
And then he's gone, the shadows fading away.
"Bring the prisoners in," she calls out.
As the Soldat Sol push about two dozen people inside the room, Alina notes with delight that General Volkov and Lady Irina Sokolova are two of the shackled group.
They look pitiful, but looks can be deceiving and she knows the sins they are guilty of. During this sort of change of regime, a leader must be ruthless in order to usher in a bright new era.
Burning light flares in her hands and the screaming begins soon after.
Sol Koroleva and the Black Tsar rule Ravka with an iron fist.
The Fold is their weapon, creeping into enemy territory and helping to expand their empire.
Armies and cities and countries fall to their combined power, and their enemies tremble to hear their names.
Once, the Shadow Summoner had been the most feared figure in Ravka and further afield.
But now there is another, beautiful and terrible, who holds the power of a burning sun in the palms of her hands.
She has a vision for Ravka, and woe betide anyone who gets in her way.
They will soon regret it.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
You can find me on Twitter under the username Keira_63. At the moment I pretty much just post mini prompt fics.