Summary: In which an unexpected person turns up at an inconvenient moment, Ivan has to deal with another idiot Otkazat'sya intent on interfering with his diarising, and Alina finds out about the Stag.
Alina running - flying - over the snowy tundra. With each breath she feels the crisp icy air in her lungs and the pine scent only found in the mountains. With each moment that passes the sun rises higher in the sky, it's light stretching outwards and reaching ever further across the mountainous landscape. Before it, the shadows of night recede, always a step ahead of the chasing sun.
At first all Alina feels is the joy of freedom, the rush of air whooshing past her as she hurtles after the fleeing darkness. But then, slowly, she becomes aware of another presence. Something is hidden by the shadows, and she can feel it's thrill at the chase, of being hunted. It welcomes it, she realises, confused. It wants to be found, and yet only those worthy can find it. It's a riddle and a puzzle, and Alina feels herself pick up speed until she is racing the light. There it is in front of her, a ghostly white shape partly concealed by dense undergrowth and the darkness that seeks to hide it from her sight. She catches another glimpse of it as it breaks from the trees, dashing across the snow as it hurtles towards a large forest. It's a strange creature she thinks as she slows to a stop just outside the densely packed trees. There's no light in this place, the canopy too overgrown to let her in, and so she stands and watches and thinks about the spectral presence. It's large - huge - taller than many horses she's seen and it has something protruding from its head almost like a crown.
She glances around her at the dissolving world. As she fades, she swears she can feel phantom puffs of breath on the back of her neck. Soon, it seems to promise. Soon.
She awakes in a tangle of bedsheets and to the familiar sound of birdsong outside her window. The winter jay is a strange bird, unique to Ravka, it likes the cold and its song can be heard all year round, but especially in the winter when fresh snow lies crisp and undisturbed on the ground.
Time seems to speed up after the day of the Tsarina's tea party, stampeding towards the ominous finish line of the Winer Fete and her presentation before the collective great and rich of five kingdoms. It might only have been a few days, but Alina can see the difference in Aleksander. There's a new light in his eyes now, one that speaks of excitement, relief and a joy he's never felt before. It warms her heart. She's not foolish enough to think that everything is fixed, but it's a start – a brilliant start – and a new beginning for them both.
Things are changing at the Little Palace. Little changes, perhaps, but significant ones all the same. Gone is the carefully cultivated reserve that had crept into their interactions and instead there is a new openness. Alina is now not just invited to but a minuted attendee of the daily security briefing and the war meetings. If the officers of the First and Second Armies are surprised by her sudden inclusion they, at least, have the sense not to show it. Aleksander has also formalised her rank within the Second Army placing her as a Commander within it. This had been a complicated issue to resolve and Alina knew that it had irritated some as she had jumped the ranks and others because they felt that as the Sun Summoner she should be given equal rank to the Darkling. Aleksander had surprisingly been in the latter camp. He had wanted her to take the rank of General and Co-Commander of the Second Army. It had been Alina who had refused and bargained him down to Commander. She had been a respected member of the Medical Corp, but she had no experience of war strategy, or of leading armies. Placing her at the head seemed to her like folly, so she refused and instead suggested being made a Captain – a rank high enough to command respect, but not so high that in her ignorance and inexperience she could do a lot of harm. Determined to have her recognised as his Second-In-Command, Aleksander had counter proposed she become a Commander, equal in position and authority to Ivan – a position seconded, surprisingly, by Ivan himself. So, Alina was introduced that night at dinner as Commander Alina Starkov to uproar and applause from the senior grisha present.
The black kefta arrived the morning after, making Alina laugh as she reads the card attached: My equal, is all it says in Aleksander's familiar cursive script. It's an acknowledgement, a sign after so long doubting him, that it makes her cry with happiness. He's understood what she had been trying to say to him. Understood and taken action.
Genya is standing behind her as she unwraps it, and she feels the Tailor's sharp intake of breath as she reads Alek's message. For a moment the redhead says nothing, but then she places a gentle hand on Alina's shoulder, solid and reassuring. "Well," she says with a smile in her voice, "if you're changing colours, we'll need to rethink your attire for the presentation and ball."
The first real test though for Aleks' new resolve comes in the form of a visitor. Mal turns up one frosty morning quite unexpectedly. His appearance in the vestibule of the Little Palace is as unwelcome to Alina as it is a surprise. Any joy she might have felt at seeing her flirty stalker again is quickly quashed by the wandering hands and the overpowering smell of horse and unwashed male as he pulls her in for a breath squeezing hug. She's not impressed. Nor as it turns out is Aleksander, who unfortunately arrives just as Mal finishes squeezing the life out of her and takes her oxygen deprived stillness as permission to kiss her.
Clearly remembering their talk the week before, Aleksander merely simmers in frustrated silence at the scene, his eyes black with emotion and his shadows making the normally well-lit room seem dim and suddenly a lot smaller than it had seconds before. His gaze when it sweeps over Mal is dark with promise, but then his eyes meet Alina's and she sees him take a steadying breath, a faint smile flitting over his face at the irritation he sees in the set of her brow and the glower she's directing towards the man beside her.
With a mocking bow of his head to the intruder, he departs in a swirl of his kefta leaving it in her capable hands to deal with.
Which she does… by promptly kneeing Oretsev in the groin.
The spluttering, gasping sound as Mal wheezes with pain, is a balm to her frazzled nerves. The temerity of the man! Clearly the four months they have been apart has addled his probably pox ridden mind. She wouldn't let him kiss her in Kribirsk, so why he thought she would welcome it now Alina has no idea, and she has little intention of finding out. She already has one idiot who won't leave her alone and doesn't seem to understand the word 'no', and she has neither the time nor the patience to add another to her growing collection of persistent and unwelcome admirers.
"Is all well, Commander?" a new voice asks from the hallway, a hint of danger and sharp anger in their voice.
"Quite well, thank you," she reassures the concerned Oprinichki. "Mr Oretsev met with a slight…" she pauses for a moment trying to find the right word, "…accident, and could do with some assistance."
The guards nod, moving quickly to help the still wheezing tracker get back onto his feet.
"Thanks," Mal grunts, not sounding or looking particularly thankful.
"What are you doing here, Mal?" Alina asks once he is more or less steady on his feet and is no longer looking so green.
"I came to see you, didn't I," he mutters with ill grace.
The look Alina levels at him could curdle milk. "You mean you absconded from your unit without permission just to walk over 200 miles just so you could see someone you hadn't seen in four months?" She crosses her arms, unimpressed. "A letter would have sufficed."
Mal grunts, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Well, not quite," he hedges.
"What does not quite mean, exactly?" Alina asks, her foot tapping as impatience starts to get the better of her. With the Fete and presentation tomorrow, she really has far too much to do to fit in any unscheduled shenanigans.
The tracker shuffles, looking awkward. "Well, I did want to see you. Me and the boys, that is. But we didn't go AWOL. I Swear!" he quickly adds in the face of Alina's flat stare and raised eyebrow. "We had a mission – a mission that if completed meant we were to report directly to General Kirigan."
Alina tilts her head, impatience melting away as her curiosity is reluctantly poked into paying attention. "What sort of mission?" She asks at last.
"Can't say," Mal replies with some of his typical swagger re-emerging. "Top Secret. But it was really dangerous. We were even in Fjerda for a while. Had to dodge several of their patrols – poor Dubrov took a bullet to the leg, he almost didn't make it."
"I'm sure," Alina murmurs, brain ticking over the clues the flirty man was unwittingly dropping.
"Would you like me to summon Commander Sokolov, Sankta?" One of the Oprinichki ask with more deference than usual, as if trying to make the point to Mal about how one should talk to a living saint. If that's the case, it's a wasted effort. Subtlety, Alina knows from experience, seldom makes it through Mal's thick head. An extraordinarily talented tracker he might be, but known for his sensitivity to social cues and other people's emotions he is not.
Still, the Oprinichki's idea has merit. Ivan is the correct person to deal with this issue. Afterall, he is keeper of Aleksander's diary and Alina would hate to step on his toes by interfering the careful itinerary of the General's day. If there's also a part of her that shakes with amusement at the prospect of Ivan and Mal meeting, well…
Nodding decisively, she turns to the Oprinichki. "Yes, please," she says with a smile matched by the guard. "Ivan is the man you want if you need to report to General Kirigan," she adds to a visibly confused Mal. "He manages the General's diary and is the best placed to know where he is at the moment and when he might be available to see you."
"What do you mean 'when he might be available?'" Mal asks, frowning. "I've come all this way and I've got urgent intelligence."
Alina rolls her eyes, her fingers longing to pinch the bridge of her nose as her vexation climbs. Thankfully though she is saved the bother of explaining, as the remaining Oprinichki turns a grave eye on the tracker, saying sternly. "The General is a very busy man. He is running a war, after all – and overseeing the preparations for the festivities tomorrow. I'm sure you understand he can't just drop whatever he's doing. He will see you when he has time."
Ivan appears like a storm cloud blowing down the hallway. That he's cross at being summoned is clear even at 50 paces and his face only grows more thunderous as he listens to the Otkazat'sya demanding an immediate audience with their General.
With a loud snap, Ivan opens the hefty diary and takes a satisfyingly long moment perusing it's contents, before announcing. "General Kirigan has an opening next Tuesday at 5pm. Shall I pencil you in?"
"What?!" Mal explodes, "But that's a week away."
Ivan levels a scathing glare at the tracker. "Are you suggesting that you're more important that the meeting with the Joint Chiefs, or the Tsar. Perhaps you would like me to move the war briefing session with the First Army Generals, or the diplomatic talks with Shu Han and Fjerda?"
"Well, no," Mal subsides, looking cowed. "But you see it might not be there next week."
"What might not be there?" Ivan grunts dismissively.
"The thing," Mal says, waving an expressive hand, as if he expects Ivan to magically know what he means. "You know, the Thing. The Top-Secret Thing he wanted us to find."
With a grunt of annoyance, Ivan swings round to glare at Alina, clearly blaming her for this mess. "What thing?" he demands crossly.
"Don't ask me," Alina shrugs, "I have no idea what he's talking about."
Ivan moves his glare back to Mal, visibly pleased when the tracker takes an automatic step back. "What thing?" he asks again.
"I can't tell you," Oretsev says looking miserable. "It's Top-Secret. I have the letter here, says once located to go immediately to the Little Palace and report directly to General Kirigan."
"Stupid Otkazat'sya," Ivan grunts, his annoyance ratcheting up to near murderous levels. "Why didn't you show me the letter. Wasting time, just like the First Army. Incompetent, stupid, idiots."
"Hey!" Mal protests, although whether this is because of Ivan's diatribe or the way the Heartrender snatched the letter from his hand, Alina has no idea. Knowing Mal though, it's likely the latter rather than the former. The tracker has a notoriously thick skin.
With the letter now in his possession, Ivan peruses it with a single minded attention an accountant would be proud of, before shoving it back into Mal's still open hand with a grunt of annoyance. "Very well," he says, returning to the appointment book. "17:00 today. That's the earliest the General can see you." He turns to the Oprinichki. "See that the Otkazat'sya has a room and board. He will be staying with us until the General has seen him and decided what to do with his… news."
And that's that. With his usual efficiency, Ivan packs Mal off somewhere (most likely the stables) and Alina is free to get on with preparing for her presentation. If the mystery of the tracker's presence gnaws at her, she's sure she'll find out soon enough.
She does find out.
The summons arrives unexpectedly just as Alina is finishing her final dress fitting with Genya. Ivan is looking no more pleased now than he did earlier, but at least this time his scowl isn't quite so ferocious, and he doesn't look like he'd happily start clobbering everyone within striking distance with his appointment book.
"Come," is all he says when Genya opens the door to him, "the General has need of you."
"What?" Alina asks in confusion, as she tries to hastily lace her boots and pull her kefta on simultaneously.
Ivan glowers at her. "No time for questions," he barks. "The General has requested your presence," and with that he turns to leave. Heaving a sigh, Alina trots after her escort, a dozen questions burning in the back of her mind.
xxxxxx
Given how busy her day has been with all the preparations needed for the morrow, it's understandable that Alina has completely forgotten Mal's meeting with Aleksander that afternoon, so it comes as a shock when she enters the War Room to find Aleksander not alone as she had expected.
Mal is looking unusually pale and uncomfortable by the desk, which is covered in maps.
"Alina," Aleksander murmurs, striding to her side to press a lingering kiss on the back of her hand in greeting.
In the corner of her eye, Alina sees Mal turn white then red at the casual display of familiarity, his brows beetling together in what could be anger or disgust.
"You sent for me?" she asks, determined to avoid the confrontation she can see brewing on the tracker's face.
"This news involves you," he replies, gently leading her to the desk. He nods to the tracker, dismissing him with a curt, "You may leave, Oretsev. We will talk again after I have briefed Alina."
What comes next a bewildering story, one of a mythical stag and Mal being sent to find on what Aleksander had believed to be a wild goose chase… until now.
"I don't understand," Alina says softly, staring sightlessly at the maps in front of her as her mind whirls. "Why do I need an amplifier? Am I not powerful enough as I am?"
Aleksander's expression is sad. "You may not need one, Alinochka, but destroying the Fold will be no easy venture, and I worry for what it might take - what it might take from you, in order to do it."
"You don't have one," she points out. "No," he agrees, "but then I have never been required to do something so dangerous and unknown before."
"You created it."
Aleksander shakes his head, looking pained, "Yes, but that was using Merzost, and that isn't an option for you." He sighs forlornly, "Merzost is a fickle friend, it seldom gives the asker what they want. I didn't intend to create the Fold. I wanted an army to protect our people, and it nearly killed me. I would do anything to save you from having to make that devil's bargin… even chasing down fairy tales and mythical creatures."
Make them see, Make them pay. The words echo in her mind, reminding her of something else. There's something there, something prodding at her, something half remembered that dissolves into wisps of smoke as she tries to chase it down. Something about the Fold. Giving up understanding for the moment, Alina returns her attention to the here and now.
"Wouldn't a normal amplifier work then?" Alina asks curiously, her attention caught by the depiction of a mighty stag in what looks to be an ancient journal.
"It might help," Aleksander agrees, "but I doubt it would give you the boost you will need to take on something like the Fold."
"And you think this Stag might be the answer?" Curious fingers unearth the book from where it's partly concealed by the mountain of maps and other documents. The disorder makes her fingers itch. This is one of the biggest differences between her and Aleks – where she loves neatness and order, alphabetising books and arranging them according to size, shape and use, Aleksander thrives in semi-structured chaos. He'd explained to her once that there was a system to the mess – there's a pile for everything and everything is in its pile. The fact that only Aleksander – and perhaps Ivan – understand this system just adds to the fun whenever Alina visits and teases him about it.
Now free from where it's slowly being buried, Alina studies the book with interest, noting it's worn vellum cover and the messy unfamiliar handwriting. "Whose is this journal?" she asks, gently turning the ancient pages. Aleksander shifts to look over her shoulder. "My grandfather," he replies. "Ilya Morozova. The journals are some of the few possessions Mother was able to hang on to after his death. We've kept them safe now for nearly a thousand years."
"So long ago," Alina murmurs, transfixed by the almost illegible scribbles. "Is this what made you think of the stag?"
"Yes," Aleksander says, voice warm and nostalgic. "I never knew him, but mother used to tell me the stories he had once told her – and once I was old enough, I read all his journals. He was a true visionary. His understanding of the Small Science extraordinary. It was his principles we built our teachings on."
"Would you like to borrow them?" Aleksander offers suddenly, his smile almost shy.
"Oh, yes please," Alina's pleasure makes her skin glow in the dim room. It draws a laugh from Aleksander who fetches three other volumes from one of the bookcases, handling them lovingly as he passes them into Alina's greedy hands.
"And the stag?" she asks, returning to the page that originally caught her interest.
"I don't know how he came to know about the stag, or whether it was more theory than fact. The popular version is that he used his bones to create three extraordinary amplifiers – the most powerful ever seen, but I can find no reference to that in his journals. He does speak about the stag, but it's more like a repeated fable." His fingers trace the pencil drawing pensively.
"Then what did you think it was?" Alina queries, studying him now.
"I believe he discovered something on one of his many journeys, possibly a genetic variation which made this stag and its descendants natural amplifiers, and that's what he's referring too. Mother never believed in it at all, she thought it was garbled nonsense from a confused mind, and I have to confess I'd started to think the same - but then your tracker friend says he's found the white stag." He shrugs, studying a map of the Petrazoi mountains. "It might just be an unusual coloured deer, but I do think it's worth finding out."
Placing the book back with its brothers, Alina turns to Aleksander, her expression grave. "Do you still believe I need an amplifier?" It's a serious question, and one that's bothering her. She's always had a natural distaste towards the idea of killing a living creature in order to gain power, and after Baghra's tale of what happened to her young son, everything in her revolts against such an idea.
Aleksander sighs and rubs a hand tiredly over his eyes. "I would like to say no," he begins, "but in truth I don't know, and that worries me. I can help only so much, but that means I have to be with you – which may increase the risk to you, you remember what happened the last time." The last point is said with a wry smile, but Alina doesn't smile back, the memory of that day painful to her. It was a lesson in the dangers of certainty. Her conviction in her decision had resulted in Aleksander nearly being killed. If it hadn't been for her unknown powers saving them, that would likely have been the fate of everyone on that skiff… and it had been down to her. Her certainty that she was right. Her mistake. It had been a sobering lesson to learn, but learn it she had.
"Then you won't force me?" She asks instead, needing this point to be clear between them.
Aleksander looks aghast, eyes filled with pain. "Saint's no, Alina!" he cries, bringing her hand to press it against his heart. "I swear to you, I would never force such a decision on you. Whether we search for the stag or not, whether you take an amplifier or not, is down to you. This is your decision. Do I want you protected to the best of my abilities, yes, of course I do. There's little I wouldn't wish to do if I thought it would help you – but it's also your decision and I swear on any gods listening that I will never force it on you."
"Not even for my own good?" Alina asks, almost breathless with anticipation. The memory of his words in this very room the previous week, ringing in her ears.
Aleksander stares at her. "Not even then," he vows quietly, solemnly, and Alina lets go of the breath she's holding, almost collapsing with relief. Things are changing. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, as her mother would say, but she can feel it in her bones. Things are changing. They're changing.
Slowly but surely, she feels the gulf between them shrinking, becoming what they were always meant to be – what she never lost hope they could be. Two sides of the same coin. Equals.