Disclaimer: I don't own the Grisha Trilogy or Shadow and Bone.
House of the Dragon AU where they have Grisha Small Science rather than dragons – uncle/niece incest
Alina is staring at the Iron Throne when he finds her.
"Sweet niece," he murmurs in old Ravkan.
He comes up behind her, his hands settling on her waist as he kisses the crown of her head.
"Uncle," she leans back into his embrace.
For decades, Ravka has feared Aleksandr Morozov and the shadows he wields so efficiently against his enemies. They call him the Darkling in terrified whispers and tell stories of the atrocities he has committed. To Alina, though, he has never been anything but a doting and attentive uncle, far more precious to her than the father who has spent her whole life focused not on her but on the son he says that he dreams of.
Anton Morozov forced Alina's mama to endure countless failed pregnancies in the quest for a son and it eventually killed her.
Only then did he declare Alina his heir, too late to save her mama, and she'd known then that she would never forgive him.
Now, having chosen a new wife – the daughter of his conniving hand, who brings with her no wealth or prestige, with not one Grisha in ten generations of her family – the king has produced three sickly sons in five years, none of them blessed with the Small Science.
Many within the court, the queen and the Hand chief among them, have been pushing her father to declare his eldest son as heir over Alina. Her father is many things – weak-willed, his own Small Science almost non-existent, dominated by his self-serving Hand, and more focused on feasting than in securing Ravka – but he has at least maintained his insistence that Alina will follow him on the Iron Throne, even if he does nothing to help secure her position.
Still, she has no illusions that it will be easy. Men in Ravka do not like the idea of bowing to a woman, even the first Sun Summoner, with power that is rivalled only by her infamous uncle.
"My father grows weak and the Hand drips poison in his ear. There are spies all around me."
She inclines her head ever so slightly to the door of the throne room, where her sworn shield Malyen Oretsev stands. Once, he had been a dear friend, but she fears the queen has got her claws into him and she no longer trusts his loyalty. There is a reason she and her uncle speak Old Ravkan together, the language known only to a few and Mal never disciplined enough to learn it.
"My brother is a fool. He should never have remarried after Keyen's death. It matters not, though – those boys have no power and I will Cut down that leech of a Hand the moment my brother breathes his last."
"Even so, the realm will baulk at the idea of a queen regnant. They'd prefer one of my brothers – a weak puppet who they can control."
"You have the sun in your veins, Alinochka. Do not hide your fire."
His reminder is heartening.
"Yes," she says, "I will burn them all – the Hand, the queen, the Apparat and any traitors who try to usurp my birthright."
Once, she had worried that Uncle Sasha might be one of those usurpers. He had not been pleased to be displeased as his brother's heir after enjoying the position for so many years. But her uncle loves her, and he also disdains the otkazat'sya inheritance laws of sons before daughters rather than the Grisha laws of eldest child.
Besides, truthfully, Alina would like nothing more than to unite their claims. Her father's insistence on wedding her to her cousin to smooth over the tension created by an insult of his own making is becoming more than a nuisance. If her father could only be persuaded to release her uncle from his farce of a marriage then they could wed in the tradition of their House, with the blessing of the Making at the heart of the world.
As if he can sense her thoughts, he smiles sharply, "did I tell you, Alinochka, that my poor, dear wife Elizaveta had a dreadful accident – she fell from her horse and dashed her brains out on the rocks."
Alina's eyes widen, glittering with delight, "you must be positively bereft, Uncle Sasha."
"Of course, and I feel I am need of comfort only you can provide, my sweet niece."
"A prince of your standing ought to have heirs," she agrees, "and the future Queen of Ravka needs heirs and a husband powerful enough to defend her claim."
He ducks his head to nip at her neck and Alina ignores Mal's cry of disapproval with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"You will be my wife, Alinochka, and I will defend your claim until the end of my days. Your enemies will burn under your light and those who seek to escape will find themselves suffocated by my shadows."
"Yes," she nods eagerly, tipping her head back so he can capture her lips in a heated kiss, "when shall we marry?"
"Ivan will take care of it all," he promises, "and your father will be dead in a week."
Once, she would have mourned her father, but that time has long since passed.
Her uncle's hands roam as he kisses her, and Alina distantly registers Mal drawing his sword on the other side of the room.
"Unhand the princess!" her sworn shield demands petulantly.
Her uncle is not one to take orders, unless they come from Alina herself, and he simply laughs mockingly at Mal, "the affairs of royalty are none of your business, boy."
"I will tell the king. You are corrupting the princess and –"
Mal never finishes his sentence. Uncle Sasha's shadows coalesce into a blade and slice his head neatly from his body. He never liked her sworn shield, even before Mal became tiresome and untrustworthy.
Alina just sighs, "what are we going to do with the body? I hardly think it would be a good idea for it to be discovered like this."
"No need to worry, Alinochka. Ivan will take care of it. Now," he ignores Mal's body and tugs her towards the Iron Throne, nudging her towards the seat that will soon be hers, "why don't you try it out. I'd very much like to pay homage to my future queen."
Alina takes her seat. Her father complains of the many swords slicing his skin when he sits the throne, but Alina finds it comfortable enough, once she settles.
Her uncle walks slowly towards her, his dark eyes burning with the desire.
He ascends the stairs and kneels on the dais, right in front of her.
"Shall I worship you, sweet niece, my queen?"
She nods eagerly, spreading her legs as he inches forward, his hands sliding up her legs and pushing the skirt of her dress up and out of the way.
Alina has touched herself a thousand times to this fantasy, but she already knows none of her imaginings will come close to the real thing.
"Prove your devotion to me, uncle," she demands imperiously, although her attempt at a haughty and queenly expression quickly gives way to an impish, fond smile, and then to a gasp of ecstatic pleasure.
He more than fulfils his promise to worship her.
Queen Alina I Morozova is crowned two weeks later, shortly following the tragic and swift death of her father from an infection in the sores on his back.
Divine retribution, some whisper, for the king's poor governance of the kingdom and the Iron Throne's rejection of him.
At the queen's side stands her uncle-husband, his obsidian eyes watching the crowd closely for even a hint of rebellion. The court are cowed, though, by the memory of the executions that took place the day before – Alina had burned the dowager queen and the Apparat herself with the power of the sun, but had given her husband the pleasure of executing the Hand and his cronies with his shadows.
She can be merciful when she wishes, though. Her half-brothers still live, carefully guarded so they do not get ideas about rebellion or trying to sire children of their own when they are old enough, and they will each go to the Wall when they are sixteen to spend their lives in service to the realm.
Alina smiles as the crown of her conquering great-grandparents is placed onto her head.
It is too soon for the Healers to confirm, but she is sure there is already an heir in her belly. She and her husband have certainly been doing their duty in that regard.
The reign of Sol Koroleva will be long and glorious.
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