TW: Description of attempted r*pe
"Were you planning to knock, or did you intend to stand here the whole night?" he inquired, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"I... I'm sorry, I just..." I stammered awkwardly as he moved aside, gesturing for me to enter.
"Please," he indicated an armchair positioned near the fireplace as he closed the door beside me. The fire pleasantly burned on my skin. "Did you come with something specific in mind?" he asked, making his way to the liquor cabinet by the door.
"How old are you?" I ventured to ask once more.
"Would you like a drink?" He brushed aside my question, presenting a bottle filled with clear liquid. "I imagine you could use one after today, wouldn't you say?"
My eyes widened in excitement. "Is that..."
"Brännvin," he confirmed with a nod. "Would you like a glass?"
"Please," I nodded eagerly, as he handed me the glass.
I promptly downed the drink, a contented sigh escaping my lips. The Darkling chuckled, mirroring my actions as he refilled our glasses.
"Is Brännvin a common sight in Ravka?" I asked.
"Not normally, but I have my ways."
"You'll have to teach me your ways," I remarked, taking another generous sip. "But no amount of Brännvin will make me forget that you still haven't answered my question."
"And I won't, Klara. I can't share that with you, not now. Please believe me that I have my reasons."
One look at his face made me realise that any discussion on the subject would be futile.
"You also didn't tell me how old you were," he pointed out, sensing that I decided to respect his wish.
"I'm probably older than you think," I said, taking another sip of my drink and smiled. It tasted like home.
"And how would you know what I think?" He mused. "I sensed your power. It's far too advanced for someone as young as some of the other Grisha in their training. But considering what I've learned about your life... you can't be much more than 40, can you?"
"I'm 43," I nodded.
"You are so young," he said, his gaze softening. "And yet you look so much younger. And you will look like this for a long time. I wasn't joking. Both you and I will outlive every other Grisha in the Little Palace."
His words sent a shiver down my spine. "Because we're shadow summoners?"
"Because we're exceptionally powerful."
"But... There are many powerful Grisha here. Won't they have long lives too? Your Heartrenders... Ivan..."
"Ivan will indeed have a long life, especially with his amplifier," he acknowledged, toying with the glass as he finished his drink. "Zoya Nazalensky and a few others may also live unusually long lives, but not on the same scale as you and I. We are different, stronger," he shrugged, then refilled our glasses with swift precision. "I wanted to talk to you about it. Make sure you know what a life like that entails. It's a great gift… but it's an even greater curse," he added after a pause.
"It sounds… lonely."
"That's the least of it. The loneliness is nothing compared with the helplessness."
"Helplessness?" How could he think he's helpless? "You are everything but helpless!"
"Am I?" he asked quietly, locking eyes with me. "Silently witnessing generations of kings repeating the same mistakes, powerless to change their course... Does that sound like power to you?" His face darkened as he took another sip of Brännvin, his gaze shifting toward the crackling fireplace. "Watching Grisha, my own kind, hunted, enslaved, and slaughtered, both by our enemies and our own people, with no real means to protect them. Is that power?"
His eyes glistened, his voice growing more bitter as he spoke. As I looked around us I realised that the room was filling with shadows.
"Try to fight it and you will find yourself becoming the villain in their eyes. No matter how much good you do, they will never trust you. Fear will creep into their hearts, and eventually, they will grow to despise you, Otkazat'sya and grisha alike," he shook his head. The flickering flames in the fireplace vanished along with their heat as an inky shroud of darkness took hold of the room.
"I've fought this war alone for so long, Klara. I buried so many good soldiers… friends. And whenever I felt I was making a difference, it all crumbled in the next moment," he paused, his eyes finding mine, revealing a sense of vulnerability I hadn't seen before. "When you've lived for as long as I have, it hardens you to the point where genuine human connections seem impossible, and yet losing people never becomes easier. Everything and everyone around you succumbs to the passage of time. Everything and everyone around you dies. Yet the world remains unaltered. Is that enough helplessness for you?"
I longed to comfort him in some way, but I was too overwhelmed to speak. Instead, I reached through the darkness and placed my hands on his knees. He looked up at me, surprise flickering in his eyes.
"I apologise," he whispered. "I forgot myself. It's been a long time since I spoke with someone who…" His eyes narrowed as he suddenly fell silent, watching me quizzically. "Klara, are you... looking at me?"
"Um, yes?" I replied, puzzled by his question.
"And how can you see me?" He gestured around the darkened room, a smile creeping onto his lips as the realisation washed over me — I was looking at him through his shadows!
"Well done," he said in barely a whisper, an unfamiliar warmth in his eyes. "Baghra was wrong about you. You don't rely on emotional outbursts to use your abilities. Sometimes you just need a strong enough motivation to use them properly," he smiled. "I wonder what it was this time." His gaze lingered on me for what seemed like an eternity before he dispelled the shadows with a flick of his hand. I quickly withdrew my hands from his knees as the spell broke.
"How are you finding the drink?" He changed the subject abruptly as his usual calm demeanour returned.
"I love it!" I said, matching his light tone, eager to move to a lighter topic at least until I could collect my thoughts. "Perhaps we should make this a tradition. An evening toast after every challenging day." I downed my drink and handed him the glass for a refill. "I could get used to it," I added as he poured me another glass. The Darkling watched me with curiosity.
"Tell me, how does a woman like you survive alone in Fjerda?"
"A woman like me? What's that supposed to mean?" I laughed.
"Well, we had already established that you are not exactly the epitome of the demure Fjerdan maiden, but seeing the vigour with which you are emptying that glass, I am starting to wonder why didn't they accuse you of witchcraft much sooner," he teased.
I playfully pointed at his glass. "You should try to keep up."
He feigned innocence. "Are you attempting to get me drunk, Miss Solberg?"
"Only to have the privilege of saying I outdrank the Darkling," I replied with a smirk.
His smile took on a seductive edge as he finished his drink and refilled the glass. "Oh, that's not going to happen," he mused, returning his attention to me. "But let's not get distracted from the question. After your parents' untimely demise, how did you manage to survive on your own?" he inquired once again, his eyes fixed on me. "A woman living alone is bad enough, but with the way you dress, act, and cut your hair… Let alone with how young you look… I can't imagine they would have left you alone."
"Who said I was alone?"
"Oh?" He looked at me, intrigued.
"You know how it works in Fjerda, don't you? A Fjerdan woman is expected to be a devoted wife above all else. Marriage is practically mandatory as soon as someone shows interest. So there wasn't much choice," I shrugged joylessly.
"I see," he replied. "Was it a happy marriage?"
"Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed bitterly. The memories of my marriage were far from happy.
"So I assume your husband isn't the reason why you miss Fjerda?" he pressed on.
I let out a cheerless laugh. "He's been dead for six years," I said. "He got drunk and fell on his head." I took another sip of my drink. "It was probably the best thing he ever did for me."
We lapsed into silence, the weight of our unspoken thoughts hanging in the air between us.
"But didn't you say you felt free in Fjerda? You don't strike me as someone who would feel free trapped in a loveless marriage."
"I didn't," I admitted. "I hated every minute I had to spend with that abusive drunk," I said, my voice betraying disgust and hurt. "But his death gave me a way out. Anytime someone inquired about my marital status or asked to see the man of the house, I played the part of a desperate, mourning widow, which allowed me to keep to myself," I shrugged.
His face flickered with understanding.
"You found freedom in solitude," he smiled softly. "It seems we have more in common than I thought."
"To solitude," I raised my glass. "To solitude," he echoed, clinking his glass against mine, and promptly refilling them both.
As the liquor began to take effect, a calm and carefree feeling washed over me. It had been a while since I felt this way. I closed my eyes, savouring the moment.
"I had a nice little life, you know," I began, my words flowing with the ease of intoxication. "A house just for myself, a tiny vegetable field, and a few animals to keep me company." I smiled at the memory. "I know it probably sounds very small and boring to you, but I kept myself busy."
"You make it sound almost idyllic, but I know the area. Life is hard and dangerous in the border forest. People on both sides are struggling for mere existence, threatened by thugs, bandits and even soldiers. Somehow, I can't imagine you living your peaceful little life in the middle of it all." He shook his head, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. "Are you sure you're not romanticising it? I understand that almost anything can seem tranquil after meeting Baghra."
He was teasing me, but the bewilderment in his eyes was genuine. I chuckled softly.
"I guess I was lucky. My house was on a hill, so I got a lot more sunshine than the others. My field wasn't big, but it was enough. And there was plenty of food growing in the forest, too. Fish in a stream..."
"Your starving to death was not my biggest concern, Klara." I felt a rush of blood to my cheeks, hearing him say my name again. Uh-oh, I'm getting tipsy. Time to go to bed.
"A lone woman living in a forest swarmed with lowlifes and bandits, and above all, in Fjerda… that is not something that could go unnoticed. Women are in much greater danger than men in areas like this, even when living with others, let alone alone… And before you say it — the mourning widow act couldn't have worked on everyone."
"It didn't," I admitted. "Of course not. But they mostly came at night, where it was easy to hide in the shadows." I played with my fingers. "Alternatively, I just knocked them out if they were only two or three. They were usually too embarrassed to have been beaten up by a woman to say anything." I finished my drink and placed the glass on a little table between us as I felt the rush of the alcohol sway in my head.
Time to go to bed. The voice in my head insisted. You had more than enough.
"That still doesn't sound very peaceful," he chuckled. "Care for one more?" he asked, lifting my glass from the table.
I couldn't help but tease back. "Now, General, who's trying to get whom drunk?" I playfully gestured toward the refilled glass he offered.
His fingers brushed against mine as he handed me the fresh drink, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I don't need to try very hard, do I?" he replied with a teasing smile. "I'm beginning to think you and your late husband shared a hobby."
"Indeed we did," I laughed. "But fortunately, we rarely drank together."
His eyes found mine as he noticed a hint of tension in my last words.
"My life was peaceful because I mostly lived at night." I changed the topic. "Actually lived, I mean."
The Darkling raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realise Ussel had such a vibrant nightlife."
"It did, for me," I laughed softly. "My shadows were my best companions."
He leaned in slightly, curiosity dancing in his eyes. "How did you get discovered if you only summoned at night? What happened in the end?"
"A man happened. An ignorant, narrow-minded man." I said. "Apparently, I was unconsciously summoning in my sleep." I shrugged as the Darkling raised an intrigued eyebrow. "I woke up to him shrieking, curled up in the corner. He thought we were being attacked. Probably by you, now that I think about it." I chuckled. "But as I dissolved the shadows, he understood. He called me a 'vronche luder' (darkling whore) and ran away. I only managed to ask my neighbors to look after my animals before escaping. And then there was no turning back."
The Darkling finished his drink slowly, his expression becoming somber as he regarded me.
"You could have easily killed him and kept your secret safe," he remarked, his eyes studying my face intently.
I stared at him, taken aback by his remark. "It wouldn't be the first time you've done that, would it?" he continued gravely.
His words struck me like a thunderbolt, and I gaped at him in surprise. I hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn. I lowered my gaze, nervously tracing the pattern of the crystal glass with my fingers.
"How did you know?" I finally asked, my words barely a whisper.
"I saw it in your face," he said meaningfully. "When I saw you kill your tormentor on our way to Os Alta. The horror of facing the consequences of unleashing your rage on somebody. I could see it had happened before."
"But... that could have been during my escape," I stammered, still avoiding his gaze.
He shook his head gently. "You weren't even sure if they were dead when you escaped. This had to be something you experienced up close, something... deeply personal," he continued, his penetrating gaze never leaving me.
A heavy silence hung in the room as I continued toying with my glass, unable to meet his eyes.
"I won't force you to tell me, Klara," he said softly. "But you might feel better if you did."
I wasn't so sure about that. However, I was intrigued by what he might say, not about what I had done but about the way I had done it. Holding out my empty glass, I wordlessly requested a refill, and he obliged, pouring for both of us. He looked at me expectantly.
I felt the burn in my throat and the fog the liquor created in my mind, and the sense of serenity and confidence it provided. Summoning my courage, I forced myself to look up at him.
"It… it wasn't because I wanted to silence somebody," I shook my head. "I… had to do it." I paused, staring at the glass in my hand as I took a deep breath. "Sometimes, my husband would have a group of fellows over. They'd make a fire outside and get drunk," I began, trying to stay calm and get it over with as fast as I could. "Once, they invited me to join them. And as my husband passed out as usual, I got quite uncomfortable with their… leering and sleazy comments," I shuddered in disgust. "So I excused myself and went to attend to my evening tasks," I continued, my gaze fixed on the glass in my hand. "When I reached the barn, I realised they had followed me, and..." my voice started to tremble and I shook my head resolutely.
GET. YOURSELF. TOGETHER.
Darkling looked at me searchingly as I finished my drink, straightened my posture, cleared my throat and composed my face into a neutral, matter-of-fact expression. I had to distance myself from what I felt, as I did every time I had to recall that evening. After a few deep breaths, I continued, adopting a conversational tone as I unconsciously dug my nails into my arm, drawing a trickle of blood.
"There were four of them. All slightly drunk, but all significantly stronger than me, I think I put up a fair fight, but it seemed to incite them more." I paused, keeping my voice steady.
"I tried to scream, but there was nobody to hear me… They threw me on the floor and tore my clothes away." I avoided looking directly at him, yet I couldn't help but notice his tightly clenched hands, knuckles white, fingers digging into the armrests.
"As one of them tried to…" I clenched my teeth together as I heard my voice breaking. I paused to clear my throat.
"As one of them tried to force himself on me, I managed to free my hands for a second.
I knew I had to use my powers," I continued, my voice resolute. "And yes," I nodded, as I dug my nails deeper into my flesh, using the pain to steel myself against the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. "You're right, just like with the Druskelle soldier… along with the fear, I was fueled by rage. I don't know exactly what I did, but I knew I wanted them dead. I summoned my shadows, and… I just tried to push them away from me, but… it was like the darkness formed into a single blade." I struggled to find the words to describe what happened. "And the men... they just fell apart, sliced in two."
Leaning in, I reached for the bottle resting beside the Darkling's armchair and took a long, deep swig directly from it. The room darkened, shadows enveloping me as I unconsciously tried to hide.
"Blood was everywhere… more than just blood, everything. Their dismembered parts, their insides...everywhere." I said slowly after a pause, staring blankly into space.
He drew closer, his touch gentle as he pried my hand away from my arm. I saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes as he noticed the bloody wound.
"Don't pity me," I said, my voice tinged with anger, pulling my sleeve down.
"I don't," he replied softly, shaking his head. "But I hate to see you in pain. And I hate that you're hurting yourself for their sake. There's no reason to regret what you've done. You gave them a much easier escape than they deserved," his voice briefly took on a growl of anger before he noticed the tears streaming down my face.
"Killing is never easy, Klara," he said as he tenderly wiped the tears away, his touch sending a shiver through me. "But your intention wasn't born out of malice. You did what was necessary. You protected yourself," he spoke with a kindness that was both unexpected and comforting, his eyes filled with understanding.
"I… I know." I nodded unconvincingly, as his hand slid over my arm, finding its way beneath the wide sleeve of my dressing gown and touching my bare skin, I closed my eyes, surrendering to the familiar sensation of tranquillity that washed over me. The last thing I later remembered from the evening was the pleasant warmth of his palm as his other hand found its way to my cheek and his whispered promise. "You won't be alone."