It was dusk when Alina reached the Second Army camp, the sky purpling like a bruise behind her. Melina had been right; the weather had turned, and it was unseasonably cold. Brewing clouds threatened not snow - the temperature had not dropped quite enough for that - but a chilly, miserable, heavy rain. She was grateful for the borrowed furs, wrapped up in them over her father's hunting jacket, atop her big grey horse.

"Halt!" Two oprichniki stood to attention as she approached, raising their rifles at a potential intruder.

She tried to not flinch at the sight of a gun, shoving aside memories of the confusing flash of seconds before she realised her father's head was in pieces in her lap. "I was expecting a warmer welcome," Alina's voice was hoarse from being alone for so long. "I've been gone a while, but surely you still know me, Arkady, Mikhail?"

Arkady, who had been one of her guards since she had first arrived at the Little Palace, swore and forgot all decorum, setting down his rifle and rushing over to her. "Alina! Thank the fucking saints!"

She had to grin at that, albeit faintly. With some of her old energy, she swung her leg over her horse to dismount, immediately being wrapped in his arms. Such friendliness and familiarity was almost overwhelming, after all this time surrounded by cold, polished faces. "Has news from Os Alta reached here already? I bet the General has been a delight,"

"Word broke yesterday morning," Arkady let go of her, stepping back. "The stories are so mixed, it was impossible to get a good picture of what happened. Most of us assumed you were alive, but... it's nice to be sure. The General has been... anxious for news," So an absolute fucking nightmare, then.

Alina was too glad to be in the company of people she knew and liked to care, grabbing the reins of her horse and starting forward. It was easy to bury her grief deep down for the time being and settle back into the outline of her usual self, rather than facing it head on. "Then let's not waste time. I want to remind him why he likes me being on the other side of the country,"

"I've missed having you around," The oprichnik grinned. "He's... better, with you there,"

"Less evil," She agreed brightly.

After discussing with Mikhail who would stay guarding the perimeter, Arkady followed, jogging to catch up as Alina led her horse into the camp. She stood out for her lack of uniform, but in the gloom of the growing dusk, few glanced their way. The few that did recognised her, though. This was a Grisha camp first and foremost, interspersed with First Army, and they all knew her face. The word spread, and more stares followed her, but they knew her well enough to not approach or make a fuss. Despite being hundreds of leagues from the Little Palace, Alina felt more at home here than she had done within the Grand Palace walls.

The spell was broken when, from between the tents, a small, slight figure ran towards them and flung herself at Alina.

"You're back!" Katya exclaimed, delighted, arms closing tight around her, crushing Alina in a hug.

She could not have stopped the smile rising to her face if she tried, stamping down the feeling that she should not be happy at all after the death of her father and hugging her friend back. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," She murmured into the girl's hair. "All of you,"

"Everyone's here. Well, me, Nina, Zoya, Viktor and Kasper at least. Mal was sent away somewhere - oprichniki business. But how are you?! Was living the life of a princess as bad as you feared?" Her tone was joking, but Alina's smile faded quickly. Katya caught on right away. "That bad, then. Saints. Are you alright?"

Perhaps it was because she was tired from travelling, or because of the trauma of her father's death, of leaving Genya and Aleksandra behind in the clutches of the Lantsovs, but that one kind question almost had her weeping. "No," It felt like sacrilege to even admit it. "No, I'm really not,"

There was a pause, Katya clearly weighing up what to say next - Alina was not someone who tended to need comfort, at least outwardly, and her worst moods were reserved for the Darkling or Genya - but they were interrupted.

"Alina, we heard you were here!" Nina bounded up, excited, a hand on her shoulder.

"You must be so relieved to be away from that hellhole," Viktor grabbed her away from Katya, pulling her into a quick hug.

"It's good to have you back," Kasper said, warm as ever. "Especially given the news from the capital,"

"How was it living in the Grand Palace?"

"Was the Prince awful the whole time?"

"How many times did you have to bite your tongue?"

"Why are you alone?" Zoya asked shrewdly. "And what happened to your hair?"

Alina should feel glad to be reunited with all her friends, people she had dreamed about being with again the whole time she was trapped in Os Alta. She was glad, very glad, but in that moment all she felt was overwhelmed with the urge not to cry. It was impossible in that moment to live up to the standards expected of her, the loud, bold, obnoxious Alina they all knew. And they wouldn't care about any of that, she knew, but she cared. As long as they didn't know, she didn't have to face it.

They had all fallen silent, stepped back, noting her unusual quietness and Katya's not-so-discreet attempts to get them to back off.

"Alina?" Katya asked, concerned.

"I - " Her words caught in her throat. She had to explain, explain why she was acting oddly, and make them all stop looking at her like that.

"It's fine," Nina, saints bless her, stepped in. "You don't have to say anything at all for now. You must be tired, after that long journey, and here we all are mobbing you," The others all murmured in agreement.

Alina struggled to find the words to thank her for this.

"Does the Darkling know you're back?" Zoya asked.

"Don't know. Haven't seen him," She raised a good point, though. "I should probably go,"

"I'm not sure you're in the right state to interact with him at the moment," Zoya narrowed her eyes. "Do you want one of us to take the message?"

Another good point. If talking with her friends was this much of a struggle, talking to the Darkling was hardly going to be any easier. "He'll realise I'm here within the next fifteen minutes anyway," Alina shrugged, listless. "Then he'll come to find me. I'd best just go,"

That was met by an uneasy silence. She was well aware how that sounded, and hated how it made her appear. This was all too much. "I really did miss you all. And I'm sorry for... not being myself. I'll see you later, and we'll talk, I promise,"

She turned to leave, but Zoya caught up with her and grabbed her wrist. "Whatever this state is, I think you need a reminder to not take any shit from him. I don't know what happened in Os Alta, but whatever it was, don't let him walk all over you,"

Rage flared up in Alina at the patronising tone. "When the fuck have I ever let that man walk all over me?"

Zoya's smile made her realise what her friend had been trying to do. "There you are. Just checking,"

Alina rolled her eyes, but did relax a little. "Thanks," She said, albeit grudgingly, because it had worked, had (somewhat) snapped her out of whatever it was she had been feeling, or at least provided her the spark to pretend.

With that, she and Arkady (who was now eyeing her with a level of concern too) continued on towards the Darkling's tent. Whilst not nervous, Alina was... anticipating seeing him again. It felt like so long, but to him with his long life, it would no doubt have felt like nothing. No, this was stupid. It really hadn't been that long. She had known him for over half her life, now. Laughed at him, with him, scorned him, yelled at him.

"Moi soverenyi," Arkady called as they stood outside. "A visitor for you,"

"Tell Vorontsov to keep his whores to himself," Came the cold, painfully familiar voice from inside. "I am working,"

"His what?" Alina sputtered with laughter, for the first time in what felt like an age, any spell of anticipation breaking.

"After an undisclosed conversation with the General that left Lord Vorontsov grey-faced, the man has been trying to win his favour," The oprichnik grinned. "He sent a pretty Shu girl to the General's tent one evening. Which wasn't quite the gift he had hoped,"

"He sent her away?" She was honestly surprised. Though she was loath to admit it, Alina had wondered, while she was away. She was not the jealous type - she hated people being possessive of her - but the thought had made her stomach twist oddly.

"And the Ravkan-looking girl Vorontsov sent a few nights after. And the beautiful Healer who was flirting around one of the campfires,"

Oh. Alina once again felt an unwanted lump in her throat. It was stupid, really; he would demand that same loyalty from her, would be furious otherwise (even though she would still do what she wanted), but for some reason she had not expected him to do the same. She had not even wanted to lower herself to ask.

"Could you take my horse?" She said to Arkady, who nodded; she squeezed his arm in thanks and pushed aside the tent flap, ducking inside.

He was sat at his desk, working on some report or other. Upon hearing Alina enter, he looked up with a glower, ready to say something sharp, only for his eyes to widen a fraction at the sight of her. Like she was the only thing in the world; like she wasn't quite real.

"Surprise," She set her bag down and tried to smile, but it felt forced. Just like being reunited with her friends, seeing him in front of her, in the flesh, had brought to the focus all kinds of emotions she had been trying to hold back after her escape from Os Alta, after her own foolish actions had gotten her father killed. Saints, there was that irritating lump in her throat again. What was wrong with her? It was so much easier to feel nothing at all.

The Darkling gathered himself quickly, getting to his feet and moving around the desk. Alina lingered by the door. "I suppose you weren't shot in the Grand Palace courtyard, then. That would have been a painfully mundane death, for the only Sun Summoner to ever grace Ravka,"

"When have I ever graced anything, let alone Ravka," She tried to sound normal, mocking and carefree, but her words came across rather choked.

Of course, he noticed, tilting his head slightly as he stood before her. "You look... tired,"

"Charming," She could only imagine how hollow her cheeks were, how pallid her skin had become, not to mention the white streak branding her hair.

"What's wrong?"

That simple question, so unlike him, almost broke the dam within her. In an almost childlike manner - though Alina would have never dreamed of doing such a thing as a child - she flung her arms around Aleksander, burying her face in his shoulder. He smelled the same, his black kefta felt the same, as did his large hands that closed around her after a moment's pause.

"Sorry," She murmured, head still resting on his shoulder; though her eyes were thankfully dry. "I didn't want to humiliate myself the moment I saw you again. I just - I want the Lantsovs dead. I want them to watch us tear apart their whole world. I've never hated anyone more,"

"You are not humiliating yourself and you do not have to be sorry," He posed the next question carefully. "What changed? From dislike to hate? What did they do?"

"They killed my father," It felt like a confirmation; telling him made it real. "He took a bullet meant for me," There was a pause. "So I tore the Grand Palace in half,"

A beat of silence. Oh, he already knew.

"Your messengers are fast,"

"You travelled slowly," He said into her hair, hand smoothing the back of her head. "So much so that I wondered if you were coming here at all," Well that was humiliating. Perhaps in her lost days she had taken a very meandering route; saints only knew she had not cared about anything enough to travel with haste. "I am... sorry, about your father,"

"I am too," She murmured, closing her eyes. "It was my fault. I was stupid,"

"Did you pull the trigger?"

"No. But that doesn't matter. I threatened the King, scared him. Forced his hand. And you being this... this nice is unnerving," Alina pulled back to look at him.

"I had planned to be nothing but charming to the Sun Summoner, when they were found. But you were a cynical child, who appreciated harsh honesty more than false smiles, compliments and gifts. 'Nice' may have been all that you ever knew of me," He said, with faint amusement.

"If I was simple, perhaps," She scoffed slightly. "Now, I know the truth of you. You wouldn't have been able to keep it up for a year, let alone ten,"

He was distracted, however, reaching to touch a lock of her hair. "Your hair - merzost," It was not a question. Alina could not tell how he felt about it; anger, reverence, fear, intrigue?

"It's not quite another Fold. At least, I don't think so. It's much smaller. More like a chasm. I don't know. I didn't stay around long to look,"

"The report from Os Alta called it a scar," He said. "I could lecture you about being hideously reckless, or enquire about it out of academic interest, but I doubt either would get a satisfactory response," Another pause. "I always hated the Grand Palace. Now, at the very least, the building is more architecturally interesting,"

Alina managed a weak smile at that, knowing he meant it. "I didn't ruin the plan entirely, did I?" She didn't really care; it was just something to say. There was no small amount of nihilism in knowing she had spent months and months in a place she loathed, to endear herself and their cause to the people, only to tear it all down in the space of minutes.

"Ruin? I doubt it. What you did made a statement - it should have obliterated any chance of going about this diplomatically, yes, but would have set things up perfectly to do things my way," Terror, brute force, war and blood. "However, by virtue of you being you," The Darkling's lip curled. "The situation is, somehow, different. You killed Vasily that day, you know. And whoever was in the way when you tore the palace in half. If I had done it, they would have my head on a spike, the Apparat preaching about the dangers of dark magic and witchcraft. As it is, people are flocking in from miles around to see the new holy wonder created by the Sun Saint, and the Apparat is first and foremost amongst the worshippers,"

Alina did not smile at his obvious irritation at this. She thought of the dozens of innocents who must have been caught up in her uncontrolled use of merzost, servants and courtiers alike, and felt sick. "I didn't mean to kill anyone," Her voice was hollow; guilt, she supposed, although guilt seemed a selfish thing to feel at the present moment. "Not even Vasily. I was just trying to put up a shield, to melt any more bullets. It... got away from me,"

He lifted her chin with a finger. "You let it get away from you. For someone as powerful as yourself, that has consequences," It was not a condemnation, just a reminder. Perhaps he even meant it as a comfort? Another example of how their minds worked in vastly different ways.

She batted his hand away, glad she had not changed her that much. "I did. It was... beautiful. I can't even describe it. Summoning normally feels like an extension of myself. This felt... like the magic itself was alive. Calling to me, giving itself to me as I gave myself to it, both sides taking far too much,"

The Darkling smiled, not very kindly. "Is that not exactly how you described what is between us, once?"

That drew a short laugh from her. "Fitting, I suppose," She paused. "You don't give a single shit who died in the Grand Palace, do you? So long as they weren't Grisha. The same as everyone who died in the Fold over the last four hundred years,"

"It doesn't take knowing me as well as you do to realise that, Alina,"

His cold answer was not surprising, but did start a faint ringing in her ears. As well as you do. As if anyone knew him, really. "The Apparat's favourite nun did her best to convince me that you're evil incarnate," She said. "Though really, the joke's on her - I've known that for a long time, now,"

He was silent. There was some comfort to be had in the knowledge he would not judge her for those deaths, at least, only the stupidity and recklessness behind what happened. But something in Alina cried out for some kind of consequence, some kind of punishment, for the terrible thing she had done, for being indirectly responsible for the death of her own father and directly responsible for killing dozens, for lying in bed with someone who could murder thousands and barely blink an eye; for helping that man become Tsar of Ravka.

"Hit me,"

"What?" That had startled him, she noted with some vicious satisfaction.

"You heard. Hit me. As hard as you can. A proper punch, not a slap," It was stupid, but she wanted him to, for reasons she didn't want to unpack. The thought of him actually doing it had done something to quell the roaring in her head that had started and was only rising since she found out she had killed so many people.

"What are you trying to achieve, Alina?" The Darkling asked with some weariness, though she saw both bemusement and perhaps even concern in his dead-shark eyes. He was trying to figure out her motives. He always was. Never mind that for most of her actions, she had no discernable motives at all; they were too impulsive and badly thought-out for that.

"I know you don't often fight without shadows, but you're strong enough for it to hurt - if you've forgotten how to punch in your old age, I can show you the technique. Come on, how often have you fantasised about just knocking me round the head? A chance like this doesn't come round often. I could beat you in a physical fight, most likely, so take the opportunity while I'm offering,"

He closed his eyes briefly then opened them. "Whatever misguided attempt at... I don't even know what, you're not going to get me to punch you, Alina,"

"Don't speak too soon," She said, a spiteful glint in her eye, teeth bared humorlessly. Taunting him brought its own reward; he was incapable of feeling guilt like she did currently, but she could hurt him as much in other ways. "I know you want me to be your Queen when you take the throne. That's never going to happen, no matter how much you try to persuade, manipulate or threaten me into doing it. If you try, I will fuck my way across half the world to get away from you. And yet, the people will always love me more than they love you, Aleksander, despite the fact I don't deserve it, or even try for it," A pause. "What is wrong with you? Fucking hit me!" Her voice held an edge of hysteria.

"I do not know who you think I am, Alina," He said, voice cold and maddeningly calm. "I am not some drunken farmer, quick to backhand his wife if she talks back enough. And I am not your father, who, if I remember, used to do the same to his daughter,"

Oh, she should have known that if she was cruel, he would be just as vile back. Her stomach clenched and she tried not to cry, or spit in his face. "You bastard, you - "

He spoke over her. "You also seem to be forgetting that you are not some shrewish, browbeaten wife or daughter trying to win some small victory, but one of the two most powerful people in the world. You want punishment for the unnecessary deaths you cause, but only on your terms. You can take a punch, but you could never take sacrificing your own freedom in devotion and penance to a country that needs you. Your being Queen would do a great deal of good to a great many people - as proven by your excellent job winning over Os Alta - yet in typical childish selfishness, you refuse to even consider such a thing,"

He was right. Saints, he was manipulative and horrible and right, had seen right through her even when she herself couldn't, and he knew it, that awful, awful man. Alina was selfish. She wasn't going to cry, that was pathetic, and she had been pathetic enough for a lifetime in the past weeks.

"Fine," She said, finding herself breathing rather heavily, looking up at him. "Fine. I'm selfish, and reckless, stupid and wicked. So come here," She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down for a searing kiss.

He reciprocated in kind, as hungry and consuming as merzost. This was long-awaited for both of them, apparently. Hands twisted in hair, grabbed at waists and shoulders, nails digging into skin, intense, consuming and absolutely divine. It wasn't a punch to the face, but it was a punishment of sorts nonetheless, as well as a salvation; physical pleasure, mental relief. In that time, Alina let herself forget. Or not so much forget, but lose all sense of self in the sensation. Something in her always rejoiced at being reunited with him. Like did call to like, after all.

"I haven't summoned since," She said as they lay together afterwards in the dimly lit tent, her head on his chest, his hand resting on her hip. "Since the merzost, I mean,"

"Have you tried?"

Alina smiled. "No. What if I never do? What if I can't? How fast would you cast me away?"

"How fast would you cast me away if I could suddenly no longer summon shadows? If I was stripped of all rank, and as mortal as the next man,"

She thought on that for a moment, the idea intriguing enough to brush aside the fact he had distracted her from her own question. "I'd laugh at your predicament, for certain. But you'd worm your way up high again somehow, or die trying. You're not capable of slinking off quietly and living a normal life," Then something occurred to her; she debated whether or not to voice it, got bored of debating, so said it anyway. "If you had a mortal lifespan, I would stay away. Watching you wither and die would be... disturbing,"

"Then you have your answer," He replied. "In the same way it would be a shame to see the sun burn out, watching you grow old would be too much to bear,"

She had to laugh. "Unusually poetic of you," And unusually... sweet? Alina didn't know if she liked it or not.

"Stop stalling for time and summon,"

A flash of fear, of whirling, howling light ran through her, which she hid beneath obnoxiousness. "I don't want to,"

He tensed beneath her. "Alina, do not let this become a foolish mental block, or you will have to have remedial lessons with my mother,"

"How is the old hag anyway? Still lurking around the Little Palace grounds? She never came to see me,"

"Both of you were doubtless glad to not see the other. Now summon, Alina," He seemed to sense her nerves, moving aside so they no longer touched. "I'm not amplifying you. And, of anyone, if your light goes out of control then who else is better equipped to stop it? I am still stronger and vastly more experienced than you in the Small Science,"

His dry tone emboldened her somewhat, though his arrogant words made her pull a face. "I can still do it," Taking a breath and trying not to think at all - something she was good at, at least - she brought her hand down in a bright slash of light that lit up and faded in half a second. A part of Alina was surprised and desperately relieved when it worked. "I just don't want to,"

Aleksander seemed gladdened by this. "Try something less powerful, that requires more control,"

She smirked, conjuring a moving image. His eyes widened a fraction, then his lip curled to match her own.

"What on earth did you say to put that look on the face of the Tsar, Tsaritsa and Tsarevich?"

"I can't say. You'll be furious,"

"Surely that only adds to your sick amusement?"

"True," She grinned, sitting up and crossing her legs on the bed to face him. "Fine, I'll tell you," She told him everything, from her perspective; from denouncing the Lantsovs and inciting riots, to winning over their court and city from underneath them, to petty jokes and snide comments, to threatening them at dinner. It was the most pleasant conversation she had had in half a year. Alina had almost forgotten that, despite the fact he was evil, she did like to make him laugh.

"You are incorrigible," He said, face as relaxed as it ever was. "I am shocked they did not send an assassin for you sooner. If you had not proven yourself such an asset to the council and the people of the city, you would have found yourself being led to the gallows much sooner than they sent that assassin. I suppose that only demonstrates Lantsov's idiocy once again,"

"You promise you'll make sure Aleksandra gets out?" She pushed. "And Genya,"

"Miss Safina will be handsomely rewarded for all her sacrifices when the time comes," He said. "A Corporalki kefta and a better position for a start. As for the otkazat'sya girl - "

"Her name is Aleksandra. The name should be easy enough for you to remember,"

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "She has proven useful enough for Mila Tarasova to break her out of the cells. You have no cause for concern,"

Alina supposed that was as good as she was going to get. "Fine," She raised an amused eyebrow. "So. Why has Lord Vorontsov been sending you whores?"

*

Whilst Alina's time in the Grand Palace, as well as her getting older, has changed her somewhat, I still wanted to keep the essence of her character (feral, angry, fuck everyone else) the same. Hence why this is not necessarily a lovey-dovey reunion between her and the Darkling. It did not seem true to character to do so, particularly when she is in such a dark place mentally. Equally, the Darkling is not going to not call her out when he thinks she's acting a fool. Both of them have a nasty streak which is very much on display here. Equally, a fight and a fuck is not going to undo all the trauma Alina has been through and she is still very much trying to cope with everything that happened. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, because I loved writing it. As always, please let me know what you think!