"We found Miss Starkova, moi soverenyi. She's been brought back to her rooms,"

The Darkling looked up from the papers he was studying at his desk, eyeing the oprichnik who had spoken. No doubt his anger was evident in his stare, for the man was nervous, though hid it well.

"And where was she when you found her?"

The man looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but spoke without hesitation, in a tone of forced calm, only wincing a little.

"There's a gambling den in the outer city called the Crown Jewel. When we got there, Alina was threatening the dealer at her table with a knife, saying she was being cheated. Zenika, Volkova and Belsky were with her. All of them were drunk," He paused. "Very drunk. I suspect Volkova fortified their drinks - all the young Alkemis know how,"

The Darkling closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, jaw clenched in a way that only a select few people could inspire; the Lantsov King, his mother, and his saints-forsaken Sun Summoner. Curse Baghra for teaching the girl how to turn herself invisible.

"Were they recognised?"

"None wore a kefta, moi soverenyi. There is no chance of the city knowing any of the other three were Grisha. As for Miss Starkova," He grimaced. "No one seemed to recognise her, though I cannot say for sure either way,"

Forget the shadows; he was going to strangle the wretched girl with his bare hands. He had thought she had grown out of ridiculous antics like this. His guards had reported several times since her return from Fjerda where she can staggered back to her chambers in various states of intoxication, various parts of her flickering in and out of visibility, but she had never left the palace on those occasions; whilst this displeased him, it was better than the alternative. Even if it was increasing in frequency recently. What had driven her to drinking more often was beyond him. So long as it stopped when they went away to the front.

Yet tonight, for whatever reason, she had once again snuck out into the city. Poor drinking habits aside, Alina had been on her best behaviour since the Druskelle incident, which still rankled, even over three months later. Whilst how successful they had been was amusing on some level, and the fact she could be so bloodthirsty certainly intrigued him, the Darkling had not been so furious in a long time. How dare his precious Sun Summoner risk her life in such a way? Despite the punishments received by all involved, now Alina thought to try her luck once again. With the three friends stupid enough to incur his anger once again.

"That will be all," The Darkling told the opricknik. "Now Alina is safely home, see that the only guards in my wing are standing outside the main door," This conversation did not need to be overheard. His oprichniki were discreet, but it was still embarrassing that they had had to witness this sorry affair at all.

The man nodded swiftly and left, barking orders at the other guards in the corridor, whom he could hear filing out.

The Darkling got to his feet, his rage only having built over that conversation. Boot heels sounded on the wooden floors as he approached the open door to Alina's chambers. No one in the Little Palace spoke a word against the fact her rooms were so close to his own, though no doubt the King would not be best pleased to learn he kept the Sun Summoner so close. There had been unsavoury whispers around court for years that Alina was the Darkling's pet; what they meant by that varied from harmless favouritism to the downright obscene. No one would say such rumours to face, though. Nor hers, for that matter, not anymore. They knew better by now.

The girl who many knew as Sankta Alina was sprawled out on her large bed, dead drunk, lying on her back. She had been dumped unceremoniously by the oprichniki who had the delightful job of hauling her back from a gambling den in the outer city. Her hair was a birdsnest, fanning out around her head. One arm had fallen off the bed and was dangling limp, fingers brushing the floor. There was blood on her knuckles and dirt on her face. Her dress was that of a commoner, and none too modest either.

He frowned as he took in the low neckline and rather tight (though thankfully long) skirts. Not that he didn't appreciate the shape of her, but he hated the idea that lesser men had been gawping at her all night, not realising who exactly stood before them.

"Alina," His voice was sharp, causing her eyes to blearily blink open.

The sight of him seemed to sober the girl up somewhat, but not nearly enough. She groaned immediately, hand moving to cover her eyes. "Go away,"

The Darkling's eyes narrowed. He picked up the cup of sobriety tonic that had been left by the Healers as requested and strode over to the bed. Shadows hauled her into a sitting position, none too gently. He forced her mouth open himself - she actually tried to bite him in protest, stupid girl - and poured the liquid down her throat, ignoring how she spluttered.

It worked fairly quickly; within a minute or two, the alcohol haze was clearing from her eyes as she forcibly became more sober. The fact that he had ordered this substance created specifically for her was not something the girl should find amusement in, though she frequently did.

Alina was considerably less irritating sober. He often enjoyed her company when she wasn't playing the rebellious child; she was sharp-witted, blunt and knew him better than most. He felt a vicious stab of satisfaction now, as she sobered up, enough to have the sense to eye him with some level of dread, though her cold mask tried to hide it.

"Just get it over with," She said through gritted teeth, not looking him in the eye as he towered over her, though she cast a resentful glare at the shadows holding her. "And get those things off me," She sent a burst of light to drive the shadows away. He let her.

"I would have thought you'd have learned from your little jaunt to Fjerda, Alina," The Darkling's tone was cold, angry.

"I didn't leave the city,"

"You are not supposed to leave the palace grounds,"

"I can't do anything in the palace grounds," Her lip curled. "Not with you looming over my shoulder at every turn,"

She knew how to wind him up like no other, whether it was intentional or not. The Darkling reached out and grabbed her chin with one hand, forcing her to look up at him. Her reaction was instant, too quick to be anything but instinctive; she flinched violently away, slapping his hand off her with unusual force, particularly for one still sobering up, eyes wide and... panicked?

The Darkling raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not a child, or a favoured pet," The panic was blinked away as soon as it showed, her scowl returned.

"You are in no position to have that attitude," He said through gritted teeth. "Not when you insist on acting half your age. When will you get it into your silly little head - there are people out there who want to do you harm. The Kerch would kill their own mothers to make a profit off of you. The Shu would dissect you on a laboratory table to try to find where your power comes from. The Fjerdans would burn you at the stake as a witch. The Kaelish would bleed you dry for their rituals. And as you know full well - " He glanced at her four-fingered left hand. " - many Ravkans would see you martyred, would weep at your death at their hands but carve up your bones and hair for relics regardless,"

It was the last sentence that got to her, like he knew it would, so he pressed on.

"You are not stupid, so stop acting it. Why would you put yourself in that danger? You wince whenever anyone calls you Sankta, scowl whenever anyone asks when you will destroy the Fold, and flinch from worshippers and sycophants laying hands on you for blessings, to get a small touch of Sankta Alina,"

Her eyes were glassy but she blinked it away. She would not cry in front of him this easily, he knew that well enough. The fact she even had to blink tears away showed how intoxicated she still was. "Stop that," Her voice broke. "You know I hate it when you try and get into my head,"

She had only got more perceptive at picking up on when he was manipulating her over the years, trying to twist her into what he wanted her to be. A naturally suspicious child, only made worse by his mother's meddling, and her various traumas along the way. It was uncanny, the way she saw through him.

"I am merely stating what I know to be true," He sat down on the bed beside her. Her thigh brushed up against his own. "What you know to be true. So why would you risk all of that, for a night of bad drinks and cheap thrills?"

"No one knows who I am when I'm not wearing a black kefta. When I'm not being paraded round on your arm," She said, in the way that told him she thought she was right, that her reasons were sound, and nothing he could say would change her mind. "Who in the outer city has seen my face up close? I just wanted to get out of here, to not feel trapped in my own home, trapped in my own head, to have some fun and forget, just for a few hours,"

"You're sixteen years old and have lived a life of luxury for the past seven years," He raised an eyebrow, deliberately ignorant. "What on earth do you have to drink to forget about, that is not your own fault?" He would normally be kinder to her - he did need her to not despise him - but not when he was this angry.

Her smile grew tight, almost bitter. "What the fuck do you think?"

"Go on," He said. "I'd like to hear it. What have you been lacking in the Little Palace? What have I neglected to provide you with? Have I ever been cruel to you, Alina? If you truly believe so, then you have never met a real monster,"

"Don't patronise me," Her eyes flashed in anger. She had always despised being talked down to. Not that she had been acting in a way that deserved anything else. "Not everything is about you," There was something in that sentence he should examine, he just wasn't sure what. At his lack of response, she continued. "What, is my bad attitude and lack of respect less amusing now I'm no longer a little girl? Did you think I'd grow out of being able to see through you? Did you think I'd just give in one day, roll over and submit? Did you think I'd get any less angry, after one fucking thing after another? It must be easier to humour a rebellious child than a rebellious woman,"

He supposed she was right; she was not much different now to when she was younger, albeit more traumatised, slightly more capable of restraining herself, yet even more willing to get into trouble. But the Darkling could be cruel when he wanted to be, and she had more than earned his ire tonight. "Are you finished?" He raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

For a moment, he thought Alina might strike him. What she did was worse. She shut off entirely. "I am," Her tone was dull. She was just agreeing to get him to leave. Somehow this was worse than her screaming and shouting. She was never this... flat, even drunk. Especially drunk.

The Darkling made himself smile. There was a pause. "I'll decide your punishment in the morning. Come to me after breakfast,"

She just nodded listlessly.

"You know I do not wish to treat you like this, Alina," He let his tone soften slightly, hand moving to her face again, though this time was gentle, cupping her cheek, running a thumb over her soothingly.

"You wish I acted your perfect little submissive doll so you didn't have to, you mean," She scoffed, smacking his hand away again, eyes flashing. "Don't touch me," There she is.

"Careful," He warned, which had no effect. "I will not lie to you - sometimes I do wish for that. Though I would settle for not sneaking out and getting into drunken fights in the slums,"

"The otkazat'sya dealer was cheating me," She scowled. "I know bullshit when I see it," Her lips twisted. "I've spent a lot of time around you, after all. And my mother before you,"

That amused him as much as it irritated him. "Which is why you handle yourself well in court," He granted, not acknowledging the fact that he had indeed often tried to shamelessly manipulate her. That now, as they spoke, he had his hand over her own, knowing that waves of surety were washing over her; strange, that she didn't mind him touching her hand, just not her face. Perhaps it was a matter of pride; he supposed there was more respect in this gesture than when he had touched her face before. "Though you can hardly pull a dagger on any of the nobility. At least not publicly,"

"Watch me," She muttered, though he knew she wasn't serious. Alina was not stupid, no matter how she acted at times. Even when she did foolish things, she knew that she was acting a fool, she simply didn't care. Self-awareness, he supposed, was better than innate idiocy.

His hand moved to rest on her shoulder, which, he noted with a stab of annoyance, the dress left bare. "Where did you get this?" He nodded to it in distaste, picking at the neckline. "This is worse than the last one,"

"Don't you like it?" Her eyebrow raised, knowing full well that he didn't; the Darkling never liked her in anything but a kefta.

Her attitude irked him, so he decided to unnerve her. "I like it very much. However, I dislike the idea of other men gawping over you in it,"

"If a glimpse of my shoulder and flat chest is enough to have anyone gawping, they need to get a hold of themselves," Her reply was quick, though her eyes darted away from his intense gaze. She hadn't missed what he meant by that. "You should see what Nina goes out in,"

Her eyes followed his fingers as they traced down from her shoulder, over the ridges of her collarbone, slightly lower, twisting in the laces at the front, testing a theory. On another girl this may have been scandalous already, but Alina was right; she did not have much cleavage to speak of. He felt her body tense, but then her jaw set and she looked him right in the eye.

"If you're going to start mind games like that, at least have the guts to follow it through,"

It wasn't a dare, exactly, nor her declaring that she wanted him; it was more of a challenge, calling his bluff, calling him out for manipulating her. In her mind, he would never take her up on it. (In his own, he wanted to bend her over the bed there and then just to get the insolent look off her face).

The Darkling laughed softly, his other hand moving to rest high on her thigh, leaning forward to murmur in her ear. Her breathing quickened as she stared straight ahead, unmoving.

"Perhaps when you've grown out of needing to be scolded like a child,"

The force at which she moved her leg away made him blink in surprise. "Get out," Was her only reply. "I want to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow,"

She had no authority to dismiss him, but he did as she asked nonetheless, albeit with the distinct air that he was only humouring her. "Goodnight Alina,"

She turned over and did not look at him, but he lingered a moment longer, frowning. Something was wrong. She was always prickly, always rude, always quick to anger, but there was something else to it tonight. She was never this... defensive. Nor vulnerable. He had not missed the way she shrank away from his touch, the wild look in her eyes. He'd seen that look before on her, but only when people called her Sankta Alina and tried to touch her. Never him; she normally just faced him with anger. He'd seen that look on other women before, too.

The Darkling closed the door with a soft click, knowing what questions he would be asking her in the morning.

*

This was the very first chapter I wrote of this story. It was only meant to be a one-shot but got slightly away from me haha. Alina is drinking more to cope with the assault in the previous chapter, of course, and the Darkling is picking up on it. I think it's important that she draws clear boundaries with him; she refuses to let him make her feel lesser with touch, but isn't against it entirely if it's offered respectfully. He's learning, slowly. Obviously there is nothing healthy about the entire interaction here, it's both of them at their worst, but it's going to get worse before it gets better. These two are both such strong personalities they need to really have it out before moving forward. In particular, the line about it being easier to humour a rebellious little girl than a rebellious woman is one that strikes a chord with me.