Alina slept for a full day, after that morning in the Fold. Aleksander conducted meetings and preparations for their departure whilst she recovered, one of her little friends at her side at all times to ensure she was still breathing. He wasn't unaffected himself; he too had suffered exhaustion after the use of merzost but was stronger than Alina, and had not just crossed the entire country alone after the death of a loved one. The use of such powers did not just cause physical exhaustion, but mental fatigue as well. It was no wonder Alina had such a strong reaction, especially after she pushed things unnecessarily. He had intended to leave the Fold spread across the battlefield, as a ghastly reminder to Fjerda, but she had insisted on pulling it back.

The majority of the forces at Ulensk were leaving, most headed to Os Alta, though a select portion of important Grisha and First Army commanders were headed to Novokribirsk, to meet with General Zlatan and discuss whether or not they had the support of West Ravka. There was little to no discussion about the fact the Darkling would take the throne; not from those who had seen the Fold roar across the battlefield and slaughter an entire army.

When Alina awoke, they began their journey south. The loss of her father was clearly weighing on her, and the girl would often fall into a state of grief and guilt; it was noticeable when this happened, as Alina was never so quiet otherwise. He heard her crying in the night, sometimes getting out of bed and going outside the tent. The first night it happened, he had asked about it, but she did not want to speak on the matter at all. He understood that, at least, so did not push it.

Hearing her cry night after night was more... unpleasant than he had expected, however.

"Alina," His voice cut across the darkness of the tent, unable to ignore her any longer.

Her quiet sobs stilled as she took a sharp breath, her back facing him. "I told you," She said, voice choked. "Nothing you say will fix it, and I don't want to embarrass myself having tearful conversations with you. Do me the courtesy of pretending everything is fine,"

"Clearly everything is not fine," His hand found her shoulder, rolling her onto her back so he could face her at least. "You cannot expect me to continue to lie here and pretend you aren't... grieving,"

She sat up in bed, one leg sliding out from the blankets. "If the noise bothers you, I'll sleep somewhere else - "

"You know that is not what I'm saying," He sat up himself, grabbing her wrist to keep her there. "I know grief. Over four hundred years, and it does not just go away. The pain becomes less sharp over time, less raw, but it doesn't diminish. You learn to live around it. You get better at distracting yourself. Time gives you distance, the ability to look back fondly, an ache rather than a stab to the heart. It will not feel like this forever, Alina,"

That seemed to break her resistance entirely. She began to cry in earnest, leaning into his embrace when he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight to him. Alina shook with sobs for a long time, her tears soaking his chest.

"He never knew," She managed to get out. "Da never knew I was helping you take over. He never saw me move the Fold," Her voice cracked as she spoke, "He would think so terribly of me, if he was alive to see it,"

"Your father pushed you out of the path of a bullet," He said. "He wanted you to survive, no matter the cost. Helping me rid this country of the Lantsovs was the only way to keep yourself safe, short of exiling yourself from your homeland. Those that died when we moved the Fold were paid Fjerdan soldiers invading our lands, not conscripts drafted to defend their borders. That was a battle where our forces - First and Second Army, including people you care deeply for - would all have died had we not done what we did. Your father was a soldier once - he did not have a soft heart, and would not have judged you,"

"And this?" She waved a hand wildly between them. "He never knew about this, either. I told him it was a rumour they made up to discredit me,"

"What man approves of his daughter sharing anyone's bed? His anger would not be directed at you, besides. I did not know your father well, but he loved you enough to take a bullet for you. Whatever his opinion of me, I highly doubt that would change what he did,"

Alina did not reply for a long moment at that, still weeping into the darkness. "Why can't you always be like this? Aleksander, not the Darkling,"

That caught whatever words he was going to say in his throat.

"The two are the same," He replied, rather hoarsely.

"No," She said. "They're not,"

*

During the day, Alina seemed to throw herself into everything, anything, whole-heartedly in order to forget, saving her grief for the privacy of night. This made her a useful addition to his table in the evenings when they made camp, as he threatened and bribed his way into strong alliances with various nobles, and finalised a plan of action for seizing Ravka. Alina's... unconventional style of negotiation had been perfected in the months she had spent at court, for better or worse. She would listen, appearing careless and distracted, letting everyone talk around her, until someone said something she strongly disagreed with, or the conversation dragged on too long. Then she would chime in with a decisive, well-reasoned and blunt argument that bordered on rude, making it clear she thought the issue did not need to be discussed further. The kind of thing Aleksander often wished he could say himself, but propriety dictated against.

Often, it did not just border on rude, particularly when she was in one of her darker moods. "Lord Yevgeni, you are talking out of your arse," Alina snapped, after one particularly blustering old lord had wasted enough of their time. "Listen to your son, he's got far more sense than you - we are offering you far more favourable terms than the Lantsovs ever did. Those terms will not be an option for much longer, and there are no second chances. You will swear an oath of loyalty in the next half hour, or I will cut your home in half as I did the Grand Palace,"

The old fool sneered, looking to the Darkling. "Are you going to let your woman talk to me like that? Queens are supposed to sit quiet and look pretty. She can't manage either,"

His son cringed in mortification at that comment, muttering hasty apologies. But Alina, the strange girl, just sputtered with laughter, snapping out of her low mood in an instant; he'd forgotten how he liked to hear her laugh. "His woman? His ugly woman? I can summon the sun, and that's what I'm reduced to," Her tone made it obvious how little she cared.

It was lucky for Lord Yevgeni that she was not the type to take petty comments like that to heart; Aleksander had been about to throttle him with shadows, before she laughed. Alina was no great beauty, and there was nothing delicate about her, but she was far from plain; her defined cheekbones, jaw, and aquiline nose gave her a striking look, particularly when coupled with her dark eyes and white-streaked hair. The conclusion, therefore, was that the old fool saw her Shu heritage and was clouded by a nasty prejudice.

Aleksander glanced at Alina with brief amusement, then turned back to Yevgeni, considerably more cold. "As she informs me often, Alina is not a queen and does not plan on being one - "

"She's not?" The man raised a bushy eyebrow. "Thank the saints for that. Fine, then. In that case, I'll swear your blasted oath, so long as that one is kept far away from any sort of throne,"

He could have pushed the issue of Yevgeni's disrespect, but they had achieved what they came for. That meeting was one of the few occasions where they both left fighting laughter, only giving in once they turned a corner.

"That is one way to do it, I suppose,"

"People always seem to hate one of us," Alina snorted, linking her arm with his. "If they hate Grisha, they love me for supposedly being a saint. If they hate women who speak, or commoners - so, most noblemen - they like you. Maybe I should try talking all posh and proper. Or getting Genya to grow me a beard. When did you pick up that accent anyway? Did you used to sound like Baghra?"

"Baghra used to speak Old Ravkan. As did I,"

"Go on, then," She grinned.

"I will not give in to your petty whims, Alina," He said, in the language of his childhood; it was recognisable as the one they spoke today, but the phrasing was off, the intonation different.

"Saints," She winced. "You spoke like that as a child? You really are ancient, that sounds like an old library book,"

*

It was odd, being in a city again. Novokribirsk was a small city, true, but Alina had become accustomed to sleeping in a tent, out in the open. It helped, on those occasions where she could not sleep from the grief overtaking her, to slip out of the tent into the cool night air, out of the camp, into the quiet wilderness, and look up at the stars. The same stars from the mountains of her childhood, which she and her father had slept under countless nights.

Here, the streets got quieter at night, but they never really slept. And it was never truly dark, not with the gas lamps in the streets, and illuminated windows. She felt rather suffocated by the luxury room she had been given; her nights were spent tossing and turning in bed - in either her own chambers the Darkling's adjacent ones - or alone on the roof of the building, staring out over the city.

General Zlatan, as it turned out, took some persuading to agree to swear West Ravka and its armies to their cause.

"I like you, Miss Starkova," He said across the table, with a calm, charming smile that did not give away a single thing. Brave. Alina liked how he spoke directly to her, too; it had been her venture, of course, to extend the hand of friendship to West Ravka. "I see and appreciate your offers of friendship and alliance, and would be happy to reciprocate in kind. I have been watching from afar, and was impressed by your ability to win over the common people and aristocracy both. And, of course, I greatly enjoyed receiving reports of you splitting the Grand Palace in half. Nonetheless, I will be blunt with you. I cannot, in good conscience, simply hand over my country to another monarch - particularly one much harder to eliminate than the average Lantsov, if affairs become... dissatisfactory. West Ravka would flourish under independence. I would be happy to back your campaign in East Ravka, and be a firm ally - but not a subordinate,"

To Alina, that sounded more than fair. But she was well aware of the implications of this. An independent West would leave East Ravka landlocked and considerably weakened. So, alongside the Darkling and several of his stronger First and Second Army supporters, over the following days they offered, amongst other incentives, promises of better trade links with East Ravka, trade deals that an independent West would be unable to afford on their own, lowered taxes, and more tunnels in the Fold. Zlatan was calm and faultlessly polite throughout, but did not budge.

When the news reached Novokribirsk of the Fold being used against the Fjerdans, it was never explicitly brought up, though the atmosphere in the council chambers did grow a lot more tense. Having recovered her strength after last time, Alina and the Darkling spent an afternoon extending the Fold a mile north and a mile south, to emphasise the point made by the second battle at Ulensk. Within the week, letters of ceasefire came from both Fjerda and Shu Han. Zlatan's council grew more tense, more afraid, but the man himself still faced them across the table every morning, calm in demeanour though visibly drawn, dark circles under his eyes. Her stomach couldn't help but twist in guilt, for she understood exactly why he was being stubborn.

Alina and the Darkling were on guard, too, well aware that one of Zlatan's only options at this point was to have both of them killed, which would solve most of the man's problems. They were both weaker than usual due to the energy used moving the Fold, and had only brought with them a token force of Grisha, First Army representatives, and a dozen oprichniki.

"I don't like this," She said to Zoya on the roof one evening, who had accompanied them here; the others had gone on to Os Alta. "I like Zlatan. More importantly, he's got a point. I understand why he doesn't want the Darkling as Tsar - I felt the same way, barely a year ago. And I get why he wants a republic. What are we doing here? I feel like I'm supporting the rise of another tyrant,"

Zoya paused before replying. "Ravka being united benefits the country as a whole, rather than just the richer west. The Darkling is a better option than the Lantsovs by far - he's already terrified Fjerda and Shu Han into a ceasefire. And if not, all I can say is at least it's an evil you know,"

That was not as comforting as she'd hoped.

But Zoya wasn't done. "I trust you to stop him. The Darkling, I mean, if things go wrong. Having seen you both move the Fold, I can imagine what he had in mind for Novokribirsk. My aunt and cousin live here, remember. You saw how I... care for them. But I have faith that you will not let them die, Alina," The words or else were implied, and she saw the strain behind Zoya's expression.

"I'd kill him before I let him do that," She said, and meant it.

Her friend sighed. "You need to have a break from it all," She said. "How about you come to dinner at Liliyana's, tonight? I was going there anyway," Seeing her hesitation, Zoya then added, very deliberately, "Will the Darkling let you leave?"

Alina knew what she was doing, but either way, it worked. "He doesn't get to decide where I go. I'm telling him I'm going for dinner and he can cope,"

She was glad she went, in the end. Zoya was right, she needed a break. And being around a happy family did not make her any more sad for the loss of her father, because her family had never been like this. Her parents loved her, she had no doubt, but her father was not a kind man even if she enjoyed his company, and her mother had always been a nightmare. Liliyana was funny, clever and kind beneath her sharp sense of humour, and Lada was as sweet as ever.

"I thought you were going to marry the Prince, Alina," She said. "That must be so exciting, you're going to be a real princess! Is the Prince handsome?"

"Lada - " Liliyana placed a hand on the girl's arm. Clearly Zoya had warned her what topics to steer clear of, which was slightly irritating even if she appreciated the gesture; she wasn't made of glass.

Alina shook her head. "It's fine," She turned to the child. "Just because Vasily is a prince, that does not make him handsome or kind," It was not common knowledge that the prince was dead, yet, and Alina did not want to tell Lada she'd killed him herself. "He's a bad man, actually,"

"So you ran away?" Her eyes were wide.

That was exactly what she had done. "I ran away," Alina confirmed.

"As you should, Lada, if you ever come across a bad man like that, no matter how much money he has," Liliyana warned, though the words went right over Lada's head.

"Good," The girl said, decisive in a way only a child could be. "He doesn't deserve someone as pretty and funny as you, if he's bad,"

Zoya snorted. "Don't inflate her ego any more than you have to, Lada,"

That made Alina grin. "She's not wrong, though,"

"Who is the man I saw you with when you came through the Fold?" Lada asked. "The tall one in the black coat, with the beard? Is he your father?"

Alina choked on her drink, as Zoya cackled. "It's a fair question," Her supposed friend said, smirking. "He's how old, again?"

Alina surreptitiously made a vulgar gesture. "He doesn't look his age," If only she knew.

"Even if he wasn't older than he looks, that's still eighteen and thirty-five-ish,"

"I'm nineteen next week,"

"Oh, that makes all the difference,"

"Why does any of that matter?" Lada asked, a little impatient. "Who is he?"

"That's the Black General, dear," Liliyana said with a smile, then glanced between Alina and Zoya. "Or should I call him the new Tsar of Ravka?"

"Currently he's the Tsar of a small strip of East Ravka and the Fold, but I suppose you can say that," She shrugged.

"That's the Black General?" Lada wrinkled her nose. "But he doesn't look scary at all, Lili,"

"I beg to differ," Zoya muttered, no doubt remembering that day on the battlefield. She and the others had recounted to Alina the terror everyone had felt when the Fold began to move.

"He didn't!" The little girl protested. "He was laughing with you, Alina, and escorting you on his arm - that's why I thought he was your father,"

She noted Zoya's tension at the mention of her father, and knew her friend was expecting an outburst, or an abrupt exit. Alina decided to prove her wrong; her motivation for doing a lot of things.

"My Da wasn't a General," She said to the girl, and for the first time it didn't feel like a stab in the heart to speak of. "He was a soldier, then a hunter. Not rich, or important, or in charge of anything,"

"Was?" The girl was old enough, perceptive enough to pick up on that.

"Prince Vasily had him shot in front of me about six weeks ago," Alina opened her mouth to apologise for her crass words, but Lada reached out and took her hand.

"I'm sorry. I was very sad, when my father died. I'm still sad now, sometimes, but not as often, and Lili always makes me feel better. I hope you're alright,"

Alina smiled, a little bleakly. "I will be. Thank you,"

The conversation picked up again after that, and just like the last time, she had a very enjoyable evening. Good, home-cooked food, pleasant company, laughter and warmth.

"You were right," She said to Zoya, as they made their way back to their quarters later. "I did need a break,"

"I thought so," Her friend smiled, then became a little more reticent. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but... does your mother know, yet? About your father?"

Alina was silent for a moment. "No," She said. "I haven't told her, and no one else would've,"

"Why not?"

"It doesn't seem right, sending a letter. I should go in person. Maybe even take them back to Os Alta with me - my brother Misha would leave Temgora in a heartbeat, and Mother would love being associated with the famed Sun Summoner, living in a nice house in the city,"

"How old's your brother, now?"

"Fourteen? I think. Around that age. He's not a hunter, or a farmer. I think he'd be a good apprentice, if I got him a position with a trader in the city. He's good at sums and likes reading," She paused, then huffed a laugh. "Just have to get rid of the Lantsov dynasty, claim the throne and secure the whole of Ravka, first,"

There was a pause.

"I've thought on what I said earlier. For the record, I do think things will be better, when that happens," Zoya said. "He's harsh, but he's not a sadist. Besides, no matter how much he hates being beholden to any morals, he'd never do anything to turn you against him. And you are hardly shy in letting your opinions on things like mass murder be known. You would never let him be a tyrant,"

"That's a lot of responsibility,"

"You do it already, without thinking. Besides, you're the Sun Summoner. Like it or not, that power comes with strings attached,"

Alina pulled a face. "I hate to say it, but I'm starting to think you're right," She sighed. "When all this is over, I want to travel. I want to go back to Fjerda and help more Grisha escape from the Druskelle. I want to go to Kerch and break people out of indenture contracts, get people out of the labs in Shu Han. I think I'd be good at that. I'd come back to Ravka often, of course - apparently to babysit its King,"

"I think you'd be good at that too," Her friend smiled. "It would be safer for everyone if you're not stuck at court grinding your teeth,"

She nodded. "Last time that happened, the palace got cut in half,"

*

Alina was awoken early one morning before sunrise by the Darkling shaking her awake, already dressed, looming over her in the darkness, quite literally a harbinger of death.

"No," She realised what was happening quickly, gathering the blankets more tightly around her. "I'm not doing it. I like Zlatan, I'm not a tyrant, and it's cold outside,"

"Get up, Alina. The General is not responding to bribery after over a week of our best efforts, so we will have to turn to threats,"

"It's not a threat if you actually do it," She said, rolling onto her back to face him. "That's just performing acts of violence,"

"As you made me promise," He said, teeth gritted. "No one will die. We will move the Fold twenty feet. Barely even to the dry docks. Sankta Alina of the Bleeding Heart surely cannot be unhappy with that?"

"Call me Sankta again and I'll defect to West Ravka," But she was hauling herself out of bed, and started to get dressed, feeling like she was selling out.

*

It worked. Of course it did. The prospect of an entire city being wiped out in seconds by a wall of shadow rising with the sun in the east was enough to make Zlatan and his ashen-faced council agree to their demands without question. And just like that, West Ravka was theirs.

Alina sought the man out, alone, afterwards, finding him stood by a long window looking out over the Fold. "I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not," She led with, even though that wasn't quite true. "Despite everything, as someone well aware of his flaws, the General will be a better Tsar than the Lantsovs,"

He turned around to look at her. "So would anyone. Without you and him, I'd have led West Ravka to a revolution. A modern republic," His public mask seemed to have dropped, this time. No wonder; after the days of talks they had been through, the undoubtable stress he had been placed under, and waking up at dawn to what could have been his own apocalypse, the man must be exhausted. She knew the feeling. Having extended the Fold both north, south and west in the space of a week had left her all-but spent; doing much more would risk the same burnout as she had experienced in Ulensk.

She shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Even if you succeeded in forming a republic, the outcome was not guaranteed. It could have crashed and burned within the year. And the rest of Ravka would have suffered either way. Good intentions don't necessarily lead to triumph," Alina was well aware that the prospect of the Darkling as King had been awful to her, once; until, like Zlatan, she had no choice.

"A lesson you learned at the Darkling's knee?" His lips twitched in bleak amusement. "What can you tell me of his intentions? Incentives and conciliatory offers are not our new Tsar's style, particularly when he has full control of a giant wall of death and destruction, with the power to wipe out whole cities in seconds. Tell me, what were his initial plans for Novokribirsk?"

"I think you can guess," She said, moving to stand next to him. "But he listened to me. Listened to his advisors. Talked, attempted peace. And now not a single Ravkan has died,"

"Did you give him any choice but to listen?"

She smiled ruefully. "No," She wanted to tell him how she'd threatened the Darkling with death if he tried to go through with his original plan, but if Zlatan realised she would never let him destroy Novokribirsk, that would undermine the whole point of moving the Fold.

"I appreciate your honesty, Alina. It is rare in politics. Now tell me why you believe he will be a good King, because from my perspective, I have just handed my country to a monster on a silver platter,"

She had been thinking about that a lot recently. The initial spark for her had been entirely selfish - not wanting to be married off to a revolting prince - and maybe that made her awful, just as bad as him, making a whole country dance to her whims. Not to mention that the Lantsovs had killed her father, which would have been enough for her in itself to tear them to the ground. But it went deeper than that, back to the child she had been, growing up in a border village.

"I grew up in a hovel," She started. "One of the poorest families in one of the poorest villages in the Sikurzoi. We stayed poor because all our young men, and lots of young women, were drafted off to fight in someone else's war instead of working. Many didn't come back. They weren't defending their homes, either, but some far-flung battlefield. Shu raiders would come over the border often, raping, stealing, murdering, and no one would care. Me, my brother and my mother would have to squeeze into a damp hole in the ground, under the floor, when they came. Those who survived the raids were still at risk of famine in the winter. No help came from Os Alta. No help came at all, because no one important gave a shit. We'd give them sons and daughters as canon fodder, and they'd give us nothing,"

"And you think the Darkling will change that out of the goodness of his heart? He cares about his Grisha, and nothing else,"

"Of course I don't," She said, for the idea was indeed ludicrous. "I know that better than anyone. But through the Fold, we have just ended the wars with Fjerda and Shu Han for the foreseeable future. That is the first step Ravka needs to begin to heal. He does nothing out of the goodness of his heart, but in order for the country to prosper, non-Grisha must prosper too - and not just the ones in the West. If nothing else, he is an effective ruler, if not a kind one, which is more than this country has had for centuries,"

"That is true," He said. "But is it worth it? The Lantsovs were cruel and ineffective through neglect, stupidity, laziness and a lack of care. He is relentless, vigilant, intelligent, ambitious, but no more kind. Without you, one person, he would have killed this entire city in the blink of an eye. Where is the assurance his worst desires will be kept in check?"

What he meant by that was clear. Alina felt something rising in her chest, something like panic. It was increasingly looking like she would have no other option than to marry him. She didn't want that. She knew herself, knew that if she felt trapped or pressured or forced it would come out in awful ways. She liked what they had at the present and did not want that to change; did not want to despise him. Her breathing quickened, but she couldn't show weakness in front of Zlatan; he needed the faith that she was strong and capable, enough to keep the Darkling from doing anything too evil.

Fists clenched, she took a breath and forced her tone to be even. "I know what you're asking, but I can't be his Queen," She said. "I just can't. It wouldn't be good for anyone, in the end. Surely Ravka would rather his counterpart was not his wife? It matters little if we are married or not. I am still one of the most powerful people alive, strong enough to cause him significant problems if I wanted to. I'll always have a place in court. And he does listen to me, begrudgingly or otherwise. I can get what needs to be done, done,"

Zlatan was silent for a moment. "In theory, could he force you to do anything against your will? Or manipulate you into doing it? It is obvious the two of you are... close,"

She laughed without humour. "I'm not a lovesick young girl falling over myself to please him, don't fret. I'm better equipped than anyone to deal with his manipulations, because I've been seeing through them for half of my life. He tried to make me adore him like that from the moment he met me as a child - it didn't work when I was nine, and won't work now. His powers are stronger than mine, granted, but I'm strong enough that he wouldn't win without causing significant damage to both of us. Which he wouldn't want to do. He's been alone for too long to be willing to risk harming me. And whilst I can't persuade him of anything I want, I can usually get him to compromise,"

The man considered her. "I could believe that," He smiled faintly. "So the Darkling rules Ravka, but Alina Starkova rules the Darkling?"

Her grin at that was genuine. "I don't know about that. Give it a few decades," She held out her hand for him to shake. "If you have any grievances, write to me. I'll do my best to see them solved,"

He took her hand in a firm grip, shaking it without breaking eye contact. "I'll hold you to that, Alina,"

*

After details had been finalised and a contract drawn up, Alina and Aleksander left Novokribirsk on horseback, through the tunnel she had created the first time she was here. A unit of West Ravkan soldiers now accompanied them, Zlatan included; he had been promised a powerful position as a key advisor, as well as governor of the region of West Ravka. They were headed east, for Os Alta, where the rest of the army awaited.

As they went, she made the tunnel wider, taller, pouring more and more power into it until the sky was visible above them for the first time in four hundred years. Those following them watched in silent awe, as the Fold was split in half down the middle. No one dared even mutter the word 'sankta'. This was not merzost, but the small science; energising rather than draining. The power rushing through her could not help but put a smile on Alina's face.

"I turned nineteen today," She said to Aleksander, hand still aloft, channelling power into splitting the Fold.

"If you let me, I'd gift you a kingdom to celebrate," He replied sardonically. "A kingdom and a crown,"

"I'll settle for a new pair of boots. Or a horse,"

"In the same way that a spoiled young aristocrat is unimpressed by wealth so rejects it and seeks out novelty, you are far too accustomed to having power others would kill for,"

Alina laughed. "You're right. Thank you for putting it into words,"

*

This is the other half of the previous chapter that grew far too long, hence the quick update. Now Alina is not faced with marrying Vasily, I hope that her uncertainty towards the Darkling is coming across. I thought it would be out of character for her to be passionately on board with everything he's doing and have no second thoughts at all. She more than anyone is well aware he's not perfect, and not always right. I also wanted her to grieve in the moments where she's not focusing on life-threatening situations; obviously it did not feel right for her to just forget her father's death. Thanks for reading!!