Stepping over the threshold of the Little Palace, something she had done well over a thousand times before, Alina was hit with such an overwhelming wave of home that she had to stop in the entrance hall. This was the place she had grown up, where she had spent so much time with her friends; it had felt, then, like the six of them against the Darkling, and her and the Darkling against the court and the King. She had lost that, in the past year, she realised now; everything had simply become Alina against the world. Anger suddenly struck her; how dare they keep her away from all of this, so close but yet so far?

"When was the last time you were here?" Nina asked with a grin, grounding her. Her friend was perceptive, and had seen Alina's face during the celebrations at the Grand Palace, noticed the way she skulked around, keeping close to the walls, how she had fallen back into her childish habit of shrinking away from people who called her 'Sankta'. Nina had decisively taken her arm, rounding up Zoya, Kasper, Katya and Viktor and slipping away, heading across the lawns to the sanctuary of the Little Palace. Genya had already retired to bed, as had her mother and Misha; saints, she needed to talk to them all alone, soon, but there had not been time.

"Too long ago," Alina murmured, trailing her hand along the dark wood panelling as they wordlessly made their way to her rooms. "Last time was before we even went to Kribirsk. I'd barely turned eighteen,"

The palace was largely deserted. It was late enough that all the children would be in bed, whilst most of the adults were still partaking in the celebrations in the Grand Palace. Only a few servants and older Grisha were walking the halls; familiar faces, who greeted her with warm smiles, or nods of acknowledgement, perhaps a word of greeting. No more, no less. Home.

"That must have been horrible," Katya said. "Being able to see home out of the window, all those months you were in the palace, and yet it still being out of reach,"

"Lantsov bastards," Viktor added.

Alina felt a rush of affection for every single one of them, accompanied by an equal amount of sadness. "I haven't been myself," She said suddenly, everything coming out all at once. "Not for a long while. Not since I went to the Grand Palace. I'm sorry. I've missed you all more than I can say,"

"Don't be ridiculous," Zoya said. "Alina, you put yourself through your own personal hell for well over half a year to avoid being married to a disgusting rapist posing as a prince. Your father died, you exhausted yourself moving the Fold, and dealing with politics from every angle. If you were exactly the same as you always were, I'd be concerned for your sanity,"

"All whilst keeping the Darkling in check," Kasper said.

Nina added, "The fact you haven't completely lost it is impressive enough,"

"I did completely lose it," She said. "Very publically. The palace got cut in half,"

Viktor snorted. "It looks better now, if you ask me. The Scar is beautiful, too. Now they won't ever have to put in some tacky fountain or statue in your honour,"

They all laughed, but Alina hesitated, catching her friends' attention. Under the pressure of their gazes, she gave in and spoke her mind. "Do you think I did the right thing? The more I think, the more I realise there weren't many other options, for me at least. Was it selfish, to think of myself first?"

There was no need to clarify what she meant.

Viktor was the first to speak. "From a very selfish perspective, thanks to you there is no danger of any of us - Grisha or otkazat'sya - dying in the mud fighting an endless, pointless war against the Shu or Fjerdans. Which there was a very high chance of otherwise. I'll drink to that,"

"Why should you not be selfish, when selfishness is not being condemned to a life of misery?" Nina said. "As you've been insisting for years, you're not a saint no matter what people say of you. Don't start feeling like you have to make yourself a martyr now,"

"I told you before," Zoya said. "You keep his worst impulses in check. That may be the price of acting for yourself - that you must forever do so - but also the reward. You told me your own arguments in Novokribirsk, and you convinced me well enough. That's not easy to do, especially when you're not convinced yourself,"

"If he won't do it, then at least you now have the position to improve things for people," Katya said. "Imagine how bloody this campaign would have been without you? Would it even have worked? The common otkazat'sya might not love him, but they don't hate him enough to rebel. They also despised the Lantsovs by the end. He cannot be as bad as that,"

Kasper seemed to see through to the root of the problem, however, with his perceptive stare. "After this is all settled, we can go back to Fjerda, Alina. To Shu Han, Kerch, Novyi Zem and the Wandering Isle. I never saw you so alive as I did when we were hunting Druskelle, freeing captured Grisha. You're better now, stronger and smarter. I do not believe you'll let yourself be chained to this court any longer,"

That had a smile creeping across her face, even as she blinked away glassy eyes. "That sounds wonderful. Thank you - all of you. Now enough melancholy - let's get drunk. I haven't in over a year,"

After a detour to the cellars for several bottles of wine, they found themselves in Alina's chambers, spotlessly clean, without a speck of dust, like she had never left. Compared to her cavernous, gaudy rooms in the Grand Palace, these were cosy, tasteful and familiar, despite the luxury, full of her own possessions and trinkets she had collected over the years.

"To Alina," Katya led the toast. "Who went to the most lengths anyone has ever gone to to get out of an unwanted engagement," They all laughed at that, drinking deeply.

Alina felt her on-edge nerves calm at some point, likely the first time in a while that she had felt truly relaxed. There was no shadow of war hanging over them, she had absolutely nothing she had to do the next day, and she was with her friends at long last, back in the Little Palace. It felt like being fifteen years old again, except now there wasn't even the threat of the Darkling looming over them; he had much more to concern himself with now than who Alina spent her time with, and would likely not be coming back here for a good few days, busy as he was in the Grand Palace.

They started off swapping stories about how the battle had gone for each of them. Kasper and Katya had been in the Lower City the whole time, healing any injuries and repairing damaged property respectively. Zoya and Viktor spoke of the aftermath of the fight for the Little Palace. Nina had been in the group attacking the Grand Palace; she had even been there in the throne room to see Alina dragging the Queen in.

"If I didn't know you, I'd have been scared shitless when you smiled with a mouth full of blood," She said matter-of-factly, grinning. "That really was disgusting, Alina. Whose blood was it?"

"The Queen's guards," She shrugged. "I wasn't thinking. I was very angry. I've bathed since," And thoroughly scrubbed her mouth out, but there were still metallic traces remaining. It was only the blood of those two men, but felt like the blood of everyone she had killed that day. Her memories of her unstoppable onslaught down the corridors on the way to the Queen's chambers were patchy, fragmented, and she did not wish to dwell on them much longer. Her sleep that night would not simply be disturbed by dreams of the Stag, devout worshippers, missing fingers, or her father's corpse.

Conversation quickly moved onto less heavy topics, to her relief. Hours passed, sharing meaningless jokes and stories; it turned out there was a lot to catch up on after so long apart. The others hadn't always been together, either; Zoya had spent a lot of time going between Kribirsk and Novokribirsk; for her gift with languages, Nina had been part of a group sent to Os Kervo to meet some foreign diplomats; whilst Kasper had been sent out, with others, to look for the Stag.

"Your friend Mal is still up in the Permafrost," He said, shaking his head. "It was the most frustrating journey I've ever been on. There was, predictably, no trace of the mythical stag, despite your dreams, and even if we did find it, I know full well you wouldn't want it. What a waste of time,"

Alina rolled her eyes. "I think he thinks I'll have a miraculous change of heart. For what it's worth, sorry. I've made it very clear I don't want an amplifier," But when had that ever stopped him?

Viktor was halfway through recounting an amusing tale that had happened on their journey to Os Alta from Ulensk that had them all in stitches of laughter, when there was a knock on the door. All of them silenced immediately. Who else would be in this part of the palace at this hour?

"No, not yet," Alina said loud enough to hear on the other side, drunk but not excessively so. "I've got company,"

The door clicked open anyway. All her friends hastened to their feet from where they'd previously been draped over the floor and Alina's bed, bowing, a murmur of 'moi Tsar' rippling through the room.

For saints' sake. Alina, lounging at the head of her bed, glass in hand, did not move. Her bloodied kefta was discarded on the floor, and she wore only a vest and loose trousers; her clothes from her wardrobe, another luxury she had not had for over a year. "What is the point in knocking if you're going to come in either way?"

"I want a word," He eyed her friends. "In private," At least he wasn't wearing the crown.

They all started to move towards the door, but Alina held up a hand. "No, no, no. Stay," They hesitated, clearly uneasy, as she turned to the Darkling. "I'll talk to you tomorrow - I'm having a nice evening,"

"Are you drunk?"

"If I was too drunk, would you leave?" Her fingers reached for the large bottle of vodka on the bedside table, which had been there since before she left, fully prepared to down as much of it as she could. Viktor was determinedly avoiding eye contact, trying not to laugh. A tendril of shadow batted her hand away. "Don't you dare," In angry response, she sat up and brought down her hand; a slash of light charred the rug in a line about an inch in front of his feet.

His eyes narrowed. "Don't be childish,"

The situation was admittedly getting a bit much for her friends to remain in the room. "We'll see you tomorrow, Alina," Zoya said carefully, daring to add. "If you need anything, you know where to find us," The implications of that were all too clear; it was good that Zoya, the Darkling's favourite, was the one who'd said it, earning her only a glare rather than an actual punishment.

Alina just nodded, once, and the five of them filed out. The door shut behind them. It was unreasonable of her to be annoyed, she knew; he was the King now, they were in danger if they didn't do what he said, even more so than before. She wasn't annoyed at them, not really; her anger was directed more at him.

"Remember what I said last night?" She said, getting to her feet, finishing her wine in one gulp and setting the glass down on the bedside table.

"Which part?"

"That there's still plenty of time to hate you,"

He was silent.

"Do you know?" She walked towards him, a little unsteady on her feet, a clumsy hand resting on his chest. "In my head, I still think of you as 'the Darkling'. 'Aleksander' slips through occasionally, when you do something that's oddly nice, or kind, or human. I suppose I only found out your real name after many years of knowing you, so that makes sense in a way, but is that not telling, on some level? That in my head, you are still the demon of my childhood?" She was rambling, she knew it, but the words kept pouring out.

"You know what I am more than anyone," He said. "Even my own mother, apparently," Baghra, who had tried to leave with her when she was twelve, who thought Alina's presence would make her son more of a monster.

"Part of me wonders if that is why we became what we did. You showed me a shred of respect, a shred of something in you that no one else sees, and I latched onto it, because you'd hardly given me as much as crumbs before. Have I changed, in your head? Ten years must be like the blink of an eye, to you," She didn't give him a chance to answer. "Of course, I'm older, no longer a child, but to you I was always something to own, to possess, to use as you wanted. No matter how I acted, in the end you got exactly what you wanted from a Sun Summoner, and then some," She laughed. "What use am I, now you have your crown? Other than a glorified bedwarmer who you can let yourself get attached to because I won't die in fifty years,"

"I have told you a hundred times - you could be Queen the moment you ask for it. My wife, the moment you ask for it,"

She held up her maimed left hand, missing the ring finger. "I'm not meant to be anyone's wife. Besides, that's what you want, not what I want. I'm nineteen, and you're four-hundred-and-sixty-something," Her voice cracked. "You are now the Tsar of Ravka. I don't want my life to be diminished to just your companion to pass the ages with, an exotic bird to lock in a cage, permitted to have my little quirks and fits of rebellion so long as I remain yours at the end of it,"

He was silent for a long moment. "I would not dare lock you in a cage. And, if it means anything at all, you were not just a means to the throne. Not in the end,"

She tried to see through the lie, and found nothing. If that was the truth, Alina supposed that did count for something. "When did you realise that? When I fucked you the first time?"

"When you were stolen as a child," Came the reply. "And I realised it was not just the promise of a Sun Summoner that I would miss if you never came back. When you ran away to Fjerda, and I realised if you were killed, I would travel to Djerholm myself and raze the city to the ground, diplomacy be damned. When, as I told you before, I could have easily secured a route to the throne through your marriage to Vasily Lantsov, and yet could not bear the thought," He frowned, which was somehow more believable than a smile. "You are interesting, unpredictable, a challenge. You make me laugh. You are never scared of anything, including myself. I like you. Genuinely like you, and enjoy your company. I cannot say the same for many others, and could not think of anyone else I would rather be the Sun Summoner," He raised an eyebrow. "Does that answer your question?"

Her mind was blank after that, and Alina just nodded mutely. It wasn't that he was incapable of such declarations, and had certainly used such tactics before to get in her head, but he was usually incapable of making them sincere.

"Now you've got what you want," She said after a pause. "You're going to listen to what I want. You might be king of half the world, Aleksander, but you'll not own me as well. I'll stay in Ravka for some time longer. Show my face at your side, help rebuild Ravka the right way, for Grisha and otkazat'sya both," And wait for my new brother or sister to be born. "After that, I am going to travel. Free Grisha from the Druskelle, from the Shu laboratories, from Kerch indenture contracts and slave traders. I'll come back every few months, because I want you as well, and we have an eternity, but I want to live my life on my own terms, not yours. Are you going to stand in my way?"

Aleksander's jaw tightened. "I do not believe I could,"

Alina smiled, and kissed him.

*

Those first months after the coup, all of Alina's waking hours were taken up trying to reform an entire country.

First and foremost for the new government was ensuring their alliances within Ravka were stable. Whilst most of the powerful players - nobles, merchants, those high up in the army - had already been accounted for before they took over, there were still some outliers that needed to be treated delicately. Until they resisted, anyway. Alina was encouraged to stay away from that side of things, and, deeming that a wise decision, was only too happy to oblige. Such affairs were deathly dull.

She did, however, do what the Darkling would never bother to do and made a point of mingling with the common people, both in Os Alta and outside. It was also a good excuse to get out of the city and the suffocating walls of the palace. She was good at making friends when she wanted to be, and acted without pretension as she had done before. The people had heard rumours of what had gone on in Os Alta and were confused, angry, afraid; she liked to think her efforts to be honest and approachable went some way to quelling any resistance movements. The Darkling would be very happy to treat all otkazat'sya as second class citizens, but that was an easy route to rebellion.

For every place she went, she travelled with several Healers and Fabrikators as well as a couple of Heartrender guards. Free of charge, they healed various ailments, fixed damaged buildings, going some way to proving that Grisha were not to be feared. She also made the Darkling send bands of Etherialki and Heartrenders to defend the borders from the odd Shu or Fjerdan raiding party, going rogue despite the ongoing peace talks.

The Apparat, who was lying low in wake of the coup and likely knew he was only alive because killing a religious leader would not go down well with the people, approved of these visits, to Alina's annoyance. On more than one occasion he sidled up to her, well away from Aleksander's hearing, to attempt to offer advice.

"You are not supposed to be their friend, Miss Starkova," He tried to impress upon her. "Your actions are admirable, but you behave too casually, and dispel their notions of saintly worship,"

"I don't have to listen to you," She replied, unbothered. "Seeing as you have never listened to a word I say. I am not a saint, do not want to be a saint, and never will be a saint,"

"Be that as it may," He said. "Religion is a powerful tool. They like you, adore you even, but your position would be much more secure if they worshipped you,"

"You just want me to take the throne from the Darkling some day," She snorted, seeing right through him. "Which will never happen. Now go, scurry away back to the inevitable resistance movement you are cooking up in secret," He opened his mouth to protest, eyes wide and panicked, but she cut him off. "Don't pretend it doesn't exist. In all honesty, I really don't care. Whoever they are, I will not be the figurehead. Find another saint,"

*

In the first few days after the coup, Alina had been unable to sleep, so had crept out one night and made herself stand on the edge of the Scar. The thing both intrigued and repulsed her. Often, she could hardly bear to look at it, so she had made herself come here tonight and stare into its depths. It still whispered to her, shades darting beneath its surface. No one had dared touch it, yet, let alone venture inside. It was tempting, very tempting, but even Alina was not that stupid.

"That's very close, girl," She knew the voice the moment it spoke out of the darkness. Sure enough, Baghra's tall figure moved beside her. "Be careful not to fall in,"

"Are you going to push me?" Alina met the woman's eyes. They were of a similar height, now, only an inch or so difference. She was almost glowing with vitality; apparently she had used her powers in the battle. "Although I suppose it would be a wasted effort. The damage has been done now,"

Baghra scoffed. "That it has," There was a moment's silence. "I underestimated you. You did better than I expected,"

She had to grin. "Your expectations were on the floor. Even so, I believe that is the nicest thing you've ever said to me, you old hag,"

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Your actions may yet lead us all to ruin,"

"I think at that point they'd be called his actions, not mine,"

"His actions, aided and facilitated by you. Take some responsibility,"

She rolled her eyes. "Him being your son makes him much more your responsibility. Get over yourself, or I'll push you in. Although the Scar would probably spit you back out again, hateful creature of darkness that you are,"

Baghra just laughed at that, and after a moment Alina joined in.

"I would never go so far as to say I've missed your company, girl," The woman said. Alina would never dare assume such a thing. "But it is not unpleasant to talk with someone with as vile a tongue as my own,"

"I'm getting compliments from all the Morozovs recently," She raised an eyebrow. "Careful, or I'll start to think I've got a terminal illness no one's telling me about. Or, even worse, that both of you are just as tender-hearted as the rest of us,"

Baghra shot her a dark look. "You might as well sign your own death warrant if you start believing that,"

Alina huffed a laugh, returning her stare to the Scar. "What do you think it is? Aside from merzost, obviously. Is it just like the Fold, but made of light? Were the people caught up in it turned into Volcra?"

"Merzost is unpredictable," The woman said. "It may look like my son's unholy creation reversed, but there is no reason why else it should be similar. The Fold was an uncontrolled explosion of power. So was this, on a smaller scale, with light and not darkness. By nature, both are not likely to be the same,"

"I hear whispers, like I did with the Fold, only stronger," She said. "Its draw is stronger, as is its repulsion," She shook herself, grinning. "At least it destroyed the luxury monstrosity that is the Grand Palace. Have you seen the plans to rebuild?" Already the Fabrikators and otkazat'sya builders had made the structure stable and unlikely to fall apart any more.

"Aleksander better not have the whole thing painted black," Baghra muttered.

Alina laughed. "Thankfully not. It's going to be two separate buildings, linked by a covered bridge over the Scar," The designs had been magnificent, actually, to her surprise. "Lots of things are getting ripped out, too. He wants it to be less ostentatious - which means more intimidating. I'd say it'll be an improvement," Already, many of the unnecessary, tasteless luxuries had been removed from both the inside and outside of the palace. The money made from selling them had gone straight into Ravka's depleted coffers. Alina found the whole thing very satisfying, and it was popular news to spread amongst the common people, even if many nobles privately sneered at what was perceived as extreme tightfistedness.

"And yet you still reside in the Little Palace?" The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I do," She said. "I was stuck in that hateful golden prison for months. Why would I spend any more time there?"

Baghra looked at her with something that may almost have been approval. "I hear you are insisting your lack of a ring finger makes you unable to be married to the Tsar,"

"Oh," She grinned. "Yes, I am," The question was posed daily. Not by Aleksander, who had surprisingly dropped the matter after that first night after the coup, but by countless advisors, nobles, even Grisha. "If they don't get the hint from that, I say I'll cut off the one on the other hand too. That normally shocks them into shutting up about it,"

The woman's lips twitched. "Good. I would hate to see you sat at his side forevermore, like a pretty little doll. The Tsar needs a Tsaritsa, though. The nobles will insist on it. Do not be surprised if that position is not open for you for much longer,"

"If he announced tomorrow that he was to marry some empty-headed aristocrat's daughter, I would celebrate," She said flippantly. "It would get everyone and their wretched questions off my back,"

*

Whilst Alina was of course glad that she had been able to rescue her mother and brother from the clutches of the Queen - currently imprisoned and awaiting trial in the dungeons, with the other Lantsovs - that did not mean that some of the time she wished it had not been so.

"Mother," She said through gritted teeth. "These are the best Healers in the country. They have studied the human body and how to fix it their entire lives. I hate to use the word, but from your point of view, they are as good as magic. They can make your pregnancy and childbirth mostly painless, and without danger of bleeding out or getting infected. They can check if the baby is healthy before it's even born - they can even check if it's a boy or a girl. So for what reason did you turn them away when I had them sent to you this morning?"

Her mother mirrored her stance, feet squared and arms folded, chin jutted out the same way. The woman was tiny, but that did not diminish the defensive anger in her expression. Misha sat in the corner of one of the adjoining rooms they had been given in the Grand Palace, looking more and more anxious by the minute.

"I do not trust them," Saran Starkova said. "What if this magic harms the child, makes them come out wrong? And don't insult me by saying I need them to take away my pain - my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother would be turning in their graves! I bore the two of you without issue, and feel no need to let any Grisha interfere with this one. Send me a midwife - send me ten, if you must. I refuse to have this child any way but the natural way,"

"Don't be stupid. Why would you want to be in pain, and suffer more than you need to? The child is more likely to be damaged or even die by your so-called 'natural' birth than with Grisha assistance - and so are you. No Healer is going to risk getting on my bad side by harming you or the baby. Just take what is offered to you and be grateful it has been - many women would kill for this chance,"

But her mother did not budge on the matter. Inevitably it descended into yelling, and Alina storming out, enraged. Her mother had not become any easier to deal with since moving to Os Alta. Alina had arranged for her and Misha to live in a modest but comfortable townhouse in the Inner City, attended to by several staff and protected by the oprichniki. Emerging into the street outside had her waving a hand to direct the bright sunbeams away from her eyes.

"Can you blame her?" Misha had run to catch up with her, keeping up with her long strides. "I know it's frustrating, but she's lived her whole life in a tiny village - so have I, and this is all sometimes too much for me, even," He was kind, her brother. Although it definitely showed that he was their mother's favourite, whilst she had been their father's.

"I can understand that," She said, because she did, remembering the overwhelming feeling of a bed that felt far too big, food in too-large portions, a roof that didn't leak and clothes that weren't patched or dirty. "But women die in childbirth, all the time. After Da, I'm not losing anyone else, especially for something so stupid,"

"Then compromise," He suggested. "Play along for now, and have a Healer waiting on stand-by if things go wrong. You're both too stubborn to give in entirely,"

Alina made a noise of disgruntled agreement, then forced a change of subject, face lighting up. "Oh, I have good news for you. One of the richest merchants is looking for an apprentice, as he's got no sons of his own - I put your name forward and his eyes lit up at the prospect. I tried telling him you've read a lot, and are good at writing and sums, but once I mentioned you were my brother, I doubt he'd care if you were illiterate,"

To her surprise, Misha frowned. "That seems... too easy," He quickly backtracked. "I mean, thank you. That's a really good opportunity. But it would have been nice to earn it myself, not off of your name,"

She had not considered that; it had never been Alina's surname - that of a poverty-stricken family from the middle of nowhere - that had gotten her to where she was. "That's fair enough. But once your foot is in the door, you can prove how good you are. Everyone is relying on someone else's name to get in - if it wasn't you to take the position, it would be the son of a lord, or another rich merchant. Use any advantage you've got, and then you can make a name for yourself. Yours will still be a rags to riches story, besides, amongst all these rich folk. They eat up things like that,"

That seemed to win him over, and his smile this time was more genuine as he let himself get excited. "I suppose you're right. Thank you, Lina, really,"

"It's nothing," She shrugged, because it really was. People like that tripped over themselves to get into her good graces, knowing she was close to the new Tsar, who most were still unsure of their position with.

They fell into a comfortable silence, both content with walking through the now-cleaned-up streets.

"I wanted to ask you," Misha said after a while. "He does - he does treat you well, doesn't he?" He clearly felt awkward asking. "Only, I've heard the rumours, and I know it's none of my business, but you're not married and I'm your brother and I'm meant to make sure you're alright, now Da's not here to do it himself,"

It was a sweet gesture, even though Misha could have done absolutely nothing if the answer was no. Alina was not going to go into any amount of detail of such things with her brother, but did her best to answer the question regardless. It was less irritating when it came from a place of concern, not of judgement or expectation.

"We're not married because I don't want to, not because of his lack of asking," She said. "As for whether he treats me well - do you really think I'd settle for anything less? I make him treat me how I want to be treated. If he struck me, I'd hit back harder,"

"Do you love him?" The boy sounded doubtful.

"In a way,"

"Then why don't you want to marry him?"

She had to remind herself that he was only young, and grew up in an isolated village that stuck to traditional values, rather than the more liberal Little Palace like her. In Temgora, it was seen as a man's duty to 'do the right thing' and marry a woman he slept with. A woman having a child out of wedlock was often deemed to be a slut. Marriage was the ideal, the end of every love story. And Misha knew no better.

She made light of the question, grinning. "I've always been determined to be the one thing he can't control. And I'm never going to be anyone's wife,"

*

Her ventures into Ravka went farther and farther afield. On several occasions, getting the locals on side was more difficult than others, and she was faced with open riots. Many people still hated the idea of a Grisha as King, which was only to be predicted. In these cases, a display of force (hopefully without any casualties) was necessary; from her and her oprichniki guards, not the Grisha, as this would be counterproductive. It always worked, leaving only a few grumbling dissenters rather than the whole village or town. She just had to get them to listen, and in most cases she could talk them into accepting it, aided by displays of generosity from the Healers and Fabrikators she travelled with.

More troubling was that several First Army regiments had refused to bow to the Darkling and could not be talked out of going rogue. They had been known to incite the common people into riots, fighting at their side. The first time she got wind of such a thing, there was no time to write to Os Alta for permission. Alina took it upon herself to put these uprisings down swiftly, with backup from more of the First Army in some cases. She insisted those who swore loyalty and repented after defeat were not to be killed; no one would ever surrender if the only other option was death. Word spread, and as the months passed, fewer and fewer uprisings occurred.

It helped that life was better under the Darkling than it ever had been under the Lantsovs. Primarily, Grisha were offered to help with ensuring a bountiful harvest, and large portions of the First Army had been disbanded, sons and daughter returning home for the first time in years. Many soldiers remained, however. Whilst there were official peace contracts being drawn up with Fjerda and Shu Han, it would be foolish to relax too early. The Fold was a war-ending weapon, but they could still do a lot of damage if they chose.

Though Alina had little to do with the peace treaties, she made sure there was a clause about raiding parties on the borders being punished brutally. Ravka now planned to build a series of manned watchtowers along its borders to prevent such things occurring. They became relevant to her, however, when the news of visiting diplomats came to help write and sign these treaties. Aleksander wanted her there, likely to show off another of his weapons.

What followed was a whirlwind of processions, welcoming feasts and ceremonies. Whilst nowhere near as unnecessarily extravagant as they would have been if the Lantsovs still held power, it was still grand and exhausting. Tensions were high, too; centuries-old enemies coming together under the threat of annihilation was never going to be a relaxing event.

Alina, for the most part, was bored stiff. Yet in the chaos of the diplomat's visit, an interesting character emerged.

"I am a privateer, moi Tsar," The odd-looking man said, with a sweeping bow and a charming smile. He was tall, young - only a few years older than Alina - with hair in a strange shade of red, muddy green eyes, a nose that looked as if it had been broken several times, and an overly pointed chin. "Or I was, under the Lantsovs. I came to Os Alta to ensure that my certification and letter of mark is still valid under Ravka's new Tsar and his..." He hesitated, eyeing Alina stood by the Darkling's side. The pause seemed deliberate. "Tsaritsa?"

"Sun Summoner," She smiled without humour, tired of correcting people on the matter. The question was posed to her daily. Various answers had come out of her mouth when asked, few of them serious, let alone polite. Protege, minder, bedwarmer, mascot, commander, religious advisor... This had felt like a test rather than a simple mistake, however.

The young man smiled at her, and only her. "Forgive me for the mistake, my lady. It is easy to picture one so radiant as you as a Queen," He was joking, not taking himself too seriously, which she liked.

Alina laughed. "Oh, give the silver-tongued fool his certification and let him get back to robbing foreign ships,"

The Darkling's eyes were narrowed. "I will think on the matter,"

"Of course you will," She rolled her eyes, turning to the man. "What did you say your name was?"

"Sturmhond, my lady,"

She smiled at him. "I'm not a lady. Alina is just fine,"

*

A few of you had some good criticisms of the last chapter that I agreed with (for the most part) and attempted to address in this one. Many of my writing choices were intentional, however; Alina was supposed to drift away from her friends in the time she was in the Grand Palace, emphasising her isolation, and making the reunion in this chapter more bittersweet. Equally, the entire point of her character is to question the Darkling, doubt him, and never quite give in, despite caring a lot for him. She is supposed to be obnoxious, belligerent and yes, often stupid; she is nineteen, after all, still young, and has been fighting for autonomy her entire life.

It's also important to remember that Darklina, even in this story, is by no means a healthy relationship. Alina was groomed as a child, essentially, despite her own attitude, which I kind of touched on in her rant this chapter. And she knows full well (as does he) that in a hundred years, everyone she knows and loves will be dead, except him. That is hardly grounds for a functional, healthy relationship, but it does make for interesting reading (in my opinion, of course, which is why I chose to write about it).

Apologies for anyone who thought they were going to get married; I don't think it's a spoiler at this point to say this is never going to happen, as it would feel like betraying her character. Either way, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter - any further constructive criticism, or ideas, are welcome.