Chapter Text
How did he fall so low again?
Right, it all started with Zlatan’s revolution. Of course, what chance did they have fighting not two but three fronts, with all their supply chains cut off. That the war carried on for an extra five years was quite the miracle. But in the end, when the Lantsov king died and his younger son took the throne, who could’ve blamed him for allying with Fjerda?
Now, Ravka was no more. Nikolaï Lantsov, no Nikolaï Opjer, ruled over as governor of the new Sørlandet province of Fjerda, the Southern Lands, while west of the Unsea stood New Ravka, a small but flourishing country that had no qualms with its northern neighbors. Tensions on the Shu Han borders were still high but there were no more wars, and it would eventually die down. For the first time in centuries, the continent seemed at peace. All that for a very modest price in the eyes of everyone. The death of all Grisha.
Aleksander stops walking and leans on the bark of a tree, allowing himself a short reprieve. He is exhausted. Even for the Darkling, it is no easy task to travel hundreds of kilometers while suffering from deep injuries on his flank and back. Not to mention one of his arms is broken, and he’s started losing blood again after ripping open his wounds when he decided to leave his horse and carry on by foot. With basic first aid care he would heal. Quicker than most at that. But still what would he not give to have a healer with him right now. Only… there are no more healers.
He slides to the ground in a sudden fit of despair. No more corporalki, no more etheralki… not even materialki. No one left, just him. Nikolai had told him he would defend the Grisha, and not even an hour later the Little Palace was being bombed and overruned by First Army soldiers. Most were slaughtered before even understanding they had to fight back. The image… horror… of the Grishenka being rounded up by who they thought they could trust and then brutally shot would be etched in his mind forever.
He tried defending them… Even using merzost, condemning himself again, was better than letting them all be killed. But when Baghra had been shoved out of her hut and threatened, he let himself get caught.
Stupid mother of his. A woman that never gave him an ounce of love and yet a woman he loved back despite all. She was his only companion in this eternity, he couldn’t let go of her. All for naught. Just a few days ago, after weeks spent in prison alongside him, she sacrificed herself to have him escape before the public execution. And so he ran, alone, desperate. Ran away.
He told himself he would get to safety, heal and then build his strength again. But really who was he kidding? He could never build anything like he had again. It was over. What good would it do him to reach Morozova’s workshop now? Without the Second Army, Grisha would be killed all throughout the lands again. Some would survive but how many? Against modern weaponry they were barely better than a normal soldier. They would only hide for so long…
Aleksander closes his eyes and, for the first time since Luda’s death, so many centuries ago, he lets himself cry. He cries over the unfairness of the world, over his wasted life, over those he’d lost again. Mother, friends, soldiers, innocent children… He is so tired. He’s tried being a soldier, a general, a monster. Failed every time. What is left to try? Living in fear and hiding? He’s done that too. He is now more alone than he’s ever been, and there is no possible escape.
Maybe it is time to let himself rest. Let go. Stop fighting and accept that this is the end. It probably wouldn’t be that hard to let himself bleed to death. He lets his mind wander, feeling dizzy anyway, and quicker than expected he falls into an exhausted and dreamless slumber. Thanks the saints, at least he will not dream of the Grishenka.
Aleksander wakes up to a buzzing going through his bones. Immediately after he feels a plump finger poking his cheek. He furrows his brows at the uncomfortable feeling and tries remembering. He is clearly lying in bed right now and not against the bark of a tree. Another poke on the cheek and he opens his eyes to a pair of bright hazel and curious eyes. A little girl is hunched over him, mouth open and awe in her face.
She moves back to the end of the bed when he raises himself and looks around. He is laying on a rudimentary bed, in a small room. His wounds have been tended to – he wears a sling on his left arm and his waist is bandaged – and his travel clothes – save for his pants – have been removed, obviously washed, and are folded on the chair next to the bed.
“Are you a prince?” The little girl asks and he puts his attention back on her. “In the stories mama reads to me, the princes are always very handsome!”
She is about four or five years old, with porcelain skin and dark blond hair, added to her hazel eyes. She reminds him, unfortunately, of another cheeky blond and hazel-eyed kid that had grown up to be the death of his kin and he would rather now see dead.
“No, sorry missy, I’m not” he answers darkly.
She pouts slightly and jumps off the bed.
“That’s okay. You’re still beautiful.”
“Irinka, don't wake him up!" Calls a voice from another room.
"He's awake already, mama!" The little girl answers with the clear and ringing voice of a child not used to modulating her tone.
At that he hears the steps of someone rushing to the room. The woman who enters is nothing at all like her daughter. She is nothing peculiar actually. Still he finds himself suddenly struck.
She is probably in her mid twenties, clearly has some strong shu heritage flowing in her veins, with olive skin and jet black hair, but also beautiful caramel eyes he can discern even from where he sits. Her hair is tied back and she wears a simple dress, covered with an almost clean apron. A farmer girl, objectively nothing exceptional. Still her expression staggers him. He's always made people cower with just his presence, his shadows painted on his face as much as they are present in his small science. But she doesn't look frightened, worried or some other gloomy expression. She looks sincerely relieved, it's very unexpected.
And, it is not only her expression, there is something else… She doesn’t look in such good health, which isn’t surprising for a peasant living in a country torn by wars for so long, but despite it she has some presence that almost illuminates the room.
The little girl, Irina from what he’d understood, runs to her mother.
“He says he’s not a prince, Mama.” She chuckles amused by the girl and pats her head.
“Of course not darling. Now go get a glass of water please. I’m sure our guest needs to drink a bit.” She turns to him with a bright smile. “How are you feeling?”
He breaks off from his dazzled mood and sits on the side of the bed.
“Much better. But you shouldn’t have bothered, Madam. I’m going to be on my way now.”
He tries getting up but immediately winces. After having rested a bit, his muscles are now too cold and tired to fight against the pain like they did under the rush and adrenaline of these past few days. She moves to help him sit down again and he feels startled by the proximity and surety of her movement.
"You're in no shape to travel." She adjusts the sling on his arm and hands him the glass of water Irina brought back. “Also, it's customary to say thank you.”
"Thank you. But really… I can't stay here, it's…"
Dangerous is the word. He certainly has pursuers, and anyone sheltering a Grisha is in trouble nowadays. The young woman shakes her head as if she understands.
"I know… but it's okay. You'll be safe in our home. My husband was… well known for his hate of Grisha people. They'll never think I would hide one. Plus, I didn't get through the trouble of taking you here just to see you pass out when you take a step outside."
Aleksander now looks at her with a suspicious face. The only way she can know he is Grisha is if she knows about who he is. She moves back a bit, putting some more comfortable distance between them again and scoffs slightly.
“Don’t be so defensive. I used to be in the army so of course, some faces are familiar to me. But I swear I don’t want you or your kin any harm. You can take a small break to heal and then be on your way, whatever you wish for.”
She picks the little girl in her arms and walks for the door.
“Rest a bit more, I’ll be serving dinner shortly. And then we can talk a bit maybe?”
He isn’t sure what to answer but he sure is famished and still quite tired. Would she have bothered bandaging him and cleaning his clothes if it was only to call the guards on him? Surely not. And the saints know he needs a bit of rest and would benefit from a good meal. He nods his approval in silence earning himself a new luminous smile that catches him off guard again.
“Good. My name is Alina by the way. I’ll call when the meal is ready. Have a good rest.”
“Have a good rest, mister Prince.” repeats the little girl from her mother’s arms.
And just like that they both leave him alone in the room. Aleksander is a bit baffled, obviously. He can’t help thinking about what a strange pair these two make. About how strange that woman seems.
He lays back in the bed, feeling dizzy again. Maybe he could sleep a bit more…
Loud ringing in his ears, the smell of gunpowder, the blood on his hands still leaking from the gunshot on the young lying on his lap…
He raises his head and he’s in the middle of them, a sea of bodies, all so young, all dead and covered in black and red. Shadows and blood.
The child on his lap is a little girl now, a blond little girl cut in half by his own Cut.
All his faults.
His mistakes.
Their deaths are all on him.
He’s the curse.
There’s only darkness now, and he hears the Volcras flying above. More victims of his, but those are not quite dead yet. They’re waiting for him. Waiting to get their revenge. That’s what he’ll do…
“Wa– –p.” a voice ringing in the dark, disturbing the vision of peace his impending death is bringing forth.
It’s like a ray of light piercing through the clouds. Something too luminous for him. Something undeserved. Unwanted. If it could just let him drown and be done…
“Wake up, you’re having a bad dream! General!”
Aleksander opens his eyes at once and violently catches the hand tugging at his elbow, making its owner shriek in panic or surprise. He’s shocked to hear her small cry, just as much as he’s shocked by how warm her skin feels to the touch. And then his eyes focus on her face and he realizes he’s covered in sweat and was in the middle of a nightmare.
“I’m sorry.” he says promptly, while relaxing her wrist.
“It’s… it’s alright.” she answers quietly.
It wouldn’t be unexpected for her to become more weary of him now, but she only looks slightly flustered and surprised. After a few seconds to ground herself again she gets up, dusting her dress.
“You were deep asleep so I let you rest longer, but it’s late and you need to eat a bit if you want to heal properly.” she ends up saying, pointing to the small tray she’s put down on the side table.
Just then he realizes night must’ve fallen, the room is now dimly lit by a candle. How much longer did he sleep?
“Thank you. And again, I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who caught you off guard.” There is a short somewhat awkward silence. “I’ll… leave you to your meal then.” she says walking to the door once more.
“Wait!”
Alina turns around quickly, half hiding behind the door frame already. She doesn’t say a word, looks at him expectantly instead. He understands it’s not that she’s afraid or anything, she’s just trying to give him space. And it's true that not so long ago he would’ve been appalled at the idea of someone witnessing him in such a weak condition, would’ve definitely acted aggressively… But… What’s the point in hiding his true feelings anymore? In hiding his true self?
“Aleksander.” he discloses almost in a whisper.
It’s been so long he’s said his own name, but he’ll probably be dead in a matter of days now so maybe for once… he can share his real name with someone. Even if that someone is a peasant Shu girl in the middle of Ravka.
“It’s… my name. For next time. I’m no General anymore and it would probably cause you trouble if someone overheard.”
“Aleksander.” she repeats softly.
He’s almost surprised to hear her speak it, even if he just gave it to her. And he’s definitely surprised to find it so melodious when she pronounces it. He was so sure he’d find it strange and awkward but it actually sounds… just right. Alina stifles a chuckle which makes him look at her questionably.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s a very beautiful name, just… very ordinary. I kind of expected something more impressive from the intimidating Black General.”
Yes, he never really realized it before, but it's true, it's quite common. And now that he's thinking about it, there was no good reason for him to keep his name hidden to start with. It was meant to protect him from people but it kept him away from them more than anything. He’s not so sure it was worth it considering how it’s all ending now. People only ever paid attention to his terrifying title anyway.
“Despite what people might think, I’m just a man.” he comments gravely.
“What? You mean you’re not a blood monster eating babies for breakfast? I’m not sure you’ll enjoy my cooking then.” Alina derisively jokes back to lighten the mood.
He can’t help but laugh lightly at her comment. She’s not wrong after all, that’s how many people tend to see him, even within the Second Army. Used to anyway.
“What about you, Alina?”
“Hum?”
“Well it’s not a very Shu sounding name.”
Her chuckle isn’t so hidden this time.
“Well despite what people might think, I’m Ravkan. Half anyway, my father was Ravkan. The only thing I know from Shu Han is that its inhabitants seem to share my beautiful complexion. Lucky me.”
She seems quite pleased to see him laugh at her words and smirks while he sits by the ledge of his bed and grabs his meal.
“Would you sit with me while I eat?”
The invitation seems all she was waiting for to get back in on the chair next to him with a bright smile. And he, himself, can’t help the half smile on his face. Weird and brave to say the least, that girl definitely is. But it’s actually not so bad to have some company…
She’s cooked a simple stew with some rabbit meat from what he can tell, and it’s actually not bad and quite hearty. He would eat anything anyway, he barely had any sustenance in prison. He tries to eat politely and not seem too famished but he’s not sure he’s managing. They make a bit of smalltalk while he eats, he asks her some news about the country, or rather what's left of it, and she gives back more detailed answers he expects each time, proving she's deeply interested in the current political situation. Another very unusual practice for a widowed farmer. Once he’s done and gulping down the end of his water he raises his face to her, observing him.
“It was delicious, thank you. To be honest I didn’t really have any meals this past month.”
“I can imagine that.”
“Really?”
“Like I said, I was in the army. I've known the brig. So yes, I can perfectly imagine how much worse it can be for a death row prisoner.” she speaks lightly but he hears the hurt between the lines.
He hums an acknowledgment.He knows just how intolerant others can be, even worse in the army and confronted to someone that looks like the enemy. She probably had quite a hard time as a soldier.
“What I don't understand though… Is why you're helping me.”
“Why?”
“It seems quite uncharacteristic for the mother of a young child to help a fugitive by bringing him home. Even more one who’s married to… how did you say earlier? “someone well known for his hate of Grisha people”.”
“Was married. But I'll even add I used to be quite the Grisha hater myself. A common trait in the First Army though.” she snorts as a precision, as if she's trying to make a point.
“That’s quite bold to admit in front of a baby eating blood monster.” he mocks gently.
“You’re wounded so I’m taking my chances.” she retorts with a snicker leaving him smiling again.
They stay silent for a while again, as he tries to decipher what she might be thinking. The conversation is edging in between friendly and slightly aggressive. It's kind of annoying not understanding openly what her stance is and what she might want from him.
“So why help and put your family at risk? Or what made you change your views on the subject? Unless being bullied as a Shu girl made you grow to enjoy going against public opinion.”
“Ah, no. I wish I could mingle more easily, believe me.” she pauses, turning her head over her shoulder for a second before getting back to him. “Lets just say I happened to meet a Grisha that opened my eyes. Regardless… I assure you we won’t be in any more danger having you here with us. You need some time to heal and–”
“And why should you care whether I heal or not?”
Alina looks at him gravelly, not even a smirk left on her face this time.
“Maybe I'm just a good natured person that won't let someone die on the side of a tree.”
“Or maybe you want something and you're still avoiding giving me a real answer.”
He thinks he's angered her when she gets up suddenly, but her face is just a mixture of guilt and hesitation.
“I know how it looks but… All I want is to set a good example for my daughter, and keep her safe. But if you wish to leave comes morning, I won't stop you.”
She picks up the empty tray and walks to the door before turning one last time.
“For what it’s worth. No one… not even Grisha… deserved what happened in the Little Palace. I'm very sorry for your losses. I hope you don't have too many nightmares over it.”
She smiles bashfully at him and she’s gone before he can blink, leaving him with more questions than answers.