About this story: This is a romance fan fiction about the Darkling and a female OC, born in the royal family with a power that binds her to the moon. I am not a native English speaker and I have not written a fan fiction in almost ten years. I have now actually accomplished to write for a living, as a professional author of books for young audiences in my home country. As much as I like my job, I missed the simplicity of posting online, so here I am, although my identity shall remain secret. I also wanted to experience writing in another language - my English might not be perfect, but I’m having a lot of fun.
This story is simple, linear, romantic and maybe a little dull, but it’s something the teenage me would have liked, and I hope it can bring a little happiness to anyone who’ll read it. We always write to escape. So, here’s a little escapism. Enjoy.
It's been 1 and 1/2 years since I last posted here. Yet, I still get reblogs, comments and hearts. I cannot thank you enough.
This fan fiction is not completed and I'm afraid it will never be. I have resumed to write for a living, and I have no time to spare.
Still, I often come back here, to read these chapters once more. I loved this story and I am proud of the way I managed to write in another language. It saddens me that I couldn't finish it.
So, if you wish, you can write your own ending. I don't mind- actually, it makes me glad.
Thank you for sticking with me for all this time. You gave me strenght to believe in my writing when I was at a very low point🖤
Ch. 17 A ghost from the past haunts you, until you decide to do your own haunting. [Masterlist]
Previous -
The first time you are in your bedroom, lying on the bed, still recovering from your capture and escape. You are feverish and you think it is a hallucination. A dream coming out of your slumber to lead you back to sleep.
You lose conscience again, without questioning if his shape at your side was real or not.
The second time you are coming out of your war room. You have been discussing plans for days, now, trying to convince the skeptics that he is really back and stealing your soldiers for his own ranks. He crosses the hallway in front of you, and you stand still.
He vanishes behind the corner and you feel terror in your heart, thinking you are going crazy.
The third time, as you wash your tired face with water from a basin, you see him in the mirror. He has a puzzled look, and disappears the moment you turn to confront him.
All that is left to you is the memory of his scars, dark and deep, and all you feel is pain, his and yours.
Next, you meet with Zoya, Genya and David, and tell them you might not be fit to lead the revolution anymore, because you are going nuts.
You tell them the whole thing, feeling ashamed, and scared, until David clears his voice to point out that you are not crazy at all, probably.
“You remember his gift?” He says, gesturing to your finger, where the amplifier ring were placed.
“So this is what you meant, when you talked about some kind of a bond?” You ask.
“I meant nothing, because I did not know what could have happened. We are finding it out now”.
“Well, it can be removed, I presume”, says Zoya, practical as always. “Just take it off and let us be done with it”.
“Wait”. You hear yourself speaking, and you can’t believe you are really saying this. “It might turn useful”.
"You mean dangerous”, Genya remarks.
“I think he doesn’t know how this… connection works, yet”, you continue. “I believe he is not visiting me on purpose”.
“And what when he does?”, Genya looks worried. “What if he starts haunting you? Learning our secrets, sabotaging us?”
You smile. You are still terrified, but you are starting to feel in control once more. “What if I haunt him first?”
The fourth time, you sit in front of the window, you close your eyes and call on the amplifier’s energy in your blood. It carries a memory, of you and him in a tent, a gift, hope. You hang on that memory so hard, tears sting in your throat.
Next thing you know, you are not in your room anymore. This place is unfamiliar, the lights are low, there’s too much silence.
He’s sitting by a fireplace, no flames burning in it. He stays in the dark and it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s never looked worse, and his eyes are lost in thoughts. They grow wide when they see you, but he says nothing, his lips tight.
You take a step and the shadows around him swirl and spur and take shape of a monster, running towards you.
Moonlight explodes from you, on instinct. And you open your eyes, and you are back in front of the window, and you are alone, and breathless.
The fifth time, you haunt him.
You slide in his refuge, walk in the halls of the place he chose to hide in, like a ghost, learning his secrets, spying on his plans, feeling a wicked pleasure in haunting him just like he tried to do to you.
The sixth time, you haunt him.
He’s always sitting in that dark room, by the empty fireplace, looking worse by the day.
The seventh time, you haunt him.
He stares at you with eyes full of hate, and you’ve never felt so hurt and revengeful. You only have a few seconds to look back at him, before his monster of shadows comes out from the corner, sending you back.
He haunts you, next. He appears in the corner of your eye, and he’s always gone before you can face him. He’s spying on you, or maybe he’s just trying to drive you crazy.
It goes on and on.
So you take the most reckless decision of your life.
It is very late at night, the last time you haunt him on purpose. Nobody knows you are here. You have learnt the location of his hideout in your haunting, but you told nobody on your staff of your plan. They would have stopped you, if they had known about it. Instead, you want this to happen.
It is easy to charm whatever guards you find on your way. You don’t even look at them. You manipulate moonlight and leave sparkles behind you. They just stare into the void, and you leave them like this.
He doesn’t notice you when you enter the door. You’ve learnt to be quite. He’s turning his back at you, reading some paper. You take your time to observe him, something he never really allowed in your haunting, always pushing you away at once.
Like he sensed something, he turns to face you. You see his real expression, a moment before he realizes it is you and wears his armor. You’ve never seen such sadness painted on his face, like a death sentence. It scares you.
“Don’t!”, you exclaim, before he could summon his monster. “No need. I come peacefully”.
He sneers. “And why should I believe you?”
It is the first time you hear his voice after his alleged demise. It gives you a strange relief. You do not recognize his hate, but you recognize his voice. It might still be him, deep down.
“Please, Aleksand-“
“Do not speak my name”. The shadows at his feet quiver, and you shut up. “You have no right in doing so”.
You try again. “You believed the rumors”, you say, carefully.
“What rumors?” He scoffs. “I saw it with my own eyes. You betrayed me, princess”.
“The Heartrenders did. They stopped me from summoning”.
“Why would Ivan ever do something like that?”
This has really been the most reckless decision you’ve ever taken, and the most stupid one. It is clear that this is all useless. You should have known better.
“He disapproved of me”, you explain, knowing it won’t serve.
The Darkling shakes his head, slowly, staring at you with dismay. “You used to be such a better liar”.
You sigh. “What will it take to prove to you that I am not lying?”
He seems to take your words into consideration. He has not moved an inch, he’s still right there, next to the table, and you have the feeling that if he were to come closer, his shadow monsters would devour you instantly.
“Surrender”, he says at last.
“Excuse me?!”
“Surrender yourself. Let me take the lead. Then I shall know you are on my side”.
You swallow bitter, hating each and every second of this conversation. “There used to be only one side. Ours. Not mine or yours”.
“That was before you fed me to the volcras”.
“I didn’t-“ There is no use in repeating yourself. You stop to look at him, discouraged. And suddenly, you dare to ask. “What happened to you in the Fold?”
He shivers. He thinks you didn’t notice, but you saw it. “I survived”, he shrugs.
You take a good look at the shadows restlessly shaking behind him, and his scarred face, and his hopeless eyes. “Merzost”, you whisper. “Again”.
It is a mistake. Why don’t you ever learn to keep quiet? He receives your words like an accusation, and shadows start swirling around his like a tempest ready to blast.
“Let me help”, you say. Another mistake. But you are too desperate now to think clear. “We can fix it. I know you don’t trust me now, but-“
“Why did you come asking questions, when you already know all the answers?”
He finally makes one step. Shadows grow around him. The monsters are coming soon.
“You came here, feeding on the amplifier’s energy, on the memory of the gift I once gave you, thinking you were talking to a lover. But you are talking to a dead man, one you killed. I won’t fall for your tricks once more, princess”.
He’s so close, darkness swirling at his back, ready to push you away, and you remember.
You remember how it felt to be in his arms, kiss his lips, feel his hands.
You wonder if he remembers it too.
“I am sorry you just fell for another one”, you whisper.
Moonlight bursts from you, bright enough to scare his monsters and to blind him. It gives you just the time to run away and disappear in the hallway, where other charmed Grisha wait for you to break the spell. They just hang there helpless, and you leave.
You are already gone, when he realizes you were really there, and not an apparition.
You came to him, flesh and bone, and he let you go.
He cries out in pain, but you can’t hear him, and you’ll never know.
Ch. 16 It's been weeks since the disaster on the skiff, and you are now leading the Grisha revolution. You have been planning to go back to the Fold and look for the Darkling. It never occurred to you that he might come looking for you instead. [Masterlist]
Previous - Next
Be bold, be bold, but not too bold; that’s how the saying goes.
You wished you would have learnt that lesson by now, but you’ve been alone for a while, a moon with no darkness to soften its brightness, and you’ve grown too reckless.
You are in big trouble, now.
Hands bound like this, you cannot summon the smallest sparkle, let alone enchanting your captors. You stare at them with fire in your eyes, wondering if they think they’ll get away with this.
You also wonder if you’ll get away, with this.
“Now, now, witch”, the lieutenant says, kneeling in front of you. “Don’t you fret. This will be over soon. If you cooperate, of course”.
“What for?”, you spit. “You are going to kill me anyway, I’d rather make it as difficult as I can”.
“We are giving you a fair trial, first”, the man says. He’s from the First Army, a loyal collaborator of Vasily, and he just can’t believe he’s got the Moon Summoner, the vixen herself, the one who enchanted the Darkling to his death and who started the Grisha revolution across the whole country.
“Let me guess, you shall be judging me?”
“We just want to give you a chance to tell your side of the story, before handing you over to the King for your execution”.
You sigh. The Queen will be delighted. She chased you down like a scourge, sending spies and scouts all over Ravka, infiltrators, Grisha traitors. They all returned to her mad as a hatter.
The heath of a burning light blinds you for a moment. A soldier has put a lantern right in front of your eyes, just to make it funnier for them.
You are bound to a pole in the tent, in this forgotten First Army outpost you had been dragged you, after being ambushed along with your escort. You are quite mad to yourself, actually, for falling into the trap. Nobody should have known about your whereabouts.
You were on a secret mission, just about to enter the Fold for a second time. To go looking for him.
What makes you even angrier is that this damned First Army soldier prevented you to go ahead with your plan.
“Pray, tell us. Your truth. Your story”.
They are mocking you, but it’s fine. Zoya will come for you soon. You just need to buy yourself enough time.
“You won’t believe me”.
“Please. People won’t say we didn’t give you the chance to defend yourself. Tell us what happened on the day you killed the Darkling and attempted on the life of your Prince”.
“First of all, I didn’t do any of this. The Heartrenders in our party revolted and prevented me from summoning. That is how the skiff was attacked in the first place”.
“Our Prince reported that you left the whole crew in the darkness, on purpose”.
“Vasily lies”.
You feel the kick in your ribs, but you don’t even wince. You are already savoring the moment you’ll swallow them all in moonlight, leaving nothing in their brains but fantasy and desire. Not yet, though. You feel you might free one of your hands from the shackles, if you keep trying, but you need to distract them a little longer.
“I’m sorry, did I say something that offended you?”
“Your simple existence, moon vixen, is an offense to the Royal family”.
“I know that well enough”.
“You don’t deny your aim to the throne, then?”
You scoff. “I couldn’t care less for the throne”.
“Shall I remind you that you are leading a revolution? Right after your coup in the Fold, you gathered all Grisha willing to follow in your foul attempt, and proclaimed independence. You have established a headquarter, built an army, and now you are making demands, storming our camps. What, next?”
“Freedom. I am protecting the Grisha. The King would have gotten rid of us all, after the Darkling was gone”.
“You mean, after you killed him”.
They are trying to exasperate you, and you see that. Still, it hurts you. Everybody has bought that version of the story. Some Grisha didn’t even side with you, thinking you had murdered their General by leaving him at the mercy of the volcras.
That story pains you even more than the loss of him.
“Why were you headed to the Fold, anyway? Were you planning on retrieving his bones and wear him as an amplifier?”
“Is this mocking trial over or what?”, you screech, trying to conceal the unbearable suffering in your heart.
It definitely isn’t. The lieutenant is going to tell you, but suddenly a noise comes from outside the tent.
He look startled, for a moment.
“Be right back”, he says to his soldiers. “Don’t let down your guard. You know what they say about her”.
Oh, you do know what they say about you. You recall all the voices, all the stories you heard in these past few weeks. The witch, the moon vixen, the Grisha enchantress. She has moonbeams in her eyes and can grind your heart with just one look. She has moonshine in her voice and can melt you with just one word.
The soldiers look not as cocky as they were a few moments ago, now that they are alone with you. You smile, knowing they won’t look at your wrist, and at how you are twisting it to get free of the shackle.
Suddenly, it all goes dark.
You heart leaps forward, its beating is all you can hear, like thunders preceding a storm. Something is off, you can feel it in your gut. It's like the balance has shifted.
The soldiers are definitely panicking now, flickering around, someone even grabs you by the collar of your dress and says: “What kind of trick is this, witch?”
But you don’t have a chance to answer him. He is swept up into the air, swallowed by darkness, or by someone in the darkness. Or something.
Finally, you free your wrist. Moonlight emerges from your palms in the shape of a glittering sphere, showing what words can’t really describe.
There is a creature of darkness, smoldering in the tent, and nothing left of the soldiers who were supposed to guard you.
You are acting on instinct, now. Your moon opens up, it turns into a shield between you and the creature, to protect you. You don’t want to kill it, not yet. You want to understand.
The thing of darkness roams behind your gleaming shield, but it doesn’t seem to like your light. It recoils, shifting into the air, and vanishes like smoke blown away by the wind.
You rush outside. The outpost is burning. Soldiers are running, screaming orders, and you look around, trying to get the grip of the situation. You bend your head, cover your hair with the hood of your cloak, still draped on your shoulders, and start making your way across the bloodshed. Nobody really pays attention at you, maybe because they are all falling, one by one.
There were other Grisha taken captive and you head towards their cages, hoping to be faster than those creatures and to free them in time.
But you have a feeling you can’t ignore. It is driving you mad. It’s like a dagger, stabbing you within every step you take. These creatures storming the outpost are sick and savage and they smell just like the void and death you remember from your journey through the Unsea.
Who carried them here?
You finally reach the cages, bent and broken by the race, but they are already open. You raise your eyes just in time to see your former companions walking into the woods, leaving you.
It doesn’t make sense. Why would they? You are their leader. They swore to follow you. You are also their princess, as some of them like to point out. You might have lied to the lieutenant: you do sometimes think of the throne. The first Grisha queen, wouldn’t that be nice?
But you are nothing more than a lonely, scared, miserable girl now, with eyes open wide and full with tears, as you see a familiar shape peeking out of the woods, lit by the flames devouring the barracks.
He’s just as you dreamt of him: scarred, hurt, and hateful. You thought they were just dreams, haunting you after his demise, but maybe they were something more. There he stands, now.
His eyes are intriguing as ever, despite the dust and wounds on his skin. He stares at you, and it reminds you of the first time you met him, and the way he looked at you, slightly annoyed, completely puzzled.
The creatures of darkness swirl behind him like faithful old dogs and you understand why they seemed so familiar. You have been chased by his shadows more than once in the past. You have also dwelled into them, in his arms. But these shadows, you are afraid of them. They are born of hate, and rage, and they will consume everything they touch, maybe him as well.
The heath of the flames from the burning outpost is licking at your feet, and you might fall or even faint any minute now. If only you could speak, but your tongue is tied, your heart is breaking. You don’t believe in ghosts, and he certainly doesn’t look like one. He seems very much alive.
But why doesn’t he reach for you, then?
He looks down, at last, and turns to make his way into the woods. That’s when you find your voice, and yell: “Wait!”
He seems to hesitate, and glances at you from over his shoulder. Even if he doesn’t speak, you suddenly realize everything. It’s all in there, in that spiteful, unforgiving look. It’s all in the way he leaves you, his absence like a declaration of war.
You don’t know how he survived the Fold, but you can guess it, now. What you know for sure is that he believes that cursed story as well: the moon vixen betraying him, to take his place and rule the land.
Little he knows of your sleepless nights, harrowing days, plans of entering the Fold to come looking for him. He doesn’t know of your feeling of guilt, grief and useless desire, when you felt like a widow and couldn’t tell anybody. Nothing he knows of how you conjured up your own strenght, and fought your way out of the mess.
In his eyes, you are his enemy, now.
And you must fight him, just as you once promised, with everything you can.
Give me hope in silence, it's easier, it's kinder;
And tell me not of heartbreak, it plagues my soul;
And bury me beside you, I have no hope in solitude;
And the world will follow to the earth, down below.
But I came and I was nothing,
And time will give us nothing,
So why did you choose to lean on
A man you knew was falling?
Ch. 15 You enter the Fold to accomplish your plan. Whatever happens, you must go on standing. [Masterlist]
Warnings: angst and very bad cliffhanger
** Author notes at the end **
Previous - Next
In the aftermath of your mission in the Fold, you will play the scene in your head, over and over, struggling to remember little details that will be most important to you. When you touched him last, for example, when he looked at you in the eye for the last time. For this is the problem with last times. You often ignore they are the last.
For now, you don’t even think about it. It’s not time, yet. You have just climbed on the skiff that will take you right into the mouth of darkness. You have never seen the Fold so close. It is like staring at a storm or a hurricane, a masterpiece of nature, powerful and deadly, from which you can’t look away.
Instead, you look at the man besides you, remembering he’s the one who made it.
There are other people on board, guests you made sure to invite to witness your plan. There are ambassadors from Shu Han and Kerch and Novyi Zem. Along with other Grisha there is Ivan, the Heartrender and the Darkling’s right hand man, and Zoya too, the Squaller, at the sail. You know the first isn’t particularly fond of you, but you like Zoya, you trained with her and you’ve always admired her. You are not friends, but you could be, and you are glad she’s here.
Your second cousin Vasily is here too, as the new First Army General, just as the Darkling predicted. You hardly stand him, but he couldn’t miss it.
“No representative from Fjerda, cousin?” He asks, approaching you with the falsest smile you’d ever seen.
“I praise your keen powers of observation, cousin”.
“May I dare to ask why?”
“You will know in due time. Very soon”.
He doesn’t look happy with your answers, but you are not going to give your plan away before its time, not even to your future king. You excuse yourself and proceed to check out the skiff, making sure everything is in the right place. A breeze is coming from the Unsea, carrying a sour smell and a chill in your bones.
You had never been scared of darkness, but being so close to the Fold is terrifying.
So you do the only thing that makes sense now, and join the Darling on the front of the skiff. His expression is unreadable, as he stares into his creation, but he smiles when he sees you.
“Everything allright?” He asks.
“All set and ready to take off”.
He stares for a second, then he raises his eyes, like he’s checking if someone is listening to you, and whispers. “I was asking about you”.
You are struck by his concern. “I admit, your grand creation is a little… intimidating”.
“When this is over, it will be a little more than intimidating for our enemies”.
“I hope so”. You lean on the railing in front of you, and you are about to say something meaningful, just to steal some time for the two of you before you enter the darkness, but he leans closer and talks with sudden urgency.
“I must make sure you understand”, he says. “That after this, come the flood. There will be no turning back. They will come for us, and we must go on standing”.
You are surprised to find a glint of fear in his eyes. “I know”, you say, filled with concern, “Let them come for us. Everybody will know what Grisha are worth. What we are worth. And then, one day, when the country is ready - because you know I will make you do this - we will get rid of the Fold. It will be our gift to Ravka”.
“You'll make me?”.
“There is no hurry. I have time to persuade you”.
He shakes his head. “What would be of a Shadow Summoner, once the Fold is gone?”
“You will be greeted like a hero. The Starless Saint. I know you are used to it by now, but I assure you that "Black Heretic" sounds a little too melodramatic.”
You take pleasure in his smile, and in how the revelation of his past is slowly becoming part of your future.
He looks at you fondly.
Is it now, maybe, the last time you touch him? He brushes your hand with his fingers, almost accidentally, and it makes you shiver. You’ll wish you payed more attention. When this is over, there will be no way of knowing it, and you will be left to wonder.
He gives the signal and the skiff takes off. You choke on the sudden velocity, and brace yourself. The Fold is closer and closer, and you hope you are strong enough to enchant the darkness, just like some say you enchanted the Darkling himself.
And just like that, the Fold swallows the skiff.
Pitch black shadows, like pools of ink, surround you, leaving you speechless. You spent years looking at it from afar and imagining what it would feel like to plunge into it, and now that you are there it doesn’t look like anything you ever dreamed of. How to describe this feeling of cold and silence, of stillness and void? Time doesn’t flow in here. Everything is still just like the day the Black Heretic cursed it.
You look at him. You can’t help but search his features, looking for a reaction. You can see thoughts roaming in his eyes. There is pain, and shame, and rage in his clenched jaw. You grab his arm, above the fabric of his kefta, and say nothing.
The skiff moves swiftly on the path you established, taking you closer to the Fjerdan border, where the forest separates it from the first outposts. It is all so quiet that you start to wonder if you’ll have to actually use your powers at all.
Then, one of the Heartrenders whispers something in the General’s ear. But you have already heard it, a distant flapping of wings.
The Black General turns to you. He’s so calm, you wonder how he does it. “It is up to you, now, little moon”.
You nod. You knew it would happen, he told you he’s like a beacon to the volcra. That’s why you wanted insurance and pursued the amplifier. That’s why you are not going to leave his side.
You move your hands and start fashioning the brightest moon you’ve ever manufactured. It’s made of loneliness and dreaming, desire and desperation, and it floats up in the air driven by the inhuman force of your amplifier, melted in your bones.
The sound of wings is louder now, you can hear people whimpering behind you, and you are suddenly scared you might fail at this. You grab the Darkling’s wrist, suddenly, and when he looks at you you whisper, so low only he can hear: “Aleksander”.
You didn't mean to call him like that. It came out of your mouth so naturally you didn't even notice it. His eyes widen at the sound of his true name, and they glisten, and he says: “I am here”.
The amplifying energy coming from the touch of his skin rushes through your blood, drives your moon up in the eternal night of the Unseen, and now you see them.
They look like giant bats, with dragon mouths, and they fly around your moon, like moth to a flame. They go round and round, meek and tame.
You did it. Adrenaline makes your heart pump faster, while the Darkling looks at you proudly. He is speaking now, to the people on the skiff, although you are so drunk with emotion you lose the first words. He praises you and your power and your allegiance, and then he talks of the future.
“You have witnessed what the Moon Summoner can do. Now bear witness to what I can do, with her by my side”.
And the Fold moves. It moves by his order, hands stretched forward like he’s pushing it onward with his bare muscles. It moves and gets through the forest, reaches the Fjerdan outpost and engulfs it whole.
You hear the screams, but force yourself to focus on your gleaming moon above your head. In your mind, the cries and pain of the Grisha refugees at the border are fresh memories. This Is retribution.
You glance behind to see the ambassadors open mouthed. Vasiliy is white as a sheet.
“Take what you have seen back to your home countries”, the Darkling says. He’s as thrilled as you are. “There will be no more war with Ravka”.
And suddenly you can’t breathe.
Your moon vanishes. Volcras screech. Passengers cry with horror.
And you are not your own, it’s not your choice. You can’t move, you are stiff as a dead body, blood getting colder and colder in your veins, your head exploding with terror, and you hear Ivan’s voice in your ear: “You are done with your tricks, you vixen”.
This will be known as the Heartrenders’ riot. As short as devastating. But the Darkling will never know of it, because as he turns to face you in the dark, all he sees is your silhouette, standing still and staring at him, while a volcra reaches down, plunges his claws into his body and seizes him away.
It’s all in a second, but it plays in slow motion in your head. It will be the matter of your nightmares forever and more.
But right now, all you think about is to break free and reach him, grab him, save him. You don’t know how you manage to sever the Heartrender’ spell. You scream.
David, the Durast, was right. Moonlight is matter. You only realize you used the cut for the first time when you see the bodies on the floor.
You fall on the ground too, bent on your knees, but still you reach for your power and summon another moon, sparkling with rage, and try to boost it enough to push it up in the shadows and play the same trick you did before. You look around in despair, look for him, but he’s gone.
The skiff is moving now, going backwards. People are still screaming, someone is hurt, you hear Vasily cursing.
You feel helpless. Your moon stands high above you all now, and you dare to run to the railing, to look down and search for him. You send out beams of moonlight to reveal what the shadows hide, but there is no trace of him.
You might jump off the skiff, if Zoya wouldn’t come suddenly at your side, grabbing you by the arms.
“Don’t”, she just says.
“You saw what happened”, you reply shakily. You heart is cracking, you feel it.
“I saw it” she answers. “Don’t. Please. You are all we have left”.
As you listen to her words and choke on your tears, the skiff comes out into the light.
He's gone, the flood is coming, and you must go on standing.
You don't know it yet, but this is how you start the war.
Part two begins here
I have always imagined this story as a "two seasons" series. Season one, or part one, ends here. But it is not the end of the story, as I'd very much like to keep going and write part two.
Thank you for all your lovely feedback and support. Writing in English is such an incredible adventure for me. Please let me know what you think of this story so far and what you'd like to see happening next.
Ch. 14 When an expedition in enemy territory goes terribly wrong, will you accept an unexpected gift from the man that broke your trust?. [Masterlist]
Warnings: mentions of blood
** Author notes at the end **
Previous - Next
You stand in a tent in the middle of the Halmhend Forest. In front of you lies the biggest owl you’ve ever seen, with white feathers and amber eyes. It was to be your amplifier.
It is dead, and you did not kill it.
At the back of the tent, the Darkling stares at the lifeless body. It seems he doesn’t have a clue, for once. He looks mortified, if you were to believe what comes across his face, but you must be smarter than that, now.
How did it come to this?
You wanted insurance. You had a new plan, one you are not allowed to fail. That is why he started proposing you several amplifiers. He was fond of the legendary ones, those created by his ancestors, but you refused. You had no interest in an endless quest for power. Besides, lately you had been dreaming of a strange feathered creature, gleaming under the moonlight in the depth of a frozen forest.
When scouts sent reports of a large owl with amber eyes at the Fjerdan border, you knew it was yours.
It was the same owl that lies dead at your feet, now.
The Darkling sighs, from his corner in the darkness. “There are—“
You stop him by raising your hand. You are so angry, you can’t bear to listen to him. “Don’t. Please”.
The deal you’ve struck with him has been working until now. Your alliance has never been more solid. You have made plans together, quelled the western rebellion, turned your focus on the Fjerdan menace, growing more dangerous by the day.
There are those who whisper that the moon vixen has charmed their General, but there are also those who fear you, and respect you both. Grisha are growing stronger under your joined guidance.
As promised, he has not touched you since your confrontation. And he still doesn’t, even now that you are so miserable that only and embrace would heal your wound.
“If you would just listen”. He tries it again, but you don’t even look at him.
“I listened to you, and this is what we got”, you say grudgingly, pointing at the dead owl in front of you.
“There are other amplifiers. I told you-“
“I won’t meddle with Merzost”, you reply, exasperated. “I won’t make your mistake”.
This is a low blow. Neither of you has ever mentioned your confrontation, or what you learnt by it. You really shouldn’t have, but he asked for it. He swallows it with a bitter smile.
“You realize you do need an amplifier, if you really intend to charm the volcras and enter the Fold”, he coldly remarks. “And you made quite clear you won’t use this one”.
“I cannot use it because you killed it!” You snap.
The scene keeps playing in your head. You had been on the trail for days, a small troop of Grisha and guards accompanying you, and him, of course. He came to lead the expedition. And when you found yourself thinking he might have come only for your sake, you hated yourself.
It had been so difficult to keep your mind steady and not wander off. Everything he told you on the fateful night of the Summer Festival entered your dreams and lingered in the waking world.
You kept thinking of that night so many times. His truthfulness had been somehow exciting. It scared how much you missed him, even knowing what you knew, and you much you craved to know more, learn more about him.
You often wondered if it mattered at all.
Even while hunting the white owl, you kept wishing things were different. You wanted to go back to his tent, not yours. You didn’t want to spend the night alone. And you wished you didn’t face it all by yourself, while you were getting closer to your prey, and to the day you entered the Fold to try the boldest task you could think of. Was the past really that important, when you were both living the present?
Snow had stopped falling in the forest, the air was cold and silent. Everything happened very fast, then.
The owl descended suddenly on your arm, and you stood there petrified, staring into its large yellow eyes. You knew you had to slay it. You took a dagger from your belt, trembling, because it felt such a terrible thing to do, but you were going to do it anyway.
It was right then that the druskelle came from the woods, throwing arrows and axes; and you were the closest to them.
Next thing you knew, your face was smeared with blood. Not yours, and not the blood of the Druskelle that lay in pieces on the snow. It was the owl’s.
Now, in your tent, the Black General looks both annoyed and sorry.
“You know it was not my intention”, he marks each word. “May I point out that I saved your life?”
You raise an eyebrow, full of disdain. “I can’t believe the Shadow Summoner missed the shot”.
“I acted on instinct. If you accepted my offer to learn the Cut, you could have strike yourself. But I bet blaming me gives you much more satisfaction”.
“I cannot kill. I can only charm”, you respond. “You are the master of both”.
Anger brightens his dark eyes, but that painful grimace reveals your words have struck him deep inside.
This is getting out of hand. You breath deep, trying to calm yourself down. The dead owl is such a sorry look, but you are not sure this is the reason why your eyes fill with tears.
“There is no time for hunting another one”, you mumble, while wiping your face with the back of your hand. “We need to enter the Fold as soon as possible. We must stop Fjerda. I shall do this with my own possibilities”.
“It is too dangerous. I won’t allow it”.
“What do you propose, then?”
He pauses. Then he moves a few steps in your direction, slowly, like he’s feeling out the terrain. You don’t stop him, this time, so he reaches your side. You are finally face to face. He looks at you fiercely, right in the eye, and gestures at the owl.
“If you really want to do this, you may have it”.
“I can’t. You killed it. It is yours”.
“I give it to you. A gift”.
You let out a nervous laugh. “Don’t tease me. It can’t be done”.
“Do I need to remind you that I have a few centuries of experience over this kind of things?”
You look at his black, bottomless eyes. It is the first time he talks of himself this way, assuming you know what you know.
It reminds you of who you are actually talking to. And suddenly fears sweeps you away.
“Is this some kind of trick?” You stutter. “Is this… was this all staged?”
He frowns. “What are you even saying?”
“Did you plan it to go this way? The Druskelle— did you know about them? Just like that you had an excuse to kill my amplifier, then persuade me to wear it anyway, while being yours— is this your plan to use me, like Baghra said?”
“Enough”. He crosses the last distance between the two of you and firms grabs both your arms. You stop your rambling at once.
“Tell me, please” he continues, his voice much softer now. “Why should I do anything like that?”
“You know why”.
He shakes his head. You are so close, now, and you should push him away, but you need to hear what he has to say so desperately. You drink up on his voice, heart racing furiously, hoping to find truth in his words. “Why would I have a slave, when I can have my equal? Even though we are not the same, as you kindly reminded me many times during our acquaintance, we share the same hope for the future. After centuries of loneliness, this is enough”.
“She told me you’d say that”, you whisper.
“I know what she told you. This is what I tell you today. Accept this gift”.
There it goes. You can’t ignore the past, but you can’t ignore the present either. You close your eyes. It is easier to talk, this way. You are not blinded by the sight of him, by how much he has grown on you despite your best efforts.
“What would you do, if I ever decide to stray from your path?”
His answer is viciously honest. “I will fight you with everything I can”.
Your heart is racing. “I will fight you, too”.
“I am sure you will”.
His hands are resting on your wrists. He gives you the slightest pull forward, almost an invitation, and you fall into his arms.
You let him kiss you, just one, long kiss, lips pressed on yours so hard it hurts, and all that’s unsaid is finally told in your embrace. You are grabbing the hem of his kefta so tight, you might tear it apart.
Your heart is aching, when you pull away. Maybe time will heal you, and you will forgive yourself for this burning desire.
“I accept your gift. And tomorrow, we enter the Fold together”.
“Together”, he repeats.
And this sting of joy, where does it come from, now?
Later, David comes to meet you. He has made a ring out of the owl’s bones, and as he presents it to you, he shyly remarks that, despite being gifted, it might still somehow connect his slayer to the actual owner.
“Nobody but you will wield its power”, he explains. “But the amplifier will always recognize who took it first. You need to know the implications of this. It might create a bond, between the two of you, that could last… potentially forever”.
The Darkling says nothing. Arms crossed, he looks at you, waiting for your reaction. And there are a million theories roaming your mind, but you choose to listen to your heart.
“Let’s do it”, you shrug. “I feel we are already bound to each other, anywhere this might take us”.
As David places the ring on your finger and begins the process, the Darkling stares at you with a blank face, but you have learnt to read him, by now, and you know what’s behind that look.
You know you mean it. You do share a bond, already, deep and unbreakable.
But you have not specified what kind of bond it is.
And by the glittering moonlight sparkling in your irises, while the amplifiers takes root, he can tell that if you were not his ally, you’d make the most unforgiving enemy of all.
Next chapter will conclude part one on this story. But don't worry, part two is coming right away! Things are about to get really rough for you, as the Moon Summoner, and I won't leave you without knowing what happens next.
If you like this story, please, reblog and comment. I love reading your feedbacks, they give me a lot of motivation to continue.
When I started writing this fan fiction, purely for fun, in a language which is not my own, almost ten years after my last fan writing and after years of working as a professional writer on the edge of a breakdown... I actually never expected to get this far. And now I'm determined to get to the end of it.
Ch. 13 Now that you learnt who he really is, you face the most difficult choice of your life. [Masterlist]
Warnings: light angst
.Previous - Next
You sit in your bedchamber, alone. It is very late, but you couldn’t possibly sleep.
You are waiting for him.
Baghra's words are still echoing in your ears.
He intends to use to Fold as a weapon. That’s what he created it for in the first place.
She had dragged you back to her hut, revealed a secret passage and hurled you inside. You didn’t comply, though. You protested, asking for clarity.
I see he managed to distract you with dreams of your future with him.
There was a dark omen crawling inside you. Something you always felt deep down, now triggered by Baghra’s accusations. It made you feel dizzy. Even now, sitting by the window, you feel like you are about to faint.
Stupid girl. You knew something was wrong, but you decided to ignore it, to follow your dark prince. Didn’t you?
You always dreamt of it. Shadows. Monsters. Blood. And you weren’t surprised by the little, when Baghra told you that the Darkling was the Black Heretic.
She kept talking, while you stared at her, filling you with a story that made perfectly sense. How he created the Fold out of greed for power, turning innocents into monsters. How he took many names, served many kings, faked countless deaths.
Being no Sun Summoner, I did not believe you in any danger. He was waiting for such power to control the Fold, not for pretty sparkles like yours. But I see how you want to use your power now. Scheming and plotting, at his service. You think you’ll save the country? You will destroy it. And he will destroy you, to gain what he wants.
She had wanted you to run, but you didn’t. You run out of her hut instead, her voice following you, wild with rage. That fury reminded you so much of him. After all, she had told you she was his mother.
He’s had centuries to master lying to naive girls. Did he tell you how lonely he was?
You wish you could say you saw this coming, but the touch of his lips still lingers on yours, and it hurts like a fatal wound.
You stare at the night sky outside your window, but the moon is silent and offers you no answers, tonight.
Noises from the party are fading away. You are sure he won’t be long, by now.
You wanted to plan this well. You wanted to rehearse your questions, pick each of your words sharp as a blade. Instead, your mind is playing tricks. It runs in circles, thinking the same thing over and over again. It is hard to admit it, but you are in shock.
Then, he knocks at your door.
You gather your cold blood. You can do this. Just as you mastered moonlight all by yourself, as a child in a lonely room, so you will master this delusion you have fallen into. You are a princess, and a Moon Summoner. He can be as ancient as he likes, but he’s not you.
“Come in”.
As he enters the room, though, you wish you had not fallen in love with a man who doesn’t exist.
Because there he is, just as he was a few hours ago, handsome and hopeful, and you don’t know how many masks he’s wearing anymore.
“I am sorry I kept you waiting”, he says, dashing as ever. He walks towards you - you haven’t moved an inch, still sitting by the window - and cups your face in his hands. You try to ignore the pleasure triggered by his gentle touch, and search for lies in his black irises, but they are glistening with affection.
This is going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. That’s what you think, as he bends down to kiss you. You know it’s wrong, you know you shouldn’t, because you are going to break the spell in a minute. But his lips send a thrill down your spine, your stomach is in knots, and you can’t help it but kiss him back, desperately and ultimately.
This is a farewell kiss, and he only realizes it when you pull away.
“Is something wrong?” He asks.
You sigh at the irony. His hands are resting on yours. You don’t move away, while you look straight at him, and speak the whole truth.
“I was approached by your mother, tonight. She told me of your plans of using the Fold as a weapon and of seducing me for your own gain. She told me you are the Black Heretic, and she urged me to run”.
You stare at each other in silence. Eventually, he steps back - one single step, nothing more. His hands leave yours. It hurts more than you’d imagined, because it means it is all true.
When he finally speaks, he says: “But you did not run. Why?”
His voice is filled with disappointment, pain, too. If there’s any shame in it, he hides the best he can.
“I am not giving up all I’ve worked for”, you reply. You are also doing your best to keep in control, don’t let him see how excruciating this is for you. “I always thought the Fold was a weapon. A defense weapon, actually. So, I’m not surprised. I can work with it. But the rest needs to be sorted out”.
You point out an armchair at the opposite side of the room. “Please, have a sit and tell me everything”.
He has listened at you closely, and now he chuckles in disbelief. “You wish to hear what, exactly?”
“You heard me. Everything”.
“That is a long story”.
“I am not sleepy”.
For a moment, he seems to struggle. Maybe you are fooling yourself once more, but he seems to be torn apart by the same conflict that is destroying you.
Part of you still wants him, so much.
On the other end, you are enemies, now, until further notice.
So, he sits down and starts to talk.
He tells you everything: his childhood with Baghra, picking as many names as the places they stop by; the first time he used the Cut, to kill for not being killed, almost an omen of what was to come. Then, decades of running, serving kings, struggling to buy freedom for your kind, always failing.
You listen to him depicting the day the Fold happened. You listen to the tale of the death of the woman he loved, the search for a desperate solution, found in Merzost. His voice shakes a little, when he ends the tale.
Your head is filled with images of his past, your heart feels like it’s bursting with someone else’s suffering. It is overwhelming, but you cannot let compassion cloud your judgement, and you force yourself to stay where you are, and act logic.
“So, the Fold was a mistake”, you remark.
He seems annoyed by your comment. “Are you disappointed, princess?”
“Not at all. People often learn by their mistakes”.
You stand up. Sitting down has become unbearable. You are doing a good job at looking calm, but you are screaming inside. He follows you with his eyes, and you wonder if he feels as uncomfortable as you are. Well, he brought it on himself.
“How do I know you are telling me the truth?” You ask.
“You have already found me out. Why shouldn’t I?”
“You had no problem lying to me from the start”.
“You know my secret, now. Would you have given it away that easily, if you were in my shoes?”
He perfectly knows you wouldn't have. You did keep your own secret, actually, and lied to him as long as you could. You suddenly feel a sting of guilt. He has a point, but you do too, and you tremble as you reply: “No, not easily. But I would have, if I were close to someone. But that is another mistake I shall learn from”.
He hesitates. Maybe he's searching for the right words, but the wait makes you even angrier. “I told you about my nightmares", you continue. "I told you about my own plans about the Fold, that I wished I knew how it was made. All that time you stood there, keeping your secret while you unfolded mine. But it all makes sense, now. A naive little girl like me never really stood a chance.”
He shakes his head. His hands are squeezing the armchair so tight, he could tear it apart. “That’s it. She poisoned you with fear, tossing truth and assumptions together, so that you couldn’t see the difference”
“I am not afraid. I am angry”.
“Do you really think I seduced you to use your power for my gain?”
You stand frozen. You didn’t expect such a direct question. It is so difficult to respond pushing back each an every tear in your eyes.
“I do”.
He stands up at once. “Please, hear me—“
But you react by impulse. Moonlight emerges from your hands and spins in between, just like you fascinated Zlatan, to stop him.
He didn’t expect it, and he stops halfway, eyes reflecting your hypnotizing light. But it lasts only for a moment. His shadows sneak out the corners of your room and quickly envelop your shining moon. You gasp, like the air is being taken from your lungs.
“Your tricks cannot work on me”, he hisses, and it is clear that he has been trying to suppress anger and dismay, but it has all gone to hell the moment you had both decided to call on your powers.
You are hurt, by his words and his shadows. With a cry of rage, you summon each and every drop of energy you have left after this fateful night, and beams of moonlight break the shadows.
“It is about time someone stood up to your own tricks”, you sneer.
With a flick of his hand, he calls his shadows again, so you send sparkles all around you, like burning stars. He summons darkness to swallow you, and you shine pale and ethereal as a ghost. You almost think he’ll use the Cut, eventually, and get it done with it. Maybe this is it, and this is how it ends for you.
Instead, his shadows crawl back to him, vanish under his feet.
“You see”, he whispers, achingly. “It is really the other way around”.
He doesn’t give you time to realize the implications of what he just said. Instead, he continues, hands raised up, like asking for a truce.
“I am not planning on taking advantage of your talents, as I was perfectly content with the deal we already struck. You know the truth of my past, now. I would have told you in due time, but my mother had other plans. You know everything, and you have not run. Now, I am asking you: what are you going to do?”
You buy some time, taking back a strand of your hair from your face, even if you already know the answer.
“I am not leaving”.
A glimpse of hope appears in his eyes. He makes a step towards you, but you stop him with your hand.
“We will work together, as planned. I will keep your secret and you will not touch me again, because I know not who you are, and I should have seen this coming when you did not tell me your name, even after you kissed me.”
It hurts so much to speak these words, because you see how much they hurt him. He replies, shaken and angry: “I did not show you an empty shell. You do know me”.
“No”, you whisper. “I do not”.
He lets out a resigned sigh. “Fine”.
He stands up and reaches the door. You do not try to stop him. You are torn inside, unable to tell truth from lie, unsure to trust your instincts or your logic.
Then, when he’s already on the door, he turns to you and says. “My name is Aleksander”.
His words slip away into silence. Just as he’s stepping out, you answer out of cruelty, because you wish to break his heart just as he is breaking yours. “One of many?”
Sadness fills his eyes, a kind of loneliness even you cannot understand. “No”.
He closes the door behind him, and leaves you alone, to keep his last secret.
Ch. 12 As your plan unfolds, backed up by the Darkling, you must prove yourself up to the task. [Masterlist]
Warnings: slight mention of self-harm, and, *coughs*, lime. It's all very romantic, though. Brace yourself.
Previous - Next
Tonight the stars are shining like pearls in the black sea, and the moon is full and bright. It is a fateful night, and you are scared, but determined to prove your worth and do what is right.
A few hours ago, while you were getting ready, Genya told you: "I wished you'd be careful of powerful men".
To which you replied: "It seems I also am a powerful woman, now".
You made her chuckle, although she still looked worried.
You are aware of the rumors about the the Darkling and you. It was something to expect, since you had been working side by side for weeks.
Truth is, he was requested at the Shu Han border right after your return at the Little Palace. You spent weeks exchanging coded letters, discussing the plan you've set up for tonight, and said not a word about anything else.
You are starting to think that kiss in the hallway never happened, and maybe it's for the best.
Genya was referring to him, no doubt. She couldn't possibly know there were other powerful men you'd fear, tonight. Only you and the General know of the plan. Still, her words echo in your ears, while you make your entrance in the grand hall.
The Summer Festival is one of the few occasion for the Little Palace to open its doors to anybody else. People from the court are here, along with other esteemed guests. There will be showing off, and scheming, and seducing.
Your reflection strikes you, while you walk past a wall covered in mirrors. You asked for a gown, made with the same bulletproof fabric used for Keftas. A bold choice, maybe too bold. You never intended to look like a queen, but here you are, covered in silver embroideries of the lunar phases, shimmering on the black fabric.
The color you chose won't go unnoticed. Genya told you that, too.
However, there is not much fuss around you, right now. Some people are greeting, other are staring. Some are ignoring, others are gossiping. Thankfully, the King and Queen are not here yet.
And suddenly, he's in front of you.
He might have planned to say something, but he looks speechless. Maybe you really went too far with this gown. You try to get a hold of yourself, but you have no power over your blushing cheeks - how you wish you were a Heartrender to get rid of that.
Before you can find something meaningful to say, the Darkling whispers at your ear: "You look lovely".
There is no way to stop blushing, now.
He returned from the front just this morning, and his handsome face looks weary, like he hasn't slept in days. Still, he is here. And you are far too much happy to see him.
"I probably look too much anxious, right now", you reply. "But it will all pass once it begins".
"He is coming, then".
"It seems so".
"Promise me you will not go through it, if it feels too dangerous. Trust your instincts". He looks at you right in the eye, and his words hit you deep in the heart. "And remember, you are not alone in this".
"I know I'm not", you whisper.
He smiles. You are grateful for that smile. Tonight will be risky, and dangerous. It could even turn against you. In fact, this whole thing was your own idea, and you really have no one else to blame, now, as you stand on the edge of it, leaping into the unknown.
But you have him, and he has you, and he trusts you, and you won't let him down.
You play the host for a little bit, alongside the Black General, welcoming people. The King and Queen finally arrive, and you curtsy, feeling the Queen's eyes all over your black and silver gown.
The hall is beautifully decorated and the patio is filled with shining lanterns resembling fireflies. A summer breeze comes from outside.
You swear to yourself, once you're done with this plan of yours, you will enjoy the night. You just wish you could get on with it.
But the one you are expecting is not here, yet.
Meanwhile, the spectacle has begun: Etheralki showing off their abilities, for everyone to enjoy. It will be your turn next, and the Darkling's. You are just about to step in the middle of the hall, when you see General Zlatan coming in.
You grab the Darkling by the wrist, moving closer. "He's here".
He looks over your shoulders, sees the man, and remarks: "So, give him a taste of what awaits him".
His voice fills you with fire. You are ready, now. You take your position, while he brings night in the room, erasing the stars from the sky, blocking the dim light of the lanterns.
You gift your guests with your prettiest tricks, the harmless kind, just sparks of pale moonlight, dreamlike pictures of glimmering silver. Everyone claps in delight, but you look at Zlatan, still standing at the entrance. He has eyes for nobody but you.
You are no longer anxious. It has begun.
Afterwards, when the First Army General is greeting the King as any good and loyal subject would do, you approach him. The Queen feels compelled to make introductions, but you stop her. "We already met each other, your Majesty".
"We met many years ago, that is true", Zlatan remarks. "As kids, although we never played together, if I recall correctly".
"You used to play with my cousins. Endless war games, where girls were not allowed".
He takes your hand, to kiss it. "My mistake. I should have know better".
You look at him through your lashes. The Darkling coughes, behind you. Zlatan didn't even notice him, and you hide a smile, while the two generals greet, quite coldly.
"I cannot thank you enough for this invitation", says Zlatan.
"It is really the Moon Summoner you must thank", the Darkling replies, looking at you. "She was quite determined to have you here, tonight".
"I was sure you'd come", you add. "I didn't buy any of the rumors".
"I must express my gratitude, then. Will you allow me the pleasure of this dance, princess?" General Zlatan asks, offering you his arm.
You glance at the Darkling, who's put on his mask, hiding his feeling behind a polite smile and cold, fierce eyes. "Of course. General Kirigan doesn't dance, anyway".
That was a bit too much, but you couldn't resist the temptation to make him a little jealous. By the way his smile tightens, you bet you got him.
You need to concentrate, now. As you start waltzing with Zlatan, you look at the Darkling from over your knight's shoulder. He glances back, and in that look there's all you need to know.
You dance twice with Zlatan, before proposing to take a breath of fresh air on the patio. Most people are still dancing in the hall, and he follows you willingly. You keep on breathing, and smiling, and pretending, and seducing.
"It was very kind of you, to accept our invitation", you say.
"It was quite unexpected, but most welcome".
"You left Os Kervo just to be here tonight".
"It would have been unwise of me to refuse an invitation from the Moon Summoner herself".
You force yourself to smile and smile again. All that small talk makes you sick, but you must get on with it.
"It would also have been unwise to disappear from public eye and remain hidden in Os Kervo, doing who knows what", you add. "Admit it, I gave you the perfect chance to dissipate all rumors, General".
He seems taken aback, for a moment. Eventually, he replies: "So you do like war games, then".
"As you do, General Zlatan".
He glances briefly to the hall, then bends over to you, lowering his voice with a wicked smile on his face. "Another rumor, then. Is it true what they say? Did you charm the Darkling with your pretty light, making him your pet?"
If you hadn't been well prepared, you would have crumbled down at this. But you keep control, and don't loose your composure. "That's a perfidious accusation, Zlatan".
"Some people believe it to be true. What do you say?"
"I say you renounce all attempts to tear our country in half. You resume defending all Ravkans, including the Grisha you are currently leaving in the hands of Fjerdans and Shu Hans while you play revolution. You promise me that, and we can go back to the party and pretend nothing happened".
You really mean this. If he agrees, you will let him go. But, of course, he doesn't.
"The country is already torn apart, princess", he replies, harshly.
"There are those who aim to divide, and those who wish to unite, General".
He sneers, disappointed. You have gone too far, he's leaving, now, and you won't have enough time. Too bold, as usual. Boldness will destroy you.
But you are not alone. You catch it at the corner of your eye: shadows creeping out from the garden, reaching the patio, twisting around Zlatan's legs just before he leaves.
"What--"
This is it, now, before anyone come outside, before he can scream. It takes a beat of your heart: you cup your hands on your chest, open them like a blossoming flower. A small, perfect moon, white and desperately beautiful, shines among your fingers.
"Wish I'd say I'm sorry", you mumble.
Zlatan's mouth falls opened. He cannot move, he cannot see anything but the aching beauty of the moon sprung from your heart. It won't last long, but you only need a few seconds to take the knife he wears at his side, next to the sword. You take a deep breath, heart racing wildly, closing your eyes before stabbing your own shoulder. Pain strikes you without mercy, but you have to get on with the plan. You put the knife in his hand, then take your small moon back, dissolving it.
The charm is gone, and as he comes back from his reverie, you scream.
This is what people see: the First Army's General with a knife in his hand, attempting at the life of the Moon Summoner, the poor princess bleeding and asking for help.
Chaos is unleashed. General Zlatan is still in denial while he's surrounded by soldiers, oprichniki, and the King command his immediate arrest, and the Darkling is more than happy to carry the order on, as he keeps shouting for healers. He's holding you, you suddenly realize, and how did you get on the floor? You must have fallen. Maybe you stabbed yourself too deep. You didn't think you were such a good actress, but here you are now.
Zlatan is taken away, and healers rush to you to tend your superficial wound. It is just a scratch, actually, but still you gulp down your tears, while they fix you up. You feel overwhelmed, playing the scene in your head over and over again.
The Darkling never leaves your side. He sits silently in front of you, shielding you from unwanted eyes. You look at each other like those who cannot speak, but have a thousand things to say.
When the healers are done, you insist on standing up. "There is really no reason for the festival to end", you say. "We actually have even more to celebrate, now".
People cheer at your words, while the Darkling helps you up. You don't leave his hand even when you are finally on your feet. You need that contact.
"It will take more than this to bring the Moon Summoner down", the Black General announces with thundering voice. "This vile act shows the urge to stand united against our common enemies. The First Army deserves a loyal leader, moy tsar".
He's good at his job, you think, while he bends his head towards the King. He is bold, but not too bold. You still have to learn that.
The King rises and proposes a toast to unity. You feel better, now, adrenaline pumping in your blood. Musicians have resumed playing, people are chattering, still scared and excited. What a night.
"Are you sure you wish to stay?" the Darkling asks. Something in his voice makes you quiver.
"Sure. I think we deserve a little celebration. After all, it all went accordingly". You feel safe to speak, the loud music is covering your voice.
But you fall silent, when the Darkling offers you his arm.
"I thought you did not dance".
"I thought you wished to celebrate".
You reply to his smile, wild euphoria rushing through you as he holds you in his arms and whispers in your ear: "Didn't you torture me enough, making me watch while you danced with that pompous ass?"
He takes the lead, and you loose your breath for a moment.
Of course, he's an excellent dancer. How predictable. He locks his eyes into yours, and there is no escape in that deep, dark glare, filled with power, and secrets, and hope.
"You were incredible", he says, like he's honestly impressed. "I just wish you'd let me finish him off".
"Zlatan could still turn useful".
"If you say so".
"What happens, now?"
"King Piotr will put his son Vasilij in Zlatan's place. The boy lacks any form of revolutionary impulse".
"He also lacks any political or military sense".
"He will be compelled to follow sensible advices, then. From a cousin, maybe".
"I met him maybe twice in my childhood, and he was disgusting. He would pinch me under the table and blame his brother. Nikolai was much nicer".
"I bet he won't dare, this time".
You laugh. The music is fading and most people are heading in the courtyard. There's fireworks in the sky, amazing display of Fabrikators' talent.
"I'd appreciate some air", you say. "For real, this time".
You are still leaning on the General's arm when the two of you head outside. You notice how he avoids the patio where you played your trick to Zlatan, taking you down a few steps, into the garden. The noise is softer, here, and the fresh night air clears your mind.
"I wish you to know..." he suddenly begins. You freeze. Something has changed in his voice and you turn to him, as he seems to struggle finding the right words. "I mean. What you did. That was brave".
"I was reckless", you mumble, embarrassed. "But you always knew that".
"I am serious about this. I admire your spirit".
You look at the flowers, petals bent in the darkness, and caress them with one finger. "Was it evil, what I did?" you ask, giving voice to the doubt that has been creeping inside you all this time. "I know it was the right thing to do. But I tricked him into it. And it was utterly my plan, so I really have no one else to blame for it".
The Darkling takes your hand, and speaks with such fervor that you are carried away by his words. "Evil. Good. These terms are meant to divide people. Things are much more complicated than this, and you know it. Evil deeds are wrapped up in good intentions. And the actions of those who mean well, sometime take a monstrous shape".
Is he moving closer, or are you? You don't know, but you can feel his breath caressing your cheek, now. Your eyelids are falling closed.
"And sometimes", you exhale. "It is just right"
"Yes", he says back. "It is".
You'd never know who initiates the kiss. You lean into it like a pebble falling in a deep, still lake, unleashing the yearning you so stubbornly suppressed for all these months. You go down, you get lost in it. You taste the wilderness of freedom on his lips, and you can't get enough. You feel like you can do anything tonight, even winning the heart of the most dangerous man in Ravka, if he has a heart at all.
But you suspect he does. These hungry kisses, these scorching caresses, it is not only lust, is it? This has all started long ago, one morning at first light, when you first stepped on his path, and he on yours. And if you are fooling yourself, you'll indulge in your delusion a little longer.
Steps echo in the garden, taking you back to reality. You push away and see his flushed face, his eyes shining like a fever. Isn't that enough proof of a beating heart?
"Someone might see", you mumble.
A smirk appears on his lips. "Not if I can help it".
He gestures with two fingers of his left hand, and shadows come swiftly to your aid, surrounding you like a starless night. You are pretty sure nobody can sneak on you, now. You can barely see him, actually, but you can feel him, still holding you close.
"Does it scare you?" he asks. He sounds genuinely worried.
You think of your childhood games, of lonely woods and summer nights, just like this one.
"I have never been scared of darkness in my entire life".
Even though it is so dark, you can see how joyful his smile his, and that makes you wish to kiss him deeper, longer, to sink your fingers into his hair, to hold on tight to this man that ripped you from your loneliness, just as you have ripped him from his.
And you do that, until someone comes calling for him.
It is a distant sound, but it is enough to make him sigh, leaning his forehead against yours.
"It sounds like Ivan", you notice.
"It does. I should go".
You feel a sting of disappointment, but you do your best to hide it. The shadows that kept you safe are already starting to fade away.
"You are right. You go. I'll stay here a little longer, watch the fireworks".
He takes his time to look at you, pulling a string of hair away from your eyes. He seems to gather all his courage to speak, which is odd, for the most powerful man in Ravka, but then he finally mutters, so low you can barely hear it: "Shall I come to you, later?"
It is such a sweet display that you have to repress a grin, not wanting to offend him. Instead, you decide to play with him a little bit. "Would you like to come to me, later?"
He smiles, softly. "I definitely would".
He kisses you one last time before parting, full of tenderness.
And he's gone.
Noises come from the courtyard, the colored light of the fireworks shines over you, and there is no trace of the shadows that swaddled you up like a cocoon.
But you still feel his lips on yours, and you are so happy, and his happiness makes you even happier. You wonder if you could burst with so much joy.
You are just about to turn and go find Genya and your friends, when someone grabs you by the wrist.
You snap, moonlight already beaming behind your eyes, but you let it go when you recognize the old woman holding you. “Baghra!? What are you doing here?”
“Stupid girl”. She shakes her head. She is wrapped in a worn-out cloak, and seems in a hurry. What she says next gets your attention. “There is not much time. I am here to save you. Follow me”.
You follow her.
I noticed last chapter got a lot less interactions than usual. If you read and appreciate this story, please, let my know. Leave a comment, a feedback, any reaction of yours. I love hearing from you. It will make my day :)
Ch. 11 You stop by a place from your childhood, and share your dreams and nightmares with the Darkling, who has something to share with you himself. [Masterlist]
Previous - Next
"I hear you and General Kirigan have grown quite close".
You wince. That's the last thing you expect to hear from Baghra, at the end of an exhausting training session. You are looking forward to go back to your chambers and take a bath, but you must answer that: "What makes you think so?"
"The two of you are apparently traveling together real soon".
"Who told you this?" you frown. "However, it is a question of diplomacy. We are delivering an invitation, as a political statement".
She scoffs at the last word. "Is it you two against the world, then?"
"We are working side by side", you reply, quite disturbed my her insistence. "To the end the war. Make Ravka a better place for Grisha and otkazats'ya".
You open the door, ready to leave. The lesson is over, you have no obligation to stay longer. Just then, Baghra asks: "Has he made you his lover, yet?"
You freeze on the doorway. As you turn to face her, you struggle to hide how deep she has struck you. "That's none of your business".
"It is your business, in fact".
You slam the door closed a little bit too hard. You don't have time for this, you must get ready for leaving in the morning.
It was your idea, to invite old Mikhail Zlatan to the Summer Festival. General Zlatan's father could be the key to the revolutionary man himself, and if you cannot extend the hand of peace, at least he would report his son about the newfound alliance between the Darkling and the Moon Summoner.
When you told General Kirigan about your intention, he wanted to come with you. After the ambush on the border camp, he had no desire to risk again. He insisted.
And you agreed.
As the morning comes and you ride by carriage on the roads that lead to familiar landscapes, you try to ignore this man who has become your ally and your closest friend in the past few weeks. Baghra's words ring in your ears. Why is it so important, what he makes of you? Isn't more important what you make of him?
Old Mikhail Zlatan's estate is a few miles away from your own. You have memories of visits, summer picnics and the lord's only son playing fight with your older cousins.
The Darkling doesn't come to you at his door, nor do his oprichniki, or should you say, your oprichniki. They stand by and get you covered.
It is important that you show up alone, as a symbol of goodwill. You insisted of that, and General Kirigan agreed.
He agrees with most of the things you say. You like to think that's because you have good ideas. You do quarrel, of course, both being as stubborn as you can get, but you are of the same mind more often than you'd thought.
It is not easy to stop thinking about the bond you have started to share, and focus to old Zlatan. He welcomes you like an old friend, he remembers you being a little girl, quite savage, he points out. No, his son is not home, alas, he's in Os Kervo, doing what generals do.
"You mean, starting a revolution?" you ask candidly.
Old Zlatan turns pale, but you reassure him. He's an old family friend, you mean him no harm. Actually, you wish to invite him to the Summer Festival at the Little Palace. And his son, of course.
You leave the splendid country estate with a look of triumph. As you tell the Darkling of the meeting, he grins with satisfaction. You'll see how it plays out. For now, the job is done.
"Would you mind..." you hesitate. "Would you go for a stroll, before the sun sets?"
Your lodging for the night is not far away, and you'll come back to the Little Palace in the morning. He agrees, and the two of you walk in the meadow, alone.
These are the places of your childhood, and you suddenly realize you are heading to a particular spot. Maybe you shouldn't have, but it's too late: you are already there.
You stand on top of the hill where you sat almost every day, as a young girl, squeezing your eyes, trying to spot the dark blade at the horizon.
You distinguish the Fold so well, now, that you wonder if it hasn't expanded in the last years. Or maybe you are just used to recognize it, after so much practice.
"You didn't ask for your family's hospitality", the Darkling asks, suddenly. "Why?"
"I haven't opened a single letter from my mother since I came to the Little Palace", you scoff.
You thought you could hide pain better. He seems to see through you, and he stares until you add something more.
"She forced me to stay hidden, ever since I was a little girl. I sometimes think I would have found meaning to my power much earlier, if she didn't scare me so much".
"What did she tell you?"
"That I would be turned into a weapon to fight the endless wars of Ravka", you answer, then force yourself to smile. "Which is exactly what is happening now. But it is fine, as long as I am the one wielding the weapon".
"Fear is a poison", the Darkling adds. "Perhaps the strongest of all".
You know what that means. You look at the darkness lingering across the meadows.
"I came here so many times, right before I discovered what I could do. I wasn't always sure I could see it. I dreamt of it. I imagined it. I felt like... a pull".
"It might as well be. After all, there are those who expect you to cross it and destroy it from within", he says, nothing more but a whisper.
You turn to him. "I thought you expected it too".
"Maybe I do. I wonder what do you expect, though".
You take your time, thinking about it. You let yourself be honest about it, and what you finally realize amazes you. "I wish to study it".
"You wish to study the Fold?" he repeats, after what feels like an eternity.
You nod. "We basically know nothing about it. Scouts never come back with much information, if they come back at all. If I charmed the volcra with moonlight-"
"Charm the volcra!?"
"Please, don't laugh. I could mesmerized them just as I did with humans".
"That is just a theory".
"I need to prove it, then".
He takes a deep breath in. Unexpectedly, he smiles. "Not many people surprise me, you know".
Is that his way to make compliments? "Thank you".
As the wind rises on top of the hill, you turn to him and say: "I don't know if I'll ever be able to vanquish it. I don't even know if it is a good idea, right now. Nothing else stays between us and the revolutionary in the west. And Grisha are suffering in Shu Han and in Fjerda. If they only feared us as they fear the Fold, maybe they would respect us once and for all"
"Someone could mistake your words for treason", he remarks, teasingly.
"Who? My cousin King? Good for us we are alone, then".
The Darkling has never looked at you like he's looking at you now. You suddenly fear you are being too bold. You are not a politician, after all. "Maybe I should know better and keep my thoughts for myself".
"Maybe", he replies. Then he lowers his voice. "But... I have been fighting this war alone, for so long. This is nice, for a change."
You look at him in disbelief. See who's surprised, now.
He gives you that stare of hope that always breaks your heart, so unusual for a dangerous, powerful, high-ranking Grisha like him.
Something is changing. You are getting lost in his eyes. But before anything could happen, you turn to the horizon, look at the Fold in the distance and say the first thing you can think of.
"I sometimes wonder who made it, and why".
"You mean the Black Heretic". He's back to being the controlled General, his voice calm and slow paced. You relax.
"That is a legend", you dismiss the thought with your hand. "If I ever met its actual creator, I would ask how it came to be, and I'd listen to every word. Pure evilness seems quite reductive. I mean, I completely messed up with those men's minds, but I am not evil".
He sighs. "No, you are not".
When you leave the hill, heading back to your lodgings, you glance to the Fold one more time. You will reveal that mystery just as the mystery of your power is slowly unfurling, you are sure of it.
It has been quite a day, and you are not expecting any more upheaval for the evening. You are so, so wrong. The real storm is yet to come.
That night, when you stand in the hallway and bid him goodnight, he leans over to press a kiss on your lips. You barely realize it, paralized by shock, then emotion hits you like a raging wave. You part your lips a little, just to feel it better, just to know it is real; and that is when he pulls away.
"Goodnight", he says in one breath. Slowly, he leaves.
You turn your back, walk to your room, don't peek to see if he has stopped to stare or not.
Later on, you lay in bed for so long before falling asleep, ignoring that he's struggling just the same, in his own room, on the other side of the hallway.
But when you finally sleep, you sleep tight, and with no dreams.
I reached 100 readers today. This might seem a small number, but not to me. Thank you for supporting my little hobby. I had not written a fan fiction since 2014. A few years ago, writing became part of my job. A dream come true, but a little nightmare, sometimes. It feels good to come here and write with no pressure, for once, and in a foreign language. This is freedom.
To thank you for your support, I'm sharing a Spotify playlist for this story. It includes some songs that I have already used and some other that I'm planning to. Enjoy :)
Ch. 10 After your grand display, you must face the consequence. Are you content with losing the Black General's trust? [Masterlist]
Previous - Next
All days look the same.
Training with Botkin, summoning with Baghra, reading your books, and try to get some sleep.
You wear your kefta, blue as the Etheralki's uniform. It was given you as soon as you returned to the Little Palace. Nobody asked you if you would have chosen another color.
Some Grisha actually like you. They are fascinated by your strange nature, they help you feel at home, they don't care where you are from.
Some others don't make an effort to hide their dissatisfaction. You are a joke to them, a little spoiled royal whose pretty tricks are good only for tea parties.
You walk among them like a ghost.
You spend all your free time reading, especially all reports about war, politics and diplomacy you can get your hands on. The rest of the day you dive right into your training, even though you are not that strong as Botkin would like, or even close to anything Baghra would find acceptable.
Baghra, indeed, is the finishing touch of all your days. No matter how inadequate you may feel, she always manages to make you feel worse. She urges you to learn summoning in the daylight, which seems impossible at first, but as you start practising it, she finds more and more flaws.
She says it's a waste, all this power in a vain little princess like yourself.
You know she's trying to make you angry. And you get angry, and sometimes leave slamming the door of her bloody hut, but you always come back, because you want to learn. You want to master your power.
Baghra may whine as much as she pleases, but you are learning fast.
Genya introduces you to David, a lovely Durast who wants to know everything about your moon summoning, even though you don't know much yourself. He claims that light, like all things, is matter, and you can use it as a blade or a bullet in the same way you shape it as sparkles or spheres. Maybe General Kirigan could teach you the Cut. David insists about it, saying he's pretty sure you can work on your own version.
You don't reply to that.
You have not talked to the Darkling for a while, now. If he asks about you, requesting reports of your training, you are not aware. You see him, of course, passing through the Little Palace and sometimes at dinner, but he never speaks to you, and you never go after him.
You pretend you don't care.
But you find yourself going over and over your last conversation at the Winter Palace, always in the most unconvenient places, like during your training, or when you lie in bed, exhausted after a long day. It is unnerving, and you must put a stop to it, but you don't know how.
There is no friendship between you and him, as both of you have already made clear in your own choice of words.
You will never, ever make the first move, ever.
And you will never apologize. For what!? Just to have your little skirmishes back?
You have more important things to think about, now.
That's what you set your mind about, and you carry on stubbornly.
You'd never think you'd be betrayed by your own body, in your own beloved nighttime.
So, tonight, when you wake up with a startle, finding yourself standing instead of lying in bed, it takes a while before you realize you have been sleepwalking for the first time since you moved to the Little Palace.
Those few seconds feel like a vortex of confusion. You look around, lost, and grab whatever is in front of you. Well, whoever, actually.
As you look up, it turns out it is the General himself.
You try to step back, but he takes a firmer grip on you.
You look at him in confusion long enough to make him feel compelled to speak.
"You exited your quarters and didn't seem alert. The opchrinki reported to me". he explains.
That's the first time you hear his voice in so many weeks, you lost count.
"Sleepwalking", you manage to answer. "See, I did not lie about that".
"No", he repeats, his voice low. "You didn't".
The shapes around you are clearer, now. You are right in front of his rooms, and the door is opened. Why on earth were you going there?
"I am sorry to have disturbed you", you say. "Goodnight".
He shakes his head, and only then you notice you are shaking, too. Your hands tremble, even in his firm grip. "You are in a state. Please".
He gestures to the open door, and before you can refuse, you have already stepped inside.
The light is dimmer than you remember, and he is not wearing his kefta, but a black, loose shirt that looks much more informal. He gestures to an armchair and while you go sit, you ask: "Did I wake you up?"
"You did not". He pours something in a glass, then hands It to you. "I am not having much sleep these days".
His war table is set up with miniatures soldiers and banners. You look at it, while you take the glass to your lips, capturing an unfamiliar scent. "I thought you did not drink liquors".
"I said I do, sometimes. And I reckon you need something stronger than tea".
You sit in silence, sipping the liquid. He leans on the war table, observing his miniature army, stubbornly ignoring you. But you can only be ignored so long.
"That Is quite the army, General Zlatan has gathered", you remark.
He doesn't even lift his gaze from the table. "What would you possibly know of General Zlatan's wherabouts".
His dismissive tone enrages you. You put down your drink. He doesn't know yet, but you can play this game just as he does, maybe even better.
"Well, according to rumors, and to the pamphlets that have been smuggled around in the stables, he has been gathering quite an army in Os Kervo. Deserters, mostly, but regulars too. It seems, our First Army General believes West Ravka might be better off without the Royal Family. You'd be surprised, he doesn't have kind words for you, too. Plus, his father's country estate is not that far from my aunt's, and I remember stepping on the General's feet a few times at receptions. I also remember him not being fond of the Lantsov. Strange way to charme a girl with royal ties."
The Darkling is staring at you, now. How satisfying, finally being more interesting than his miniature army. It takes him a long time to try to speak. "How-"
"I read".
You can spot the ghost of a smile lingering in the corner of his mouth.
"And what does he say about me?"
"That you are arrogant, impulsive and positively dictatorial".
"And do you agree with him?"
"Are you trying to dislike me even more, General?"
He chuckles, and you might think you have won him over, at last. But it's not that easy, and it has only started.
"I do not dislike you, princess. I don't trust you".
Delusion is not easy to hide, but you try to mask it with pride. "You only call me princess out of spite" you reply.
"How would you have me call you, then? Moon Summoner? Or maybe Sankta?"
"I have a name, you know. And you do too, even if you never cared to tell me"
He frowns. The shadows are starting to consume the already feeble light, but maybe you are just imagining it. His words, though, are as sharp as rocks. "My name is something to be earned".
If this was a chance of reconciliation, it went terribly wrong. You stand up and move to the door, without a second look. "I shall leave you to it. Goodnight".
But then, you reconsider. There is still a way, maybe, if you can swallow your pride. It might not get through him, but it could make you feel better.
You are almost on the door when you turn to him. Your words are like a river in flood.
"You know, I really am sorry for disobeying your orders. I was reckless. At the same time, I don't regret it a bit. Isn't that strange? I am still convinced it was the right thing to do. But I should have discussed it with you. Maybe I would have done it anyway, even if you didn't approve, but sneaking behind your back was vile. Just, please, know… I cared for your support more than my actions might have shown. And my satisfaction in putting the Queen in her place was utterly ruined by the fact that you were staring at me like the finest traitor of the lot. Thank you for the drink, It made me look like a fool even more. Goodnight."
You turn around, planning to leave as fast as you can. There will be time to consider all the things that escaped your mouth, later, in your bed, as another sleepless night comes to an end.
But you cannot leave. He has come after you, and he's holding you back, his hand on your wrist.
You look back at him in disbelief.
"Let's walk", he says, slowly. His eyes are such a mistery, he looks at you like he has been knowing you for his all life, and yet you know so little of him.
"Fine".
The two of you walk together in the empty corridors of the Little Palace. There's not a sound, not a soul. Beams of light are cutting through the windows, breaking the thick darkness which you step on.
He takes you outside, on a terrace leading to one of the courtyards. The fresh night air dissipates the last bits of anguish that linger in your heart. Behind you, the Little Palace shines in the night.
"You care so much to regain my trust. Why?"
He has been observing you for a while, already, but you only noticed now. You were captivated by the night sky, the moon you belong to, watching over you. Under this shimmering darkness, you feel you can reply honestly.
"I sometimes think you are the only one who could really understand this". You open your hand, and the glow seems to reflect the moon up above. He looks, charmed as he has always been by your power, and shakes his head.
"I wouldn't dare. A rare power like yours, I cannot begin to understand".
"Just like yours might be incomprehensible to most".
"Not to you?"
"I think I have known darkness all my life".
Your words leave him speechless. You realize something has changed in him, you feel it in the way he stands next to you, hands behind his back, composed as always, but with restless eyes, deep breathing.
When he finally speaks, he has regained control of his emotions, or this is what he wants you to think.
"You wield a majestic power, you know politics, and your insight has proven right more than once. We would be powerful allies".
"And the matter of trust?" you ask, your heart racing.
"You seem willing to work on that".
You look at him and see a wicked smile on his lips. There is tenderness and provocation, and oh, you like this game, but you'd never let him win. "This is not only on me. I require more clarity from you too. If we are to work together, we shall be equals".
You hold out your hand. He waits a moment, then he shakes it, but instead of letting you go, he holds it a bit longer, a bit closer. This is not an handshake anymore. But then he makes one of his witty remarks.
"Fine. You do know how to strike a bargain, princess".
You snort, annoyed, and take back your hand. "Please!"
You lean on the terrace and look once more at the darkened landscape, the silent woods, the silhouette of the Little Palace lying asleep under the moon. Finally, you turn to him, and you don't know this, but your smile, and the randomness of what you say next, it fatally breaks his heart .
"After all this melodrama, if I ever find out you betrayed my trust, General, that will be the end of you".
He smiles back, bitter and aching, but you mistake it for a smirk. His voice is a whisper that gets lost in the night.
Ch. 9 You decide to take your destiny into your own hands, even if it means disobeying the Darkling's orders. [Masterlist]
Previous - Next
You have never been scared of darkness. It didn't scare you when it was a childish game with your cousins, and it still didn't when you grew up and faced long starless nights all by yourself.
But the darkness you dive in, this time, is different. It's thick and cold, and you won't remember anything once you wake up, but just a glimpse of the horror. Shadows. Monsters. Blood.
You finally wake up, and you are not in your tent. It takes you minutes to start recalling the events that led you here, on this unfamiliar bed, with a dry mouth and a strange feeling in you gut.
Your abdomen is bandaged, and when you pass your hand on the linen, it doesn't hurt as much as you expect. You had good healers, but they are not here anymore. You look around and see nobody.
You sit on the edge on the bed and things finally begin to fall into place. You recognize the sober furnishings, especially the war table, filled with papers and notes.
As you are wondering where the the host has gone, you turn to look behind your shoulders, and you see the Darkling lying on a couch.
It's more of a bench, actually, and it's impressive how he can rest on such an uncomfortable surface. He seems fast asleep, though.
You take your time, looking at him. He sleeps on his side, arms folded, and when you notice a scrap of paper in his hand, you realize that he probably had no intention to fall asleep whatsoever.
You also realize that it is his bed, the one you slept for... how long? You wish you knew. But you are not going to wake him up. The things you discussed - the things that happened - it's all coming back to you, and you have no idea how to deal with all of it.
Someone tried to kill you, and you killed them instead.
No, it was his doing, actually. But you signed them up for the execution.
You stand up, feeling overwhelmed, then glance at the General once more.
You also found peace in his arms, for a brief moment. Isn't that the scariest thing of all?
And while you push away your desire for another embrace, you spot something on the paper in his hand. You bend and gently remove the paper from his hand. He doesn't even flinch, but you feel the touch of his breathing, so close, and conjure all your will not to get distracted.
It looks like a leaftlet, but it is actually a holy picture, like the ones you have seen all your life. But this one is different.
This Saint in the picture holds the full moon on her hands, and her figure is surrounded by pitch black darkness.
"You are awake".
His voice startles you. The Darkling is sitting up, looking at you with hope. No, not hope, relief. You are finally awake, that's what he means to say.
His hands filled with your blood, when he found you in the snow, and there are many things you could tell him. Instead you show him the image and ask: "What is this?"
"That is you, according to some". He stands up, and he would probably come even closer, if you'd let him. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine". Right now you only care for this paper in your hand. "Please, explain this."
"Rumors fly". You let him remove the paper from your hand, while he looks at you and says: "I'm afraid we cannot keep discretion any longer, although the King might wish otherwise. Your... spectacle, has been seen by the whole camp".
"I blew up my cover", you exhale.
"You survived", he points out.
You sit on the bed, searching for a place inside your mind for the reality you woke up in.
"Healers worked on you until this very morning", he explained. "That is why I would advise to take it slow".
"I do feel fine".
"I'm glad to hear it". His face suddenly clouds over, and for a moment he's about to speak, but he stops, like he changed his mind.
"What is it?"
"I must leave, now". He gets up and quickly wears his kefta, throwing his heavy black cape on top of it. "But my oprichniki are right oustide. You will be safe. We'll return to Os Alta in the morning".
"And then, what?"
He stops to stare at you. "I'm going to find out now".
There is something he's keeping from you and it makes you mad, but before you can enquire, he's back at your side. You stop breathing, expecting something you just once dared to dream about, and for a moment it seems he will make that dream come true. You feel his knuckles gently caressing your cheek, and it's all very fast, almost like you imagined it. He says nothing, and then he's gone.
You lie back on the bed and time slows down. Too many questions roam in your mind. You want to know who tried to take your life. You want to know where the Darkling is going right now. Are you now his guest, sleeping in his own bed, in his own tent, or are you back to being a prisoner, guarded by oprichniki?
You need to take charge of your own destiny.
When Genya suddenly enters the tent, you think you might have got also hallucinations, now. But she sits next to you and leans over to inspect your face, and you realize she is real.
"I thought worse", she says.
"What are you doing here?" you reply. "I mean, I'm so glad to see you. But shouldn't you be in Os Alta?"
"The King and Queen have moved to the Winter Palace in Ulensk for a few weeks" she explained. "Officially, it is a late winter vacation, but rumor is, it's about something else entirely".
The way she looks at you says more than her words.
"This can't possibly..." you begin, but you don't know how to end. Because Genya is right.
"Everybody knows", she adds. "Everybody is talking about it. The General himself was on his way to the palace, an hour ago. They are hosting a reception tonight, but I think there will not be any other topic of discussion than the Moon Summoner".
You instantly know what to do. "I must go".
Genya's lovely face turns a little pale. "I think you should not".
"These people are deciding my own fate, and I'm not even present".
"Listen". Genya's voice is just a whisper, now. "I am only telling you this so you understand how important it is that you stay here and follow the General's orders. Those men that attacked you... it seems they were Ravkan".
It is your turn to get pale, now.
You never had enemies. And nobody knew who you were, back at home. Except for...
Can it be? Is it such a shame, to have a Grisha in the royal family, that she would have you killed before anybody could find out?
She must be so mad, that her plan had the opposite effect.
"Let me go to the Winter Palace", your voice tremble. "Let me look at the Queen in her eyes".
"I just told you this so that you would desist".
"And it didn't work".
"You don't have a proper dress for attending a reception".
"I do, actually. I brought one."
Genya's eyes open wide. "You brought a gown at the battlefront? Saints, why?!"
You feel yourself blushing. "I thought... If something happened to me... at least I'd have something decent to be buried with".
Genya hides her face in her hands, exasperated. "The General will kill me for this".
"I'll do it without your help, then".
She hesitates. She knows you mean it. Then, she gives you a long, assessing look.
"It would be a crime to let you go to the Winter Palace in this state".
This is the moment in which you know, you finally have a partner in crime. You know something inside Genya longs for taking her revenge on the Queen, the King and the whole rotten royal court. The two of you are on the same side, now, and maybe you've always been.
She helps you get ready and slip out of the tent unnoticed, right into her carriage. This is the trickiest part, but Genya knows how to make people see only what they want to see.
Now, on your way to the Winter Palace, you start to feel scared. What on Earth do you think you are doing? This is the most reckless thing you have ever done in your life. You could end up in a really bad place. Also, the Darkling won't like it. But when Genya says: "Maybe we should turn back", you immediately answer: "Not a chance".
And that's settled.
When you arrive at the palace, Genya lets you in the service entrance. She whispers a good luck, before vanishing into the grand hall. You take your time, before following her.
If you do this, there's to turning back. You become the Moon Summoner and you face the consequences.
But destiny is calling you. You hear it, now. It echoes with shadows, monsters and blood, with screams of mad men and whispers you have yet to decipher.
It is now or never.
You follow that call.
Entering the majestic grand hall, everyone turns to you.
Some of them look horrified, others are in awe, some are mumbling: "Sankta".
Everybody knows who you are.
You silently thank Genya for making you presentable and you march straight to the other side of the hall, where the King and Queen are seemingly conferring with the Darkling himself.
The look on his face when he sees you is indecipherable. He must have worked hard for all his long life, to prevent his emotions to come spilling out in situations like this.
But when you meet his gaze, just for a moment, you see a flash of blazing rage. It breaks your heart, and this is how you know this man has become to you more than you can handle.
You have no time to deal with your heart, now, shattered or not. You turn to the King and Queen, savoring their puzzled look, the utter fear in her Majesty's eyes. Then you give them the humblest smile and kneel. "My King. My Queen".
They definitely did not expect this.
"Raise", speaks the King. "We thought you were still recovering from your battle wound, as General Kirigan was just telling us".
"I feel much better, thank you, moy tsar", you respond. The Queen says nothing, and you take pleasure in her puzzlement, looking at her right in the eye.
It's the hardest part, now, as you shift your gaze to the Darkling, facing him, knowing so many things cannot be spoken, but hoping he will understand.
"I ask the General's forgiveness for disobeying his orders." He can't help but frown a little. You try to smile, but you know you won't charm him that easily. "He had indeed advised me to rest, but I felt compelled to be here today, in your presence."
"How thoughtful of you, dear cousin", the Queen has finally got up the courage to speak. She smiles, fake as her pretty lashes. "You shouldn't have bothered".
You turn to her, relieved to escape the Darkling's glare. "I didn't want to miss the chance to pledge my allegiance to Ravka's rulers, now that I found out I wield this great power"
"A great power?" The Queen does her best not to sound surprised, but she is not the actress she thinks.
"Please, let me show everybody". You gently raise your hand, and something does not go as you planned. The King's guard point their guns instantly, and someone in the crowd screams.
That's when the Darkling finally intervenes. He grabs your gloved hand, takes it down slowly. You look at him, hoping to find an ally, but he's cold as ice.
"The Moon Summoner is only going to give a little demonstration", he says. "I assure you, it will be harmless".
His eyes are merciless. You swallow down the hard feeling of pain that just came from your heart, and nod.
He summons his shadows with a flick of his fingers, almost annoyed, giving you a black stage to perform on. You do your best to shape moonlight into a beautiful, gleaming globe. It is a miniature moon, slowly rotating above your head. A pretty trick you did sometimes in your room, as a kid.
The Darkling looks unimpressed. He called you 'Moon Summoner' without any sentiment. You feel something has broken, and while you are filled with wicked pleasure at the clapping of the crowd, you wish he would look at you like he used to. But dreams are useless, and you are in trouble.
You dissipate your moon without driving anyone mad, and the crowd is simply bewildered.
The King is much simpler than his consort, and somehow believes it a declaration of peace. He stands clapping, too. "We are honored to have such a great, rare power at our service."
"Let everybody know that I serve Ravka", you conclude. It is true. A half truth, actually.
The Queen stares at you with a little smile. Unlike her husband, she knows that this is war.
You bow to them while the crowd is still clapping.
As you and the Darkling take your leave, he whispers, so that nobody might hear, but only you. "Why did you come here?"
"You know why", you answer. "To take a stand".
"It was unwise and unnecessary. Also, you disobeyed my orders".
"I'm not your soldier".
"You are now". His words are as sharp as the night breeze that takes your breath away when you step outside. "You choose to fight, and you will fight. You will start training as soon as we reach the Little Palace".
He stops to stare at you, so full of contempt you almost burst in tears. "Welcome to the Second Army, princess".
He never talked to you like this before, and he never called you "princess", until now. You won a battle, tonight, but maybe you lost a war.
And you feel so stupid that your dress, the beautiful gown you brought on the battlefield for your burial, worn on the night of your consecration, is black.
Ch. 8 At the frontline, you discover what being Grisha really means. Jut when you convinced yourself that you don't have what it takes to help anyone out, things take an unexpected turn. [Masterlist]
Warnings: this chapter is slightly dark. We are at the battlefront. There's mention of pain, violence and death. Some angst, too. As I said, we are at the front, so that's expected, but only for this chapter.
Previous - Next
You travel to the border by carriage, with the Black General himself. When you stop to stretch your legs, somewhere halfway to the front, he asks you if you are really sure about it. You are going to see some things you won't easily forget, that's what he says.
You answer that you never turn back, once you make a choice.
You keep your promise, even if your stomach turns in knots when you reach the camp and smell gunpowder, ash and blood. The view is heartbreaking beautiful, snow covered woods and not so distant mountains peeks. The icy air chills you to the bone, but soon you won't even notice it.
You are in incognito, an envoy from the Grand Palace come to oversee the operations. In fact, you could leave anytime you wish, once you see what there is to see.
But you just can't leave.
There's Grisha refugees everywhere. Man, women, elders, children, all equally terrified, some of them wearing scars and marks. They are running from Fjerda, and they have seen more than they are able to tell. There's no hope in their eyes, not even now that they are safe. Are they, really? You ask yourself.
So you start descending the hell you never knew about. You spend each and every day among other Grisha, learning their stories, listening to their suffering. They talk about ghosts so much it seems you know them too. Parents, friends, brothers, lovers.
Every day you fight the urge to tell them you are one of their own.
You don't dare to. Because you are not one of them, not really.
You indeed are a little, pampered royal nobody. You have no right to place your pain next to these people's, so all you can do is listen, respectfully, and thank the Saints nobody tried to burn you for being different. You were forced to hide your power, but at least you were alive.
It's been a month and a half. You have not asked to leave yet.
The Darkling looks at you with deep, fixed eyes, when he passes you by. You have the feeling he's the only one who could offer you comfort, but you are not going to ask, ever.
You dive deeper in the hell you found, each day making you more exhausted.
Until it's too much.
Tonight you look at death in the eye, and it's the eyes of a little girl. You are alone with her as she slips away. You feel so useless, you do the only thing you can do. It is a night of new moon, but you sense it all the same. You flicker your fingers and little sparkles of light float above your hand like weightless diamonds.
Her eyes open wide, filled with wonder, and for a moment the shadow of death seems to disappear.
But you know you have not that power.
You don't leave her side until she is no more, while your moonlight dances in the little tent. It will be forgotten, with her. But you won't forget.
Outside it is cold and dark. You go straight to the General's tent, ask Ivan to let you in. He checks inside, then comes back and lets your through.
General Kirigan is right there, working, surrounded by papers and reports, but he offers you a tight smile. He's ready to listen, just like you listened to all that suffering, day after day.
Suddenly, you envision yourself slipping into his embrace just like the dream you once had. Kiss him, sink your fingers in his hair. Have this dangerous man at last, and feel alive. Forget you ever sat side by side with death.
You could do it: he's right there, in front of you. Instead you raise your trembling hands, like a surrender, and abruptly say: "I am not your savior"
"What is this all about?" he asks, calmly.
"You know what this is about" you furiously reply. "I've seen what the stakes are. Oh, I did. And I better go back where I came, because I am no Sun Summoner. I can't give you exploding balls of light or burning rays to defeat entire armies. All I can do is pretty sparkles". You flick your fingers and show him, as you already did once.
He shakes his head. "You don't know the extent of your power yet".
"I know I'm not a killer", you say. "I have no power over death. I cannot save, nor condemn. This moonshine you see, it is a charming display, the useless gift of all times".
"Would you tell me what happened?"
He tries to come closer, but you gesture him to stop. You regret coming to him, now. You are too upset, and you hate to be seen like this.
"I am sorry", you continue. "I have been terribly naive. I hope one day you find the one person you need, because Grisha must be defended. And freed. Yes, freedom. This is what the stakes are. I know that, now".
He insists, like he didn't hear you. "I wish you'd tell me what happened. You know you can trust me."
"Do I? I barely know you".
"I think we know each other better than you are willing to admit", he replies, sharply.
"Did you mistake us for friends, General?"
"Why are you here, then?"
You hesitate. And in that moment, something breaks inside you. You look down, struggle to breath, and tears fill your eyes.
"I wish I could save them all", you whisper, just to let some of that pain out. "Every day, that's all I wished for".
You stand there, struggling to hold yourself together. Just then, he reaches you and wraps his arms around your shoulders, taking you into his embrace.
Your heart skips a beat, but then you close your eyes and breathe.
It is jus as you imagined. It is just as you wished. You let your head lean on his chest, just for a moment. Just a little peace...
"I wish the same", he says. "Day and night. That's all I think about. All I have always thought about".
His words are sincere. This is all real. You see him, he sees you. Suddenly, you realize what you are doing.
You pull away and words escape your mouth.
"I'm not like you".
You mean you are not a Grisha leader, you are powerless as a new moon. But he gets something else.
You see in the glimpse of his eyes, almost offended. Mostly, you see It in his shadows, luring in the corners of the tent. The lantern light flickers.
Part of you wishes for him to follow, when you turn and leave, but you know you must be alone, now, and sort It all out by yourself.
It is a dark night indeed, but snow has started to fall. You walk, lost in thought. You have reached the western side of the camp, alongside the woods. Suddenly, you realize you are indeed alone. Completely alone.
It is odd. Someone Is always around. Soldiers, guards. Where is everybody?
A drop of blood falls on the fresh snow. Such a perfect, round drop, looks like a flower blossoming in winter, a miracle. You realize it is your blood only when you start feeling the pain.
There is someone in the woods and they are shooting at you. They have also been quite successful, as another drop falls on the snow, and another, and another.
You press a hand on the wound and look around, as they come out from the woods to finish you.
Why is nobody around?
This is an ambush, and you are going to die.
But before any Grisha sees what's happening, before the Darkling comes to your aid with his legendary powers, you scream as loud as you can, and moonshine bursts from you.
It comes from inside, like the new moon hiding in the night sky tonight. It flows above and around you, weightless, and it is excruciating beautiful, glistening, so, so pretty. It fills the eyes of your charmed attackers like a thousand gemstones, as they open them wide, with their mouths hanging.
And while moonshine gently lifts you up the ground, the attackers fall on their knees. It's like they are praying their new Saint, how prophetic, won't you reckon? But you see none of it. Your eyes are shining bright and merciless.
Next thing you know, you are lying on the frozen ground. There are hands supporting you, the same that embraced you just a few minutes ago. You hope the Black General doesn't pick you up in his arms, that would be quite embarassing.
You manage to part your lips to ask: "What did I do?".
He replies: "You destroyed them".
You turn you head. There they are, those who tried to take your life, mumbling and muttering and crying in the snow, searching for the light they lost.
"I have made them mad" you mumble, while you begin to loose consciousness again. "But I have not killed them".
The Darkling caresses your hair, sending shivers down your spine. "That much I can do".
You do not see the Cut: you are already lost in your own darkness.
Ch. 7 You feel like you don't belong anywhere, but the Darkling makes you a proposal which helps you make up your mind . [Masterlist]
Previous - Next
You need to make a choice.
The tsaritsa called for a private meeting this morning, which you didn't expect at all, not so soon anyway. You left your chambers in the Little Palace to be escorted to the royal quarters. You had left the Grand Palace only a few days earlier, but it already felt so unfamiliar. It used to be your home, but you have no home, now.
The tsaritsa welcomed you like you just came back from a nice visit to Novyi Zem, and asked her servants for tea and biscuits. Then she managed to compliment you for the dress you chose in the morning. You thanked her, but kept feeling slightly suspicious, waiting for the storm to come. And just as you were taking your first sip of tea, she added: "I see you are not wearing a kefta".
"No, I'm not, moya tsaritsa".
"May I ask why?"
You wished you told her it was none of her business. But somehow you managed to take a small sip of tea and then answer, perfectly calm: "My position at the Little Palace is currently... unclear".
She raised an eyebrow. "How odd. General Kirigan seemed already fond of you. But I guessed not everything is how it seems, as you proved us to be, dear".
There it was, the first blow. You smiled and gulped down your tea, hot as your shame.
Your royal cousin stood silent for a little while, before casually saying: "Maybe we could pretend nothing happened".
"Excuse me?"
She leaned over to you, whispering. "I could arrange for you to leave. Disappear. Wouldn't you like that? Living your life, far away. No more talking of summoning, sorcery or whatever all this matter is about".
"This matter is..." you were hurt, somewhere deep inside, because you had realized that you were no more than dust to be swept under the carpet. "I am Grisha, cousin".
"And royal". She remarked. "There are no Grisha in the royal family".
"I am the first".
"Are you?"
She left you wondering, and doubts and questions fell hard on you, like winter rain. How many more Grisha were born in the royal family, and how many disappeared?
And precisely, how did they disappear?
"I'll think of your generous offer", you smiled, hiding your fear and your rage behind the prettiest of smiles.
But now, you storm through the Little Palace. You are done, being a prisoner or waiting for whatever destiny has in store for you. You don't know if you are supposed to be wondering around, and any Grisha on your path would surely wonder what is this polished girl in otkasat'sya clothes doing around their home, but you don't care anymore at this point.
You need to make a choice. And you need to think.
So you run down the stairs, sneak in the stable and reach for your horse, which you missed terribly. While you proceed to saddle him, you think of some witty explanation for anyone who could surprise you right there.
And just as you're tightening the straps under the saddle, you see the Darkling entering the stable.
You stay completely still, while he pats his horse on the head, taking the reins in his hand. You are considering sneaking out unnoticed, when he turns and sees you.
There is a moment of silence. Then he says: "I'm glad to see you out of your chambers".
"That's it?" you snap. "All you have to say?"
"Is there something else you wished I said?"
Not really, but you are still waiting to figure him out, to figure all of this out. You simply shake your head, and turn to leave.
His voice reaches you at your back. "Please, don't leave".
He sounds earnest, just slightly exasperated. You stop.
"I was just about to head out", he continues. "I know how you like riding".
He can't see you over there, but he can feel the smile in your voice. "We already know who's going to win the chase".
"No chasing this time. We ride together".
Maybe it's the way he says it. Maybe it's the words. Eventually, you take you horse and follow outside.
You've been quite unfair to him. He is an exceptional rider. He's also the only person you know in the Little Palace, except for Genya, and even know you don't trust him yet, it feels good not being alone with your thoughts.
You ride side to side, and only sometimes you talk, but not about moon and darkness, destiny or summoning. You talk about the path you are riding, the blurred horizon and the skeleton trees not ready for spring yet.
You don't ask him once where he's taking you. You like to pretend he's taking you far away, further than what the tsaritsa promised you. A place where you can glow with moonlight without fearing to be thrown on the battlefield.
Then you remind yourself that he's the one who's probably going to throw you on the battlefield, and your heart cracks a little.
You stop by a fountain, to let the horse drink plenty. You notice the carvings on the side: skulls, soldiers and sorcery.
"How charming", you mumble, recognising the Black Heretic's tale in the pictures. "To remind me of my duties".
"And what exactly are your duties?" he asks, and that irritates you more than you care to show.
"You perfectly know that". You gesture to the fountain. "Once upon a time darkness fell on the land. Since then, people have been waiting for someone to get rid of their nightmare. It never occurred them that the chosen one might have her own nightmares".
You are no longer looking at him, but you can feel him frowning. "What do you mean?"
You hesitate, but then you tell him. "I've been dreaming about it for years. Shadows. Monsters. Blood".
He stares at you, and doesn't talk. For a moment he seems terrified. Then he smiles.
"Would you believe me if I told you that I took you here because this is one of my favorite spots, and for no other reason whatsoever?"
"No."
He laughs. It's the first time you hear him laughing. You let a smile escape your lips. His eyes are still laughing when he asks: "I expected you to run away on the first day at the Little Palace. Why did you stay?"
The question leaves you speechless. He's right. Why haven't you?
"I guess..." you try to collect your thought. Finally, you find them. "I am tired of hiding".
He nods. You are sitting by the fountain, at this point, and he sits next to you, but not too close.
"I would like you to join me on an expedition", he says.
You flinch. "Where? Why?"
"I'm leaving tomorrow for the Fjerdan border. I would like you to come".
"So you are taking me to the batterfield".
"To the border", he remarks. "See with your eyes what the stakes are. What we are fighting for".
You don't answer, so he stands up and goes to kneel in front of you, just like he did on that first night in the Little Palace. The memory makes you blush, but he speaks before you can stand up and leave.
"We fight so that no Grisha will hide anymore", he says, looking at you in the eye. "No one. Ever".
"And there is a price to pay", you whisper.
"Everything has a price". His voice is heavy and regretful, and you almost feel his pain in his words.
You stand up. You feel like a queen with a postulant knight at your feet, and you'd like to think that you have the upper hand, but you also know it's much more complicated than this.
You are the one to give him your hand to help him up, this time. He accepts it with a cunning smile, and even if your skin fizzles as you touch him, you control your power, so that you only glow a little.
Ch. 6 He knows who you are, now, and he wishes to know you better. [Masterlist]
Previous - Next
Your new room is beautiful, even more than your apartment in the Grand Palace. The view is beautiful too, on the courtyard and the surrounding wall, and the windows are not even sealed closed, meaning he doesn't think you could, or want to escape.
You sit there, looking at the refined tapestry on the wall, uncertain whether or not you should feel a prisoner.
You met Genya, a few hours ago. You had just shown to your new quarters, and the General was gone. He had been silent, and polite, and mysterious enough to drive you crazy.
But you knew Genya. You already met her while she was attending the Queen. You always liked her, and the two of you also gossiped a little, during those endless receptions.
She found you wandering around the room like a caged creature. She had brought some lunch with her, and she smiled. "I thought you could use a friend", she said.
"I didn't realize we were friends", you replied, with a hint of hope.
"Well, how convenient I'm determined to be one". She sat down at a small table in front of the window and gestured to the chair in front of her.
"Did he send you?" you asked, sitting down.
"Of course he did", Genya replied. "It was the most sensible thing to do. But it doesn't mean I'm not genuinely interested in how you are feeling now. Or curious to know what happened".
"I guess I do have a story to tell", you said.
You told her everything, and you felt relieved.
Genya listened, and fell silent for a long time once you had ended you tale.
"You are safe, here", she eventually said. "You can be what you are".
"You mean a weapon?" you replied. "A valuable tool, for them to use? Because that's not what I am".
You immediately realized you had struck a nerve. Genya lowered her eyes, and seemed to drift away, but just for a moment.
"We all have to endure, if we wish to be eventually free", she concluded. She sounded so wise, and she was right.
"Am I his prisoner?" you asked, right before Genya left. You both knew who you were referring to, and there was no need to explain.
"He will say you are his guest", she whispered. "But actually, you are what you make yourself".
She paused, and before walking out the door, she said: "He wishes you joined him for dinner, tonight. That's why he sent me in the first place".
Your heart missed a beat. "You can tell him I will be pleased to accept his invitation".
It felt the right thing to say, but now, as you wait for someone to come and take you to him, you are not so sure anymore.
You hear a knock at the door. You rush to open it. Ivan, the Heartrender, the General's right hand man, is there.
You follow him through the unfamiliar corridors of the Little Palace, suddenly feeling a little homesick. There's life behind all those closed doors you are passing by, people just like you, blessed or cursed with strange powers, and you wonder if you'll ever be part of their world, or if you'll just stay forever in between, being neither Grisha, neither otkasat'sya.
Ivan opens the doors of the General's quarters, then disappears.
The Darkling welcomes you in.
He wears is black kefta, but the collar is unbuttoned. He is dashing like a prince, and you proceed to ignore him and his piercing dark eyes, while you make a few steps inside the room.
It is comfortably warm, the walls are filled with bookshelves and maps, and candles have been lit in every corner. There is a small table set for two, and he gallantly moves the chair for you to sit on.
He knows how to behave around royalty, and you remember you are a princess. When he sits in front of you, you look haughtily down at him and say nothing.
"I trust you found your quarters comfortable", he says.
"Yes, they are suitable", you answer. You also manage to add: "Thank you", but it doesn't come easily.
Dinner is exquisite, and you haven't eaten much the whole day, but you struggle to enjoy it as you would in any other occasion.
You notice there is only water on the table. "No wine?"
"I like a clear head", he replies. "Although, occasionally, I might indulge a little fog".
"But not tonight".
"Not tonight".
You stare at each other and you feel the urge to say something, anything to break the silence.
"Of course. You must need a clear mind, to interrogate me".
He chuckles. "Interrogate you?"
"Isn't this the purpose of it all?" you make a gesture to the table. "I deceived you, and I would, still, if you hadn't exposed my secret so... easily. Actually, what was that? I didn't even know I could summon in the daytime".
"I amplify other Grisha's powers".
"Simply by touching them?"
"Simple as that".
You raise your eyebrows, considering it. "How unconvenient. People must have tried to use you too".
You expect him to reply, instead he says nothing. When you look at him, he's staring at you, but he seems to have drifted somewhere else, deep in his memories.
"That's what you'll do to me", you add, trying to ignore the fact that your words might have resonated in him more than you wished for. "You'll use me to gain power, victories or whatever it is that you crave".
"You paint me quite the tyrant", he replies, sharply. "And to think you don't even know me".
"And you don't know me".
"Yet, you assume you know my... cravings".
You might have blushed.
"Fine. That was quite unfair. Those weren't your words, after all. They were the King's".
He stands up, like the only mention of the King has made him restless. Maybe he has ran out of his patience. You are almost going to dismiss yourself, when he stops by the window and speaks again.
"I was wondering if you could show me".
"Show you what?!"
He turns to you. "Your light".
You are almost speechless. "You have seen my light".
"Not really", he answers. "That was me, calling it for you. But tonight is a fine night". He looks out the window again, his shape barely lit. "A perfect, bright full moon".
When he turns, he's looking hopeful. You feel a knot in your throat.
But deep inside, you are inexplicably excited.
You raise your hand, just a few inches above your leg, as you are still sitting down. You can feel the full moon like a limb of your body, and it's easy to let it come to you.
A ticklish, sparkling light emerges from your palm. It moves towards your wrist, flickering, then it slips down on your knuckles.
The Darkling stands frozen at the window frame, like he's suddenly unable to talk, or move, or be anything else than hypnotized by your evanescent, soft moonlight.
Then he approaches you, but slowly, like he's afraid you'll take it away if he comes too close. For a moment, you enjoy the thought of having that kind of power over him.
But reality surpasses your fantasy, as he kneels down in front of you.
You are face to face now, and you get lost in his eyes, darker than the night itself, filled with unsaid promises, and mysteries you can't help but wonder. He doesn't stop looking at you, while he lifts his hand, placing it a few inches above yours.
Darkness comes floating out of his fingers, like black waterpaint, so softly you wouldn't even think of its deadly power. It surrounds your sparkles of moonlight, but instead of suffocating them, it makes them glow even brighter.
It's like a small galaxy has found its place beneath his hand and yours.
It seems he could stay like that forever. And, damn it, you could too.
Instead, you ask, with the faintest whisper: "Am I your prisoner?"
He answers quietly. "You are my guest".
Something breaks inside you. You close your fist, and just like that your moonlight is gone.
His shadows dissipate like smoke from a candle, as you stand up from your chair. "It was a most... instructive evening. I am quite tired, now, and I wish to rest".
He stands up too, and walks you to the door like nothing has happened. You successfully keep the same blank face, ignoring the weird heartache that's tearing you apart.
"Goodnight".
And so you are back to reality. Back to the beautiful room that might be a prison, if you decide it is one. The window next to your bed gives you the best view on the night sky, and you wonder if that's why you were given that room in the first place.
The moon reminds and remembers. It is never gone, it only hides. Whatever happened tonight, it won't be gone tomorrow. You extend your arms above you and let the light come back to you, just because it feels good, and ask yourself if he ever does the same with his shadows.
Hi everybody. I hope you are enjoying this story so far. Please remember English is not my first language, and that I'm writing purely for fun. If you appreciate my work, please like, repost or leave a comment. You'll make my day! See you next.
