Congrats!!! For the thing: Aleksander Morozova + "Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe."
Send me a [quote + character] and I’ll write you some drabble!
A/N: I love this quote honestly, it fits him so well!
“Hello there,” Aleksander said to the boy who had stumbled into him, rushing out of the Grand Palace’s gardens.
He looked up at Aleksander with large blue eyes full of surprise. The boy had pale-blond hair, with a silver circlet resting atop, and was dressed immaculately, in clothes more expensive than what half of Ravka paid for food.
Which was unsurprising, seeing as he was the Crown Prince.
Aleksander crouched so he could look the boy in the eye. He was so small, so human. How was it already dictated that this child would one day be King?
The boy cocked his head to the side, recognition lighting up his eyes “I know you!” he exclaimed, “my father made you leave the Grand Palace!”
The boy straightened, looking suddenly uneasy, as though only just realizing that he was very much alone with the same man Ravka had declared dangerous.
“He did, didn't he?” Aleksander said, giving the boy a smile. He waved his fingers in front of the boy’s face, letting long thin shadows slip out of their tips like snakes. The boy hardly had the chance to gasp before they had wrapped themselves around his throat and concealed his eyes. He fell, choking, and Aleksander caught the prince in his arms, as he slipped out of consciousness, his silver circlet falling onto the snow.
“But we’re going to change that,” he murmured.
The easiest way to bring someone to their knees is to make them bow.
It had been one of the first lessons his mother had taught him, after waking him in the middle of the night to leave the Shu Han. She said the Shu King had only welcomed the Grisha to trap them, and to begin some sort of experimentation on them. None of the others had believed her, blinded by his so-called generosity.
The last he’d heard of the Shu Han, they had acquired new weapons, not unlike the ones Grisha Fabrikators had developed for the Ravkan army.
Ravka was by no means a haven for Grisha. In fact, most days it was torturous to those who were born with abilities. But Aleksander remained in Ravka because in it he saw the raw potential. It could be someplace Grisha would live in the peace they have always deserved. With him at the head, they would be an army, better yet, a country that was undefeatable.
Still, without patience, all futures crumbled. Another one of his mother’s lessons.
“Help!” cried out a voice, and Aleksander refrained from rolling his eyes. About bloody time the prince woke up.
The boy was being held by two men, with masks to hide their faces. They had placed a sack on the prince’s head to obscure his sight lest he awoke on their journey up to the cliffs.
Needless to say, it was unnecessary.
The Ryevost hills were home to some of Ravka’s wealthiest men and women. Fools and clowns who only stayed because of their proximity to the King. So close to Os Alta, yet a place so barren of its most fascinating attributes. They stayed in the valleys, mostly, the best of them closer to the plane grounds near the Grand Palace.
From where the men stood, near the cliff’s edge, they had a clear view of Ravka’s aristocracy, and vice versa.
The hills were coated in a thin sheet of fresh snow, the biting winds making Aleksander’s patience thin. He let the boy scream a little longer, while he stood far from view in the shadows of the trees that lined their path.
Finally, someone noticed. Rich folk truly were oblivious. It was a maid, who had come teetering out in the cold, likely to feed the horses that were kept in the stables beside one of the large houses. She let out a shriek as one of the men- Anton, was it?- pushed the prince towards the cliff’s edge.
Like fireflies, windows lit up one after the other, and servants came rushing out of houses, carrying lanterns. Aleksander watched, irritated now. He did not need servants to see the boy, they were too heartfelt and would likely spare a child if he had no title to back him up.
“Reveal the boy,” he said quietly, letting the wind carry his voice to the second man, Viktor or Vlad, he couldn’t recall. The man stiffened beneath his fur coat, but took a step towards his partner and pulled the hood off the boy, revealing a mop of blond hair with a bright silver circlet resting atop its head.
The prince screamed when he realized where he was, his voice rasping as his throat became raw with the sound. He struggled against Anton’s hold, but the other man was larger and more muscular, and the prince had only just turned seven.
Murmurs began to rise from the town below, cries for help arising. And then the rich folk stepped out of their houses, most in robes and nightgowns, having been in bed and sipping tea at the late hour of six o clock.
Because once they realized it was the Prince in danger, he was their priority above all else. Or, more likely, the reward for his safety was. Aleksander let a pleased smile grace his face, if there was one thing mortals could be relied on to have, it was greed.
“Let him down!” called a plump man, clearly accustomed to having his way.
“Can’t you see he’s in danger, you idiot!” cried the woman beside him, evidently his wife. The man’s face went red with embarrassment, and his wife rolled her eyes. “Get the horses, Nanny! I’m going up after him!”
A few people cheered her on, and Aleksander felt a smirk come onto his face. If there was ever any real danger, the boy would be long dead before her horses were ready.
“-my father- he’ll help! Call Da! Please, someone-” he was cut off as another scream tore from his throat. The snow fell away beneath his shoes and he nearly went with it, but Anton pulled him back quickly, holding onto the collar of the boy’s coat.
“Come on, already!” hissed Vlad, but Aleksander ignored him. Not yet.
The man narrowed his dark eyes, the only thing visible beneath his mask and hat, then turned to the people. He began speaking, but Aleksander did not pay him any attention. He waved his fingers at a side path of the town, far enough to be a blur, but close enough to be noticed.
A sliver of black, fast as light shot up the path and people began to gasp and point. It was a trick he’d developed years ago. The people did not quite understand a Grisha’s power and were satisfied in believing it could be anything of convenience to them. Say, a man who could shoot through the night, quick as a blur. The shadow traveled around the hill’s side and disappeared from sight.
Aleksander let his fingers tousle his hair before making himself visible.
“-if you want the boy to live,” Vlad was saying, “We demand a ransom of-” Aleksander brought his hands down in one swooping arc, and the man fell to the ground, head severed from his body.
Anton glanced back and shrieked, his grip on the Prince loosening “but you said-” he was cut off as Aleksander snatched the boy by his collar, pulling him back, then pushing the other man off the cliff.
“Plans change,” he murmured cringing as the man’s body crumpled to the floor in front of the town’s folk.
Then he sat in front of the boy, who was as pale as the snow beneath him, and gave him a concerned look.
“One last time,” he said apologetically, then let the shadows engulf the boy once more, catching him before he fell.
Aleksander stood, carrying the Prince in his arms, so that all of the town could see. They instantly began cheering and clapping, and he refrained from another eyeroll. Just a few weeks ago, they had cursed his name.
But that would all change, he knew and turned with the Prince in his arms to head to the Grand Palace.
“The honor is all mine, your Majesty,” he said, forcing his head down as he bowed to a man with liquid for brains.
“I am only sorry that my father caused such hatred between us with his abilities.” he let a small furrow crease his brow, as though it troubled him greatly.
The King seemed satisfied with the apology, slumped back in the large golden throne. He let his many chins rest on his hand as he watched Aleksander, blue eyes hardly open.
“Of course,” he said, “The Dark Heretic was an atrocious being, and we should be thankful his son is so different. You are welcome in the Ravkan court, just as you were meant to be,”
Aleksander bowed again, then began to leave, his steps light on the plush red carpet, a thousand ideas already forming in his mind. He was nearly at the door when the King called for him once more.
“What is it you call yourself?” he asked, “what name will you go by?”
Aleksander smiled, and it was the smile the devil wore just before he clasped his victim’s hand and settled another deal, then said;
