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Jan 10, 2022

A Bit of Light, and a Touch of Dark

I wanted Darkolai and I wanted Nikolai on the throne, so I tried to give myself both. This story was supposed to be my very personal take on the grishaverse. Spoiler: it did not work, see notes under read more.

I have posted two snippets of this on my blog a while ago and I’ve been thinking about this story since then because I might be a bit obsessive 🥺 I planned to call it A Bit of Light, and a Touch of Dark, maybe Universes out of Bitten Lips and Broken Hands? I didn’t get as far as planning a title but knowing me it will probably be a song🙈🙈

Now, after extensive debate with my three personalities, I have come to terms with the fact that I can’t write this thing. I want to, but it’s clearly beyond my very limited writing abilities. But, I have been writing a whole 6k of it and a few more snippets. And a couple of people went through the painful ordeal that has been reading and correcting them, honestly, it’s a miracle they didn’t tell me to fuck off (I love you so much, and I owe you big time ❤️ I cannot thank you enough for your patience and kindness 🥰)

Bit of a warning: I am very forgiving toward everything the Darkling ever did, I can justify anything with “his intentions were good!” or “look at what he went through!”. You can try to talk some sense into me but I cannot guarantee it will work. Sorry.

Anyway, I will put it out here, and hopefully it will stop staring at me accusingly every time I open my drafts folder. It’s really 6k...pls be patient.

Enjoy? Let me know where I fucked up

*****

"I think it would be wise to not declare war on anyone before breakfast."

The Darkling seemed annoyed by that comment as if he was counting on that to brighten up his mood.

On most days, not killing anyone in this room is way beyond the amount of effort he is willing to put into the ruling of Ravka. It comes as a side effect of knowing he could efficiently solve any issue by destroying his enemies with a snap of his fingers. He doesn't have to negotiate and listen to these fools. There are better ways to use his time than waste it with ambassadors and diplomats with no intention to cooperate.

"I can try to make it until lunchtime, but I'm not making any promises considering the present company. They hardly deserve to live."

Nikolai leans over the armrest of the golden chair, throwing a meaningful look at the man sitting next to him. The Darkling keeps his impeccable posture, his back straight, long legs elegantly crossed, his feature schooled into an artfully crafted mask of indifference, hiding the annoyance, boredom, and irritation he must feel at the display before his black eyes. He never seems to be affected by his surroundings, always keeping his composure in every situation. Nikolai loves to see him crack a little, only in private, but it's a special privilege, even more than being King.

He looks every bit the part. As if courts and politics were something engraved into his heart like the shadows and not something he acquired in time and out of necessity. He has often wondered where someone like Aleksander would have ended up if the world didn't hate him. Nikolai doubts he could even attempt to keep Ravka together without the General. Or, he could find a way, he's willing to do everything in his power and beyond for this country. He's just not sure he wants to try to rule without him.

"You can't kill them just because you don't think they deserve to live."

"Mh. Are you absolutely sure?" Only the whisper of the words no one but the king can hear betrays his true feelings. That, and the fact that Nikolai learned to read him very well: a shadow fleeting through his dark eyes, reflecting the ones moving at the edges of the room where no one pays attention, an almost invisible crease at the corner of his perfect lips as he speaks, a shift in his voice. Maybe there are still traces of power in him, bright specks flowing through his veins, filling his core, constantly reminding him of its presence, that allows him to read Aleksander a little easier. Like calls to like, and they have always been more similar than they wanted to admit.

"Positive, Sasha."

"Not even that idiot from Fjerda?" Aleksander says focusing his attention on the ministers of the court and ambassadors sitting at the table. Soon, they will make their demands, state their arguments, make promises they'll never keep, beg for help and give nothing in return. And above all, they will all stare at him with a particular mixture of hate, disgust, and disbelieve. Selfish, prejudiced, patronizing pricks. They're the worst. Ruining their kingdoms over squabbles and nonsense, refusing to see the reality right before their eyes. They need Grishas. They may not be alright with that concept, but the truth doesn't stop being true just because it makes some people uncomfortable.

Fjerda though, that's a different story. He finds it quite hard to trust a gesture of good heart coming from someone whose entire faith, life, and belief system is built on the conviction that a God anointed him to destroy someone else based on their alleged demonic nature. Aleksander was not a very religious person, he has never been. He finds it frankly offensive, that someone might be so easily convinced that a superior holy entity preaches slaughter because it is slightly bothered by a different power.

Since Nikolai ascended to the throne, they barely used the actual throne room for the councils, Saints bless the boy for that. Now all the meetings happened in the Eagle's Nest, a recently redecorated dining room, where everyone could sit at the same table. It gave the appearance of being all equals, at least at a first impression. It doesn't take much to glance behind that facade, but it kept a few more people quiet, and Aleksander was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

There was much more Nikolai could do to keep people quiet, but at least on the surface, he had to make it look like he was doing this by the book. He didn't mind bending the rules a little, almost everything could pass for military necessity in times of extreme danger to the country and its people, but he didn't want to push his luck. Favours change too quickly, and Ravka cannot afford more wars. Some of the people in this room would be all too happy to see him fail. Many of them were looking forward to seeing his brother on the throne, a reliable puppet they could easily use for their advantage and manipulate towards whatever was more convenient. For them of course, not for the people of Ravka.

Aleksander had never been able to pinpoint the exact reason why they all hate Grisha so much. They can hate him. He can be a monster if they need one, but why do they hate every single Grisha? He has proved to them time and time again that there are no other Summoners left with powers like him. There were once, but Kings and Generals throughout the centuries made sure to kill them all. Drüskelle were responsible for the slaughter of a good half of them, which was the reason why he had no love for the Fjerdans sitting at this table.

They fear every Grisha and think them evil because they do not understand their powers and refuse to use their little brains for once. And in deeming themselves superior, they arrogate the right to choose the good from the bad, who lives, who dies, who is worthy, who is nothing.

He is used to those greedy, narrow-minded assholes judging him as if their hands were clean. It's just that some days it bothers him a little more. At least he always took care of matters personally, and he has only ever acted with the well-being of his kind in mind. These people that look down on him hide behind armies and titles and the lives of innocent men, too-easily convinced to lose it all for a kingdom that doesn't care about them. But they have never been on the front lines of the wars they dictate. They never cared about anyone but themselves.

Yet, he is the one with blood on his hands. The one they all fear above everything.

All but the golden child sitting on the Double Eagle throne. Too honest and genuine to be in this room. They have always fleeted around each other, since the first time Aleksander began suspecting of his potential. Perhaps a little too close than was deemed proper.

Aleksander knows court life will ruin him too. Nothing good ever stays good in Ravka. This palace makes them all into liars and monsters, and murderers, and it's just a matter of time before the golden child changes too.

"Especially not the idiot from Fjerda," Nikolai says shifting his attention back to the room.

Aleksander notices he tries his best to act king-like and proper, but he has always been a man of action, something neither his lazy father nor his stupid brother was. He lacked the typical idleness and indolence of his family. Some of their stupidity too. He was still a child though, a bastard child that lost too much, stubborn, and too interested in his little escapades on his pirate ship. He paid the price of too many wars on his own skin, and he was now determined to avoid them at all costs.

"Not that I would terribly mind, I have the feeling Jarl Brum doesn't like me very much. I might be wrong though, he's too busy staring at you and praying you spontaneously dissolve into nothingness," Nikolai adds shifting again on the chair as if he was restless, unable to sit comfortably on the much-desired spot he was occupying.

"He has only tried to kill me twice in the past six months, I was almost starting to believe we were getting along."

"He has what?!" Nikolai frets, whipping his head so fast more than a few people stare at him in confusion.

"Don't fuss. Not over me, and especially not here. You're a King now," Aleksander cautions him. "Act like one." He doesn't even look at him, he brushes an inexistent speck of dust from his black Kefta and resumes his study of the people in the room.

Nikolai quickly collects himself, taking a sip of his tea and masking his concern by putting his usual smile back in position. He knows he’s right. He waits until everyone has gone back to their conversations before turning to the Darkling again.

"Keeping secrets, are we, love?"

Assassinations were old news in court. Such attempts usually occurred when someone decided to use creative methods to take over the desired position. In this particular case, nobody wanted Alexander's role. They simply didn't want <i> him </i> to have it. Many still didn't want to see Grishas in the palace, let alone have them occupying influential positions.

However, that is not what bothers Nikolai. He knows perfectly well that Aleksander can take care of himself better than anyone in the entire country and beyond. It's the fact that he didn't tell him that doesn't sit right with him. He should know if someone tries to kill his lover.

"If I had to mention every time someone tries to kill me, we'd talk murder non-stop,” the Darkling retorted.

Something in his eyes softens slightly when he throws a quick look at the boy next to him, a different spark shines in those obsidian black eyes.

"I'm fine. But I’ll send for you next time I have dead bodies to take care of if you insist."

"Is this your idea of a perfect date? We'll go riding by the lake at sunset and dump dead bodies into it? Charming. I'm only slightly concerned."

"Moi Tsar," Tolya interrupts their conversation with the sketch of a bow, "The Shu Han ambassador won't arrive, it's clear. The rest of the council is getting impatient."

Nikolai and Aleksander share a look. The news doesn't come as a surprise.

Aleksander predicted this, he tried to warn his King. He knows Shu Han too well. All they ever did was create chaos at the borders, never officially invading the country, but never retreating at the same time. They killed everyone who wandered too close to their frontiers, civilian or soldier, but they were particularly keen on targeting Grishas. And in a most gruesome way. The General stopped trying to send in soldiers after he got their heads back. He didn't know them well, but they trained here, they had friends in the Second Army, hopes and ideas like everyone else.

Leaders and Ambassadors of the Shu Han nation never openly admitted they were at fault. At first, they attempted to blame the Kerch, after that, the only answer Aleksander received was that the situation at the borders was unstable beyond their control and that rebels and mercenaries have always been in the business of murder. They were not sent by Shu Han nor did they respond to its government.

Aleksander could almost believe that the Kerch were responsible for the bloodshed, but their ambassador was standing right in front of him, while Shu Han didn't even bother attending the meeting.

"Yes, Tolya, let's begin."

The King too was worried.

*****

"How do you do it? I don't think I'm made for councils."

Nikolai closes the door behind his back and leans on it for a moment.

When he decided to include all neighboring nations and states in the meeting it seemed a great idea. But this was three months ago, when he still believed the first council after the Civil War could represent the time to start debating peace instead of another war. Then the news of the skirmishes at the Shu Han borders came, and soldiers of the Second Army started to go missing. To make it worse, they owed a formal apology to the Kerch ambassadors for suspecting them to be at fault. Earlier it became crystal clear that the Shu Han nation had no intention of settling for peace. And Fjerdans were trying to kill his lover. Again.

Now all that was left of his bright idea was the nagging feeling of wasting time, a sensation impossible to ignore, it lays in his path like a stone and he keeps tripping over it every two steps. When he longed for change, this is not what he foresaw.

"Nonsense. You're doing great. No one is bleeding or dead. Yet."

Aleksander barely lifts his eyes from the letter he's reading, but he knows the feeling that oppresses the King, he has been all too familiar with its weight for all his years of service. He understands his concerns. He warned him again over breakfast not to get his hopes high. The Shu Han nation has been doing the same thing for centuries. They have always treated the war with Ravka like another one of their scientific experiments. Every new campaign was a test to be repeated as many times as necessary to get the results they needed. To a small degree, Alexander admired their scientific advancements. Just not when their methods applied to dissecting and experimenting on humans.

The last time he lead a campaign against the nation they were hoarding Grishas to use them as test subjects for their latest experiments. Nikolai claimed he had no memory of that war. Aleksander answered sometimes he too wanted to have no memory of what he saw, but remembering keeps him focused on what needs to be done to make sure such atrocity toward his kind never happens again.

"Splendid. The greatest achievement of a council that was supposed to find a way to work together for peace is that no one is dead. Yet."

Aleksander finally raises his eyes from the letter he's writing to stare at the king pacing the length of his study.

"It is not your fault Shu Han didn't come, Nikolai."

Not for the first time, Aleksander notices how out of place Nikolai looks in his private, dark quarters, where everything, from the marble floor to the intricate brocade pattern on the wall was in shades of black. The table he was using for his correspondence was ebony with touches of gold, like the rest of the furniture. The curtains moving in the light breeze were a deep shade of indigo, even the armchairs, and divans that littered the path the King kept walking were either dark grey or a crimson so deep it looked black.

And Nikolai, Nikolai who never stays still for long, even in his sleep - Aleksander had plenty of time to study his night habits - looks as bright as the sun in this room. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy starts bleeding white the next time he's wounded. His powers might be gone, but the light is still there.

When he sits in court he's constantly tapping his fingers, playing with his rings, bouncing his leg, or shifting on his throne. Another child-like habit that made him look too young, too innocent to rule this court of vultures and jackals. Perhaps it's the light that draws him in, the brightness, the innocence, the things he can't have. There was another one, as bright as the sun too...

"Why? What are they trying to prove? That they can force my hand into a public act of war? I will not fall for that. How much more bloodshed does it take to stop?"

Despite the military training and everything he's been through, he is still too soft at the edges, convinced people can improve and grow. But Aleksander has been on this earth long enough to see that men only grow in their cruelty and their endless desire for more power, more kingdoms to submit, more people to control. There is no improvement in them, there is only indifference, contempt, and hatred. They don't think change is necessary because they are fine the way they are. If the rest of the world burns, it's simply not their problem.

As King of Ravka, Nikolai won't live long enough to see the death of his illusions, which is a small mercy in itself.

"You fail to grasp a basic concept. You are willing to do whatever it takes to make this country a better, safer, place for everyone. You. Those people, in that room, they couldn't care less. War is an opportunity, one that is a crime to miss. That is all they see."

"I was under the impression that slaughtering the innocents was a crime in the eyes of the Saints," Nikolai argues finally stopping in his tracks.

"The innocents, Moi tsar?" The Darkling answers lowering his papers, almost amused by the King's naivete. "Where are these innocents you speak of? Show me an innocent man and then maybe we'll talk."

The days of councils are long enough without this boy blindly heeding his emotions. Aleksander has little to no patience for that. He already put up with clueless advisors and useless ambassadors, he doesn't need a child's tantrum. Kerch and Fjerdan ministers have been problematic enough, with all their mindless chattering about the loyalty of the Second Army. He has been on edge for the better part of the day and it's only early afternoon.

It always comes down to that: Grisha and their loyalty, and what can be done to improve and use the Second Army more efficiently, as if those lives didn't matter, not in the same way at least.

Nobody understood the kind of lives Grishas had to live. They had not seen the witch hunters going from door to door, burning houses, barns, and shelters on their way, they haven't seen people selling out their neighbours for a few copper coins. Things take a different perspective if you wake up one day with the sting of smoke and burning flesh in your nose, recognizing the baker or the farmer's son in the pile of smouldering flesh in the main square, knowing you'll be the next. Aleksander learned to never stay in the same town for more than three months before he could grasp the idea of home. He was still a child when he realized they had been found guilty before anyone had even trialed them. They existed, and it was more than enough as a crime.

Nikolai has not been through that. He has known loss and trouble, but he found out about his powers late in his teenage years and had always hidden them. And while that's another small mercy, for Aleksander wouldn't wish that kind of fate on anyone, it makes it easier for him to wish for peace at all costs.

Eventually, the golden king will have to come to terms with it. Nikolai can wish for a future without wars and bloody battles, but Aleksander has always been a practical man. Dreams don't make for successful plans, and they don't keep people from being slaughtered.

As General, and as someone who has been on this earth for centuries, he knows that the things he must do for his country, and the things he's expected to do, very seldom agree. Perhaps it is foolish of him to expect that Nikolai will see that difference.

"There might be a tragic lack of them in this palace," Nikolai sighs.

"Thank you, it's all much easier when you recognize I'm right. Can we go back to planning this war now or do you want to further discuss the nature of innocence in..."

"You make it sound like a crime," Nikolai interrupts suddenly irritated, turning toward the General. "You say 'innocence' like it's offensive to you, the fact that there can be someone less tainted and corrupted. Yet when the Second Army is involved you're quick to change your mind and believe some lives are suddenly worth saving. Do you measure the worth of life only by its loyalty and to whom?"

When Nikolai realizes the weight of his words, it's too late. He's exhausted and upset, frustrated by his momentary helplessness and the persistent feeling that there's more he should do, and he's taking it out on the only person that would listen. He should know better.

The Darkling raises to his feet in a swift motion. Something flickers in his black eyes and the shadows grow with him, crowding the corners and threatening to swarm in and engulf the room.

The movement is barely perceptible, and to less trained eyes, all that's happening is an invisible breeze making a few candles flicker, but Nikolai notices. He's not afraid of them, he learned to not fear the power for it lives inside him too, but it is an undeniable display of the gravity of his words. Aleksander never loses control.

It lasts only a second, then the lights flutter, and the darkness is gone.

"I don't see why you should discuss the ruling of your kingdom with someone like me then. We both have things to do to invest our time productively before the council is resumed." Aleksander keeps his voice intentionally devoid of any emotion, straining his control to keep at bay his anger - and was that disappointment he felt? How silly, he shouldn't be so affected by mere words.-

"What? Wait, that came out wrong, I didn't mean...Aleksander!" Nikolai reacts a second too late, when the Darkling is already walking out of the room, and he's left blinking stupidly, calling after the man he loves and has just hurt.

*****

Aleksander's tolerance of stupid ideas is particularly low at the moment. It's his fault, he shouldn't let shallow remarks get to his head. He has to get a grip of himself. Between the council, his disagreement with Nikolai, and Fjerdans getting on his nerves, he doesn't put it past himself to accidentally-on-purpose cut the next idiot that suggests sending more troops from the Second Army to the border. Or mutters the word 'witch'.

It's stupid, and incredibly naive of him to let Nikolai's words affect him so. Four hundred years and some and he gets disappointed by a child? He's too old for crushes. And his position in court is precarious enough. He has served Lantsov Kings for centuries, and it always ended the same way. Perhaps his first mistake was believing this one was the opposite of his family. He is the one who put Nikolai on the throne because he trusted him to do things differently. To do things right. Correct centuries-old wrong. But trust always gets him in trouble. Trust pushed him into a frozen lake when he was thirteen and put him in the middle of a Civil War four centuries later.

I'll find a way.

He has heard Nikolai affirm that more times than he can count. And the determination in his voice and the storm shining in his green eyes convinced even him that he was really going to find a way to make things better.

Aleksander was not the kind of person easily persuaded by bold words and sparkling eyes. But in all the years they fleeted around each other, Nikolai had always listened to him talking about changes. He often mentioned a time before the hunts when all men were equals, Grisha and Otkazat'sya alike, and Nikolai didn't laugh in his face like everyone else. Instead, he claimed that he'll find a way to bring back justice.

The boy was an idealist. A romantic, in love with hopeless cases. He dreamt of flying ships when he was a child, then he dreamt of change and fairness.

But Aleksander had seen him drawing, sketching, planning his flying ships, ink-stained hands, and charcoal smudging on paper. He would show him what he worked on, thrilled and beaming over his project, delight flashing in his green eyes as he talked as quickly as humanly possible. He'd wave his hands around as if he was describing parts of an actual ship physically existing in the space between them, and not one he was tracing from memory. He wore his innocence on the sleeves of his green coat, and Aleksander has distinct memories of late afternoons in that pavilion, convinced that one day this boy will have his flying ships. There's nothing he cannot achieve if he puts his mind to it. Is that why he fell so hard for him and his dreams?

When Nikolai started to talk about change, and justice, and improvement, he did so in the same way he'd chat about his vessels. And Aleksander believed him again.

He believed in the boy before he even knew of his powers. For reasons he cannot grasp, the golden child has the same effect on him as using his powers. It feels like answering a relentless call. As if something was tugging at his core, pulling on him, and it's impossible to ignore. Suppressing it hurts him just like repressing their powers damage Grisha. He can't and he does not want to ignore it. The darkness is inevitably drawn to the light.

Aleksander knew that getting close to him was a mistake. But his glowing resolve, that he couldn't ignore. It burned so bright and so close to everything he worked hard to achieve.

When Nikolai ascended to the throne, he felt like he had finally been able to ditch the weight of service. He was not serving anymore, this was more than a job. He shared an idea with someone, and he was working for him, with him, to make it come true. To make things better. For everyone.

But he knows it will come a time when whatever bond they share will pay the price necessary to keep the country from tearing apart at the seams. It seems that moment has come sooner than he anticipated.

He straightens himself just in time to find Ivan dismissing an Oprichniki and asking him again if he's sure he only wants two guards.

"Yes. I need everyone else to be ready."

Ivan inspects the room again for the umpteenth time.

"It is not safe. Half of the people in this room tried to kill you. The other half is just waiting for an occasion."

"I know. I'd rather have everyone else prepare. We might have to leave in a hurry."

The look in his black eyes it's unmistakable, Ivan has seen it enough times to know what it means.

The majority of the council will press for war. And when that happens, it's not the First Army that will be sent to the front lines.

"Are you certain then?"

Aleksander hesitates for a second. He cannot see Nikolai's decision with clarity.

"No. Nothing is certain until the King decides so. In the meantime, we can both hope for the best if it makes you feel better, but it will be of little help. I want to be prepared for the worst."

Ivan nods once and resumes his position. He relies on this man over everything. The Darkling didn't make it this far hoping for the best. Neither did he.

*****

When the council resumes in the afternoon, Nikolai is surprised to see Aleksander already sitting impeccably at his seat. He looks flawless as always, like nothing happened. As if Nikolai didn't spend the better part of three hours scouting the palace searching for him. He would have been disrespectfully late, if Zoya hadn't found him wandering near one of the laboratories. Nikolai is pretty sure she spent the walk back to the palace scolding him in various and creative ways, but he wasn't paying attention. It didn't even occur to him that Aleksander had never left the palace grounds.

But of course, General Kirigan would never fail his duties and miss a council. His absence would raise suspicions, people would ask questions better left unanswered, and he can't take that risk.

It's also a very convenient way to get out of the inevitable confrontation between them. Nikolai can't address whatever happened earlier in front of the court.

Clever.

The man appears to be in deep conversation with Ivan, who just dismissed a Oprichniki, and stubbornly refuses to meet his eyes.

When Nikolai finally sits down, the room is considerably less crowded than it was in the morning. If anyone else felt the tension mounting, they all have enough brains to keep their mouths shut, but it was undeniable that this meeting was taking a very different turn.

Except for Ivan, Zoya, and a couple of Oprichniki from the Darkling's guard, no other Grisha remained at the council. He mentally kicks himself again for his stupidity. He doesn't have time to ask why Aleksander dismissed them, but the General is always three steps ahead of everyone else. He must have had a good reason to send them away. Reason he would have shared, if Nikolai hadn't been busy acting like a child and pouring his frustration on him.

Nikolai wanted to dismiss them all immediately and talk to Aleksander alone, the need to apologize gnawing away at his core. He doesn't want to leave things like that between them but he still has a country to rule. He doesn't have the luxury of time.

He may be King in title, but sometimes, most of the time, he's just a man. Specifically, a man that fucked up and wants to apologize to the one he loves without worrying about the country falling apart like some fine china someone dropped from the shelf if he takes the afternoon. Apparently, privacy was too much to ask for in the Palace.

*****

The majority of any council the Darkling ever had to attend in his decades had been spent bickering and squabbling. Everything, from the military expense to the borders, from the training of the recruits to the budget, even the affairs and balls of the court had to be discussed in way more words any person with common sense would use. And every single one of these issues was always inevitably reduced to the elephant in the room: Grisha and their role in society and military. It was the preferred topic whenever someone needed a scapegoat: the expenses and the stretched budget were because money was wasted on and by Grishas in the court, problems at the borders were caused by the constant river of Grisha coming to seek shelter in Ravka, military issues were caused by the presence, or the lack, of Grisha soldiers on the front lines. And as a direct consequence in the eyes of these ignorant fools, everything came down to the one they considered responsible for these Grisha.

Aleksander suspects more than one person in the room would throw a ball if Grisha disappeared off the face of the land. Many had interesting ideas on how to make that happen.

"Moi Tsar, I understand your...Chancellor has an army at his disposal that can be used in case of an inevitable attack."

The Darkling has to refrain from rolling his eyes at the disdain and mockery in the Kerch ambassador's voice. So much contempt for someone who just admitted they need help. He tries to keep his stony self-control, but he doesn't appreciate the direction of this conversation. They are always so cautious when it comes to dispatching their men. Saints forbid they extend the same courtesy to Grisha.

"I'll go. I can take care of Shu Han on my own, there is no need to involve any army."

Aleksander had a lot of time to think after he left Nikolai. War was inevitable, stupid, but imminent. All their councils and meeting and dancing around the issue were only postponing a story already written. It was pointless to waste the lives of people on this issue when it could easily be solved. Aleksander didn't mind doing something awful. And if he also immensely enjoy the idea of laying waste to Koba and watch the ruins, well, that's just a side bonus.

"No. That is out of the question." Nikolai stares at him with his expression caught between warning and pleading.

"Why? It is Grisha they are targeting the most." Aleksander doesn't hesitate before countering, meeting the King's hazel eyes for the first time.

"And who can guarantee us you won't come back with an army?" A tall man clad in a grey uniform all but glowered at Aleksander as he spoke.

"An army of what? Starving women and children? What do you fear these people will do, Commander, steal your dinner? Because I can hardly imagine that someone who has been left to die on the streets, hunted, and on the run, has the power to do much more than that."

Aleksander's hate for the Fjerdans is endless, a constant presence under the surface. He has seen things he can't forgive. It is insulting to have these men in council, yet Nikolai insisted on inclusion. But the King had never seen first hand what happens in the Ice Court, he hadn't witnessed the so-called fair trial, he hasn't seen people being executed for the sole crime of existing.

"But power they have nonetheless, and there's no assurance you won't turn on us."

"Commander, you will watch your tongue. I won't tolerate this kind of talk in my council." Nikolai holds his gaze until he sees the Commander cautiously lowering his eyes.

It was his decision to have the Fjerdans here, but he's quickly regretting it. He can still sense Aleksander tensing at his side, his powers simmering below the surface as he restrains himself from any action that will get them all in trouble. He's about to add something, but Aleksander already warned him about being too open in public. People despise him enough without thinking he's the King's most inappropriate fling in the long history of ill-suited lovers in the Lantsov family.

"I must insist though, except for a few skirmishes and fights, no act of war worthy of this name has been made by Shu Han. An attack on them will be the perfect excuse to set a plan in motion. I understood you wanted to avoid war, Moi Tsar, not handle it to them on a silver platter," a Fjerdan minister interrupts.

Nikolai rolls his eyes as he answers: "And what else is bloodshed in time of peace, if not an act of war, ambassador?"

<i> Next time it could be you receiving the heads of your people with the evening post. I'm sure that would raise a few questions in Fjerda about what's an act of war. </i> As General, Aleksander knows his answers have to be precisely sketched and he never speaks out of place, but as a person with very little to no patience, in the privacy of his own mind, it would be so satisfying to watch one of his nichevo'ya kill this idiot.

"We all know it is high time someone puts Shu Han in its place," the Kerch ambassador begins again "Why not send this so-called army to clean the border?"

"I agree. War cannot be avoided," the Apparat surprisingly chimes in with his dusty voice. "If they are so powerful they surely can win over a band of rebels and mercenaries. And if they are not...well, then I don't see why the precious resources of our country should be wasted for such a useless purpose."

"Useless, priest? The King's army is not an expendable commodity," Aleksander knows he should watch his words, but it's butchery of his kind this man preaches so lightly, and that is not something he can accept. "And I shall remind you, this so-called army you speak of has already proved invaluable to you and everyone else in this room."

"The King's army, or yours, Darkling? Weren't you the one who paraded around flaunting the greatness of this army in front of this very same council at every given occasion?"

There's more than arrogance and contempt in the Fjerdan's voice this time, it's the voice of someone testing the waters, stretching the line as much as he can, and waiting to see how long it takes to snap. Aleksander had met men like him, there's one in every court. He's not here to secure peace in the country, he's only here to ensure he can pick the winning side.

It suddenly dawns on him that they are all here to test the waters. They do not care about the struggle at the borders, none of them is here to find a way to stop the fights with Shu Han. They are putting out a feeler question, this is no more than an excuse to pry into Ravkan affairs. What he can't understand is why the Apparat is backing this charade.

"And will you all support this army we are to send?" Nikolai asks, much to the General's disbelief. He didn't expect the King to agree. The boy is smart enough to see through this nonsense.

"Of course, Moi Tsar. We will do our part, as always."

Aleksander knows that's a lie. The question is, does the King know too?

He watches Nikolai nod and zones out for a moment, missing a few unimportant exchanges. For all his softness, the King agreed all too soon to send Grisha into another futile war. Whatever happened between them earlier cannot be enough for Nikolai to doubt him. It could be that the King is testing loyalties, yet if Nikolai had any suspicions about his support he likes to believe he wouldn't use a war council to dissipate them. That's not how it works between them, Aleksander strengthened his claim to the throne because he thought Nikolai would be different from his father and brother. With the golden child on the double-eagled throne for once, Ravka would have a king interested in the well-being of its citizens, all of its citizens, not only the Otkazat'sya ones. Or so he believed.

Could it be that whatever personal feelings he had for Nikolai blinded him to the point of making such a mistake?

Coming back to his senses, he searches the room for a friendly face. Ivan is at his side in a heartbeat.

"If this is the council decision," Aleksander interrupts a woman with the sharp, black eyes of a wolf. "Then I have troops to prepare. You must forgive me."

Bowing his head slightly, the Darkling stands up and excuses himself, finding it very hard to remain in the room any longer.

#darkolai #aleksander morozova #nikolai lantsov #sad attempts to write grishaverse #sun summoner nikolai #the darkling #my personal take on the grishaverse #shadow and bone #sturmling #grishaverse #This is probably all wrong and out of characters #writing problems

vaire-gwir