Chapter Text
Your return to Os Alta is a spectacle.
People line the streets, waving and cheering, throwing paper confetti and flowers over your heads. You smile widely at Aleksander, and you can see in his eyes how much this moment means to him.
Despite the ache in your legs from riding all morning, the crowd’s enthusiasm fuels you, and you all but skip up the front steps of the Grand Palace for a meeting with the king.
Remembering the first time you had walked through these halls, anxiously waiting to meet the king that you were plotting to remove from power, you can’t help but compare it to today.
There’s no anxiety as you step through the door into the main hall, walking side by side with Aleksander, your friends flanking your procession as you stop at the foot of the dais to greet Nikolai with a bow.
There’s no crowd of people surrounding the dais, or lining the carpet that you stand on. It’s just Nikolai, with his guards posted at the doors and a few servants.
He seems happy to see you both, and immediately stands, moving down to stand in front of you both.
“Ravka owes you an unpayable debt.” Nikolai says, before he adds quietly, “As do I.”
You give him a knowing nod and smile.
“I wouldn’t say no to a knighthood.” You remark. The corner of his mouth twitches with a smirk.
“What about a sainthood?” Your eyes widen, and your expression drops in surprise. Nikolai nods between you and Aleksander. “For both of you.”
You can’t speak. A saint? You can’t imagine being worshiped as a saint. Having altars and portraits made for you, and people praying to you. Luckily, Aleksander responds for the two of you. He bows lightly.
“There would be no greater honour, Your Highness.”
In almost a year, you’ve gone from not even existing in this world, to becoming one of their saints.
“We have some other news as well.” Aleksander adds.
“Don’t tell me you finally proposed.” Nikolai remarks with a raised brow, his gaze dropping to your bare hand.
Behind you, Zoya stifles a laugh, and Aleksander’s face has gone strangely blank, as if he’s having trouble processing what Nikolai had just said.
“I’m so tempted to hit you right now.” You tell him with a small laugh.
“Not the face, please.” He teases, and you roll your eyes. Then his expression becomes more genuine. “What is your news?”
Glancing over at Aleksander, you find him already looking at you. When you raise a brow in questioning, he nods over to the window where a rather sad looking flower is struggling to bloom.
“Go on.” He encourages you softly.
Inhaling deeply, you nod, and walk over towards the plant. Nikolai’s eyes follow you with curiosity.
On the journey through the countryside back to Os Alta, you had begun to test the scope of your new power with help from Aleksander. So far, you’ve been able to revive diseased or injured plants to a more healthy state.
Grisha do not conjure from nothing. A plant has to exist before you can manipulate it. But Aleksander believes that with some practice, you might be able to grow something from the smallest scrap of plant - a leaf or a petal.
Due to his belief and guidance, you feel able to tackle the plant sitting by the window in Nikolai’s throne room.
Living in the dry stuffy air of the Grand Palace has clearly taken a toll on the poor flower.
“Are you fond of this?” You ask Nikolai with a nervous smile as you gesture towards it. He raises a brow in amusement.
“Does it look like I’m fond of it?” He smirks, but then his expression softens slightly. “It’s my mother’s.”
“No pressure then.” You mumble.
Squeezing your dominant hand into a fist, you draw your power into your hands, curling your other hand around your fist. A tingle of excitement runs through you, which you channel into reviving the plant.
The dryness fades from the leaves, replacing it with a healthy green, and the withering buds open, allowing the blooms to flourish.
Nikolai’s eyes widen and you smile proudly, glancing over at Aleksander who regards you with a pleased expression. Your smile widens.
Immediately, Nikolai begins his questions, his mind filled with countless different possibilities of what your power can do. If you weren’t so tired from the journey, and longing to be home at the Little Palace, you would be eager to join in with him as usual. Instead, you shake your head at him.
“Can we do this some other time?”
He halts his words quickly, looking over you for a moment before he realises.
“You must be tired.” He says straightening, and you smile fondly. “And I have celebrations to oversee. I’ll send for you in a few days time.”
He takes your hand in his own.
“My offer still stands.”
You shake your head. Now that you can have Aleksander for eternity, you won’t let Nikolai marry for any reason other than love.
“My answer remains the same.” You tell him, leaning forward to press a kiss against his cheek. “You’re going to make someone very happy one day Nikolai.”
He nods with a small smile.
When you turn around, Zoya regards you with a raised brow, her eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. All the same, your cheeks flush with warmth.
“We’re friends.” You tell her, nodding towards Nikolai.
She smirks.
“I thought you said you’d never replace me.” She teases.
“And you are?” Nikolai remarks smoothly. She straightens, holding her chin high.
“Zoya Nazyalensky, moi tsar.” She bows lightly before she adds possessively. “The best friend.”
Nikolai grins before he teases,
“Self appointed?”
Zoya’s eyes burn, your own eyes widen, and for a moment you fear for Nikolai’s life.
“You’re both my friends.” You say quickly, hoping to avoid an incident. “And I’m sure the two of you can come to some sort of agreement.”
Zoya hums, unimpressed, and turns on her heel as the Grisha are excused from the king’s presence. Nikolai’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he watches her figure retreat.
A smile touches at your lips as you realise that perhaps Nikolai and Zoya will find a way into one another’s hearts on their own.
Your return to the Little Palace is no less eventful.
The servants prepare all manner of dishes and desserts for dinner, and you try a portion of almost everything. With the combination of travelling and using your power, you’re starving.
Aleksander helps to assemble your plate with spoonfuls of delicious food, and you do the same for him. When he invites you to try something from his plate, you do the same.
Lots of your Grisha are eager to see your new power, and you find that you can change the colours of a flower which impresses a small gaggle of children who all request their favourite colours and clap in delight when you oblige them.
Aleksander remains at your side for the rest of the afternoon, with a smile lingering on his lips as you use your gift.
A few Grisha retrieve their own instruments from their rooms, and begin to play all manner of different tunes from their hometowns. Regardless of whether the songs are familiar, most people join in on the fun, dancing and clapping along.
You and Aleksander watch as the Grisha celebrate, and you already know how much this means to him, to see his people finally able to celebrate something. Hopefully, it won’t be long before they are celebrating again, when the wars are over.
Aleksander has been more forthright with his touch throughout the afternoon. A hand on your back as he guides you through the crowd. His fingers entwined with yours as you sit after dinner. Occasionally he will knock his knee against yours to attract your attention to something.
As the sun begins to set, Aleksander leans closer to you as the two of you stand at one side of the room watching the dancers begin to prance along to a lively tune.
“Shall we retire for the evening?” He murmurs against your temple. Turning your head, you smile up at him, and nod.
Aleksander takes your hand as you weave through the crowd. The people surrounding you must see something in Aleksander’s expression that prevents them from approaching you, and soon you’re stepping out of the Domed Hall into the quiet corridor.
The sounds of people laughing and celebrating are muffled as the two of you begin to retreat.
You can’t hold back a surprised giggle as Aleksander sweeps you up into his arms, hooking one arm under your legs to carry you bridal style through the corridors of the Little Palace.
He walks down a very familiar hallway, and through a well known set of doors, into his bedroom.
Aleksander sets you down at the end of the bed, the same bed that, from the very first night, has always been yours as much as it is his. He takes your face between his hands and kisses you firmly, lips working against yours to steal the air from your lungs. But who needs air when you have Aleksander to sustain you?
“Sasha.” You breathe out in a gasp against his lips.
He pulls away, his eyes blown wide, filled with adoration and love as he stares at you, his beautiful lips parted as he smiles and his dark hair already ruffled by your hands.
He kisses you again, softer this time.
Aleksander’s hands settle at your waist, as you slide your own hands down from his hair, along his shoulders and over his chest. Hooking your fingers under the lapels of his kefta, you attempt to shift the garment from his body.
One of his hands curls around your wrist.
“Are you sure?”
Leaning closer to brush your lips delicately against his own, you smile softly and nod.
“I’m sure.”
Aleksander learns the language of your body in a startlingly short amount of time. He seems to know exactly where to kiss, to touch and tease, to draw out the most exquisite bursts of pleasure that shudder down your spine and linger like phantom touches over your skin.
He’s reverent with you, eyes filled with awe as he studies your every reaction, which brings a full bodied rush of blood to tingle underneath your skin.
There’s a look of pride on his face, every time a gasp or broken moan leaves your lips, and whenever you say his name he all but doubles his efforts to give you every ounce of pleasure that he knows you deserve.
Yet his touch is nothing compared to the sweet words that are murmured against your lips, or accompany the kisses he leaves along your neck.
“That’s it, my dearest love. Let me hear you.”
“Aleksander.” You whine, grasping tightly onto him.
He shushes you tenderly, linking your fingers together with both hands, pressing them against the mattress as he continues to kiss you, his body firm against yours.
“Relax, my love. I have you.”
He presses a kiss to your temple, and continues to murmur softly against your hairline.
“Let me take care of you, hm?” He reasons, trailing kisses along your jawline. “You’ve taken such good care of me, given me everything I’ve ever wanted. Let me look after you now.”
The guards posted outside his room learn Aleksander’s true name that night, a fact that you realise the next morning with a flush of embarrassment.
You bring the matter up not long after you wake in Aleksander’s arms. In response, he chuckles and you hide your warming face against his bare chest.
“I’m sorry, Sasha.” You mumble.
He hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to meet his eyes.
“I can think of no better way of them hearing my name, than from your lips.”
He kisses you softly, and any worry you had quickly disappears.
»»---------------------►
A few days later, you receive a summons from Nikolai. That morning, you watch from the head of the bed as Aleksander finishes getting dressed. Much to your confusion, he had told you not to get ready yet.
It’s only when Genya appears at the door, with a clothing bag slung over her arm that you begin to suspect why Aleksander had asked you to wait.
She’s wearing a red kefta, cleaned and pressed to perfection, and you can see her pride as she wears it. With a knowing smirk, she asks if you’d like her to remove some of the marks along your throat, and your cheeks warm as you feel Aleksander’s eyes on you when you refuse her offer.
Then she places the clothing bag across your lap, and you frown at her.
She unzips it.
A black kefta, with green embroidery lining the hems. There’s a few small splashes of colour, soft dots of red, purple and blue - the three Grisha orders - that look like tiny flowers amongst the weaving green.
When you see the kefta, emotion wells in your throat, and can’t stop the flood of tears spilling down your cheeks. Aleksander sits down beside you, curling his arm around your waist, and you press the side of your face against his chest.
You reach for Genya’s hand.
“It’s perfect Genya. You should be very proud.”
She smiles, remarking smugly,
“I know.” But she curls her fingers around yours, squeezing softly with understanding, and you realise the double meaning to her words. I know how you feel.
Now you belong.
»»---------------------►
Nikolai appoints you as his royal advisor, and you journey with him and Aleksander to meet with the delegates from Shu Han when you demand a ceasefire between your countries.
In exchange for some of the lands often sought after during the Border Wars, Shu Han agrees to disband any experimentation facilities and instead turn their Grisha over to Ravka.
With an alliance finally formed between two countries known for their almost endless grievances, Fjerda is intimidated.
You and Aleksander work hard to establish a singular Ravkan army, where each regiment contains both the necessary Grisha and otkazat’sya to function more efficiently than ever before.
With healers allowed to work on former First Army soldiers, casualties are reduced by almost half. Fabrikators work on the army’s weaponry to combat the Fjerdan’s machine guns.
Nikolai’s father, Magnus Opjer, wanting to support his son and return to his former lover, gathers supporters for Ravka from within his own country. Nikolai and Aleksander strategise for long hours, well into the night, to orchestrate a Fjerdan coup.
With your new army pushing the frontlines further into Fjerda, and their own people turning on them, they can only hold out for so long.
The day the Fold was destroyed was named the day of Sankta Alina. The day the land of the Tula Valley was revived was the day of the Starless Saint.
The day Fjerda surrendered, and peace was established in Ravka, will be forever known as your saint’s day. The saint of hope, and plans well made.
In reparations, you demand the outlaw of jurda param, the drug that Fjerdan had used to enslave Grisha into creating their weapons. They free all Grisha held in captivity, and Ravka offers rehabilitation for them all. David creates an antidote that cures the addiction ailing the drugged Grisha.
Aleksander is both heartbroken and furious at the sheer number of Grisha that come seeking aid, especially when he sees the toll the drug has taken on so many women and children.
You’re almost as equally upset, pacing and fuming over the length of Nikolai’s study. He doesn’t say anything, allowing you to stew in your anger, and when Aleksander returns you both sit at Nikolai’s table and discuss the reparations.
Aleksander heeds your warnings. Fear will not last as a deterrent. As much as you want to, you can’t punish Fjerda too harshly. It will only cause a greater divide between your people, and will one day become a problem. A problem that you and Aleksander will have to deal with when it accumulates in a few hundred years.
You want this peace to last.
You want to enjoy your time with Aleksander, and for him to live without looking over his shoulder for once.
»»---------------------►
“You know you’re actually quite good at this.” Nikolai remarks as he spins you.
The ballroom at the Grand Palace is decorated with the blue and yellow Ravkan eagle, as well as the white flags of peace.
“I’m choosing to ignore the surprise in your voice, but I will say I’m quite offended.”
“Vasily said you were a poor dancer.” Your brows lift in surprise.
“That’s why he cancelled the engagement?” Nikolai laughs softly, shaking his head. Your expression shifts from feigning offence to something softer. “How is he doing?”
“Good, from what I hear in my mother’s letters. She’s been staying with him for the last few weeks, along with Magnus.”
You nod. Nikolai’s biological father had been instrumental for your victory against Fjerda, and he seemed to be quite happy living in Ravka, reunited with Nikolai’s mother.
The dance comes to an end, and you feel rather proud that you had seen it through with only a minor incident of fumbling with Nikolai’s hands after a spin. He takes your hand, steering the two of you towards the side of the room where you select a drink from a silver tray.
“You should ask Zoya for a dance.” You tell him, taking a sip from your glass. He raises a brow at you, before he glances over at Zoya.
“Is this some sort of subtle assassination plot?” He remarks, but he hasn’t taken his eyes from her.
She’s wearing a gown of deep summoners’ blue, with sparkling silver threads, and a selection of jewels adorning her hair. She already looks like a queen.
“I’m sure you would enjoy yourself. Trust me.”
Nikolai hums.
“Speaking things into existence again?”
“When aren’t I?”
He takes your hand once again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he nods. You bow with a smile as he steps away, and you watch him as he approaches Zoya.
She narrows her eyes at him, but she doesn’t seem annoyed. For a moment, you think her smirk seems almost fond. Then you’re distracted.
You sense Aleksander appearing beside you long before he makes his presence known.
“You’re scheming.” He accuses in a low voice filled with amusement as he presses a kiss against your temple. You look back at him, your eyes widened innocently.
“Scheming? Me?” A smirk tugs at your lips. “I would never.”
Aleksander hums knowingly and he smiles as his hands settle on your waist.
“Of course not, my love, do forgive me.”
You smile back at him, content to be in his arms for a quiet moment. He sways you both lightly to the sound of the music as another song begins, and you spot Zoya and Nikolai at the centre of the dance floor.
“Have you spoken to Alina?” You ask Aleksander. He raises a brow at you, before his eyes shift to filter over the faces in the crowd.
“I wasn’t aware she was here.” You nod.
“She and Mal have come over from Keramzin. The Duke died a few weeks ago, and left the orphanage to the townspeople. Alina and Mal have decided to run it.”
“That’s good of them.”
“Hopefully now there won’t be as many orphans though.” You reason and Aleksander hums thoughtfully.
“Regardless, there will always be children in need of a home.”
His fingers curl around yours, tilting your hand to show off the gold and black ring that sits shining on your finger.
This weekend, as people begin to recover from the festivities, you and Aleksander plan to pack up your horses and leave. Head towards the Tula Valley until you find the perfect spot. A remote field or a small clearing in the woods, somewhere peaceful where you can create a small garland of flowers to surround you both.
There, you’ll exchange your vows and rings. No priest, no guests. Just the two of you, together.
A blissful, sun soaked day, where he is finally yours, and you are his.
Afterwards, once you return to the capital, you’ll sign all the official papers and your friends will likely want to throw an elaborate party.
An excited smile breaks over your face, and Aleksander brings your hand to his lips to press a kiss against your knuckles, his own smile widening as he whispers,
“I can’t wait to marry you in every century.”
His words make you giddy.
“I’m sorry you had to see me be engaged to two other people before you.” You remark and Aleksander’s eyes sparkle with amusement. Then your expression softens, “But my heart has always been yours.”
His smile is bright as he looks at you.
There’s a lull in the atmosphere, as the music stops and people refresh themselves before the next dance. Aleksander’s hands leave your waist as he moves in stand in front of you. He turns, holding out a hand for you to take.
“Shall we?” He asks, tilting his head towards the dance floor. You nod.
As you’re walking through the crowd with Aleksander, you spot two familiar heartrenders. Fedoyr smiles widely at you both, and Ivan gives you a small nod as they walk by you, arm in arm.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Alina tugging playfully on Mal’s hand, urging him towards the dance floor. He’s shaking his head at her, but follows all the same with a smile on his face.
She catches your gaze as the two of them get into position several paces away from you and Aleksander. Your smile softens, and you give her a knowing nod. She smiles back. You’re glad she’s happy.
Nikolai winks when he catches your eye, and you raise your brows questioningly at Zoya when you realise they are having another dance together, to which she shrugs lightly with a smirk.
Finally your eyes meet Aleksander’s, as he settles a hand on your waist to pull you close.
Just like your very first dance together, every moment is perfect. Aleksander leads, and you follow his every step. When it comes to the dips and spins, you trust him to keep you secure in his arms.
When you turn, your back pressing against his chest for several steps, Aleksander’s hands are there, ready and waiting for when you return to face him.
The world around you fades away, even the music carrying you seems less important than being able to stare at the man before you, for as long as you like. Admiring the neat trim of his beard, his thick dark hair, soft lips and adoring eyes.
Aleksander’s eyes are all that matters, as they scour over your face, his smile widening when he observes your expression of happiness and contentment.
The first time he had laid those dark eyes on you, nerves and fear were the only emotions you could process. But despite it all, you had trusted him. You had trusted that he would see your knowledge of the future, and your hope for Ravka, as something valuable.
He had.
Through every terrifying and confusing moment of your journey, he had placed his trust in you to know what was coming. In return, he had been your refuge. Someone to teach you horse riding, to comfort you after nightmares. Someone to scheme and plot and share your thoughts with.
Even now, when you have no idea what the future will hold, Aleksander is still holding you as if you are the most precious thing in the world to him.