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Chapter Text

When she wakes up in the past, it doesn't take her too terribly long to realize that it isn't some sort of dream—this is what she and Zoya wanted, after all. However, it does take her a few days to adjust to being able to summon her light again. She's used to the shadows that skirt around the edges of her senses—they are old friends, at her beck and call ever since she plunged a knife into Aleksander's chest. But having her light once more is something that takes her breath away. 

Her young body is unaccustomed to summoning at all, though, so it takes some practice those first couple of days. She spends every spare moment she can find tucked away in hiding, calling her light and his shadows alike. It has been centuries, and yet the image of him in her mind has not faded. Her heart flutters in her chest at the thought of finally seeing him again. Checking the date, she finds that she has nearly two weeks until she is due in Kribirsk, and it takes everything in her to keep from showing up early—she doesn't want to spark suspicion or have to answer questions about her presence. She spends the days getting reacquainted with her light, and strengthening her body, still so weak in this time. 

When she finally makes her way to Kribirsk, Alina finds her gaze automatically wandering over the army camp. Her eyes find what she's looking for, but she doesn't dare go to him yet, no matter how her heart aches to see him. Instead, she spends time with her cartography unit, and with Mal. She's missed her friends, their shorter, otkazat’sya lives—and the war—having taken them from her much too early. 

The day before the skiff is supposed to make its voyage across the Fold, it happens. “Alina!” Alina is walking through the camp when someone calls her name; a voice she hasn't heard in centuries, and one that certainly should not know her name now. She spins around, eyes going wide at the sight of Fedyor standing there in his red kefta. Her heart leaps into her throat as she feels the sting behind her eyes. She has no idea how , but she can tell by the way he's looking at her that he knows her; that this is her Fedyor. 

“ Fedyor ,” she breathes his name and her feet are moving before she can even process it. The grin that breaks out on Fedyor's face makes her vision blur with tears as she leaps forward to hug him. His arms are tight around her and she lets herself cling to him for just a moment. When they separate, she blinks up at him in shock. “How is this possible? When Zoya and I…it was over two centuries after… how?? ” she rambles a bit and then just stares at him, lifting one hand to swipe at her eyes before the tears can get too far down her cheeks. Fedyor just grins at her. 

“Ah yes, Zoya told us what you did. We don't know why the Making sent us along with you,” he tells her quietly with a little shrug. 

“Wait, Zoya told you… us ?? Who is us ?” Alina gasps softly as Fedyor's words sink in. 

“Vanya and I, Zoya, Genya and David, too,” Fedyor tells her happily, grabbing her hand and tugging gently until she moves to follow him. “Zoya assured us you would be one of us, but I admit, we worried as the days went by,” he explains as they walk, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. She has no doubt they make a bizarre image—one of the Black General's Heartrenders happily chatting away with a First Army mapmaker—but she doesn't care.

“And…the General?” Alina's voice is quiet and tentative when she finally manages the words that have hovered on the tip of her tongue since she spotted her favorite Heartrender. When Fedyor pauses and, after a moment, shakes his head, Alina lets out a heavy breath. “That's for the best, I believe,” she whispers, leaning into Fedyor a little more. He drops her hand from his arm momentarily so that he can wrap his arm around her shoulders in a half hug and Alina gives him a small, thankful smile before he drops his arm and they return to their previous position. She squeezes his arm where her fingers rest, and he gives her a soft smile. 

She isn't surprised when he takes her to his and Ivan's tent, ushering her inside. What does surprise her, however, is the warm greeting she receives from Ivan. The gruff Heartrender’s eyes widen when he turns and spots her, but he looks relaxed and actually happy to see her. “ Moya soverenya, ” she knows her eyebrows go up at the title, but she smiles, even stepping forward and pulling the tall man into a quick hug. Fedyor's soft laughter reaches her ears and her smile turns to a grin as she steps back again. 

“It's good to see you too, Ivan,” she tells the other man easily. He looks a bit disgruntled by the hug, but he nods in response to her words. “We have a lot of catching up to do,” she says with a glance at Fedyor, and both men nod in agreement. “Do you know where Zo is?” 

“Commander Nazyalensky will most likely be with her unit this morning,” Ivan answers. 

“I'll go fetch her!” Fedyor says brightly, disappearing from the tent before either she or Ivan can protest. Alina chuckles softly at that, glancing at Ivan with a lift of her brow. 

“He left us alone here on purpose, I imagine,” she says knowingly. 

“Fedya believes we may have…bridges to mend,” Ivan tells her slowly, and she can tell he thinks his husband is correct. 

“How much did he tell you?” Alina asks curiously, finding herself perching on the edge of the desk set up inside the tent. 

“Everything, I believe? At least until he joined me in death,” Ivan’s words are quiet, and Alina hears the emotion behind them when he mentions his husband's death. 

“Did he tell you about this?” Alina murmurs, holding out a hand and calling the shadows to her, little tendrils swirling around her fingers as she moves them. Ivan's eyes widen at the sight, and Alina gives him a pained smile. “I am glad he had someone so loyal at his side, Ivan,” she tells him warmly. The two of them fall into silence after he nods, but it's only a moment later that the tent flap moves again. 

Alina grins at the sight of her best friend, and she springs forward to hug the other woman tightly. Zoya hugs her back just as tight, despite the fact that for them, it's only been a few weeks since they last saw each other. “I'm so glad it worked!” Zoya smiles as she pulls back and Alina grins. 

“Fedyor says Genya and David are like us, too?” Alina double checks not because she doesn't believe Fedyor, but simply because she needs to hear it again. 

“Yes! Gen and David are back home, but they're like us, Lina,” Zoya tells her happily. 

They spend the next hour all catching up and talking about what is to come. Alina tells Zoya that she won't be on the skiff in the morning, and her friend promises to keep an eye out for “her tracker”. The sun summoner rolls her eyes at her friend, but Zoya has been calling Mal “her tracker” for nearly three centuries, so she's used to it. When she brings up Aleksander, the conversation takes a tentative turn into planning and scheming, and it's decided that Alina will be the one to tell him the truth. At first, her friends argue against it, but she reminds them all that finding out the truth too late is what ruined everything in the beginning the first time around. She won't let it fall apart so easily again. 

Later that night, hours after the sun has left the sky, Alina still can't sleep. This doesn't really surprise her, considering all the events of the day, and a heavy sigh escapes her lungs as she finally sits up. Her gaze travels over her unit, all fast asleep and snoring away on their cots. Careful not to wake any of them, she swings her legs over the edge of her cot and stands. 

She doesn't bother with a coat. Between the warm light now humming in her veins again and her affinity for the shadows since Aleksander's death, the cold hasn't touched her in centuries. There is no moon tonight, but Alina enjoys the inky darkness more anyways. Her feet carry her across the camp and beyond, the shadows of night swirling around her comfortingly. Before she knows it, Alina finds herself at the edge of the Fold. 

The shadows reach for her and she lifts a hand to reach back, smiling softly as she feels them brush over her skin. She lets them weave through her fingers for a few minutes before she drops her hand back to her side. The night is mostly silent around her, with just the occasional sound carrying across the air from camp. But then, she feels the shadows around her react, and she feels her heart stutter in her chest because she knows what— who —they are reacting to. 

“A dangerous place to be in the middle of the night, don't you think?” His voice is wary but curious, and Alina's breath hitches at the sound. She feels the ache deep in her chest and has to take a deep breath before she finally turns to glance at him over her shoulder. He stands a few paces away, and Alina has to force herself not to stare. With a quiet breath, she turns back towards the Fold. 

“Maybe for most,” she murmurs softly. But then she reaches a hand out towards the shadows and a small smile lifts her lips as the shadows reach back for her. She hears the sharp intake of breath behind her, and her smile grows just a bit. “But I am not most people, Aleksander,” she whispers his name, barely a breath on her lips, but she knows he hears her. 

This time, she turns around completely, finding him watching her with a guarded, wary expression. “How do you know that name?” His voice is harsh, but she brushes it off. She doesn't blame him for his paranoia—not anymore. Alina has lived too long not to understand him now. 

“The Making works in funny ways,” she tells him simply, resisting the urge to roll her eyes when his gaze narrows. “I'll explain further, don't worry. But it's not a story to be overheard,” she adds with a pointed look.

“There is no one here but us…” the way he pauses in his words makes Alina chuckles softly as she remembers that he doesn't know her name yet. 

“Alina,” she offers up her name easily, then turns back towards the Fold. 

“Alina,” her name on his lips draws a small gasp from her lips, and she swallows thickly before she continues talking. 

“This is not the first time we have met—at least, not for me,” Alina tells him quietly. She debates silently for a moment on what to say next. “For me, this day is nearly four centuries in my past,” she pauses to take a slow breath before diving in. “In another life, I didn't know what I was—what I am,” Aleksander is silent behind her. “I went into the Fold on the skiff that leaves tomorrow morning, and we were attacked by the volcra. Afterwards, I was terrified and confused, and I was dragged to your tent, brought before you and forced to face my startling new reality. Genya and Fedyor made it easier—adjusting to life in the Little Palace, that is—but your mother likes to sow discontent, doesn't she?” Alina turns then, catching sight of the shock on his face before it disappears behind the mask again. 

“I ran,” she sighs heavily, flicking her gaze back to the Fold again before she looks up at him, holding his gaze this time. “Your mother told me the truth about you—who you are, and your plans for the Fold—and it scared me. I was young and naive and I didn't understand. But I understand now,” Alina murmurs, watching Aleksander battle with the many emotions that are no doubt raging within him. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a slow breath. Then her eyelids flutter open again and she looks around, ensuring they're completely alone. 

Alina turns her back to him again, but it's more turning her back to their camp than to him. She holds her hand close to her chest as she calls on her light, using her other hand to keep the little orb swathed in shadows, dimming the light. Her lips tilt up in a hesitant smile when she hears him move closer. He's so close now that she's certain if she stepped back, her back would meet his chest. Carefully, she peels the shadows away from her little ball of light, and her smile widens when she hears him curse in Old Ravkan. “ Sun Summoner ,” his words are a whisper, and she feels his breath ghost over her neck, making her shiver. 

She banishes the ball of light now that he's seen it, and when she turns her head, she isn't surprised to find him mere inches away. “I am not a young, naive little girl anymore, Aleksander,” her voice is firm, but not without the soft edge caused by all of the emotions swirling in her chest. “I will not be lied to, and I will not be used,” she takes a shaky breath. She almost tells him how she ended his life, but Alina is not so sure he's ready to hear such a thing. Lifting a hand to quickly wipe at the couple of tears that have escaped, Alina tries to shove all of her emotions back into their box for now. It takes a couple tries, but after a few minutes, she takes a step away from him, turning to face him fully again as she speaks. “I know all of this is unsettling, General. I know that your instincts tell you to take me and hide me away, but I don't hide. Not anymore. As far as anyone here knows, I'm just a mapmaker. Tomorrow, you can whisk me away to the Little Palace with Ivan and Fedyor. Tonight, though,” she pauses, her gaze drifting over his shoulder towards their armies’ camp. 

“Tonight?” Aleksander prompts after a moment, and Alina drags her gaze back to his as a sigh escapes her lips. 

“Tonight, there are some things you need to know,” she finally says. When he lifts a brow at her, she gives him a small scowl. “Details, Aleksander. Your refusal to be honest with me is what set us on such a terrible path. I will not be repeating your mistakes,” Alina tells him firmly, holding his gaze even when his expression darkens at her words.

Chapter Text

“Vanya,” he murmurs softly as he turns in his lover's arms. Ivan grumbles and his arm around Fedyor's waist tightens, making Fedyor chuckle. “Vanyuska, wake up,” he tries again, leaning up and kissing his husband's nose with a grin. His lover's brow furrows and he's soon met with dark hazel eyes narrowed at him in mild annoyance. But he just continues to grin, because it's been oh so very long since this was his normal. Now that they've got a second chance, he absolutely will not be wasting it. 

Waking up next to his beloved husband in the past had been both wonderful and startling. He had long outlived his dear Vanya, and he had met his end peacefully, so opening his eyes to find Vanya asleep beside him was rather puzzling. At first, he thought perhaps he had simply joined his husband in the afterlife, but it did not take them long to discover the truth— thank you, Zoya . 

“Fedya,” Vanya sighs, bringing his mind back to the present, and he chuckles warmly. 

“Come now, Vanyuska. Alina said to give her the night, then we're to join their…discussion,” he tells his lover pointedly. Ivan's eyes narrow, but the arm around his waist loosens and Fedyor sits up. 

“Fedyasha, the sky is not even grey yet,” his lover gives him a pointed look and Fedyor just shrugs. 

“They're both awake, Vanyusya,” he replies in kind. After another long moment, his husband sighs and sits up as well. 

“Very well,” Fedyor grins triumphantly and stands to dress, Ivan following suit at a slightly less enthusiastic pace, but indulgent nonetheless. 

He isn't surprised when Zoya falls into step with them halfway to the General's tent. She smirks knowingly and Fedyor chuckles. “Morning, Zosya,” he greets his old friend warmly, grinning at the amusement they share when Ivan just huffs at the affectionate greeting. 

“Good morning, Fedya, Ivan. Ready to face the General?” She returns his greeting and he gives her a small nod. 

“How much do you think she told him?” Fedyor asks softly. He knows the plan was for Alina to tell the General quite a bit, and to tell him about the rest of them that had woken up with memories of another life. But he can't help but wonder how much she actually told him. 

“Probably most of it. I can guarantee he at least knows about all of us, now,” she replies simply. 

“The General will not take kindly to being left out,” Ivan mutters, and Fedyor can't help but silently agree. Their General most certainly will not , but Fedyor has faith that Alina—and the rest of them—can handle whatever he might throw at them. Though he hopes it will not need to come to that. 

When they reach the General's tent, Fedyor can hear quiet voices coming from within. “ Moi soverenyi, moya soverenya?” Fedyor calls out quietly. 

“You can come in, Fedya,” Alina answers in a quiet tone that has Fedyor frowning in concern as he pushes the tent flap aside with Ivan and Zoya close behind him. 

The scene they find has his frown deepening. It is obvious that neither the General, nor Alina have slept at all. Alina is perched on the corner of Morozova’s desk while the General is seated behind it—though he stands as soon as they enter. Alina remains sitting on the edge of the desk however, and Fedyor makes a beeline for her. “Did you not sleep at all?” He asks as he takes in the obvious exhaustion painted across her face. 

“We had a lot to talk about, Fedyor. I'm fine, really. This is far from the first sleepless night I've had,” she waves a hand at him and he shakes his head. 

“Your mind may be accustomed to such things, moya soverenya , but this body is not,” Ivan comments and Fedyor's lips tilt up in a small smile at the light scolding in his husband's voice. 

“Vanya’s right, Lina,” he agrees. Alina just sighs, but he can tell she knows they're right. 

After another moment of examining Alina with his eyes to simply reassure himself that she's fine for now, he lets his gaze flick to the General. Morozova's expression is wary, guarded, but he at least doesn't appear any more threatening than usual—at least from what Fedyor remembers of this time, anyways. 

“Did you tell him about Gen and David, too?” Zoya jumps right in, fearless as ever, and Fedyor is glad she takes the first leap. 

“She did,” the General answers, clearly perturbed at Alina being addressed instead of him. Fedyor bites the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face for the time being. Truthfully, after surviving the worse version of Morozova, this one does not intimidate him quite as much as he once might have. Mind, he is still loyal to his General, because he knows that Morozova really does want the best for Grisha, but he isn't so concerned about some things since Alina is now on much more even ground with the Shadow Summoner.

Chapter Text

In her opinion, it takes much longer to get out of the army camp than it should. But it's difficult enough to pull a First Army cartographer from the ranks and slip her quietly into a Second Army kefta—as in, it is nigh impossible. She wasn't careful that first day with Fedyor, so rumors are flying before too long. Then of course, it did not go unnoticed that she spent the night in the Black General's tent. Specifically, it did not go unnoticed by Mal, who decides that making a scene outside the tent is a great idea. 

They call her an Inferni, for now. Aleksander claims she is Grisha and honestly, it's a little too quick, the way her superiors toss her to the wolves, so to speak. But that doesn't mean she's free of the camp yet. There are protocols—she vaguely remembers them, but after four centuries, certain things begin to blur in her mind. 

Two days. It takes two days before she's leaving the camp with Ivan and Fedyor. Zoya stays behind and promises to keep an eye on Aleksander for her—much to Aleksander's disdain—and Alina chuckles as she tells Aleksander to keep an eye on Zo for her, too. 

Her journey with Ivan and Fedyor takes another two days, and Alina loves having Fedyor around once more. She's missed him terribly in the last couple centuries of her life, and his bright warmth is a balm to some of her frayed nerves. Ivan is still rough around the edges, but she doesn't expect anything less. He's warmer towards her now than he ever was, but he's still Ivan . 

The moment the Little Palace comes into view, Alina's breath catches in her lungs. For her, it hasn't looked like this in a very long time. Fedyor gives her a soft look of understanding as they dismount and pass their horses off to the oprichniki that meet them outside. A little thrill runs through Alina as they head for the building, even as she feels a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. 

They decided last night that she'll stay in Zoya’s rooms until Aleksander returns and makes the announcement of her true nature, so as soon as they're inside, that's where they go. She knows the route through the Little Palace—at least, she's pretty sure she remembers it—but she doesn't mind the escort, looping her arm through Fedyor's and following along as Ivan leads the way. When they pause outside the doors, Alina kisses Fedyor's cheek, then moves towards Ivan and snags his arm so he can't escape as she does the same thing to him. “Thank you,” she murmurs to them both. “I’ll see you both later, alright?” Both men nod and she finally slips into Zoya's rooms.

What she finds within has her stopping short, eyes widening in surprise. The man across the room turns at the sound of the door, and his presence in Zoya's rooms alone is enough to send Alina practically leaping across the room towards him. She barely glimpses the shock on his face before he catches her, swinging her around in a circle as she laughs happily. “ Kolya !” Alina grins as she hugs him tightly, feeling him hug her back just as tightly. 

She and Zoya had considered the possibility of other Grisha returning with them when they begged the Making for a second chance, but they had been certain no human would make the journey back from death. So finding Nikolai in Zoya's rooms makes Alina's heart soar. 

“Alina!” Nikolai is grinning when she finally pulls back to look at him. “What…what's going on? Is this…some sort of magic?” He stares down at her and she lets a soft chuckle escape her lips as she tugs him over to the couch in the sitting area and pulls him down beside her. 

“In a way, perhaps,” she tells him with a tentative nod. “Zo and I, we…we asked the Making for another chance; a chance to do things differently,” she explains slowly. 

“Zoya…?”

“She's back at the army camp, keeping an eye on Aleksander for me,” Alina grins at the hope in the prince’s voice, and when he lifts a brow and smirks at her use of Aleksander's name, she rolls her eyes and shoves him lightly. “Hush, you,” she scolds. 

“Leaving my wife to deal with your…what do I even call him?” Nikolai fake pouts before giving her a questioning look that has her shrugging. 

“Just call him Aleksander, for now, Kolya. Or Kirigan in the presence of anyone outside our circle,” she tells him. 

“And who exactly is in this so-called circle?” 

“Well, Ivan and Fedyor are—” Alina cuts off with a gasp and jumps up from the couch. 

“Alina—?” Nikolai follows her with concern as she moves back across the room and practically rips open the door. Nikolai is hot on her heels as she steps out into the hall.

“Fedyor!” Alina chastises, finding the Heartrender leaning against the wall with a guilty smile. 

“I knew it had to be our Kolya and thought you might enjoy the surprise, Linka,” he shrugs and pushes off the wall, crossing the space to clasp arms with Nikolai, pulling the prince into a hug. 

A few minutes later, the three of them settle in the sitting room together, and Alina and Fedyor explain everything to Nikolai. When she explains that both she and Zoya seem to have their previous abilities from the last life, she watches Nikolai shift uncomfortably before he quietly confirms he still harbours the monster within—or rather, that he's certain he can feel it, but has not tested his theory. Alina takes his hand in hers and squeezes, giving him a soft smile. “Everything will be just fine,” she reassures him and Fedyor nods in agreement. 

“How long do you plan on hiding out here in the Little Palace, Kolya?” Fedyor asks with a teasing smile, clearing attempting to turn the conversation. Nikolai huffs a small laugh and shrugs, lifting an arm and settling it over Alina's shoulders. 

“As long as I can get away with it, for now. Though I best not be here when you all take the throne for yourselves, hmm?” Nikolai says pointedly, and Alina frowns. Truthfully, she hasn't really thought too much about exactly what they will do to gain control of their country, but she supposes the first step is to remove the Lantsovs from power. 

“Perhaps we'll leave that bit to Aleksander while we go find the Stag,” she suggests quietly, running a hand through her hair as she leans into Nikolai. 

“And the Fold?” Fedyor asks just as quietly. 

“We move it,” she replies simply. 

“Move it?” Nikolai asks with a glance down at her. 

“Mhmm,” she nods, sitting up once more so that she can turn and look at him beside her. “If we shift it to sit along the Shu and Fjerdan borders, that's two less wars we have to worry about. Then it's just a civil war we have to worry about, at least for now,” she continues, but a knock at the door has all three of them looking up. 

It's Fedyor that pops up and makes his way to the door, and Alina can tell by his posture that it must be their friends. Sure enough, he opens the door and Alina sees a flash of red hair and leaps to her feet just in time to catch her friend in a tight hug. David follows his wife—even if they aren't married yet in this life, they are still married in Alina's mind—at a more relaxed pace, but she sees the Durast smile warmly as he hugs Nikolai. When Genya finally releases her, Alina pulls David into a tight hug while Genya hugs Nikolai, and then Alina catches sight of Ivan hovering near the door, watching the exchanges with what she's sure is Ivan's version of a warm smile. 

Alina ends up on the couch tucked between Nikolai and Genya, with David perched on the couch arm next to his wife while Fedyor takes his chair once more and Ivan stands beside it. They spend another hour or two catching up together, before her friends slip away for dinner—promising to bring her and Nikolai something to eat, since they're both to remain hidden for the time being. That night, Alina climbs into Zoya's bed and Nikolai takes the couch in the sitting room, and Alina feels her very soul start to knit itself back together finally.

Chapter Text

Aleksander’s mind feels… cluttered with anxieties that he has not dealt with in a very long time, and it makes him more irritable than usual. The strange, petite, slip of a girl who he found down at the Fold six days ago now haunts his every waking thought. He recalls the way she looked at him; warm eyes so full of pain and understanding and something else he isn't sure he wants to name. Her voice is constantly whispering in the back of his mind; I am not most people, Aleksander.  

Someone clears their throat and his gaze snaps up from his desk to find Zoya Nazyalensky standing just inside his tent. The knowing smirk on the younger woman's face makes him narrow his gaze in a glare, but the Squaller just chuckles, much to his disdain. “Apologies, General, but you don't frighten me,” she tells him as she finally steps towards him. His tent darkens as the shadows react defensively to his discomfort, but Zoya grins and Aleksander swears her eyes flash silver in the dark. 

“Commander Nazyalensky,” his voice holds a sharp warning that he knows usually keeps Zoya in line, but she just rolls her eyes and comes to perch at the edge of his desk. 

“We need to go back to the Little Palace. I'm sure Alina has a plan, but she can't do much without you at the moment,” the Squaller says casually, but there's an underlying tone that tells him she considers this non-optional. 

“Last I checked, I am still your General, Zoya,” he growls dangerously. 

“I was Ravka’s queen for nearly four centuries, General ,” she responds in a sharp tone that has him pushing to his feet and levelling her with a dark glare. Alina had told him that Zoya was Queen, and he had listened to plenty of their explanations before Alina had left with Ivan and Fedyor, but Aleksander still struggles with the implications of such things. Zoya holds his gaze for a long moment, and Aleksander starts to wonder if she will try to force his submission, but then she finally flicks her gaze down just briefly enough to signify her own surrender. He has to take a long breath to keep himself from doing something that may cost him—well, he's not sure what an outburst might cost him right now, but he can only imagine the result of such a thing here in the army camp. 

“I have another four days before I can return to Os Alta,” he grinds out, attempting to keep his temper in check. He is well aware that he did not get all of the information before the Sun Summoner left, but there was something about her, and something about the way even Zoya looks at him now that urges him to trust them. It is something strangely…reassuring, but he no longer trusts such things so easily, so he feels torn. 

Zoya's eyes on him are intense— studying —for a long moment before she finally nods. “That's six days until we reach the Palace. Alina should have a plan in place by then,” she says slowly. 

“A plan?” 

“Mhmm,” she hums in response. “We'll need Alina's tracker,” she adds, and he scowls immediately. 

“Why?” Aleksander growls, swallowing down the dangerous annoyance that tries to surface when Zoya chuckles. 

“Several reasons. As soon as we get back, Alina will want to go after the Stag. And probably the Sea Whip. She'll need them both to move the Fold,” Aleksander feels his brows raise at Zoya's explanation. 

“ Move the Fold?” He decides to tread carefully, wary of the possibility that he won't get a straight answer. But thankfully, Zoya hums again as she nods. 

“Mhmm. To the Shu and Fjerdan borders,” she explains, and Aleksander feels curiosity unfurl in his chest. He lifts a brow in question, half expecting Zoya to refuse to say anymore. But much to his surprise, she actually continues. 

—

Six days later, Aleksander strides into the Little Palace with Zoya Nazyalensky at his side. He heads for the war room first, and Zoya follows silently, though the power radiating off of her is rather unsettling for him. She looks at him knowingly as they near the door and he scowls at her, but then he hears voices coming from within his war room. 

“Told you,” Zoya's words are so quiet he almost doesn't hear them, but then she's opening the door before he can reach for it. Aleksander schools his expression, unwilling to let whoever is in the room see him so… out of sorts . He's had six days to adjust to this new Zoya, which he isn't entirely sure he likes—they finally came to blows on their journey to Os Alta and Aleksander learned just how powerful she is now. The fact that she can best him now makes him wonder—both curiously and cautiously—how powerful his Sun Summoner is, but he is certain he wants to have that conversation with Alina alone . 

What he doesn't expect as he moves to follow Zoya into the room is for the Squaller—because despite her other abilities, she insists that she is a Squaller first and foremost—to stop short. Aleksander quickly takes in the scene before him, and immediately feels his hackles rise as everyone surrounding his war table turns to look at them. But one face in particular makes him extra wary, and it seems to be the same one that stopped Zoya in her tracks. 

“ Moya lyubov, ” Nikolai Lantsov is the one to speak, and Aleksander does his best to keep his eyebrows from flying up as Zoya Nazyalensky practically flies across the room. He watches in shock as she throws herself at the bastard prince, who catches her with just as much enthusiasm, spinning her around and— kissing her?? Aleksander blinks, then narrows his eyes, but the only one who seems at all surprised by the display is Ivan, though he merely looks surprised, not nearly as shocked as Aleksander feels. 

“What is going on here?” His voice is low and dangerous when he speaks, but no one seems overly concerned with him. Even David Kostyk only glances warily at him from where he stands at the table. 

“Aleksander,” he flinches at the use of his true name in front of so many others, yet no one else seems surprised and suddenly he feels extremely outnumbered. But then his gaze finally leaves Zoya and Nikolai to find Alina on the other side of the room, and he's nearly certain all of the air in the room abandons him. 

She is dressed in black— his color—but it's not just that. Her kefta is inky black like his own, but the embroidery is strikingly gold . He stares at her as she steps towards him, a warm but wary smile on her lips, brown eyes somehow both soft and steely. “Mi—Alina,” he breathes, switching to a less formal greeting when her expression flickers with disappointment. The smile she rewards him with is enough to once again take away his ability to breathe, and he is thankful that a flick of his gaze reveals everyone else in the room is focused on Zoya and the bastard prince. His gaze skims over her as she approaches, and he doesn't miss the way that her smile curls into something else that makes him wish there was no one else in the room with them. 

“We were discussing the Stag and the Sea Whip,” Alina tells him, and somehow he finds himself allowing her to slip her arm into his and lead him over to the table. 

He is still more than on edge, but as she continues her explanation, and Fedyor, Genya and David all chime in and add to the discussion on occasion, it really starts to hit him that these people are on his side . Even the bastard prince—whom he quickly learns is the famed Sturmhond(Aleksander wonders why both Zoya and Alina left this out previously)—is much more helpful than he expects. At one point, Zoya catches his eye with a knowing smirk and he narrows his eyes at her, only for a gentle hand to fall on his, drawing his attention to Alina, who's knowing smile is much warmer than Zoya's. Her fingers curl around his as she smiles at him and he swallows thickly, but doesn't pull his hand from hers. No one around them seems to care—or even really notice—so his hand remains in that of his Sun Summoner, and Aleksander tries to breathe through the assault of fear, paranoia and trepidation that floods him. It has been oh so very long since he truly had people he can trust, and trust no longer comes easy for him. But as he stands there with his Sun Summoner’s hand in his and a group of people who supposedly lived through some of his darkest days and still are choosing to help him , Aleksander thinks that maybe , he might just learn what trust feels like once more

Chapter Text

Three days after Morozova and Zoya return from the army camp, their group is splitting up again. Nikolai is still hiding out in the Little Palace, and it's early morning when he and Zoya slip out to bid farewell to their friends—their family . He hugs David and Alina, kissing both their cheeks just to watch David sputter and Genya laugh, sharing a grin with Alina as she laughs too, kissing his cheek in return. “Take care of our girl, Kolya,” the Sun Summoner murmurs, and he gives her a firm nod. 

“Be careful out there, Linka,” he tells her in return. At first, they had discussed him going with her to get the Stag while Morozova remained here. But after a long discussion, it was decided that both Alina and Aleksander should be far from the throne when it falls—if for nothing else than a solid alibi. Now, Nikolai will remain in the Little Palace, until he has to slip away when it comes time for someone to fetch him from the ranks of the army at the news of his family's passing. 

There was a time he might be a bit uneasy about the death of his parents and brother, but that was another life. In this one, all he wants is for his country to be taken care of, and he knows well by now that his family does no such thing. But Alina will. He's still not so sure about Morozova, but he trusts Alina and Zoya, and if they think this is the way to go, he won't question them. 

They watch their family ride out, then he, Zoya, Genya and Fedyor return to the war room to finalize their plans. He and Zoya go over the poison Genya plans to use, and after some tweaking, they're certain it will appear as some kind of extremely contagious plague. Watching David and Genya argue about the way in which it is given to the king and queen makes Nikolai's stomach turn, and he hates his parents all the more at the reminder of what Genya went through. In the end, Genya wins the argument and leaves for the Grand Palace. 

The three of them wait together in Zoya's rooms that night, no one even dozing until Genya returns to them. 

“It is done,” Genya's voice is low when she steps through the door, and Nikolai pours her a drink while David rushes over to pull her close. The prince watches her lean into her husband as they cross the room, and he stands to offer her the drink. He's unsurprised when she downs it in one go, and when she holds out the glass, he pours her another. 

No one speaks for a time—what is there to say, really, after what Genya just had to endure again ? Nikolai moves from the couch to one of the chairs so that Genya can sit between her husband and Zoya. 

“How long?” Zoya's voice is soft, and no one needs to ask for clarification on what she's asking. 

“Three or four days, probably. A week at most,” the redhead replies tiredly. 

“I should leave in the morning,” Nikolai says, bringing everyone's attention to him for a moment. Even after their last life, he struggles around Genya sometimes, the weight of what his false father did to her heavy on his mind and on his heart. 

“In the night would be best, Kolya,” Fedyor murmurs, and Nikolai knows that the Heartrender is right. He's much less likely to be noticed in the night. 

“Very well,” he nods. An hour later, he rides out under cover of darkness. 

It takes him a day and a half to reach where he's supposed to be stationed, swapping places with the man pretending to be him. Four days later, he receives the news. 

The royal family and the Apparat have fallen to a plague. The Palace is being quarantined, but your presence as the last of the line is required. Arrangements are being made.

Nikolai returns to Os Alta and finds it in chaos. He's mildly surprised that the Apparat was included in the dead, but pleasantly so. He recalls the way the slimy old man had kidnapped Alina and is extremely glad he was included. 

The prince is given rooms in the Little Palace—on account of the quarantine of the Grand Palace, of course—and that night, he slips into Zoya's rooms. He finds everyone waiting for him—well, everyone still at the Little Palace. Alina's group has not returned yet, and most likely won't for another little while. When he steps into the room, Fedyor smiles and holds out a drink. Nikolai takes it happily, downing half of it before he sits beside Zoya, pressing his lips to her temple as she leans into him. 

“Your coronation is in two days,” Zoya says quietly and he nods. 

“You need to be careful. A lot can happen in two days,” Genya comments quietly. 

“You'll have a Grisha escort everywhere you go. Heartrender and Squaller, most likely,” Fedyor says, his mouth turning up in a small smirk that has Nikolai chuckling softly. 

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a nod. 

Thankfully, the next two days go by just fine, minus a small assassination attempt or two. The rumors of his suspected parentage are flying as everyone prepares for his coronation, but he ignores them all for now. No one outright claims he has no right to the throne, so things move forward rather smoothly—minus those one or two little attempts, but it's fine; Fedyor and Zoya take care of them swiftly. 

As soon as he is Tsar, there is even more to do. Meetings upon tiresome meetings that leave him wanting to pull out his hair on several occasions. But then he finds himself in Zoya's garden, and after one particularly difficult day, he lets the monster within out to play, under the careful watch of Zoya in her dragon form. The following morning finds the two of them in Zoya's bed, the room in disrepair, much to their embarrassment when their friends barge in for breakfast. It's fine though, because two days later, he walks in on Genya and David in one of the workshops . “At least Zoya and I were in her rooms,” he quips playfully over his shoulder as he ducks back out into the hall. 

It's two full weeks later that the news of Alina and Morozova's return reaches him. He is in the middle of another frustrating meeting, Zoya at his side, when Fedyor interrupts them. Nikolai is quick to dismiss those in the meeting under the guise of needing to inform the General of everything that has changed in his absence, though he, Zoya and Fedyor all share a look as they step out into the hall. The thought of what comes next makes Nikolai grin as they head back over to the Little Palace to greet their returning family.

Chapter Text

It grows colder the further they trek into Fjerda, but it doesn't really bother her. Her light keeps her warm from within, with the help of her constant annoyance at the way Mal continues to antagonize Aleksander and Ivan. When they go to collect him for the journey, it is tense for a bit between them, but it gets better slowly. If only the same could be said for Mal’s attitude towards the other Grisha. At one point, things get to the point where she gives Ivan a look , and the Heartrender puts Mal to sleep for a while. 

Which of course only angers her friend more when he wakes. But she reminds him that if he isn't such an asshole, things like that won't happen. After living over four centuries, Alina grows tired of his childish behavior rather quickly. 

When they finally find the Stag, Alina's breath catches in her throat just the same as it did the first time. But this time, there is no rush and no one is hunting them, so she takes a moment to just admire the great beast. She can feel the way it calls to her as she steps towards it, just as she can feel all the eyes on her back as she meets the beast in the small clearing. It lowers its head and she rests her palm against its face, gasping at the way her light rushes through her, just as it does when she touches Aleksander’s skin. 

She sees it in her mind’s eye then, and takes a deep breath as its power thrums through her veins. Her thoughts drift to what Zoya taught her then, and she focuses on the feel of the great beast in her mind. Two become one , she recites silently to herself, though she swears the Stag hears her as he lifts his head and bellows. 

When it's done, a small crown of antlers adorns her head, easily disguised beneath her hair, were she to choose such a thing. But she wears it proudly, with the Stag’s power in her veins and his ancient presence at the back of her mind. She meets David's gaze warmly, touching his face with an understanding smile, knowing that he is remembering the last time they were here. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and the Durast just nods and steps away to exchange a few words with Mal, who has finally softened towards the Durast. 

Then she turns towards Aleksander, who is standing further away, with Ivan beside him. She meets his gaze, unsurprised that he's watching her still, and smiles. Memories of this event in her last life still haunt her, but now, she is determined to hold these new memories in the forefront of her mind. 

As she steps towards him, Ivan steps away with a nod and a knowing look, and she smiles at the Heartrender before she returns her focus to Aleksander. Her heart is pounding in her ribcage as she comes to stand in front of him. While he is aware of how this went last time, she knows he can't truly understand—not like Ivan and David. But that's okay, because despite how her heart longs for him, she's not completely sure the Aleksander that lived through this once would be as accepting as this one is. He would at least take much more convincing, this she knows. But he is still her Aleksander, despite every difference. She can feel it, in the way his gaze on her is a welcome weight, and the way his shadows call to her. 

“You are exquisite, Alina,” he tells her softly, and she feels her cheeks flush at the compliment. Slowly, she reaches out, smiling when he allows her to take his gloveless hand. Her power swells within her, and she wrestles it into compliance so as to not blind anyone, but allows the glow to extend outwards. She makes sure it doesn't go far enough to reveal their location to anyone in the distance, but the awe in Aleksander's eyes is worth the little show. After a moment, she releases his hand and her light retreats, leaving her just a little breathless. 

It takes them a week to get back to Os Alta, and Alina is slightly surprised when Mal sticks with them all the way there. When they get to the Little Palace, they are immediately informed of the shift in leadership, and Alina schools her expression into one of shock and some form of grief for the fallen royals, as do the rest of her companions. That night however, finds her surrounded by her family, all of them rejoicing in the way they are several steps closer to a better, safer Ravka. She knows there is still much to do, but she is confident that they will succeed this time. 

Alina finds Aleksander hovering on the edge of the party taking place in the war room, and she smiles as she offers him a glass of brandy. He takes it with a nod, sipping it before he sets it down on the little table beside him. “I know you're not used to this,” she waves at the celebration happening behind her, “but it's good, you know,” she continues. His brow furrows for a moment, but then he gives her a slow dip of his head. “We'll do the Sea Whip next, once things here settle down a little more,” she tells him. 

“Then we move the Fold?” He lifts brow, and when she shakes her head, he frowns, but she speaks before he can ask. 

“ Then , Nikolai gives us the throne, Aleksander. We move the Fold afterwards ; our first move as Ravka's new rulers, ending two wars before they can truly get started, and reuniting the two sides of our country,” she corrects him, smiling at the surprise on his face. Chuckling softly, she decides to take a chance, leaning up and kissing his cheek. 

As she leans back, it's her turn to feel a spark of surprise as he grabs her hand and tugs her closer again, this time pressing his lips to hers. Her hand tightens in his as she melts into him, her other hand finding the front of his kefta and pulling him flush against her. She ignores the whoops and hollering she hears from her family, grinning into the kiss as Aleksander thankfully ignores them too as he wraps an arm around her and holds her tightly. With the taste of Aleksander's lips on hers and the warmth of him wrapped around her, Alina revels in the hope for their future. Whatever happens this time, she is certain they can handle it, side by side and surrounded by their friends and family. This is the way they were always meant to be.