There were mornings where everything felt like a cruel joke.
For the past three weeks, you had woken up hours before dawn had even thought of breaking. The late hours of the evening sky darkening the room into an unimaginable void of black that even his summons couldn't create it. But then the small light of the moon broke through the drawn curtains—their missed meeting allowing a break from the unending night.
In the moonlight, you felt alone, even if you weren't. It was quiet. A silence overwhelming because the noise inside was never ending. The constant thoughts of her, of him, of everything changing daily, and the cracks in the pavement beginning to deepen. The darkness allowed for that to happen.
And then sometime between the moon descending from the top of the window to the floor, the sun replaced it ascending. It began in small lines, each early ray of sun filling in the fissures of the floor, a reflection on the adjacent wall, and then on the canopy of the bed. The black canopy, as blistering as night, had somehow been invaded by the sun. And every morning since her arrival, the sun traced the lines of stitching that was slowly unraveling due to hundreds of years of unrestored weathering.
The universe was screaming. The signs were everywhere except spoken word yet there was no major effort to make a change.
The sun would rise, you wouldn't sleep, and the man next to you would awake to the same face he had for centuries—pretending everything is fine when it's not. His pride and power was more important. It had grown more important. A tremendous mistake, yes, but power clouded judgement and power meant the world to him.
All it took was the discovery of the one who could summon the sun and world flipped on its axis.
Cruelty came in the forms of routine. Before her discovery, there was a consistent script of how all of Ravka functioned, how it saw you as a leader and how it saw him as a General but now there was hope. There was an undeniable shift in energy from the lowest slums of citizens to the King himself because there was a way out of the mess The Fold had created. But of course, none of them knew of his true intentions; the despotic mind of the one who could destroy them all kept everyone as a pawn.
Alina Starkov could give Aleksander what he wanted, not you. You knew too much. After all, what use was someone who could summon stars when the one who could capture the sun in her hands was far more powerful?
That is what the early morning sun reminded you of everyday. A constant reminder that the facade you both put on every day to play face when hundreds of years of history was thrown away because of some girl. A girl.
"Think any louder and you'll wake the whole damn palace." Aleksander's voice was deep with sleep as the sun began to wake him too.
The man was far more careless in his slumber. His hair disheveled, one hand above the silken pillow while the other rested below it, but never disoriented enough to not know what was going on around him. There were seconds where you debated to answer, tell him to fuck off or smother him with your own pillow, except you couldn't muster a word. It always seemed to end in that result. You weren't scared to tell him how it is, how you feel—but your fuse was growing short and you didn't want the palace to go up in flames because you couldn't control yourself.
Instead, you sat up facing away from him, feeling his eyes on your bare back as the sheets pooled around your body. Those eyes—as forsaken as his soul—were a trap. They consumed you and all of his worst qualities, ambushing any semblance of dignity you had left. So you couldn't look at him. Not now, not in a moment, not if you could help it. You rose out of bed, slipping on hand-sewn vestment before escaping his eyes in the washroom.
Inside the grand washroom was a vanity so ornately carved it was the epitome of perfection. The mirror was weathered and coarse but the chestnut was marbled with finite foibles that made the imperfect seem impeccable. The vanity was one of the last pieces of that was salvaged at the creation of The Fold. It had seen it all. The wood was engrained with the secrets of centuries. And the reflection it had seen everyday was once again staring back at it from the wide chase that had once been tucked underneath it. You, again, and the tired reflection of a Grisha that was slowly ticking to an explosion.
All the anger in the moment being taken out on your hair by the force of your hairbrush and soon your stony reflection wasn't the only one the mirror captured.
Aleksander stood like a downtrodden Adonis having been ignored by Aphrodite. His body covered by his black kefta, loose trousers covering himself now and his arms crossed defiantly over his broad chest. Rejected, scorned, as if he had no clue what was truly wrong.
"You'll break the brush with a grip like that."
"Any further observations of my being that you'd like to divulge?" His eyes narrowed, fighting your scorching gaze before you diverted it back to the materials in front of you. A small triumph for Aleksander because he took it as an invitation to approach.
"Why so short?"
Aleksander's hands enclosed themselves around your shoulders, gripping the finely covered skin so his warmth seeped through and onto you. There was the intoxication of his touch that was so difficult to ignore even with the growing contempt in your heart. Once more, you couldn't compute an answer. The man behind you swung one of his legs over the chase and then the other, sitting behind you and letting his hands move from your shoulders to your arms to your waist.
"Don't lie to me."
You watched his reflection cautiously in the mirror, his own eyes staring right back. The feel of his body flush against yours was enticing, causing the familiar reactions of the night before and the many nights before that one. Every shallow breath he took, you could feel. Each movement of his muscles dancing on your barely covered body. Aleksander knew what he was doing, he knew it too well.
"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" You asked him as he lowered his face into your neck, his breath hot and beyond distracting.
"I suppose. Though I'd rather be here." The scoff that escaped your lips was unavoidable, but he passed it off and didn't say anything. He continued to let his lips trace your shoulder, collarbone, and neck until he reached your ear. His eyes striking to look at yours in the mirror once more.
"Right here." Lie.
"With you." Lie.
"Under me." Not a lie.
"Unraveling by my touch, saying my name." Not a lie.
With each assertion, his hands traveled down, slowly undoing the tie of the robe. His hands blistering against the skin of your hips, moving inwards to your pulsating core. How you wished you never had this reaction to him or his touch.
"I have duties to attend to today." It was an excuse that he wasn't willing to acknowledge.
"So do I, but I make time for other, more important activities."
"Important." You muttered and were quickly reminded of everything that had changed over the last few weeks. Yet, the man behind you tried making you forget. He tried to keep you at bay and on his side.
"Yes, important." His teeth pulled on your ear lobe before releasing it with a light pop. One of his hands moved back upward, exposing your breasts in the reflection. Aleksander rested his forehead against your cheek, breathing in deeply as he pulled you taught against his body, feeling you where he wanted you.
He gripped one of your breasts with a rough hand as yours shot up to meet his. You didn't stop him; you weren't going to, and you would scold yourself later for not.
"Aleksander..." You warned with a shuttered breath.
"Let me show you how important you are." It was lies. It was all lies yet when you faltered and turned your head, lips meeting his in a searing, stormy kiss, you couldn't stop. The hand that had been on his moved to his face, holding it tightly as you allowed him to deepen the kiss.
Aleksander's other hand that had been grasping your thigh tightly moved your leg over his own, exposing you even more in the mirror. He broke the kiss and turned your face to look in the glass. You were flushed, he was hard against your back. It was lewd in the best of ways and intoxicating in the worst of them. But before he could get another word out or move his fingers further, a loud series of knocks sounded at the door in the bedroom.
Five seconds and the General's chamber staff would be in the room, so you moved your leg off his own and pulled your robe closed but Aleksander didn't remove his hands. They were obvious and indecent, but he kept them there–kept you there tightly against his body. There was no escaping the compromising position you found yourselves both in. A part of you thought Aleksander wanted them to find you like this—at his mercy. And when Genya's white coat caught your eye from the distance in the mirror, you knew that was the reason and your hatred came rumbling back.
It's always a game with him. Always.
Genya had opened the door and waltzed in with her staff and a newly sewn keft in a dress bag. She set the bag against a chair in the sitting room before moving to the bedchambers and seeing the bed undone, but empty. She took note and moved further into the room and to the washroom where she wished she hadn't. The girl let out a gasp of impropriety and turned away quickly in the doorway.
It didn't take a genius to know what was going on.
"I'm sorry, sir!" She called out to her General but his attention was elsewhere. Aleksander's eyes were on yours with a wicked glaze over them.
"Sir, I've brought word that the King needs your council immediately and I've brought the kefta you requested, ma'am."
"You may leave, Genya." Aleksander almost strained to speak in an anger over being interrupted. The short fuse that had been building between you both ever evident.
Genya nodded curtly before leaving, sneaking one last glance for gossip. But she would never forget the image ingrained into her soul, it was a fear of her's—walking into those same chambers and interrupting your coitus. On her way out of the various interconnected rooms, she ushered the others out and left the various daily items that were brought to the chambers.
Breakfast, tea, correspondence, and the kefta.
As soon as the door to the bedroom had been shut with a defining 'click,' you pushed out of his embrace and walked out of the bathroom fuming. Aleksander didn't fight you; he didn't even leave the washroom as he heard you shuffling around, dressing and then ultimately leaving the room.
He could feel the cracks too. Though, those cracks were self-inflicted.
***
You hadn't bothered to break your fast before leaving the security of the palace and entering the training grounds. Even in the early hours of the morn, Grisha were up and active without a hesitation. They were more motivated than the soldiers at the front lines of The Fold, though, their motivation may be due to the arrival of Alina Starkov.
"Ms. L/n!" You heard your name called across the courtyard, red and blue colored kefta's coloring your vision until you saw Botkin in his black gi.
"Botkin." A curt greeting for the trainer as you observed the Grisha around you. Each in their pods of six or more, routine training became an essential part of their day. Although you observed them often, every now and again groups of eyes and whispers fell to your direction.
"How are we faring? Any problems since the last one?" Alina and Zoya's incident.
"None I can report." Botkin approached and offered to walk around the circle-shaped yard. Each group watching your movements like a hawk, though you were the predator to them, not the prey.
"I don't think I've ever seen you in yellow. New color?" Botkin motioned to the kefta you wore. Everyone had become so accustomed to seeing you in black that it was as if someone had come back and reincarnated themselves into your body and chose yellow.
"No, just wanted a change." He didn't ask any more questions about it.
"Has the girl come back?"
"Alina Starkov?" You nodded and Botkin shook his head.
"Not since the first day. I was told she would be here when we started but that was before dawn and she hasn't shown."
"So she believes she's special and doesn't need combat training?" Botkin couldn't truthfully answer so he didn't. You both continued your circling and a chatter interrupted it.
As if she was summoned by the mention of her name, Alina Starkov entered the yard flustered. Her hair was unbrushed from her slumber and her pant leg was half out and half in her boot. Alina had overslept and as soon as she saw the many Grisha looking at her, she swallowed her panic and put on her training face.
"I apologize. I overslept." Alina admitted to Botkin who was less than pleased.
"This is the only warning I am going to give you, Sun Summoner. Next time, you train alone and in the rain."
Alina nodded and looked behind the man that had approached her. You were standing, arms tucked into the pockets of your kefta watching the scene. Her interactions with you prior to the moment were sparse. She had spent most of her time with the General and never his second, but she heard of you. Alina wasn't one to dabble in gossip often, but the palace was often crawling with it. Nadia, Marie, and Genya were more than willing to tell her the secrets that filled the castle and she had heard a handful about you.
She knew this:
You were a Star Summoner. One of a kind and deadly in battle but unable to summon the kind of power a Shadow or Sun Summoner would. From Nadia, she had heard that you were an orphan who was recruited when Grisha testers discovered you. Marie disputed it and said that your situation was similar to Alina's, where you didn't know because you avoided being tested. Neither of them knew the truth and both were far from it, but none of them would know. Genya had told her about the relationship between General Kirigan and yourself, but it was something people whispered about, not talked about. It wasn't a secret but you both were far from willing to let something like that be the first thing people thought when you walked into a room...but it was and that was unavoidable.
Because Alina had been training Baghra consistently, she had time to ask questions. Their relationship had been fraught at first, but the old woman was slowly becoming more of a confidant with every passing day. Alina used that to her advantage to learn more about the people she concerned herself with but there were two people Baghra was persistent in adverting the conversation from: General Kirigan and you.
There was one thing Alina was sure of; Baghra disliked you. You, the second ranked official in Ravka's army, the one who could summon stars, and the one who (supposedly) shared a bed with the General.
"Ms. Starkov, why don't you show us what you can do?" The girl hadn't expected to ever speak to you, let alone to showcase her abilities in front of you. Alina glanced back at Botkin with her mouth agape.
"I-I don-"
"Not your abilities... this is combat training after all." Alina shut her mouth and nodded, no longer incredibly nervous at the request.
"I can't say my abilities have changed much from last time."
Alina moved to the center circle as she had weeks before upon her arrival. The other Grisha had haltered their own activities and surrounded her. Botkin reveled in the exhibition, offer up anyone for her to spar with. Alina chose a girl who looked younger than her and just as nervous. A wise choice indeed.
Alina and the girl spared lightly. No blood was drawn, and they both managed to show juvenile techniques that were laughable during instances. But you watched the Sun Summoner and her determination; she was focused, drawn into the battle with a stern peek. You saw the appeal, you did. But then that nagging irritability of her came back. Alina was strong, fresh, and young. She was everything you weren't and that stung deep.
The small cheers of the Grisha around you broke your stare on the girl. She was smiling widely at her opponent and helped her stand, kindness seeped from every inch of her. An honest, naivety of both girls was an attribute you had not seen in your Grisha soldiers for many, many years.
Before you could fully comprehend your potential actions, you stepped into the ring of Grisha's before Alina could escape it. She was the first to notice, going rigid with a fearful anticipation and watched. You moved along the cirlce with your hands still safely tucked away in your pockets.
"How is it that after all this time, a mapmaker, is the one we've being waiting for?" The chatter ceased and the only sounds that filled their ears were your voice and the soft sounds of the morning.
"I have to admit, Ms. Starkov, you are not the fighter I thought you'd be." Alina's heart sunk. She wanted to prove everyone wrong. She was important, she was good, and she was worthy of being here.
"That's why I was a mapmaker." Alina defended herself, rightfully so, but the lack of regard for authority (ma'am) and her being a subordinate didn't go unnoticed by anyone.
"So why did the universe give you the sun? What makes you so special to wield that kind of power?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know... you don't know. Neither do I."
All of their stares were cautious, more than willing to back away before something terrible happens. Many of these Grisha had gone through The Fold, some had seen battle elsewhere, and they knew what you could do––Alina didn't.
"Show me what you can do, Sun Summoner."
You had finally turned to face her. On the opposite end of the circle you stood expectantly for Alina to raise her hands and summon her abilities, except she did not move. You took your hands out of your pockets and held them out in front of you as a glowing, glittering ball of energy appeared before you. Alina had never seen anything like it. The stars were so different from her own and they were beautiful, like a trance.
"Show me, Ms. Starkov. How do you defend yourself with the sun?"
That was a threat.
Alina looked at her hands then back at you as the ball grew brighter and lighter. She stuck her own hands in front of her and tried to summon the sun but couldn't, her nerves were too high, her attention distracted. She had never faced another Grisha and their powers except for the General when he introduced her to the King.
"Defend yourself, Sun Summoner." You all but yelled at her as the manifestation of stars went flying out of your hands and toward Alina.
The other Grisha's spread out, making room for you both and leaving a large distance between the battle and themselves. Alina managed to throw up her hands and the force of her hands and sun blocked it, still she fell to the ground from impact.
"Three weeks and that is protection? It is like you do not even try."
Alina shuffled to her feet slowly and she could see that your eyes were enraged. The girl who had stolen everything but your life could barely defend herself after training with the only people who understood her power. To you, she was weak. Alina Starkov could spend her time fawning over Aleksander, playing house at a majestic palace, but she could not control her powers.
You materialized single balls of energy that you knew could burn deep. Alina was struggling to get to her feet, wood chips and rocks buried into her knees from the fall. Before she even had a chance to secure her stance, the light came barreling toward her again. This time it came in spurts of light that were easy for her to miss because she was focusing on one at a time. Some of them managed to snag her, burning a hole right through her blue kefta with a singe. She patted the spots and whined in brief pain before managing to summon the sun once more. She grew the ball of light before pushing it out in streams. But it was weak and faltered half way to you.
"Pathetic." You told her as she looked distraught over the energy's disintegration. What she could muster was gone and in front of everyone she was made out to be a fool for the second time. Alina Starkov was not a quitter, though. She was a fighter and for the second time, she was not going to be embarrassed by something she couldn't do.
"Do you have a problem with me, ma'am?" Alina called out to you and you quirked a brow at her. Observant was the girl.
"I think you're not serious about what you are. You have no idea the power you hold, how much of the world you've already changed."
"Is this about those who want to kill me? I know they exist and I can protect myself."
"It is more than you know."
Alina scoured her mind for another explanation. She knew of the enemies; she knew of the other Grisha who did not favor her, but she had barely interacted with you as it was. As she remembered before, Alina's time was spent within the confines of the palace, with Baghra, her few friends, or with General Kirigan... with him. Alina didn't want to believe that such a childish concept of jealousy would lead an accomplished woman to target her, but it was an answer she could easily fall behind. General Kirigan had spent many hours with her, mentoring her, being there for her when she needed someone and she felt something. He told her that she could call him Aleksander, his walls were falling around her and their relationship was changing by the day.
"I know what this is about." Alina held her head high as if she had discovered a new element. It was a triumph of her fast mind, her ability to use what she learned from the ones she could call friends to unveil a superior's secret.
"Enlighten me, Sun Summoner." You told her without an idea that she was about to expose you to your Grisha's.
"The General."
"The General..." You laughed at her, trying to throw her off your scent.
"Yes! You're jealous that he is devoted to my cause and is helping me." Alina boldly approached you, her voice becoming only loud enough for you to hear. And with her boldness she looked you dead in the eyes and said:
"You're jealous because he doesn't love you anymore."
There was a moment where you weren't sure what happened. Alina had spoken those words you never wanted to have spoken and then she was across the yard with blood pouring out of her nose and her ears ringing. Botkin was the first to run to her aid, followed by the Grisha that hadn't run away. You could see her barely bobbing her head up and down in reply to whatever Botkin was asking her and he called for someone to get a nurse.
You didn't mean it to go that far, but it did.
And he had seen it all from the entrance to the training yard.
It was his tight grip on your arm that you notice the world was still turning. Aleksander's eyes were ablaze with a fury you had seen a handful of times and you weren't sure what to even say to him. A part of you wanted to go and help Alina, apologize for losing it and almost killing her, but you couldn't move your feet. You could hear Aleksander practically screaming at you, though it fell onto deaf ears until your mind focused.
"-is the matter with you!?" You caught the sentence halfway done. You looked at his black eyes and shook your head.
"I-I didn't mean to. I don't know w-what happened-d." That was the truth. There was no lie detected but Aleksander's demeanor never changed. His grip tightened, bruising in terror before he could even gather any other words to say. He spoke low and practically spat in your face.
"If you lay another hand on her again, you are going to leave me with no choice."
He could have killed you there and it would have hurt less than that.
He wasn't willing to defend you. He wasn't willing to say that Alina stepped over the line, and it was all an accident. He watched you taunt her, anger her, and yet he couldn't bring himself to defend you as you had done for him nearly every year of his adult life.
Aleksander left you in the wind. There was no homeland anymore because you were alone, in exile, surrounded by people who now feared you.