Start a War

Notes: I loved the book, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who wanted things to go more Darkling, so here's an alternative ending where Alina's final amplifier doesn't work out as planned (Basically yes= Mal dying, the Darkling being stabbed/defeated. No= Mal revival, Darkling dying, Alina losing her powers). Lots of inspiration from The Death of Koschei the Deathless and Deathless by Catherynne Valente.

Three parts, will be updated quickly!

o.

It may well take me another lifetime to break you, Alina, but I will put my mind to the task.

i.

What happens at the end of their first war is hard to see as a comprehensive whole. Because memories, like stories, don't always arrange themselves the same way when they are revisited.

When Alina Starkov- who becomes Sankta Alina, who becomes Tsarina Lantsov, who becomes the new Morozova, who becomes Sankta once again- thinks upon their first ending, it is made of pieces. It is made of shattered things, like the mirrored discs forged by someone she had once called a friend. The edges are too rough to ever tell the complete truth, but they are enough to hold the reflections of people she knew she must have loved.

When Aleksander Morozova- who was the Black Heretic, who is the Darkling, who has lost more names than most men have years- thinks upon their first ending, it is only a sliver. A moment he has allowed to burrow under his skin, if only because he knows it will be purged. Of the millions of memories the Darkling holds, this is one he will gladly abandon in the centuries to come.

What the Sankta remembers about the end of their first war is this:

She ruined her heart for power.
She had lost.

What the Darkling knows of the end of their first war is this:

He had won.
He almost ruined his power for heart.

It takes her three hundred years to love him again.

ii.

Before the Sankta remembered it as their first war, Alina Starkov thought she was living in an ending. She wore the death of Mal Orestev like a brick on her chest, and with every breath she felt it press deeper into her skin. She thought about Morozova and his otkazat'sya daughter. Of what it would be like to be held in chains. Of what it would be like to drown. She held the sun in her palms as she thought about holding a knife to her wrist. She thought of oak trees that were burned down, of seeing toes of beaten dress shoes graze the top of the ground.

And she thought of Baghra. Of loving, and not having enough.

The Darkling was familiar with shadows, so it was there he stayed as he recovered from the battle that should have killed them both. And he knew this wasn't an ending, for they were beyond endings. No matter how many ways Alina tried to move forward, creatures like them were meant for circles- endless, balanced. And he was patient. And he was familiar with his death. He had died a thousand times before this one. He would die a thousand more. So it was nothing, to wear it like a cloak as he waited.

The Darkling did not care about the death of Mal Orestev. He wore it like a thorn in his shoe. He wore it like a badge.

Time heals all things. Even broken hearts. Though they, like memories and stories, are not the same once they have been left. And the heart of Alina Starkov is no different. Part of her is with Mal Orestev. Part of her burned away. Part of her is with the stag, the serpent, and yes, even the Darkling. Even still.

It takes time, but she is starting to find new parts. They are not meant to replace the pieces that are gone, but they manage to fill the empty spaces. They manage to keep her heart beating.

Alina Starkov has Misha, who follows her like a ghost. Who asks her about cartography. Who still manages to smile and play, and she looks at him and smiles. Because he is like Mal, and he is of Keramzin even though Keramzin is burned to the ground. She likes that there can still be ghosts from it. Misha is part of Mal, part of Baghra, and part of Keramzin. But Misha is also still Misha. Misha is hope.

And she also has Genya, who braids her hair. Who makes her tea. Who was ruined, but has moved through it, who is made of a metal stronger than the casings that held it together. Who forced Alina out into the sun when she was sitting in her room. Who reminded Alina to dance. Who gently held her hand so it couldn't hold a knife. Genya is faith.

And even though Mal is gone, Alina still has love. She has Tamar and Tolya, Nadia, and Adrik, David and Zoya. The Soldat Sol. Somehow, despite being a saint, despite being a monster, Alina has those she could call friends. It is in them that Alina finds the strength to keep moving. To continue forward. To wear the death of Mal Orestev less like a brick, and more like armor. It is heavy, but she can breathe against it.

…And there is Nikolai Lantsov. Who is also picking up new parts for the ones that are gone. Who wears gloves, even in the summer. Who gives her a position on his council. Who will not take back the emerald, no matter how many times Alina offers it to him.

It takes three years, of time, of healing, of wearing Mal like armor, before Alina starts to wonder if that emerald is the part of Nikolai that belongs to her.

Time heals all things. Even shadows. Even armies.

Even the tether between them, which he searches for every night they are apart. It's closed to him now, but every attempt gets him nearer to her thoughts, to her power, to the parts of her that are for him, to the parts of him that are for her.

He wears her absence like a lock, one that will eventually have a key.

They still call her Sankta. They say she killed the Darkling.

She feels that part of her missing, but she also knows they never found a body.

They don't call him Darkling. They don't call him anything.

He has hidden himself before. And he has always returned stronger for it.

Nikolai proposes seven different times, in seven different ways, but Alina says no the same.

His chest knits together. He has a scar of her now, and its placement is fitting.

It takes two more years, of time, of healing, of wearing Mal like armor, before Alina contemplates what it would mean to be a Tsarina. To help rebuild a country. If it matters that she is marrying more for the love of Ravka than for the love of a man. Of what Mal would want her to do.

As someone alone, he is left with thoughts for company. He thinks of many things, because time has given him many things to think about. He remembers Alina, beside him in the Little Palace, her kefka black and gold and even then—a saint trying to be a mouse—she is his equal. He remembers the way her lips moved around his name, the way the syllables falling off her tongue allowed her fingers to wrap around his heart. How she had shone, even in the dark. How it didn't matter if it wasn't real, as long as he could taste her pulse beating against her neck.

He thinks of an old woman, who earned her eyes but not her fall. He thinks of a boy, who once earned her love. He thinks of how someone so powerful was reduced to something so broken at the base of a mountain. Driven by love. Driven to death.

Time gives him many things to think about.

When Nikolai proposes for the eighth time, he takes Alina out to the monastery. Where they saw the stars falling from the sky. He gets down on one knee, and holds her hand between his. They are ungloved, and scarred, and ugly. It is the first time she's seen them since…

He asks if he is humble enough yet. She shakes her head at the improbability, but smiles.

He says he knows if he stood by former promises, he would never be able to kiss her. She nods, and her eyes water.

He states that this will help unite Ravka. She agrees that it will.

He says that kings, like privateers, are good for breaking promises. And she lets him kiss her knuckles.

He tells her he is fine with her heart belonging to a ghost, as long as she tries to remain along the living for as long as she can. No one likes the dead saints anyways, and he doesn't feel like commissioning a statue in her honor just yet. She sobs.

He asks her to marry him. This time she says yes.

The first time they speak after she sinks a dagger into his chest is at her wedding.