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Chapter Text

Aleksander had Alina most of the way to her room when she started tapping his shoulder and saying: “waitwaitwaitwait.”

He did, of course, and then put her down, and then Alina turned him back around and gestured toward… his entire face. Genya actually doubled over laughing for a moment. So, much to his profound annoyance, he sat on the couch while Genya removed the coloring and the change to his jaw shape when he would very much rather be with Alina.

Genya finished - he was not convinced she hadn’t delayed while chuckling to herself - and then he returned to Alina and she quite happily let herself be led into her room and Aleksander kicked the door closed behind him. She sat on the bed and Aleksander yanked her shirt off before… going to his knees and just looking. Alina reached out and teased his hair, obviously well aware of what he was doing.

“Sixteen weeks?”

She nodded. “You came back just in time for me to start becoming a bloated mess.”

“The most beautiful bloated mess in the entirety of Ravka if not the world,” he said without even a moment of hesitation.

He then reached out, placing his hand atop her middle and just touching, just feeling the faint bump there. “It’s very small?”

Alina made a fist. “About this big.”

He reached out and cupped her fist in his hands for a long moment and then returned to her belly. “Where are you keeping it? There are organs in there.”

She laughed. “It’s just the way I’m carrying. In a few weeks there will be no mistaking it.”

He could already tell, it was obvious if he looked, but he couldn’t deny he was desperately eager to see proof of his child’s continued growth and health.

Alina reached out and started to tug off his various tops, cloak, doublet, shirt, and corecloth vest, and he waited very patiently for her to do so. She motioned for him to stand, so he did and she started to remove his pants. “It’s safe?”

“Completely safe,” she assured him, finally shoving down his trousers and he kicked off his boots and pants. “I’m supposed to not lay flat on my back.”

“There are quite a number of options, then.” He untied her skirt and Alina arched up to let him drag it down and leave her naked. He sat down beside her and then encouraged her to straddle him as she often did.

He kissed her, relearning the exact right angle of her head and her taste and her happy little hums. His hands were everywhere, her face, her breasts, her sides, her butt, her thighs… all his to explore. For all they had been apart for months, he seemed to be far more inclined to recollect the feel of her than to just chase release and Alina seemed only too happy to indulge him.

They then shifted so Aleksander could lay down and Alina straddled his waist. “Make the pregnant lady do all the work?” she teased. And so he took her hips and pulled her up his body to straddle his face and dragged her moaning through three orgasms before she finally whimpered and begged for his cock. Who was he to deny her?

She rested like that after, eyes closed, him still inside her. She looked like she was savoring him and he let her, closing his own eyes and lazily running his hands over her thighs.

“I missed you,” she said softly. Alina then groaned in protest as she disentangled herself and slid to lay beside him. “Now we both need a bath.”

That he could also agree to. Thankfully there was a tub adjacent, with running water, and so they retired there and Alina scrubbed him vigorously to get him clean with good soap and quality hair cleansers and her for the first time in months.

They dressed enough for modesty and returned to the main area and Alina looked very slightly abashed as she introduced herself to Ulla. “I know you probably weren’t thrilled to come and have to see… you know, her, but I really appreciate it.”

“He asks so little that I really do have to cave every now and then,” Ulla answered. “Besides, he promised that she’s not fond of you. That’s a sign of good taste.”

Alina just giggled at that and sank into the embrace of the couch.

“You should finish your lunch,” Genya reminded her. “Maybe I should get you more,” she added with a wink.

Alina groaned and moved and sat in front of what seemed to be a half eaten plate of food and Aleksander came to sit beside her and rubbed her neck absently as she got to work on her food.

“Should I go to the negotiations tomorrow?” he asked.

Alina nodded. “Yeah, at this point you just need to look things over and approve it and we can go home.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

It was Genya who interrupted again. “Six weeks out from the wedding, and you didn’t tell me to do the gown kefta style, or the color, or the right accent colors! You’re lucky I’m so good at my job.”

Aleksander blinked a few times, as though shaking off sleep. “Six weeks… we’d better leave soon or we’ll miss our own wedding.”

“And Alina can’t ride,” Genya added.

He hadn’t thought of that. They’d need a carriage… Alina groaned and set her head down against his shoulder. He knew she was stubborn but he had no doubt she would follow every healer recommendation to the letter. He hugged her around her shoulders and kissed her temple and nuzzled her still wet hair and just felt… peaceful.

Alina and the others had done an excellent job with the negotiations. The borders had been negotiated in detail - although Aleksander didn’t care too much for the actual line as long as grisha were safe on both sides. There was a total cease fire to come shortly once the treaty had been approved by the tsar. There were provisions for the druskelle; they all knew some would breach Ravka’s borders and the agreement was made that they would be executed by Ravka for the violation but it would not be considered a resumption of hostilities. Grisha were to be considered full citizens of Fjerda and also have access to a Ravkan funded transport to the Little Palace if they wanted.

In short: the grisha had the best protections currently available to Fjerdan citizens and could leave to Ravka, the borders were negotiated, and there would be peace. To Aleksander that was really the only thing that mattered. He was under no delusions that it would stop all violence against grisha in Fjerda - even hundreds of years had not stopped it in Ravka - but it was the closest he had been to something that felt hopeful in centuries.

They’d had a lovely banquet the day after Aleksander arrived with many delicacies, Aleksander had shared drinks with the King of Fjerda, and he’d fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around Alina.

It had taken three days to get everyone packed, make sure they had enough horses and a carriage that would be comfortable for Alina, and get set on the road to Ulensk. Aleksander sat in the carriage, with Alina curled up and using his thigh as a pillow, with Ivan, Fedyor, and Ulla across from them looking a mix of fond and amused. They’d set up a small bit of fabric to separate the space off from the larger carriage that held gifts and a few soldiers who were allowed to rotate off from riding.

“I… must admit I still haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Alina use her powers,” Fedyor said after they’d been out of Djerholm a little under an hour.

“Would you like to glow, milaya?” he asked Alina.

She grumbled. “You do it.”

He smiled fondly and brushed her hair off her face. He could force her power out of her if he tried. “It’s so much more impressive when you do it.”

Alina reached her hands into the middle of their portion of the carriage, eyes still completely closed, and made the practiced moves to summon. First there was a single ball, then it split into a dozen smaller lights, then the lights became different colors, and then she closed her fist and snuffed them out.

“Laser nightlight,” she mumbled and then snuggled against his thigh.

Fedyor seemed far more impressed, his own eyes wide, and he nodded in absolute wonder at the display. “The… Fold?” he asked softly.

“Obviously it will need to wait until the child is born,” Aleksander answered without even a second to consider. “I have several theories based on older information and Alina and I will enter the Fold, investigate the nexus of the merzost there, and begin the process of destroying it. We will need to be prepared to handle Zlatan before that.”

“And Shu Han,” Alina mumbled again, softly.

The reminder that she had promised him the use of the Fold against Shu Han - and Fjerda - if necessary warmed him a great deal. “We should have a great deal more latitude to deal with the Shu when we return.”

Fedyor was not a stupid man, Aleksander might not have strutted around in front of him saying he intended to destroy the monarchy, but it was well known among those closest to him. “Is there trouble with… the tsar’s health?”

Ivan answered for him. “A day or so before you returned word came from Os Alta that the tsar had taken very ill. Given the delay in information he may have already passed.”

Contemplation flickered across Fedyor’s face. “And the rumors that the tsarevich is… not legitimate?”

“Handled,” Ivan announced.

Aleksander chuckled. “I think you’ve become quite fond of Alina while I was gone.”

“She balances you well,” Ivan answered without even a moment to consider.

He was also incredibly obsessive about Alina’s pregnancy. Aleksander very much appreciated that Ivan would demand she see a healer, demand she eat heartily and nutritiously, and stay cosseted a bit more than really necessary. It meant he was allowed to be the doting husband she complained to about ‘mean Ivan’ instead of giving in to every worry he had.

It took close to four weeks for their combined men to return to Ulensk, then Kribirsk, and finally along the full length of the Vy to get to Os Alta. Although Alina had joked that he’d returned for the ‘bloated’ part of her pregnancy, it seemed in some ways he had, but the only thing he truly cared about was that he could now rest his hand atop Alina’s belly and feel their child move beneath his touch.

He’d never made a detailed accounting of a pregnancy despite being experienced at delivering children. His services were rarely needed with a healer grisha present and so he’d previously divided the experience into ‘not yet moving’, ‘moving’, and ‘labor’. Caring about its size and health on a day-to-day or week-to-week basis was a very new experience.

It was… strange to return to the Little Palace. He’d been away for longer stints before, but this time he returned… hopeful. Kupala celebrations had started being planned with the knowledge the night would double as a wedding. This meant that despite them having two weeks until then, the grounds were absolutely littered with prepared bonfires, seating, and places to roast food.

Tsar Nikolai summoned them two days later. Genya had been brought to take care of dressing Alina and keeping her looking not pregnant for as long as possible. It wasn’t that Aleksander minded anyone knowing he had the great fortune of Alina giving him a child, but he knew Alina didn’t deserve fielding the court gossip while she was handling that pregnancy. They would hardly be the first couple to have a child born four months after the wedding.

Court was out in full force, perhaps two thirds were there, and most were in some variation of black. That was a distinct advantage since he always wore black and Genya said black was ‘slimming’ for Alina.

“Moi tsar,” Aleksander and Alina made their bows. “I heard the news of your father’s untimely passing on the road returning to Os Alta. My most profound sympathies.”

“Thank you, Kirigan,” Nikolai said, starting the mutual participation in this mummer’s play. “He was so vital just a few weeks before, it came as a shock to us all.”

Aleksander nodded sympathetically.

“But even as the court enters its mourning you bring us such good tidings from the north,” Nikolai continued. “Our father’s last command to you has been achieved beyond our wildest expectations.”

“Moi tsar, I am undeserving of your praise… but I thank you. The borders are secure, peace between Ravka and Fjerda made, and I can only hope I have done justice to your father’s wishes.”

A few murmurs filled the court. He had no doubt whispers of peace and a successful campaign had come to the ears of the court, but him saying it aloud probably made it more real.

“And when the time for our mourning has passed, come this autumn, we will be glad of your presence at the celebration of this long awaited peace.” Nikolai wasn’t bad at this, Aleksander noted. They were two actors, three counting Alina, dancing in their little dance and it was almost… pleasant.

“Of course, in light of your father’s passing, I feel I must request that the celebration of my marriage to Miss Alina Starkova be delayed.”

Nikolai shook his head. “Nonsense, Kirigan, you fulfilled our father’s last orders to you with pride and we know your wedding has been much anticipated. It will take place.”

Aleksander and Alina bowed. “Moi tsar.”

“Although the court is still in mourning, we would be remiss if we failed to celebrate your nuptials,” Nikolai continued. “We look forward to it even as our heart remains heavy.”

Thankfully their dance didn’t take much longer and the expected invite to tea came barely before he was out of the throne room. He, Alina, and Nikolai met in one of the less ostentatious drawing rooms, Nikolai arriving a good deal after them, and the two of them moved to rise before Nikolai waved them off. He even stripped off his First Army coat and chucked it on a nearby sofa and Aleksander couldn’t blame him.

“Whisky?” Nikolai asked, digging around in the small cabinet for alcohol.

“Certainly,” Aleksander answered.

“I must abstain,” Alina said just after.

“Not even to toast your husband’s great success?” Nikolai asked as he poured two glasses for him and Aleksander.

She smiled faintly. “I am with child, moi tsar.”

Nikolai nodded and made a slightly amused face. “I would have thought a man of your age had some patience, Aleksander.”

He took the good natured ribbing, and Alina gladly accepted juice from the kitchens instead.

“And please let it be Nikolai between us, Alina.”

“Nikolai,” she said with a faint fondness Aleksander knew was born of years of familiarity in another lifetime.

The requested juice arrived from the kitchen and Alina only rolled her eyes slightly when he drank a sip before her. He couldn’t help it, really, he already loved her and he already loved their child, and he would not put them in harm’s ways,

Nikolai raised his glass in toast. “Amazing work, Alina. Aleksander as well, of course.”

“Alina deserves the credit, I merely gave my approval to the work she’s done for the last months.” He relaxed against the chair and let himself be slightly disarmed with the way his outer kefta parted a touch. “Where shall you order your loyal blade next, Nikolai?”

He snorted. “Loyal blade my ass.” All three of them smirked. “But the Fold would be appreciated. Your feelers from West Ravka say that Zlatan continues to rabble rouse and with no clear way for us to challenge him, he’s grown quite bold.”

Aleksander nodded. “It’s a complex issue on the side of the small sciences. Alina could rend the Fold now, opening the lines between Kribirsk and Novikribirsk. I won’t have it in her current condition, however.”

Nikolai nodded with clear understanding, but he did frown faintly. “I know I’m pushing you, but… how long?”

“Four months after the wedding for the child, another two to recover at least, a few weeks of travel, call it eight months?”

Nikolai winced. “Near late winter. I suppose Kribirsk is far south enough, and the snows don’t usually start until late January anyway.”

“I have concerns that Zlatan will try to have Alina killed once news of her summoning comes out,” Aleksander continued. “The pregnancy will also make her seem an even easier target, so she will be confined to the Little Palace going forward.”

Nikolai gave a thoughtful nod. “I had wondered… the Tula Valley was once quite verdant…”

“Five years at least,” he answered. “The Fold is delicate to tear down fully and the land will need to be cleansed of the lingering merzost using ancient rituals.”

“And Shu Han? Do you have some clever scheme, Alina?”

She shrugged. “I’m laid up for eight months, I’ll be able to think, but not at the moment.” Aleksander watched her ponder a bit, her hand stroking over her middle a few times. “Keyen Kir-Taban is quite ill at the moment and it’s unclear if she will choose her eldest for succession. Keyen had been… lenient on grisha, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with her eldest. With Fjerda being the far more active front coming to terms they might decide to threaten more active war. We also have some indication that Grimjer was planning to carve up Ravka with Shu Han. There are several moving parts and I will put my mind to it.”

“More than good enough,” Nikolai said after that. Aleksander was pleased he wasn’t too impatient given his youth. “And… the Opjer angle?”

“He’s been tailored and sent off somewhere not even I know, so there’s no risk of revealing it. We have everything particularly incriminating gathered. He’s asked that you care for Linnea’s needs if she asks,” Alina reported.

“Quite efficient,” Nikolai said, a weight clearly now off his shoulders.

“Speaking of financial needs…” Aleksander trailed off.

Nikolai took a long sip of whisky. “We have some liquid cash, we are heavily in debt to Ketterdam and lightly in debt to Novyi Zhem. I’ve used Sturmhond to leverage some smuggling contacts to liquidate a few items to get more funds.”

“We should focus on the Zemeni debt,” Alina said. “A surge in jurda interest is coming and Ketterdam will want to gain it without the fees and price hikes so… best to uncouple ourselves from one rather than being leveraged by both.”

Aleksander grit his teeth knowing what that meant, but he nodded his approval of Alina’s suggestion.

“Well, I feel better already,” Nikolai said cheerfully. “Honeymoon?”

“Not with the threats in play,” Aleksander answered.

“A little dacha in the countryside? title for the kid?”

It was Alina’s turn to chuckle. “Service to the good of Ravka is its own reward, moi tsar.”

“Politicians.” Nikolai murmured under his breath. “Anyway, as promised you’ll have your seat on the council, grisha weddings are considered legally binding, and grisha service requirement to the Second Army ends at twenty-five. I can’t do better with the wars ongoing.”

“Understandable,” Aleksander agreed. He’d prefer no requirement but he knew they needed to stay useful and they were embroiled in a war on two fronts. That was a delightful downgrade from four fronts, however.

“I’ll leave you two to enjoy the wedding and the child and we’ll continue the Fold question in late autumn.” Nikolai held out his hand and Aleksander took it, and then the tsar took Alina's hand and offered a chaste kiss.

Now dismissed, he rose and helped Alina up and the two of them returned to the Little Palace trailed and led by four oprichniki.

That went well

Aleksander gave her a mental nod in response. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Nikolai is a good man all told. He lived to be sixty one last time… hopefully he’ll see similar again. That should be enough of a cushion to bring grisha animosity down and influence up. Secularization is a hell of a drug.

He knew that Alina thought the decline of reliance on religious figures and increased education would see a swath of anti-grisha sentiment eliminated. It was hard to imagine such a large problem simply resolving itself, but Alina was quite certain. Of course she was very clear it wasn’t just resolved but that it would take quite an edge off.

“Now,” Alina said firmly after they had exited the Grand Palace. “I want a walk and then a foot rub and then something to eat.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “As my little wife demands.”

They didn’t intentionally go to the lake, at least Aleksander didn’t, but once he realized where they were he sat with her and watched her kick ripples into the lake and held her from behind.

“Do… you think we got lucky or is it because of our powers?” Alina asked.

Aleksander pondered. “Were there other Shadow Summoners after me?”

“There was a girl. I figured she might have been from a half-sibling line, but she wasn’t… like us. The same thing happened with the Sun Summoners.”

“Ilya had two children with an otskazat’sya, Baghra had… thirty? mostly with grisha. I’d say it was the fact that a Shadow Summoner was born of the abomination that is merzost meant we couldn’t reproduce naturally, but I’m here: child of some random heartrender. Will you be alright with that?”

“Hmm?” She looked upward and he kissed her forehead.

“A child who’s not a shadow or sun summoner.”

“Oh…” She didn’t seem to ponder long. “Yes. I’ve had children, not of my own body, but still mine.”

“I’ve never had a child, not even in that manner, but I always regretted my mother not keeping my siblings when they weren’t ‘like us’.” He shrugged. “No matter what, they will be my child, our child.”

She nodded, making sure she held his arms as they were wrapped around her, and she leaned against him. He could tell her eyes were closed without even looking.

“Two weeks.”

She made an inquisitive noise.

“Until we’re married. I’ve waited for you for centuries and in two weeks you’ll be mine.”

Alina have a little chuckle, but he heard the hint of sadness too. “I’ve waited for you for centuries… but I’d already killed my other half.”

“I guess the Making doesn’t want us to be apart.”

She snorted. “I’m supposed to be the optimist of us, but I suppose you’ve always believed in us, always believed I would come, and always believed we would be together for eternity… and for as long as I had you I believed the opposite.”

He should have handled her more gently, that last time he didn’t even remember. Perhaps he’d loved her, perhaps not, and Alina had been a child - she’d said as much, but now… now she was just as eternal as him.

“You have me now,” he assured her. “For all eternity.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been married in a kefta,” Aleksander said as he examined himself, dressed in his silk kefta, in the mirror and brushed the imaginary dirt from his shoulders.

“You can’t remember?” Ivan asked, sounding almost amused.

“I guess I’ve never been. I would have said grisha vows…” Which he’d created… “Haven’t yet, never will again.”

“I’m sure Fedyor would say that’s quite romantic.”

Aleksander smiled at the reflection of Ivan in the mirror over his shoulder. “I suppose,” he admitted. “No matter how far we travel, even into death itself, she and I will always be bound.”

And he knew it, knew it with the surety of grisha steel, because even after he’d died and revived and been tortured for hundreds of years she’d still loved him and he had no doubt that he had loved her.

He went to the window, glancing out at the sky, checking the cast of the sun. He was fairly certain the sun would dip behind the Fold soon, maybe thirty minutes, and would cast the day into the hour long twilight that came every sunset. They were to be married in that twilight, the end of the longest day of the year.

After a few moments to contemplate that poetry he headed out of his room. Alina had been getting ready in the vezda suite, a room that would soon be given over to an unconscionable amount of baby stuff. He headed out of the Little Palace and out onto the nearby lawns. There had been a great deal of celebrating going on already but his arrival seemed to be the cue for many of the grisha to begin to congregate at the location chosen for the wedding.

It was down by the lake, with little more than a small dais where Alina, Aleksander, and Ivan - as officiant - would stand. As soon as he arrived he was subjected to a variety of well wishes from the various young grisha still in training and a few of the older officers who were spending time refreshing before returning to one front or another.

Nikolai was there as well, as though the tsar coming to some grisha wedding that didn’t even have seats was normal. He came up to Aleksander and gave him a nod.

“It’s a lovely evening for a wedding,” Nikolai said as he came to make his congratulations. “This is traditional?”

He was quite amused by that. “Well, when you’re responsible for most Ravkan grisha customs you should probably abide by them. Ivan brought out the thornwood crowns and everything.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Nikolai left him alone and he found himself gazing out over the lake and the dozens of bonfires that will soon be lit. It was a beautiful evening.

Ivan joined him a bit later. Finally it seemed that most of those in attendance had gathered and Aleksander waited, Alina arrived just as the sun went below the Fold hundreds of miles away and painted the sun in that red-grey haze that had bathed Ravka for the last four hundred years.

He hadn’t gotten to see the dress beforehand, but she was as beautiful as always. Genya had styled the dress after a kefka and it was cut to hide the swell that would soon be undeniable. It had a train to make it much more like a wedding dress and it was gleaming gold with black highlights. The dress caused a few murmurs, doubtless curious about why the General’s wife was wearing a kefta-cut dress that so closely resembled what the Sun Summoner might wear.

They had little time to wonder, as Alina used their murmurs as her chance to walk between the two rows of standing grisha. When she arrived at the small dais, she flipped the train behind her and smiled at him as beautiful as sunrise. Aleksander took her hand and helped her to kneel, and then he knelt himself.

Aleksander reached out, the two of them clasped hands, and Ivan made swift work of binding their hands together and then setting the thornwood crowns atop their heads.

He looked at Alina, at her beautiful brown eyes that had hints of wetness in them. She had been waiting for this for four hundred years… and she had thought she had lost it all that time.

“Alina,” Ivan prompted.

“We are soldiers.” Alina’s voice was sure and true. A few murmurs went up, Alina had chosen grisha vows, and although that was allowed of otskazat’sya marrying grisha it was still unusual. “I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace.” She had… she already had. “I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return.”

How much did it mean to him that she promised him forever. They could have centuries, millennia, and she had promised it all. “I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world and there is no one more beloved.” She then leaned in, voice low, barely a whisper. “Aleksander Morozov.”

A few more whispers came, it was long speculated ‘Sergei Kirigan’ was a nom de guerre, but Alina had all but confirmed that it was, and that she knew his true name. “Relentless and true. Shadow to my Sun.”

That sparked more murmurs but Ivan’s nod made Aleksander begin.

“We are soldiers,” he began just barely enough to be heard and the soft whispers died unspoken. “I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return. I have seen your face in the making of the heart of the world and there is no one more beloved, Alina Starkova, brilliant and true. Sun to my Shadow.”

Ivan reached out and grasped their hands with his. “General Sergei Kirigan and Miss Alina Starkova have pronounced their love before the making and these witnesses and are now bound together for all time.”

Aleksander leaned forward, Alina’s lips met his, and with not even a flicker of hesitation, Alina burst into brilliant light that spread across the entire bounds of the Little Palace grounds. When they broke that brief kiss, Alina ceased glowing but the huge dome of light remained.

Dead silence.

Ivan, ever the one to know his dramatic timing, simply unwound the ribbon around their hands as though nothing had happened. Aleksander stood and helped Alina to her own feet. They turned toward the assembled crowd.

“She is the Sun Summoner,” Aleksander announced with love and gratitude and hope and surety. “She will lead us through the dark of night. She will change the world.”

Nikolai, the absolute menace, clapped and gave a whistle that seemed to knock the rest of those present out of their stupor and the assembled crowd went wild. Alina and Aleksander clasped hands, the two of them waving.

“Kupala night has come!” Alina announced. “Light the fires and make merry!”

The inferni rushed to obey and Aleksander nuzzled into her temple and kissed her softly. “Well done, milaya.”

Now the number of grisha who descended on them was frankly terrifying. Aleksander didn’t like Alina so exposed, but they did eventually weather the almost hour of well wishes and two chairs were brought out for the dais and he and Alina sat, all but presiding over the festivities. The music had finally struck up and Aleksander took Alina’s hand and danced with her. He danced and he marveled that even though it was the shortest night of the year, Ravka would never be so dark again.

Nikolai made his way up to the dais and greeted Alina where she and Aleksander sat. His held out hand made his request clear, and yet Aleksander, damn the man, didn’t even seem annoyed when Alina kissed Aleksander soundly and made her way with Nikolai to dance.

“Lovely evening,” he said as they began their twirl. “You two do have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you?”

“Well, Aleksander does love his drama,” she answered, and then laughed as though it was her own private joke.

“He’s not even annoyed with me dancing with you. Married and pregnant I guess he’s figured you’re not escaping him.” Nikolai did think the two of them were well matched, but he did sometimes worry for Alina, so young in the face of Aleksander’s eternity.

“I’ll never run,” she said with the sort of assurance he really didn’t think she should have. “I’ll always find my way back to him.”

“But how am I supposed to needle him if I can no longer use you? His sister perhaps?”

Alina clearly thought the suggestion funny. “Wrong parts, I’m afraid.”

Damn, he actually glanced over and found that Aleksander was now dancing with Ulla. They were a well matched pair in their own right, both dark and mysterious.

“Why don’t I just point you in a direction I think you’ll enjoy?” Alina suggested. “You’re sure to frustrate him endlessly without even trying.”

“Fine, I suppose that will have to do.”

She tilted her head. “Her name’s Zoya, squaller, but I think you’ll get on like an inferni and oil.”

Well, wasn’t that fascinating. He was tempted to go over to the woman after his dance but instead he sent Alina back to her husband and found a slightly quiet spot near one of the larger bonfires. A smaller fire had been erected with many grisha couples jumping over it to prove their compatibility.

“Quite the ceremony.”

Nikolai startled and turned, only to find a man of perhaps fifty, red hair, blue eyes… Nikolai didn’t recognize him and he wasn’t wearing a kefta. “Somehow I don’t think grisha security will want you here.”

“Genya allowed me in,” the older man assured him.

When Nikolai looked around, the man even pointed to the tailor and Genya caught his eye and gave him an affirming nod. “Well, friend of Genya’s, you do know who I am, do you not?”

He shrugged. “I’m not supposed to be here, but… I couldn’t resist the urge to see you before I make a new life for myself to assure your reign.”

Nikolai turned again, inspected the man, he could see nothing of his father in the man, but he supposed that was the point. “I see. Alina passed on your request. Linnea will be safe here if she chooses.”

Magnus nodded. “Thank you for that. You’re happy?”

A difficult question. “Ravka is struggling, everything is troubled… but yes, I’m happy to have Ravka finally well in hand.”

“I admit… I was worried you were just a puppet to the Darkling, and now I worry even more when he has the Sun Saint at his side.”

“I suppose in some ways I am,” Nikolai admitted. “They hold the future of Ravka in their hands. They will assure that after the Lantsov Dynasty is dead and buried that the Sun will never set on Ravka again. With any luck I will be remembered as a wise steward to the pair.”

“And that is enough?” Magnus asked.

“Yes,” he assured his father. “The Lantsov Dynasty created Ravka, but in the end it has almost destroyed her as well. I choose its end.”

“Then I’m happy for you,” Magnus said, clasping Nikolai on the shoulder. “Farewell, son.”

“Farewell, father,” he answered just as softly. He closed his eyes for a few moments, soaking it in, and he was unsurprised that Magnus was gone when he opened them again.

He looked up at the beautiful dome of light all around them. The Sun would never set on Ravka again, would it?

Aleksander decided that Alina was taking the whole ‘birthing’ thing quite well. She’d called him a bastard (true), said she was never having sex with him again (a real threat but he doubted she would hold to it), and had been cursing in languages ancient, modern, and yet to be invented.

For his own part he sat beside her the entire time and soothed her when he was able, wiped her brow, and allowed her deathgrip on his hand even as she cursed his name. The otskazat’sya midwife was absolutely scandalized by his presence, but he’d been insistent and had neither panicked nor interfered and so she had little grounds to eject him.

Alina had told him it was very modern for a father to be at a birth, and he decided he could be modern even at seven centuries, especially for his wife and child.

“I'm never touching you again,” she gasped after her latest contraction eased.

“I know, milaya,” he said, trying to keep his lip from twitching.

“The baby is crowning, moya soverenya,” the midwife reported.

Aleksander smiled at that, it should hopefully move more quickly from there. It was a dangerous part of the birth, however, and so he did not relax, just wiped Alina’s brow again. He held her hand through the pain, waited as patiently as he could for news of the head, the cord, the body, and so on.

“Almost done, milaya,” he assured her.

Alina finished with the babe, and the afterbirth, and then the healer confirmed she wasn’t hemorrhaging, Aleksander finally slightly relaxed. The babe was squalling as well, and being washed as he kept Alina focused and calm. He even had the pleasure of the child being handed over to him as the healers and midwife finished with Alina’s birth.

“You have a son, moi soverenyi, moya soverenya,” the healer said proudly as she handed Aleksander’s son over.

“Saints, I don’t think I want to do that again,” Alina said as she finally finished the worst of the process.

Aleksander nodded sympathetically. He would have been happy with just a wife, but a child, even one child, was so much more than he’d ever imagined he would have.

“Sasha?” Alina was reaching out to him.

He chuckled at himself and handed over their son. “Sorry, just caught up in my own thoughts. You… have given me so much and then you just have gone and given me even more. I don’t have the words.”

Alina took a few moments concentrating on getting the boy to feed, and he thankfully took to Alina swiftly. “I feel the same,” Alina admitted softly as she brushed the boy’s cheek. “Sorry for… um… everything I said in the last hours.”

“I will hold none of it against you,” he said with a faint smile. “Besides, I am a bastard.”

“Moi soverenyi,” Genya said after a few moments. “Would you excuse us so we can get Alina cleaned up and tailored to be a bit more presentable.”

“Alright?” he asked Alina. She nodded.

He rose and went to the door, pulling it open and finding an extraordinary amount of people piled up outside the door. Ivan and Fedyor were a given, Malyen, Marie and Nadya, even Nikolai and Zoya were there awaiting the news.

“A healthy wife and a healthy son,” he announced softly.

A few cheers, a few gasps, and a few squeals came from the assembled group, and that was soon followed with handshakes and slapping his back, before Nikolai produced a bottle of whisky and poured them all a round.

It took some time to get Alina settled, he knew the mess would take some time to clean and although Aleksander truly thought Alina was the most beautiful woman in the whole of the world he could appreciate the thought.

They drank their whisky, a few even having a second round, Aleksander included, and he finally let the tension of the day leave him. An uncomplicated delivery, a healthy wife, and a healthy son was truly all he could have asked for and then some.

Finally they were allowed back in and Aleksander immediately went to the bedside and slipped next to Alina where she held the baby. She looked much refreshed and he gave her a soft kiss on the temple before she relinquished their son to him for the moment.

Thankfully he had no need to shoo the lot of them out, with most happy enough to hug Alina and coo or wiggle fingers at the child.

“A beautiful child, moya soverenya, moi soverenyi,” Ivan said, and Fedyor nodded his agreement. “Grisha?”

Aleksander nodded, Alina had been able to tell for months and even a faint touch made it clear she was not mistaken. “Should I…?” he asked Alina softly.

She gave a quick nod. Aleksander took his son’s hand and gave it the faintest squeeze to assure he was soothed and then took his ring and scratched a shallow scratch down his arm. It sealed almost instantly.

“Corporalki,” he announced.

“Like his grandfather,” Alina said with a little smile.

“I didn’t know you knew your parents, moya soverenya,” Fedyor said.

Alina tilted her head toward Aleksander. “His father.”

Aleksander nodded. He had never known his father, but he did know him as a powerful heartrender and that had been enough to allow Baghra to have him, a natural born shadow summoner.

“Well, we will leave you to rest,” Ivan said firmly.

Alina held up a hand for him to wait, and then leaned into him to press her lips near to his ear. He smiled. It was… almost a sad thing, knowing he would have to let those he loved go, but he nodded.

“Ivan?” Alina said softly. He nodded his head. “We would like to name him after you.”

Aleksander watched one of his staunchest supporters and closest allies close his eyes, and saw what was probably the beginnings of tears at the corners. “I’m humbled by the honor.”

The two men left, Genya left, the healers and the midwife left, and finally, for the first time that day, Aleksander was alone with his wife, his family, and she leaned against his shoulder.

“You did amazing, milaya,” he said softly as he held little Vanya in his arms.

“As long as he doesn’t have too much of a scowl,” she said with a soft humor, running her finger down between his eyes and down his nose. She then closed her eyes and he heard her sniffle faintly.

“Alright?”

She nodded. “It’s so hard to believe we have this. I never imagined so much being so close at hand. When I… when I arrived in Poliznaya over a year ago my only thought was binding you to me with love before the making. Now we have… a measure of peace, a measure of security.”

Alina seemed lost in her own thoughts, laughing at herself, and shaking her head. “It’s fitting he was born today.”

“Oh?” He knew of no particular reason today was any more special than the day before or the day after.

“In another life… I killed you today.” His chest constricted. “I killed my only chance at eternal companionship, and instead today we have this beautiful new life. I don’t know how long it will take to stop feeling like I’m undoing her mistakes.”

“We’ve already strayed so far from that world, haven’t we?”

She didn’t seem convinced but she did nod. Alina reached out and he handed Vanya over for Alina to hold.

“No more penance, Alina,” he said softly. “You were young, you were frightened, and I… was not the man I am today.”

“No, you’re so much… more you.” She gave him a soft kiss to the cheek.

“I will continue to be so for all the centuries we have remaining to us,” Aleksander promised. And he would.

Genya stormed into her husband’s workshop with the annoyance of someone who knew this would happen and was still disappointed anyway.

“Moi tsar!” she snapped loudly.

Nikolai whined and rolled out from under the engine he was working on. “We’re making good progress!”

“You will make good progress tomorrow. David!”

Her husband’s head popped up from the drafting table where he’d been studying schematics and pulling together gears absently and ignoring the argument. She then went up to the tsar and started to clap at him to shoo him off like he was a misbehaving grishenka.

Once Nikolai had fled the workshop, Genya went over to David and gave him a swift kiss before nudging him away from the bench.

“This is a historic occasion for all grisha, we are not missing out and we are not letting the kids miss out, gogogo!”

Husband and tsar wrangled, she went after David to their chambers and checked that the children’s kefta were properly worn and free of even the faintest traces of dirt. She then went to a mirror and smoothed the fine beginnings of crows feet at the corners of her eyes. Genya knew she was still extraordinarily beautiful, but that didn’t change the wistful nature of aging, no matter how gracefully.

David changed into his dress kefta she gestured and he and the kids hurried off. That task settled, she headed off to the General’s office where she found Vanya standing a fairly respectable distance from the door. She quirked an eyebrow at the heartrender and he made a not at all subtle gagging motion.

“What, don’t want a little sibling?” she asked with a chuckle as she stormed past him and arrived at the door.

It took barely a handful of seconds to confirm her suspicions and she banged her hand loudly against the door. “Stop. Messing. Up. Your. Outfits!”

The door opened two minutes or so later with both the future Queen and future Prince of Ravka looking like rumpled messes. Genya let out a sound of immense frustration before she got to work smoothing out the wrinkles in Alina’s skirts and then absolutely lost it when she saw her hair.

“Out!” she said firmly, looking at the General pointing to the door.

She then shoved Alina across the room and made her sit on a chair before she pulled out the dozen pins that had been neatly pinning her hair. Genya smoothed Alina’s hair back down and went to work recreating the elaborate updo.

“The Sun Queen is not supposed to go to her coronation looking like the Black Prince just finished ravishing her!” she fumed.

Thankfully she finished her work with enough time and when she exited the room she found the General standing with Vanya and discussing something. Thankfully he had managed to sort himself out and Genya only had to gesture him to bow a bit to put his hair into a more neatened state.

She then pointed at Vanya. “Chaperone them!”

Genya then stormed off in another direction only to find… Zoya and Nikolai had actually dressed the part for this whole show and no one’s dress had gotten rucked up or hair had been rumpled out of place, thankfully.

Her services no longer needed she went to the throne room and checked on the Apparat. He was a fairly young man of about thirty, recently appointed and well vetted by the younger priests who had come to dominate the religion.

Genya was never sure how Alina managed it, but soon after the Fold was torn down she was able to take some splinter sect dedicated to the General and roll them into the church and tugged the religion toward worshiping her and then pulled in some old grisha philosophy of balance and equal opposites. Like calls to like and all that. Nothing was perfect, it never was, but both Alina and the General had been declared living saints, but had insisted on claiming the throne not as saints, but as grisha.

After finally getting things settled she headed to the throne room and found David and the kids and slid in beside where they were standing. As official handler of all social events of this magnitude, Genya was up close. She took a quick glance to the side and saw the Prime Minister chatting with those around him, probably discussing the new early education funding or something like that.

The ceremony finally began, with Zoya and Nikolai entering from opposite sides of the throne room and sitting in the modest chairs that made up their thrones, lovely dark wood carved with Lanstov heraldry, but the thrones that had been added several years ago behind them and up a few stairs remained empty.

One was carved out of the most exquisite Zemini blackwood, with whorls and wisps that made the throne look like living shadow, finally topped off with the sun in eclipse that Genya had known since she was a child. The other throne was just as impressive made of polished goldenwood with gilded highlights including the rising sun that topped the throne.

The Apparat entered to stand between the tsar and tsaritsa’s thrones, and then began his speech about balance and dark and light and all sorts of nonsense Genya couldn’t care less about. After what seemed like an interminable wait - but was likely barely a few minutes - Alina and Aleksander entered from opposite sides of the throne room.

Alina knelt before the Apparat, facing out toward the crowd, and the man spread his arms wide as the assembled men and women bowed their heads.

“Light and Dark. Sun and Shadow. For centuries Ravka has been held in a delicate state, off balance, incomplete, locked in struggle without end. Then Sun rose out of Shadow and bathed Ravka in holy light. There is completion. From the Nadir we can now rise to the Zenith, from Despair can now rise Hope. Now the night holds Shadows and a reprieve from the blinding Sun, but it no longer holds the terrors that now must flee when the Sun burns away the mists of dawn.

“Alina Starkova!” The Apparat called her name and she raised her head just a fraction from where it had been bowed. “Summoner of the Sun, Destroyer of the Fold, The Eternal Dawn. Making-given and Making-adorned, great Sovereign of all of Ravka, Dawn is thy raiment and Starlight thy crown. Do you so swear to serve and defend Ravka for all the days you have been given?”

Genya clenched her fists, feeling them tremble, and David reached out to squeeze her hand.

“I so swear,” Alina announced, voice firm.

The crown, a beautiful construction of platinum, pearls and opals was brought out and the Apparat placed it on her head.

“Then arise Queen Alina, the Singular.”

The General held out a hand from where he stood beside her and Queen Alina rose gracefully from her kneeling position and went to the golden throne awaiting her and sat.

The General then knelt where the Queen had been, head faintly bowed.

“Aleksander Morozov!” The Apparat called again. “Summoner of Shadow, Creator of the Fold, the Eternal Twilight.” There were a few murmurs, but the surprise of that revelation had long been blunted in the last decades. “Void-given and Void-adorned, great Consort of Ravka, Twilight is thy raiment and Midnight thy crown. Do you swear to serve and defend Ravka for all of the nights you have been given?”

“I so swear,” the General’s answer was firm and just loud enough to carry across the room. His own crown was far less elaborate, a lacquered black diadem that rested just low enough to touch his forehead.

“Then arise, Prince Aleksander, the Singular.”

The Prince did, and then went to the black throne that rested beside Alina’s. He reached out to her and she wove their fingers together.

Nikolai and Zoya then rose, knelt before their counterpart, and placed their crowns at their new sovereigns’ feet. The two then exited wordlessly, their thrones were soon taken away.

Queen Alina then rose and came to stand in the center the Apparat had vacated. “My people, I welcome you to the new age of Ravka that has dawned.”

She then spread her hands outward and thousands of glittering stars scattered across the throne room. Even to Genya the decorations and dresses and food and music were somehow secondary to the new monarchs who now sat the throne of Ravka, the Sun Queen and the Black Prince.

Alina lounged, her back against the side of the armrest, her legs flung across the sofa and resting. Aleksander rubbed her ankles and feet, or at least he tried to but he was perpetually distracted by her bump. Five months, healthy, no obvious health issues.

Over the last century and a half or so, the role of ‘Sun Queen and Black Prince’ had become less and less as administrators and rulers and much more ambassadors, military strategists, and advisors. It meant that if Aleksander wanted to waste a Tuesday afternoon massaging her legs they could easily get away with it and Aleksander had begun to take his almost-retirement with a good amount of grace. That didn’t stop him from yelling at the Prime Minister a lot some weeks, however.

The phone in the corner rang, and Aleksander rolled his eyes. “I hate phones, why can’t they just send telegrams?”

Alina chuckled. “Don’t be such a boomer, eventually we’ll have email and you can go back to ignoring phones.”

“You still haven’t explained what a ‘boomer’ is,” he grumbled.

She ignored him, rising to her feet and walking over to the phone and picked it up. “Little Palace.”

“Little Palace,” her daughter's voice echoed through with a hint of mocking. “As though anyone but your kids call this line.”

“You can never be too sure, and hello Katya.”

Aleksander gave up on his innate dislike of the phone in the name of coming over to hug her around the waist and press his ear to the outside of the phone. She tilted the phone so they could share.

“Is Papa there?”

“Yes, I’m here. What is it?”

“We found another of your journals! We think it’s 130 to 100 BF!” she said, so much excitement. Her otskazat’sya daughter had taken after her in her pursuit of archeology and was now meticulously investigating the old castle where grisha had lived before the Fold. “Do you know what might be in it?”

He chuckled. “That’s almost seven hundred years ago! Which Tsar was that?”

“It was kings then, Papa,” Katya answered with obvious exasperation. “You should remember, Alexander the First! You confuse all the students when there’s King Alexander I and Prince Aleksander I.”

“Complain to your grandmother then,” he answered with pure fondness. “I honestly don’t remember, but I think it was relatively peaceful. Grisha were in little communes, I believe I was… in the Tula Valley?”

“So I found one of your boring journals,” their daughter sighed in exasperation.

“I’m sorry!” He was not at all sorry and Alina could tell. “Some decades are just very boring. Oh, your mother and I have something to tell you.”

“You’re pregnant, I know, Vanya told me,” she interrupted. “Congratulations!”

“He’s such a gossip,” Alina said fondly. “I should be due around Shu Armistice day, do you think you can make it?”

“Shouldn’t you and dad be in Ahmrat Jen?”

“If you think your father intends to approve of me being out of Ravka when I’m eight months pregnant I think you don’t know your father very well,” Alina said, chuckling fondly. “We’ve already excused ourselves from it.”

“Are you coming for the one hundred fiftieth anniversary?” Katya asked.

“We can’t exactly skip it,” Alina said with a chuckle. “Unmake an existential threat to the Making one time and they never let you forget it.”

“Oh, Papa, they’ve finished the south wing reconstruction model now and that will be open soon. We await your approval!” Katya again added enthusiastically.

“That’s… dorms and kitchens, yes?”

Their daughter’s exasperated sigh was exceptional. “Why do I have to tell you what it was? You were there!”

“Give your poor father a break,” Alina said, absolutely delighted at Aleksander being teased by their daughter. “He was fighting battles, not studying architecture.

“And grisha sociopolitical advancement,” Aleksander added, unwilling to let himself be entirely left behind by the conversation.

“How are classes?” Alina asked to curtail the incoming rant from Aleksander on exactly how little those had advanced until a little under two hundred years ago.

“It’s awful, they assigned me a Post-Tsarist Ravka class and I put up a picture of Papa and had to hear tittering about how hot he is. It’s traumatizing. What’s the point of having a Fold Era speciality if I have to give a lecture about my own dad?”

“To be fair, you’d have to give a lecture about me in Fold Era classes too.”

“Yes but I don’t have to put up a picture of you! There are plenty of paintings and frescoes of you with horns to use then. Annnnyway, I’ll see you for the one fifty? There’s this new Zemini place in Twin Cities I want to try.”

“Of course,” Alina assured her, “it’s barely a month out. We’ll be there.”

Well wishes were exchanged and Alina hung up the phone and returned to her couch to again put her feet up. Aleksander’s hands returned to her ankles.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” she said fondly.

“I remember not believing you, years ago, about the Fold being destroyed and a hundred fifty years later no one would care about the Black Heretic,” he said, digging his thumbs into the sole of her foot and causing her to moan. “Now it’s just BF and AF, a little historical dividing line that means almost nothing.”

“That’s the nature of… us. The same thing happened to me, years passed and things changed and your death, our deaths, were just bits of history. You’ll never forget, just like I’ll never forget my greatest mistakes, and to the rest of the world we’re fodder for history books and political analysis. That’s why I need you, that’s why we need each other… to remind us that there is something constant in this world, something true.”