Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Forty-five: Baghra Morozova, past

Forty-five:

Baghra Morozova, past 

Baghra listened to the boy talk. King he might have been, but if she could still remember him as a gurgling infant in his mothers' arms, he would always be a boy to her. He explained, in detail, the duplication process, the tree, and how he planned on reuniting her son's "essence" with Alina's in a different time where they could be together, happily. And that hopefully once their hearts repaired, The Fold would too.

She stared at him incredulously from the table within her hut. The cup of tea she had made for them earlier had grown cold as she had not had a chance to sip it as Nikolai explained in vivid detail his plan for saving Ravka. Which, as it seemed, included magic trees, duplicates of two powerful grisha, and fixing her idiot sons broken heart with magic. When he finished, she was silent.

Nikolai tilted his head to the side. "Baghra, are you alright? I'd know if you died, or something wouldn't I?"

Baghra blinked. "I am fine." She blinked again. "However, I think you are a fool."

"I'm aware of what I am," he said, "but if we're to succeed, if we're to fool him into thinking this is all real, and not a trick we'll need you to oversee the whole thing. You know him best. You can---"

"I can't control him, boy," said Baghra, "if I could control him, do you think we'd be here now?"

"I'm not asking you to," said Nikolai, "but you're the only one that truly knows him. We need you to help him make the right choice. Push him towards Alina, towards love, and unity, and not control. That's the only way The Fold is going to be able to fix itself, is if they fix each other. Unity, cohesion, and not dominance and fear."

"I'm an old woman, you know," said Baghra, "what makes you think I want to go traipsing through time on your hair-brained schemes? I trained your grisha. I helped fight your battles. Perhaps I want to rest."

"Wouldn't you rest easier knowing that your son's sins won't haunt Ravka?"

Baghra looked at him sharply. "I've got news for you, boy, my son's sins are your sins. The Fold was created because of your Kings abuses of power against our people. Aleksander's sins are Ravka's sins against grisha."

"I know that," said Nikolai, "and I would like to right those. By fixing your son's heart. By letting him live in a place where he might ease his mind, his soul, and remember what it is to love someone purely for them and not for what they can give him."

"Couldn't you send one of your soldiers to play spy?"

Nikolai smiled. "I am sending one of my soldiers to play spy," he reminded her.

Baghra heaved a sigh. "Fine. I will go. But you have six tries. No more, no less. If my son does not fall for her on the third try and The Fold is not healed, you will allow me to come back here, and retire to my hut in peace."

Nikolai nodded. "Agreed."

"How are we picking a time for them to be in?"

"Well, I thought we would first try twenty years, then fifty, and so on, and so on..."

Baghra nodded. "Agreed. Will I be the only one going?"

Nikolai shook her head. "No. We've a whole team."

"Of course," said Baghra. "But you know it wasn't only control that kept my son and Alina apart the first time."

Nikolai heaved a sigh. "You're referring to The Tracker."

"Yes," she said, "what are you going to do about him? He'll be there too, you know. He always finds her."

"Let me handle The Tracker," said Nikolai, "you just make your son have a heart and fall in love."

Bahgra raised an eyebrow. "How, exactly, are you going to handle The Tracker?"

"You'll see."

"Alright," Baghra said, "you handle him, I'll handle my son."

"Then, we've a deal?"

"We've a deal."

They shook on it, as every good deal was sealed with an honorable handshake. Baghra had seen enough of saints and war to last a lifetime. The boys plan might have been insane, but if it put Aleksander's soul and whatever was left of his heart at ease, she was willing to try. Her son, however poorly he had done it, had sacrificed himself for Ravka. The least Ravka could do was repair the damage done.

Baghra had long ago given up on him. But if The Fox Prince wanted to try again, she would let him try again. It was no skin off of her back. She was an old woman. What was one last attempt to save her sons soul to her?

"When do we begin?" Baghra asked.

"There's a lot that needs planning," said Nikolai, "and tests that have to be run. But first, I need you to do something for me."

"More than sacrifice my soul to the winds of time, brat prince?"

"King," Nikolai reminded her again, "yes, I'm going to need just one more thing from you, I'm sorry to ask it, but I don't know that I'll be able to make it work if I don't. Even my charm has limits, especially on married women."

Baghra tilted her head to the side. "You're referring to Alina."

Nikolai nodded. "Yes. I would never do anything without her consent. We need her to agree to everything. If she agrees, I suspect her tracker will agree, although how I'll handle him in the future that's a different story..."

"How, exactly, do you suggest I convince her to agree to this hairbrained scheme?"

"I thought a letter might suffice," he told her.

Baghra heaved sigh. "It's going to have to be one hell of a letter."

Nikolai nodded. "Think you're up for the challenge?"

"Go away," she snapped.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll need peace and quiet," she said, "I can't write a letter if I've got you yammering away in my ear now, can I?"

Nikolai smirked. "You're a miserable, old crone."

"And you are impossible," she said with a smile, whacking him in the shin with her cane, "now, go."

Hobbling and muttering to himself, Nikolai left her hut, and Baghra went to her desk, pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and set to writing.