Don't make him the villain

Alternate ending / neutral pov

Killing Alina had been one of the hardest things the Darkling ever subjected himself to do. It was getting rid of a promise to be a better man, a kinder one. He had lied to her till the very end of it, he told her he didn't want to be alone, that he didn't wish for a grave, that they were meant to be together, that she would be alive when everyone around her would perish of old age. He hadn't meant all of it, some parts were true, others were exaggerated to fuel her confusion.

He had eventually stabbed her with her own sword after killing her orphaned tracker. It was an easy task, but it hurt him nonetheless. He had felt remorse for that, for hours and days where he regretted having killed the sun summoner, putting himself right back where he started. Near the throne and surrounded by lies.

Nikolai had offered her a similar deal. A hand in marriage, a public union, a place on the throne amongst royalty, in exchange for the use of her powers. She had refused, exactly like she had with him, and had left him in the fold.

After some time, the Darkling had received a missive that had been prepared to be sent in the events of the prince's death. A personal envelope written in advance several weeks before the gruesome battle had taken place, containing a blank letter that he didn't have the time to fill in, and his emerald ring.

He kept everything, to the ripped envelope, the empty pages, and the family air loom now belonging to him. Some part of him hoped for Nikolai to come out of the fold, he secretly wished the fox would find a way to break it from the inside only to come back to him with a victorious grin on his face. He blamed himself for his friend's death, the fold was his fault and so was the turnout of the battle with the sun summoner.

But to everyone's surprise, he did not end up alone.

It was not Alina, but it was not loneliness. Perhaps he didn't need the sun after all.

The shadows loomed from the high windows, casting shapes on the floor. He had ordered everyone to leave the throne room, now devoid of any royal family to occupy it. It was his to take, rightfully so. He had the Lantsov ring, and he was the only higher up left. Genya had taken care of the king, Nikolai had taken care of Vasily, and the queen had been scared away with her daughter, now both exiled in Ketterdam, if they could survive it.

She was wearing a red kefta over a black dress, borrowed from one of his heartrenders. Even if she did not possess the abilities of a grisha, he had to admit that she had complete control over his heart.

He had changed the world and she had changed with it.

"How would you feel about being queen?" He asked as she watched the single throne from the bottom of the dais.

"Not as appealing as I thought it would be." She replied turning to face him.

"Would you want a wedding?"

"I think I might die if I ever saw you in white. And I didn't know you were so excited to take my last name."

He chuckled at the thought, maybe getting rid of the Morozovat title would do him some good.

"You look sad, why is that?" She pressed her hand against his cheek, calming his features instantly. "I'll ride the sadness out of you if that's what it needs."

"You didn't use to say things like that. I'm going to wipe that smile off of your face if you keep that up."

He took her hands from his face, pulling her up the stairs towards the throne. He let her sit on it, the red clashing with the pale gold of the chair. She sunk into the creamy cushions and looked back up expectantly at him.