⚜️ ODD ⚜️ Aleksander Morozova [ENGLISH]

2 • Беглецы

2 • Fugitives

For days between sky and road, Darya rode with her small group of soldiers, a footman and two handmaids. She wasn't sure of many things, as a matter of fact, she was sure of only three things.

The first thing was that it wasn't yet time to cry. The second was that she needed to find the Darkling. The third one was that she needed to get to the lands she inherited in Novyi Zem.

Out of those three tasks, only one of them was easy: she was far too shocked to cry.

She felt truly useless, for she had no clue on how to find the Darkling. Her greatest assets now were rumors and gossip. Not only did Darya search and listen to every bit of gossip about him she could find, but also spread all the possible rumors that she was looking for him.

After nearly two months, she finally gave up and moved with her ragged company that had picked up a few Grisha along the way to the path that led to Os Kervo.

It was when a clap of thunder shook the road beneath their horse's hooves and far in the horizon there appeared a dark spot that grew upwards and sideways until it looked like it had taken the entire horizon.

With widened eyes and no previous warning, Darya pushed her horse to a fast gallop, therefore obliging all of her traveling companions to follow her. A predicament, indeed, for unlike her, not all of them were good riders.

They spent almost an entire day switching between unbridled gallop and rapid trot so that they could keep up with the princess, who rode no less than the fastest steed in all of Ravka.

When she, at last, found herself before him she wanted to cry, but that was not the moment, Not yet.

He was simply standing there, staring at that mass of thundering darkness in front of him.

"Oh, finally!" Darya breathed out, dismounting from her horse.

The Darkling turned around with a defensive look in his eyes, shadows swirling around him.

"Dasha?" he furrowed his eyebrows, the shadows settling, though not vanishing. "What are you doing here?"

"He killed Ilyana. I had to flee. He must have already killed Vladmir too. We need to go. Run. Regroup." she told in a hurry, approaching in the anxious steps of one who hadn't slept in days.

"Dasha!" he exclaimed holding her by the shoulders and making her look him in the eye. "Were you followed?"

"No. Some people came along with me. They should be right behind us." she said in a restless way, looking behind herself. "We are losing time. We need to go, Darkling! We-"

"Never call me by that name ever again!" he growled furiously, using one of his hands to grab Darya's chin.

"Oh, let go of me!" she pushed him with an annoyed look. "I don't even know your name! How am I supposed to know how I should call you?"

The Shadow Summoner sighed heavily, his stance crumbling, and when both of them looked at each other once again, they saw the exact same thing in the eyes of one another: grief and tiredness. So much tiredness.

For the first time, they saw each other in such an untidy state. The royal advisor and the princess, who used to be dressed in the finest fabrics, every strand of hair in their perfectly planned places, now wearing worn-out ridding attire, tired features, the road's dust in their skins and the wind in their hairs.

"Please, I have no one else." Darya whispered, her voice hoarse and tears threatening to fall.

"Neither do I. Not anymore." he replied in the very same tone, and then as a peace gesture, offered his hand. "Aleksander."