The Grisha Diaries (A Darklina Fanfic)

Chapter 1: Night Changes

MAL AND I SPENT a day and a night in Os Alta, saying our final goodbyes to our friends and readying ourselves to leave before sundown, allowing us enough time to be far from Os Alta when Genya's facial concealments would inevitably expire.

The day had been a day of celebration. Ravka's greatest enemy, the Darkling, and his fearless adversary, Sankta Alina were officially announced dead, by the peoples' King and Saviour, their Korol Rezni, Nikolai. A bright future for Ravka was conceived today. Not the day the battle was won, but the day after, when Grisha healers tended to the first army and civilians and when their King paraded the success of Ravka as civilians partied in the streets. The people sang to their hearts content to thank the Saints that the Fold was gone, leaving in its place a dessert of sand covered only by pure white, fluffy clouds and eye-blindingly natural sunlight. And in that endless empty sand, the people left grand memorials for their beloved Sankta. Reports of flowers, gatherings, pyres, and art of endless forms followed us back to Os Alta.

In the end all saints must be martyred to be truly exalted.

Mals' arms tighten around me in a suffocating hold, desperate to never let go of me again. And I fold into him in response, needing the constant reminder of Mal's chest expanding and collapsing with each breath.

Unable to participate in the events of the day, Mal and I watched the celebrations from the high windows of the Grand Palace. While watching, we spent the day planning our future together. As children we dreamed of traveling to the isles that litter the true sea, to drink in the tea houses of Shu Han, and to place bets in the Fjerdan arenas. That last one was more of Mal's dream, but it has the promise of adventure. My death was celebrated today, yet my smile never fell as we added to our dreams, a family, a farm, maybe our own orphanage. And, when the sun next rises we shall do it all.

At an intimate late night dinner with our friends, Mal eagerly accepted advice, horses, and goods, thrilled to accept our friends assistance with our happily ever after.

Calloused fingers dig into my shoulders even as Mal's breaths begin to catch a slower rhythm. As the minutes pass, the heat between our bodies radiates to an almost insufferable point as my body begins to feel sticky. It's funny how one continues to learn about themselves and just now I'm learning I despise the sensation of another's foot rubbing against my own. I ever so lightly try to push Mal's leg away to relieve the uncomfortable prickling sensation.

The longer I allow my mind to wander on it's own, reflecting on every word of the day, ugly shadows begin to invade the edges of every conversation. In reality today was a distraction, my friends and I unable to wrap our heads around the losses we experienced. Celebrating when we should be mourning. Myself guiltier than anyone, running from the responsibility left in my wake.The last few months have been a long series of missions and I'm not honestly sure if any of us learned how to grieve properly along the way.

I know Nikolai is disappointed in me. He gave every politeness and wished us every joy, but his ego wasn't on par with his usual cockiness considering how fervently he was revered by his people today. And when we said goodbye to each other I know there were words he left unsaid. But, he knows as I do that I have no conceivable future in front of me other than with Mal. And Nikolai, his future is clearly set as well.

Sometimes trauma presents itself unexpectedly when your mind is left to it's own devices. Crying, that's a normal response. Celebrating for an unknown future; that feels scarier.

I slowly loosen Mal's grasp around my body and pray it doesn't cause him to stir, turning myself ever so slightly for the gloriously relieving cooler air.

The way Mal maintains a wide soft smile even in his sleep you would never know the woman he holds stabbed a knife into his chest a mere day ago. I've seen this sweet loving face filled with pain and determination as he guided my hand to his murder. My heart begins to race with the imagery and I blink furiously to get the picture out of my head.