The Summoners' Heir

Chapter 18: For the Love of a Daughter

"Aleksandria," he repeated, smiling now.

It had been over 700 years since I'd last heard that name; Even then, never from him.

My name, his name... a legacy I left behind long ago.

Lifting his attention from the paper, he placed his gaze on me.

I could see his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

I felt sick.

This was uncharted territory.

The General of the Second Army, The Future Tsar of Ravka, The Darkling... on the verge of tears?

It was unnerving.

Was I being manipulated?

I couldn't help but let the thought slip through my mind.

As I thought things couldn't become more unsettling, he began to make his way toward me.

I shot a glance at Mother, but all she offered was a shrug in return.

When he was close enough, he reached out, cupping my cheek with such tenderness.

He closed his eyes, letting a single tear fall.

Under his breath, he spoke my real name once more, claiming me.

Our legacy.

However, this was different.

Different from how he claimed the Grisha, and not like how he claimed Mother and her power for a while.

"Moya Aleksandria."

I had never felt more seen.

I hadn't realised, but whatever possessed him now had a grip on me. I was crying now, embracing the ache in my chest. Before I realised what was happening, I closed the gap between us, wrapping my arms around him. He immediately responded. I felt strong arms seize me, enveloping me in a warm, protective embrace.

A sudden panic gripped me.

What happened to the Darkling?

Why does he lo.. care now and not in my time?

This made no sense. I was just the Darkling's General, I reminded myself. He didn't care. He never had. This was probably his way of trying... now I was mad. How dare he! How dare he manipulate me!

I shoved him away.

The look on his face was excruciating.. a kind of pain I had never seen. Had I... no, it was just a game he was playing. Mother's face was the definition of worry at this point. All I wanted to do was run into her arms. Pathetic. Eight centuries of daddy issues in the making.

Stupid, child.

"Aleks..." he began.