Baddie Alina and slightly better Darkling?
What if Alina and stayed the night of the winter fete instead of running away? What if she had chosen the Darkling over Mal? What if the Malina ship sank fast and the Darklina ship sailed?
All these charact...
FYI everything inside the ==== is directly from the book.
Alina's POV
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My toes were frozen in my boots, but I kept running. Snowflakes had gotten caught in my hair and lashes, but I didn't reach up to brush them away. My fingers were cold and stiff, but I didn't try to warm them up.
Why?
Because I didn't care.
With the steady crunch of my fur-lined boots in the packed snow came a single thought with each stride.
Idiot.
Idiot.
Idiot.
Idiot.
Idiot.
My mind was empty and my body was numb. Stumbling into a clearing, I collapsed on the edge next to a bush. I stared blankly at the red, snow-covered berries hanging in clumps, wondering if I could just disappear into the snow. I saw red on my knuckles - the Black Heretic's blood. The edges of my vision were tinged red with anger at him for lying and anger at myself for believing him. My fingertips were red from the cold. Red, red, red.
I screamed into the forest. Anger, fear, frustration, rage, hatred, and disappointment echoed back at me. After that, I was silent, tears quietly tracing paths down my icy cheeks.
I don't know how long I stayed there, but soon the sun began to set, sending color streaking through the sky. I didn't notice, though. It might as well have been in black and white for all I cared.
I must have fallen asleep because the next time I opened my eyes it was dark. Stars glittered in a jet-black sky, and someone was standing over me. Sitting up and rubbing my eyes, I almost screamed. There was a massive stag standing over me, looking down at me with huge, soulful, brown eyes. I could see flecks of gold shimmering in the brown, and it created a hypnotic effect that made it impossible to look away. Its giant rack of antlers shone in the moonlight as if with a light of their own.
Looking to the glade, I saw other snowy white bodies gracefully dipping their heads to nibble at the frost-covered grasses. Not knowing what to do, I froze. Abruptly, I recalled what I was here for. The stag. Morozova's stag. The one I had dreams about. The one in front of me.
Deciding that if it hadn't hurt me yet, it wouldn't, I slowly stood, not breaking eye contact. I reached out and hesitantly touched the stag's nose. Running two fingers down its soft snout, I took a slow step forward. I stopped when he shifted his weight from hoof to hoof and snorted, a puff of steam rising from his face. In his eyes, I thought I saw pride. Maybe I was hallucinating, but it looked like he was proud of how far I had come. Sadness, too. Maybe it was because he was going to die, but I didn't think so. It was more of a haunting sadness, the kind that stays with you for a long time.
