After the War

One

Of course she loved him.

After all, she had won a war for him. She had given up the opportunity to become Ravkan royalty, the chance to protect her country, and all for Mal. Alina knew she would do it all again the same way if she were given the chance. Of course she loved him, he was her husband, her partner in crime, her best friend.

But he would never understand.

And Alina didn't expect him to. There was no way he could know what the war really stole from her, even if she told him. It took her light, her name, and countless innocent lives that she couldn't atone for. She felt scraped empty, and the days no longer had any meaning.

Mal didn't seem to notice, at least, not as much as he maybe should have. He knew his girl was different, that something was irreparably changed in her, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to comfort her. He brought her flower tea and stole kisses when the children weren't looking, and Alina almost hated him for thinking that would do any good. But it wasn't his fault. They had been soldiers long before she was a Sun Summoner, and he was just processing things the only way he knew how.

To fill empty time, she used to paint. Strange murals filled the dark corners of the orphanage, captured pieces of a life that didn't belong to Alina anymore. Tea with Genya, sparring with Zoya, a kiss almost shared between her and Nikolai. To Mal's relief (and every so often, concern) she never drew the Darkling. The walls were covered in angry, black scribbles where she might've drawn him otherwise. But, as their third winter at Keramzin approached, Alina had stopped painting. She just stared at those black scratch marks of her own making, sometimes for hours on end. It wouldn't be until Mal came in the evening to help her to bed that she would realize the hall had grown dark around her, the day had come and gone. And every night was like that. Her mind was always somewhere else. Mal would take her to bed, they would have sex. He has nightmares. She doesn't sleep.

But there were good days, too.

"Aleksandra?"

She ignored him, hoping to nap a few minutes longer. Aleksandra was the false name she had chosen for herself, for guarded reasons that she kept close to her heart.

Alina was stretched out and sunbathing on a windowsill in the library, like an old cat. Mal kneeled in front of her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Mm, just a few more minutes?" She purred.

"You know Prince Perfect doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Her eyes shot open. "Nikolai is here?"

Mal hesitated. Even though it had been years, he was wary of the King's affections for his wife. "The kids are ecstatic."

Alina, sensing her husband's unease, pulled him towards her. She gently kissed him and laughed. "Of course they are, he always brings presents."

"Really? I thought it was the charm and undeniable charisma."

The couple looked up to see Nikolai leaning in the doorway, and Alina bounded towards him. He tried his best to keep upright when she nearly threw herself into his arms, wrapping herself tightly around his neck. It had been almost a year since his last visit, and seeing him was one of the few things she looked forward to.

They pulled apart laughing, and Alina smiled wide. "You didn't tell us you were coming!"

"You know I like a dramatic entrance. Besides, I think if I gave forewarning, Mal would board up the doors and windows."

Mal hadn't any need to change his name, because Malyen was a common enough name, and only the people closest to them would have any knowledge of his connection to the "martyred" saint.