#gvss20

Zoya had always aligned herself with the moon than the sun. Maybe that was a remnant of the Darkling’s influence, or maybe it was the result of spending nights curled up in a thin wedding gown and staring up at the moon because it was so cold that she felt she’d never sleep. Either way, she’d always thought there was something magical about the full moon.

And this full moon was particularly potent.

There’s an early-fall chill in the air, enough to deepen the boozy tinge on Alina’s cheeks but not enough to be uncomfortable. Around them, frogs and insects scream a bizarre background melody, but after being holed up in the Grand Palace for weeks Zoya finds it vaguely comforting. A reminder of … not better days, not by any mean, but simpler days. She isn’t sure what, but there’s something soothing about laying on her back, staring up at the moon, mind drifting but not lingering on any one thought.

“Sometimes if I need to get away I come out here,” Alina says. Her eyes are closed and her arm is draped over her chest, almost as if she’s asleep. “I like to look at the stars and try to identify them, see if I can find the same ones. I can’t, but I’m still trying.”

It was Zoya’s first visit since Alina’s death. Genya had tailored her to look enough like herself to be familiar, but unlike herself enough that any normal person wouldn’t see Zoya Nazyalensky.   They’d been writing letters, but somehow it just wasn’t enough. Maybe it was the energy from the war that had never quite dissipated, or maybe Zoya just missed her. Either way, she’d decided to go against Nikolai’s wishes and sneak a covert visit.

The three of them had had a very pleasant dinner, for the most part - Mal was really trying to learn how to cook anything fancier than roasted meat, and had done his best to prepare some sort of stuffed rabbit dish with various greens. He hadn’t realized that the recipe book he’d purchased from an elderly woman was ancient, smudged, and half written in Fjerdan. The result was a meal that was somehow both too bland and filled with too many contrasting flavors, but at least the meat was cooked well. But they’d washed it down with lots of laughs and lots of the champagne that Zoya had brought, and then her and Alina had wandered into the woods for some quiet time.

Alina turns her head to look at Zoya, who looks over at her in turn. “How’s the future of Ravka?”

“A dumbass,” she replies, and Alina laughs, the sound echoing off of the trees around them. “Doing his best, but a dumbass.” She neglects to mention the lingering curses. There’s no need to worry her, not after everything she’d gone through. She was dead and free of the Darkling. Besides, this was a friendly visit. Serious business could wait. “How’s retirement?”

Alina snorts. “Quiet. I’ve started drawing, but I’m terrible. I tried to make some bread yesterday, but it didn’t rise. Ended up feeding it to the birds.”

She looks happier  , Zoya thinks. She’s radiant, and not just from the champagne, and not in the frightening way she’d been when using her powers. She looks like a girl, a bit tired, but glowing against the moonlight. Or maybe glowing  from  the moonlight?  She looks just as good in the moonlight as she does in the sunlght , she thinks, but then banishes the thought. “And your retirement partner?”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and instead she turns her head back to the sky. Her eyes drift shut again, and Zoya can’t help but stare at the way the wind slightly ruffles her white hair as it’s fanned out against the grass. Eventually, Alina says, “I don’t know. It’s weird?”

“Weird?” Zoya pulls herself up onto her elbow, brow furrowed. “Is he being weird? Is it a man thing?”

Alina shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. I don’t know. We tried the romance thing, and it was nice, but it was weird. Like I love him, and I know that, and he knows that, but it just didn’t feel right. I think… Hear me out, but I think it was like what it would feel like to kiss my brother, you know?”

Zoya wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“You don’t need to tell me that!”

Zoya opens her mouth to respond, but she feels something small and damp hit her cheek get into her mouth. She spits into her hand what tastes like... grass? “Hey!” She rips up a handful and throws it at Alina, who throws more at her in turn. Alina rolls away, but Zoya summons a small gust of wind to target a burst of grass to Alina’s neck. They carry on, throwing and running around the clearing until Alina slips in a small patch of mud, landing sprawled out on her back.

By the time they’re done, they’re laughing hard enough that their ribs hurt, and Alina’s white hair is flecked with green. “I think I needed that,” Zoya confesses, and she certainly feels lighter than she has since the war began.

“I think I did too,” Alina says, and the smile lingers on her face. “I’m trying to relax, but I don’t know what to do all of the time? My time has never just been my own.”

“Some of us have real problems, and you’re complaining that you’re  bored  after  saving the world ?” Zoya says with a grin, and that gets another chuckle from Alina. “You’re always welcome to help me wrangle the royal nuisance.”

“And spend time with you?  Never ,” she responds, then reaches to brush a strand of grass out of Zoya’s hair. Her hand hesitates, just briefly, inches from Zoya’s ear, but she continues the motion. “No, but I think I want this. I miss you though.”

“I miss you too,” Zoya says, “And I…”  Say it, Nazyalensky,  she thinks,  You’ve never had a hard time voicing your thoughts before . But this is different. It’s not a random Second Army boy or girl that she found attractive and, because she was Zoya Nazyalensky, they’d kiss her back because she was the best and brightest. It’s Alina, Sun Summoner, someone she was horrible to but who eventually forgave her, one of her closest friends. And she’s been staring at her lips all night, and suddenly she’s a little bit too tipsy on laughter and champagne, and her heart feels like it’s about to burst from her chest. “And I kind of want to kiss you?”

Alina’s eyes flutter, and she fingers the seam of her skirt. For a moment Zoya thinks she’s steeling herself to say no, or to run, but then she turns her head to the side and captures her lips.

Kissing Alina feels like summoning a massive storm, the energy from the lightning running straight through her. Her lips are dry and her breath smells of old champagne, but Zoya is electrified. It’s never felt like this before, not when she’d kissed Genya once while very drunk, not when she’d kissed Mal, not when the Darkling had said he was proud of her and kissed her. She’s never felt so excited and yet at ease. As if she’s  home , a concept she hasn’t considered for years, laying on her back in a clearing and kissing a saint. When she pulls away, Alina’s eyes are half-closed and that small smile remains on her lips.

“We should go back before Mal thinks a hunter mistook us for deer,” she says, hefting herself off of the ground with some difficulty, brushing the worst of the mud off of her skirt. When she gets to her feet, she turns to Zoya, offers a hand, and says, “And we should do that again sometime.”

Zoya stands, kisses her forehead, and they walk together hand-in-hand under the moonlight.