#{isen ne bejstrum}

[atac-agent]

Helnik || GHOSTS OF OUR PAST

Timeline: Just after Crooked Kingdom, right before King of Scars

Prologue

masterlist // chapter 1

---

The girl stood at the edge of the world, where the land met the sea and the past whispered secrets to the present. The wind carried the salty tang of the ocean, mingling with the chill of the approaching winter. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, seeking warmth against the cold that seemed to seep into her very bones. But no amount of warmth could thaw the icy grip of sorrow that held her heart.

The boy had been her enemy once, a hunter whose sole purpose was to capture and kill her kind. Yet fate had woven their paths together in the most unexpected of ways, turning hatred into love.

Now, he was gone, and the girl was left to pick up the shattered pieces of her life.

She had promised to take him home, back to the land of ice and snow that had shaped him into the man he had become.

"Wanden olstrum end kendesorum," she whispered to herself, her words carried away by the wind. "Isen ne bejstrum."

The water hears and understands. But the ice does not forgive.

[nrth-wind-a]

The chokehold that this image has on me.

[nrth-wind]

[Sticks my leggy out. Who wants a Skrael?]

[nrth-wind-a]

Skrael's feet were inches from the ground as he idly, nearly lazily floated into view, just on the edge of a shadow.

"Must they?" They countered, raising a snowy brow. "Perhaps I'm watching you for weaknesses. What if I decided that a troll sounded tasty this afternoon?" Skrael's gaze slid from the Gumm-Gumm's eyes to the tips of his toes, and then back up again, as if proving a point.

But there was no action behind their words, and there was no danger in their dark sclera. Only false disaffection, as he broke his gaze from the troll to stare at his own blackened fingernails.

"I wonder how much trouble I'd have were I to pick a fight with you... More than I would with most of your ilk, I believe." His eyes flicked back to the troll. "You have something they don't, no?"

@nrth-wind

Usually, when Sturm found a project to occupy his time, he was completely engrossed in the fiddly bits and intricacies his devices had to offer him. But also usually, the Gumm-Gumm lacked eyes watching his back without his knowledge.

Head lifting at the soft prickle of a being entering the near vicinity, crimson shifts as Sturm's head turns towards the direction his electroreception pointed him. There. Among the trees. A horned, pale entity, slight enough to seem unthreatening at a glance... But with a exploratory prod of static magic returned to him information of power.

Ears quirking as hackles ruffle around spine quills, the bull allows himself to blink before rumbling out a hail towards the stranger. 'Questions must be on jour tongue if ju are staring...'

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “You’ve been strong your whole life, it's okay to feel weak for a moment.”

Song: Carry You - Ruelle

For Tolya x Reader pls!!

Almosts - Tolya Yul Bataar

Trigger Warning on this one folks, I wanted something that felt closer to book content, so I leaned into the Kanej scenes that lead to Kaz plucking out a dudes eyeball, so given that context, strap yourselves in okay?

Grisha Reader, Order Unspecified.

Trigger Warning On This One Pals.

Content Warnings: Kidnapping. Torture. Ideas Of Self Sacrifice. Plans/Thoughts/Ideation's Of Suicide In Context Of Mercy In The Face Of Captivity, Exploration Of The "Better To Fall On Your Own Blade, Than Be Held Prisoner," Mentality. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Part 2

Wherever you are is dark, but it's not cold, if anything it is a little too warm and at times you wonder if they're trying to sweat you out, slowly bring up the heat until you're delirious. There would definitely be more efficient ways to get to you, but you don't know who is holding you, or the extend of their motivations, so their tactics are beyond your comprehension.

You have no doubt what they are after, information you will not willingly give them. You had been trained for these kind of situations, but they were behind you, your days of playing spy for a country that barely noticed if you lived or died were over. You were working for your heart now, and your heart alone, it just so happens that your heart is so closely attached to the Ravkan royalty. A fact which is likely the culprit in your containment.

They think they know something, things they could use, and you might, you probably do, being as close as you are to the Kings Guard. Being as close as you are to Tolya, you know a lot more than you would want anyone to be aware of you knowing.

The visit you get is shortly after you hear the ringing of bells, you think you count three, but in the space you are in you have no way of telling if it day or night. You cannot see the face of the man asking you questions but his accent is easy to place, clearly Fjerdan. You don't like that knowledge, it makes you aware of a pit in your stomach that your heart threatens to fall into.

You are asked questions and you reply in long silent stares, the threats pass you by, and you do not react to them. It never really matters how long ago you stopped being a solider, Baghra had once told you, because the training sticks with you. You doubted her, hoping that having severed yourself from your duties and with enough time passing you could become something more, something outside of the spy you were trained to be, the deceiver and the devoted. But you were grateful for the truth of her words now. All the old teachings bubbling up like they were fresh lessons you'd taken only yesterday, allowing you to not as much as flinch in the presence of your captor. Though you know the threats are not empty, not hollow persuasions and there was no pleasant time to be spent in this prison of their making. They wanted answers, and if you did not give them the answers they wanted, they would extract them from you by whatever means they deemed necessary. You weren't considered human to them after all. You being grisha made you nothing more than an abomination to them. The man talks low, in Fjerdan, and you never were the most apt at language but you recognise one of the words as clearly as in your own tongue, drüsje.

You don't appreciate the man talking words you couldn't understand, and you appreciate less the way he was talking about you. So you sit up, trying to remember anything you could about the language he is using. After all, nothing is more likely to rile up a Drüskelle like hearing their own language in the mouth of a grisha. "Wanden olstrum end kendesorum," you say, and you're sure you're butchering the translation, but you don't have it in you to care, you can barely even remember what the saying means, something about ice not being merciful. "Isen ne bejstrum."

That gets a rise from the man in the shadow. "Tig!" He yells at you. "You have no right to our words, in our tongue."

"Like you have no right to hold me, or is that simply because I am what you consider to be wrong?" you ask.

"I will return soon," he warns you, "and next time I will not be so kind, so consider your options, witch."

"My options," you lean back against the hard wall, "die slowly or die quick?"

"Exactly," he says and closes the door. You hadn't expected him to be so forward, but you knew that was what the situation was. No Fjerdan was going to let a grisha captive go just because they cooperated. There was no making this out alive if the Fjerdan's could help it. Your only real chance was escaping which given every angle you have considered seems nigh on impossible, or to be rescued. You didn't doubt Tolya, or the others for that matter, you know he would try, nothing could stop him trying, but you're not sure that will be enough. You're not sure exactly how much time you can buy yourself to allow him to get to you.

When you're sure you are alone again you shake your arm against your restraints and hear the gentle sound you were hoping to find.

The blade concealed in the fabric of your sleeve, so thin that they wouldn't notice it if they didn't know what they were looking for. An old habit from the work you did for Ravka before, an old habit that your generals used to call 'insurance.'

The blade is durast made, and needle sharp. It's not a blade for fighting, it's a blade for when you're out of options, backed into a corner and have nowhere left to go. It's a blade designed for mercy over the torture you might endure at the hands of your captives, mercy before you can betray what is close to you, and then die for the privilege.

The weight of the blade in your hand is almost non-existent, light as a feather, or a hope. You let your mind run away from you, thinking about home, thinking about card games with Tamar, and arguing over the colour choices with Genya, watching the way David scribbles additions to the list he has that helps him with reminders of ways to bring his wife joy, because she deserves it more than almost anyone you've ever known. You let your mind think of Nikolai looking for any excuse to be less official, leaning over balconies and smiling at the distance, like a boy who's heart is still somewhere out on the ocean. You let yourself think of Zoya and the way she rolls her eyes in a filled room, but somehow never lets you make it through a meeting without a warm drink in your hand, you'd never once asked her, and she had never once asked how you took it, she just knew, she noticed you guess. For all her cold exterior, Zoya had an unintentional tendency to love, even if she couldn't recognise that was what it is. The hardest part is when you let your mind wander to Tolya, you can see him in your mind as clearly as if he was beside you, the version of him you hold close to you, in your memories is kissed by the morning sun, smiling in the morning light, looking far too large to be sitting in the window, but he is doing it anyway, legs against the outer wall, like he could jump down if he wanted, disappear into some adventure, like some hero you'd framed him as in your mind. Your hero. Tolya Yul Bataar, the best part of your history, the thing you'd always be the most grateful for.

You feel the blades weight now as you let yourself think of him, and you force yourself to think of what it means for him if you decide to use it. Losing him, the idea of it alone is the cruelest thing you could experience, and you know that he would not feel dissimilar. But what they wanted from you, the blood they were going to spill in the search for answers, answers you could not give without giving up everyone you cared for, Tolya most of all.

You stare at the blade, wondering, what choice would be more painful, to betray or to leave them alone to preserve what you know. You would rather die than turn on Tolya, you know that as surely as you know anything, you would take his promises to the grave and nothing would stop you from doing that. Even if it means falling on an old insurance policy created by a loyalty you were sworn to without choice, to protect the only thing you would always be loyal to without even asking.

You slip the blade back to where you had found it, not ready to make that choice yet, not ready to give up on the idea that Tolya might just be the hero from all the stories and get here just in time.

You lose track of all sense of time as it passes, creeping by. The third time the Fjerdan visits you're left with a threat you cannot ignore, and the resounding copper taste in your mouth.

You move your arm the best you are able, between your injuries and the tightened restraints and you feel the blade slip out of its holding once again and fall into your hand.

You press a finger to it's tip, and you don't feel it cut into you, you're only sure it has when the blood wells up in a bright red bud on the end of your finger. So thin, so sharp a blade that it might as well slip between nerves at it's finest point. After all, the blade was designed for mercy, designed for moments when you know you're going to die but want to do it on your terms, not theirs.

You try not to think of Tolya. Knowing there is no kindness for him in this. If they kill you, or if you fall on your own blade his loss is the same, and they're matching wounds that only heal slightly differently. You'd hope he would know why you'd choose this option, but lingering on the thoughts of all the things he might feel when he finds you, if he finds you, only makes a pain worse than any torture bleed into your system. Thinking of him makes you want to live more than anything else, but that is becoming less and less of an option.

You hear the movement outside, and your instincts kick in. He shouldn't have been returning so quickly, time may not be real to you but you can still follow the sounds of routine. It doesn't make any sense, but you cannot risk him finding the blade without a chance to use it, losing your only merciful out is not an option. You grip the blade tighter in your hand, which is unsteady, so unsteady and you point the blade towards yourself, pointed end resting against your chest above your heart. You take in a deep breath, eyes on the door. If he wants to come early, you can let him watch his failure.

The door opens and you ready your pressure on the blade, but the eyes you meet in the darkness are not those of your captor, but familiar golden eyes of home.

"Tolya?" you ask and drop the blade, it clatters on the hard floor and he doesn't have time to process it before he is beside you, checking you over, assessing your injuries. "Tolya," you smile, "you came."

"Did you not think I'd come for you?" Tolya asks, gesturing for someone else in the doorway to come in and help with the bindings.

"I didn't know if I was strong enough," you say. This is when he lets his awareness come back in, at first he was too overwhelmed by the sight of you, by the knowledge he had found you, that you were alive, that he could keep you safe, and get you home. That he hadn't had a moment to process what he had been seeing when he opened the door. Zoya steps from the darkness and picks up the blade without saying a word, she recognises it instantaneously, and the look on her face causes you a type of pain you cannot describe.

"You devoted idiot," Zoya whispers to herself, giving you a glare before she storms back out.

"Did you not think I'd come for you?" He repeats. His eyes searching yours. He helps you to your feet, and you can hear Tamar down the hallway, in some fight, cursing in more languages than you know.

"I knew you'd come for me," you say honestly, "but I did not want to betray you before you had the chance. Tolya I would rather die than betray you. They wanted me to betray you-"

"Then betray me," he says, your heart stills in your chest, "if it keeps you safe, it keeps you from harm, betray me, always betray me. I can forgive betrayal, but I cannot forgive the loss of you. I could overcome betrayal, but I can not overcome the loss of you."

"Tolya..." you cannot find words, you're exhausted and in pain and you had been coming to terms with the idea you were not making it out, and yet he found you, and so many different feelings are surging through your body you feel fit to fall down. But he holds you, not letting you fall.

"I," Tolya ever the man of words, the poet, cannot find the right thing to say.

"Tolya, get your sister, make sure we can get out of here, I will take them back to safer ground," Zoya says, more of a command than a suggestion.

Tolya's eyes are blazing, like the idea of letting you out of his sight is the biggest insult Zoya could have said. "If you think I am leaving-,"

"Tolya, take that rage, make it useful," Zoya says, "do you think anyone in this place is capable of stopping me?" She moves her hands together and everyone in the room can feel the static, we all know what she is capable of, Zoya Nazyalensky the grisha who learned to control lightening. "No, so you be useful and I will handle this, we got this far do you think I would allow things to go wrong now?"

Tolya's eyes are on you, the idea of leaving you seems so far from right to him, but you manage to give him a nod, against what you want, against your instincts. You want nothing more than to stay at Tolya's side, at his side you feel stronger, you feel safe, you feel like nothing could happen. But you know Zoya is right, you cannot recall a time she was wrong... the one glaringly obvious one aside.

"It's okay Tolya," you tell him.

"We are not done talking about this," he says. You give him a knowing nod, and he pulls you in for a hug, his grip is so tight you're convinced your bones might snap if he wasn't careful, but he is careful, he is always so very careful with you. "I am so glad to see your face again."

"Not as glad as I am to see yours," you tell him before he disappears down the hallway to find Tamar.

Zoya wastes no time, in the hand she isn't using to support you she holds out the blade. "I am not returning this to you," she says. "This was from a time when Kirigan was in charge, and for all his talk about loving the grisha he used us just like the rest of them. This is a relic from a time where we were worth more dead than as hostages, why do you still have this?"

"You say relic like it much longer ago than it was Zoya," you say, "you don't forget that training so easily."

"You sound like Baghra," Zoya scoffs.

"I know," you admit. Zoya looks at you, and for all the sternness in her face you see a concern behind those eyes.

"I am not giving you this back," she says, "but I understand." She places it back into her pocket and puts her attention on keeping you up, and getting you out. “You’ve been strong your whole life, it's okay to feel weak for a moment.”

"I thought it was strength it took to be a soldier," you say, repeating Zoya's own words back at her.

"I've said many things," Zoya admits, "and although I have meant all of them, there are a few on occasion, that I regret." She looks at you, and you look back at her and for a moment you see past the beauty and the fierceness, you see past the Zoya she always shows, the one you've always known and you see something else, you see a Zoya you suspected was always there but doubted you'd ever see. "You're perfectly strong, but your strength comes from your love more than anything. I've not known you as strong as you've become since you've known him. And as much as I would like to say there are stronger motivators for the fight inside you, I saw the way he fought for you, and I see how badly you fought to make it long enough for him to get to you, and I doubt you could get a stronger fight than that."

[prrcyjacksons]

book alphabet — m for matthias helvar

Wanden olstrum end kendesorum. It was the first part of a Fjerdan saying. The water hears and understands. It sounded kind enough but Matthias knew that Nina would be familiar with the rest of it. “Isen ne bejstrum”, she finished. The water hears and understands, the ice does not forgive.

[Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo]

[mars-graveyard]

wanden olstrum end kendesorum.

isen ne bejstrum. why are you like this.

(translation: the water hears and understands/the ice does not forgive)

[lvgvs]

@wiingburnt​ plotted s. Shadow & Bone

                         His mind was still foggy, a thudding pain prominent in his temple. He must have hurt his head while falling --- Sky took a deep breath, blinking the confusion away. Years of training made it possible for him to endure, to carry on. And that was exactly what he needed to do now, he could not lay down and die at the Ravkan border, far from home, far from the place where he was supposed to take root. 

They were still out here somewhere, it was the only explanation that made sense. Brum and the others would never leave him for dead, to rot underneath open sky. They were still fighting somewhere, if he closed his eyes he could sense them still, make himself believe.

One foot in front of the other he made his first careful steps, away from the battleground, from charred trees and upheaved earth. There was a dead Grisha lying close to him, a girl with flamming hair as vibrant as the sparks she had conjured out of thin air only moments before his world went dark. He threw one quick gaze towards her, she was young - she had been young - and for a heartbeat he needed to remind himself of her danger. Drüsje. Another step forward and a sudden movement beside him. Sky froze, turned again. She was alive. She had survived. Like him. 

He should end it, right here, right now, before she woke and made it even harder for him. But then he would be on his own again, in a country he did not understand. Something inside him resisted that thought, urged him towards her instead. "Get up", his voice gentle yet commanding, "You'll freeze to death if you keep lying here" He thought about helping her, but he could not bring himself to touch one of those witches. "You are a prisoner of Fjerda now" - bold words for someone who could barely stand, vision still blurry - "You must face trial, not die here in these godforsaken wilds"

[helnikdaily]

Wanden olstrum end kendesorum. Isen ne bejstrum. —Six of Crows

[transiens-inanis]

Six of Crows Quotes I'm absolutely in love with <3

“I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.” Please- Miss Ghafa really said we'll get over our issues rather than further traumatize each other. And we love her for that !!

“She'd laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.” No, but this quote just makes me wanna die because please the yearning-

“Besides, she was the Wraith – the only law that applied to her was gravity, and some days she defied that, too.” Head empty just simping for Inej-

“Better terrible truths than kind lies.” This one just makes me think so hard- about what?? Yeah, I don't know :D

“Always hit where the mark isn't looking" "Who's Mark?" asked Wylan.” Part 4358783 of me relating to SOC characters

“Brick by brick, I will destroy you.” Kaz Brekker this dramatic bitch-

“I'm the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the barrel.” Kaz being dramatic again <3

“When we get our money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm." "I'm going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me." "Why don't you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kruge for you? That's what the big players do.” Just them not using their brain cells <3

“A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he'll keep to any deal you strike with him.” Kaz Brekker, my beloved <3

“Wylan looked as if he was ready to wet himself. Helvar appeared grim as always. Jesper just grinned and whispered, "Well, we've managed to get ourselves locked into the most secure prison in the world. We're either geniuses or the dumbest sons of bitches to ever breathe air.” You're already the dumbest sons of bitches for me <3

“Nina just liked to flirt with everything. He’d once seen her make eyes at a pair of shoes she fancied in a shop window.” Nina Zenik <3

“The life you live, the hate you feel—it’s poison. I can drink it no longer.” The way this destroys me-

“Shame holds more value than coin ever can.” Wise quotes make my last brain cells go brrr...

“What doesn't kill me better run." Head empty just Kax being dramatic

“She was not a lynx or a spider or even the Wraith. She was Inej Ghafa, and her future was waiting above.” No, but this one just gives me hope for reasons unknown??????

“Usually people don't start hating each other until a week into the job, but you two have a head start.” Enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers again <3

“Wanden olstrum end kendesorum. Isen ne bejstrum. The water hears and understands. The ice does not forgive.” Hmm...

“If your god is so delicate, maybe you should get a new one.” Words cannot explain how much I love this quote <3

[finalgirljpg]

— wanden olstrum end kendesorum. isen ne bejstrum

six of crows by leigh bardugo

[nrth-wind-a]

“now, what do you think about these suspenders ??”  (ALSO FOR SKRAEL.)

It's Always Sunny Starters || Accepting for All Muses

"You're going to have to be more specific, boy." What the hell were suspenders? "And in the event that you are, you should also prepare to be offended."

Skrael shrugged. "Just in case."

[nrth-wind]

Game Changer Starters Pt. 2 II Accepting II @flcralist

Skrael narrowed his eyes at Nari suspiciously. "What manner of spell is that?"

[goldeninkedfingers-blog]

Wanden olstrum end kendesorum; isen ne bejstrum

The water hears and understands; the ice does not forgive (Six of Crows, Leigh Bardugo)

[floraphilautia]

“Wanden olstrum end kendesorum. Isen ne bejstrum. The water hears and understands. The ice does not forgive.”

Kaz      Nina      Jesper     Wylan    Kuwei    Inej 

[ladymacbeths]

@sixofcrowsnet heist: fjerda

“Wanden olstrum end kendesorum. Isen ne bejstrum. The water hears and understands. The ice does not forgive.”