#♚❄ —— ❝ isen 》 main verse

[iskron]

@korolnichevoya asked

‘ the trap is loneliness, and no one escapes it. not even me. ’

HIS COUSIN'S glance seems so far away all of a sudden, Rasmus fears he will lose himself in the deep blue pools of his eyes if he keeps staring at him.

❝ and here i was thinking, lovely cousin, that out of all people you'd be the least lonely..❞

A TIRED SMILE spreads over his ashen face as he reclines further into the plush cushions of the divan he is resting on, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing alone.

❝ who could be lonelier than me? a prince who can barely walk without collapsing? ❞

[iskron]

THE MENTION of his brother seems to shake the king's PERFECT façade of composure. rasmus can only imagine the grief he has gone through. vasily was ... well he was special to him as well. cousin vasya. the one who'd introduced him to kvas in the first place and had laughed at him when he couldn't stand a single sip of it.

❝ a shame . he would have made a great king . ❞

not an as DANGEROUS one as nikolai but still. efficient. probably. maybe. what did he know about the ravkan way of ruling a country?

❝ i hear he spared no costs to BRIBE the servants . ❞

a wry smile spreads over his lips , his wrist flicking , swirling the kvas in his crystalline glass . people were mingling in front of them , amicable conversations being held but rasmus only had eyes for the king next to him . he DOUBTS the man would succumb to something so mundane like poison with this many witches around .

❝ the fjerdan ambassadors are not fond of you either. i'd steer clear of them if you can , i know one has brought his favorite dagger and is keen on letting it taste your blood . ❞ the brutal , honest truth . and yet rasmus has rarely had as much fun in his life as tonight . his cousin is good company .

❝ my mother was asking about her sister not long ago ... why didn't you invite your mother -❞

a shuddering cough slips from his lips , shaking his entire form as he gasps for breath , catching his breath again rather quickly . he couldn't have known about the heartrender standing guard behind them who'd held an ever so steady grip on his organs - easing the inflammation in his lungs , the struggle in his heartbeat .

❝ ah , excuse me . i'm sick ... but it's not just me , is it ? i heard vasily too has collapsed at a fete a few years ago ... ❞

TALKS ABOUT ravka's line of succession had spread all the way to fjerda and beyond. the crown prince, could he possibly have been DOOMED too - like rasmus himself ? they would never find out , the darkling had made sure of that.

iskron​:

RASMUS STARES at the King in blatant disbelief, SURPRISE filling his pale features. He knows his cousin fought in the war against his nation, he knows he faced horrors beyond his comprehension and yet he didn’t think of him to be this BRAVE. Brave but FOOLISH nonetheless.

❝ you will wish it was me who sent the assassin’s, cousin. you are more valuable to me alive than dead. ❞

Killing the Tsar of Ravka was detrimental, catastrophic at best. Vadik Demidov was no successor to be accepted by the people, a mere puppet of the Apparat, that slimy eel of a priest poking his nose into business that didn’t concern him. THE ONLY RIGHTFUL HEIR WAS VASILY LANTSOV BUT HE WAS DEAD.

❝ I remember your brother. Vasya. He used to let me drink his Kvas when I was little. A shame what happened really. ❞

Another sip of bitter alcohol, a wheezing breath, his glance wandering over the ball room spread out in front of him, knowing that he will never be strong enough to become king. Vasily had been torn to shreds by the drusje made abominations, he heard the tales of that very night.

❝ the apparat wants your head. me? no. i’d avoid the champagne tonight if i were you. unless you favor the taste of poison.❞

                RASMUS  TELLS     him  that  he       doesn’t       want  him  dead ,  and  nikolai  finds  that  hard  to  believe .  he  thinks  if  fjerda  had  the  chance  to  take  his  head ,  they  would  do  so  gladly ,  damning  everything  else .  maybe  rasmus  alone  doesn’t  want  him  dead .  but  the  rest  of  the  man’s  country ?  there  is  something  snarky  on  the  edge  of  his  lips ,  but  the  mention  of  his  brother  kills  it ,  and  a  shuttered  look   passes  over  nikolai’s  features .  he  takes  a  deep  draw  of  the  kvas . 

                ❝    there  was a lot  of loss  that  day ,    ❞  he  says  simply ,  not  willing  to  dive  into  the  grief  over  his  brother  with  the  prince  of  fjerda .  so ,  despite  the  shift  of  conversation  into  a  more  dangerous  direction ,  nikolai  finds  himself  glad  for  it  anyway .  his  brow  arches  slightly .  ❝    is  that  so ?  despite  the  lack  of  an  invitation ,  the  apparat  was  able  to  slide  someone  into  my  palace  with  enough  loyalty  to     POISON     me ?    ❞  he  glances  out  at  the  party .  ❝    and  what  of  the  rest  of  the  guests ?    ❞  his  finger  gestures ,  summoning  a  servant  practically  from  the  shadows . 

[iskron]

Tag dump!

[iskron]

❝ Djel! What are you thinking you are doing? ❞

A voice rang out, quick footsteps echoing through the bright white hallways of the ice court. The words held authority, ROYAL authority, unwavering even in the face of Drüskelle. Opjer might be a last name not too favorable at court in the last months but Linnea is a friend. One of the few he had left. Rëvfeder be damned, her parentage was not her fault.

❝ Let her go. This is an order. ❞

She was no Grisha, none of them witches his country seemed to despise so much. Rasmus didn't understand - on his occasional travels to Kerch and Ravka he had never witnessed any ill-intentions on their side. Once a healer had even soothed the sickness that had taken root so deeply inside of him ever since his birth. It has gotten worse over the years, since he'd last seen Linnea, before she left him alone at court to study in Ketterdam. He was thinner, paler, his skin chalky, almost gray and his chest is heaving from the strain of walking.

❝ It's been ... a while, hasn't it? ❞

He had missed her more than he'd like to admit but standing in front of her, alone, having left Joran with the other guards, he found himself surprised how much he'd actually longed for her presence. Ever since cousin Vasily's death three years ago, he'd found himself lonelier than ever. Nikolai was the Tsar now, a competent one for sure considering how many of their assassinations attempts he had evaded - not that Rasmus had had any hand in it, he liked his cousin very much alive indeed. Even if he was no real Lantsov.

❝ I'm glad you've made it here ... rather safely. ❞

@iskron there you go <3

❛ This is nonsense! I’m no Grisha.❜ Linnea exclaimed as they dragged her out of the room to Djel knows where. Something stirs inside her as she says this. The power buried within protesting against such claim. It startles her for a moment. She shakes her head, begins fighting them off again. No, she can’t be Grisha. She just can’t. If she was, she would’ve known, right? ❛ Let go of me! ❜ She shouts as she struggles to set herself free from the guards grasp. Irons ultimately closes around her wrists and the panic seeps in. She’s all alone and has been forced back into a country that failed her as a child and teenager. Her father is missing and the court swore they would protect her from whatever enemies the man has made and yet—— she might burn at the stake because some old lady at the entrance touched her and decided she was Grisha. 

[iskron]

RASMUS STARES at the King in blatant disbelief, SURPRISE filling his pale features. He knows his cousin fought in the war against his nation, he knows he faced horrors beyond his comprehension and yet he didn't think of him to be this BRAVE. Brave but FOOLISH nonetheless.

❝ you will wish it was me who sent the assassin's, cousin. you are more valuable to me alive than dead. ❞

Killing the Tsar of Ravka was detrimental, catastrophic at best. Vadik Demidov was no successor to be accepted by the people, a mere puppet of the Apparat, that slimy eel of a priest poking his nose into business that didn't concern him. THE ONLY RIGHTFUL HEIR WAS VASILY LANTSOV BUT HE WAS DEAD.

❝ I remember your brother. Vasya. He used to let me drink his Kvas when I was little. A shame what happened really. ❞

Another sip of bitter alcohol, a wheezing breath, his glance wandering over the ball room spread out in front of him, knowing that he will never be strong enough to become king. Vasily had been torn to shreds by the drusje made abominations, he heard the tales of that very night.

❝ the apparat wants your head. me? no. i'd avoid the champagne tonight if i were you. unless you favor the taste of poison.❞

iskron​:

KOROL REZNI they call him. king of scars. rasmus cannot help but scoff at him despite his KINGLY attire. in every inch, in every way, he is Ravka’s sovereign. the Fjerdan prince might not fare well on the physical side of health - it borders on a miracle he was allowed to travel to OS ALTA at all - but what he lacks there he makes up with his mind.

he isn’t stupid. he isn’t a prick who concerned himself more with the pleasures of alcohol or a quick tumble. OBSERVANCE is the key to power, to ultimate knowledge and if he knows one thing, it is how to watch. watch and learn because he cannot do it himself.

rasmus shows NO FEAR as he faces nikolai’s cold glance with trained ease, countering it with a feigned smile, brushing off an invisible speck of dust from his fjerdan blue military dress uniform.

❝ it is what is told in the capital. that you lack strength. that your weakness will be your downfall.❞

taking a generous sip of kvas, his features contort into a disgusted grimace but swallowing it all anyway.

❝ but I refuse to believe such gossip. you aren’t weak. you have powerful enemies. it is more likely you will be murdered in your sleep.❞

             ‘  IT  IS       what   is   told   in   the   capital  .  ’  all   the   better   for   him  ,   then  .   let   them   think   him   weak  .   let   them   think   he   cannot   lead   ravka  .   at   least  ,   that   is   what   he   tells   himself  .   he   barely   contains   the   roll   of   his   eyes   as   the   prince   sips   the   kvas  ,   but   he   merely   chooses   a   seat   and   settles   himself   easily   into   it  .   he   pours   his   own   small   glass   and   smiles   amicably  . 

            ❝    well  ,   if   you’re   sending   assassins  ,   tell   them   i’m   on   the   second   floor  .   the   door   on   the      left     ,   not   the   right  .   everyone   always   manages   to   get   that   confused  .    ❞ 

[iskron]

KOROL REZNI they call him. king of scars. rasmus cannot help but scoff at him despite his KINGLY attire. in every inch, in every way, he is Ravka's sovereign. the Fjerdan prince might not fare well on the physical side of health - it borders on a miracle he was allowed to travel to OS ALTA at all - but what he lacks there he makes up with his mind.

he isn't stupid. he isn't a prick who concerned himself more with the pleasures of alcohol or a quick tumble. OBSERVANCE is the key to power, to ultimate knowledge and if he knows one thing, it is how to watch. watch and learn because he cannot do it himself.

rasmus shows NO FEAR as he faces nikolai's cold glance with trained ease, countering it with a feigned smile, brushing off an invisible speck of dust from his fjerdan blue military dress uniform.

❝ it is what is told in the capital. that you lack strength. that your weakness will be your downfall.❞

taking a generous sip of kvas, his features contort into a disgusted grimace but swallowing it all anyway.

❝ but I refuse to believe such gossip. you aren't weak. you have powerful enemies. it is more likely you will be murdered in your sleep.❞

song of achilles rp starters

@iskron​​ asked               ❝  you have a tender heart. an admirable quality, surely.  ❞

            IN  THIS       moment  ,   nikolai  ,   standing   tall   at   six - foot - two  ,   dressed   in   royal   gold   and   blue  ,   is   every   inch   the   king   he   purports   himself   to   be  .   his   hazel   eyes   are   sharp   and   clever  ,   if   a   touch   dark   as   he   takes   in   the   sickly   fjerdan   prince  . 

            ❝    is   that   what   you’ve   heard  ?   ❞   he   responds   coolly  .   he  cannot   help   the   bitter   distaste   in   his   mouth   at   the   sight   of   the   man  .   the   man   that   funds   the   distant   cousin   that   fights   to   take   his   crown   from   him  .   well  .   they   are   in   for   quite   the  fight   if   they   expect   him   to   hand   it   over  .   ❝    i   cannot   help   but   wonder   who   in   your   dear   fjerda   dare   call      ME      tender - hearted  .    ❞