#Aleksander morozova x oc

[hottpinkpenguin]

Could I request the Darkling x virgin reader where they go to bed together, but before they sleep together reader changes her mind as she's not ready. She's unsure how he will react, but darkling is super soft and reassuring and tells her they will only sleep together when she's ready/there's no rush or pressure etc...

A/n: I made you wait far too long for this anon!! this was a great prompt and i loved writing it. no one makes me melt more than Soft Darkling! hope you love it <33

Eager

Darkling X VirginFem!Reader Word Count: 2524 Warnings: fluff/spice (no smut), misogyny vibes (but not from Darkling!)

You felt utterly ridiculous standing in the middle of your expansive bedchamber, the lacy negligee Genya had picked out for you doing little to keep you warm. You had the bottom hem bunched in your shaking hands as you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“Deep breaths,” Genya cooed gently as she brushed your hair down your back. You tried to follow her instructions, timing your inhales and exhales with hers. No amount of self-control could quite stifle the terrified stuttering of your heart in your chest. She knitted her brows at your reflection in the mirror.

“It’s normal to be nervous,” she observed softly. “But you shouldn’t be… terrified.” 

The corners of your mouth twitched as you fought the urge to cry. You were grateful for the dim light of the scattered candles in your room. It kept your sour expression cast in shadow. 

“I’m not terrified,” you argued weakly. “I’m just…” Your voice trailed off impotently as you tried to find the right word. Apprehensive? Embarrassed? Exhausted?

“Stressed.” You settled on a word that captured such a small fraction of the emotions swirling in your chest as to be almost negligible. You were terrified, although not in the way Genya assumed. You were anything but unsure of what you were about to do. In fact, you were utterly consumed with desire for Aleksander. The warm knot that boiled low and deep in your stomach confirmed that. Your heart skipped a beat as your pent-up mind thrust imagined scenes into your consciousness: your lips on the curve of his neck… the muscles on his back flexing as he climbs on top of you… his fingers digging into the flesh around your hips…

No, it wasn’t sex that you were terrified of. And it wasn’t Aleksander either. 

The source of your terror wasn’t anywhere outside of you. It was within you. You forced yourself to hold your own gaze in the mirror, staring down the demons in your own eyes. You need to confront this, you chided yourself. No more running. 

You were terrified of giving up this part of yourself to someone else. It wasn’t about Aleksander, and it wasn’t about the actions involved in giving it up. The thing that held your heart in an ice-cold vice was the fear of repercussions. You’d been raised in the Ravkan High Court your whole life, and as the only Lantsov daughter, your worth still hinged on antiquated rules tied to your purity. Your brothers Nikolai and Vasily had never known that kind of pressure, had never been forced to preserve their innocence for the bitter reward of bartering an advantageous marriage. 

You had Aleksander to thank for showing you your worth. He was the one who’d shown you what it meant to be truly valued, truly loved. He was the one who’d intervened on your behalf when you’d been standing at the altar, moments away from an ill-fated marriage to an abusive drunk. All your family had seen was the virginal princess wrapped in white - Ravka’s most valuable gift - and the massive coffers of your almost-husband’s family. Aleksander had seen a woman inches away from marrying what would ultimately be the death of her. He’d been the one to give you a choice. You loved him, completely and utterly, and he would be the one you’d choose to give yourself to, body and soul. 

But as much as you hated to admit it - as much as it stung to confront just how deeply rooted the twisted morals of your upbringing had become within your own mind - you hadn’t come to peace yet. You were flexing your newfound freedom a little more every day. With Aleksander by your side. But you needed more time. 

A gentle knock on the carved wooden doors that separated your bedchamber from the hall outside knocked you from your reverie. Genya stood hastily, smoothing her palm over the smooth waves of your hair one last time. She gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You caught her hand under your own, nodding calmly as you smiled at her. You wondered if she could see the gratitude in your eyes. Aleksander was the first to show you true love, and Genya was the first to show you true friendship. You hoped that one day you’d be able to put into words just how much she’d saved you. 

She hesitated only briefly to smile back before she made her exit, disappearing through the doorway into the hall. You heard her exchange soft words with Aleksander before she closed the door behind her. 

You chuckled when you heard Aleksander knock again gently, asking if he could come in. Ever the gentleman, you thought as you replied affirmatively. The door opened a crack, deep shadows darkening the doorway. Aleksander seemed to materialize out of the very darkness itself. It was a strange manifestation of his powers, and one that you weren’t sure if he was fully aware of. You’d never mentioned it to him, preferring instead to let yourself be caught breathless by his presence each time. 

As always, you felt your breath tangle in your throat for an instant. The sight of him seemed to wipe your mind clean of all the worries and the conflicted emotions, leaving behind nothing more than that burning knot in your stomach. His dark eyes took in the scene before him, lingering on the vast expanses of your skin that he’d never seen before. For the first time since you’d slipped into the sheer, purple-tinted gown, you felt warm. You ignored the urge to demur and turn away under the heat of Aleksander’s hungry gaze. Instead, you rose from your seat in front of the dressing mirror and walked towards him. A gentle breeze from the open window next to your bed made the candlelight flicker, the hazy glow dancing in his eyes as he tracked your every movement. That delicious, warm knot low in your belly tightened at the closeness of him, the air between the two of you practically crackling with energy. 

“You look-”

You silenced what you were sure would have been a devastatingly appreciative compliment by pressing a finger to his full lips. He fell silent obediently, his eyes simmering like coals. It was rare for him to see you so confident. Usually he was the one guiding the interaction, but you felt incredibly powerful as he fell under your spell. His usually tense and vaguely troubled energy completely erased in favor of awe as he drank you in without an ounce of embarrassment. 

You replaced your finger with your lips, pressing yourself against his tall, strong frame. His hands raked up the side of your thighs, bunching the fabric of your gown up on your waist to expose the skin of your hips. His hands kept traveling upward, following your ribs from your sides up into the planes of your shoulders and your upper back. You let yourself melt into the kiss, moaning softly as he drank in every drop of what you were giving him with a hungry, seemingly bottomless need. 

His hands finally found their way up into your hair, tangling his fingers gently but firmly against your scalp as he pulled you back from his mouth. You looked up at him through slitted eyes, feeling drunk and whining at the loss of his mouth. He smirked, relishing in the effect his touch was having on you. 

“Eager are we, pretty girl?” 

Your stomach somersaulted at the pet name, your head spinning wildly as he bore back down on your mouth. His tongue pressed through your open lips, tasting you as if he’d never be sated. You could feel the seams between your thoughts starting to loosen, your mind falling under the intoxicating spell of lust. His hands released your hair and slid down your spine and over the swell of your backside. He hooked his hands under your ass, and you leapt up into his arms, twining your legs around his waist. He caught you easily, the muscles in his arms and back flexing with ease as he guided you backwards towards the luxurious bed. You felt the softness of the sheets envelop you as he laid you down, his weight settling on top of you not an instant later. It was all warmth and friction between you two, each of your hands roaming freely over the other’s body as you kept driving the kiss deeper. 

It wasn’t until you felt one of his hands slip over your naked hip and settle between your thighs that a familiar prick of uncertainty flared to life in the back of your mind. It was quiet but insistent, and like a lighthouse cutting through a thick fog, it brought your awareness crashing back into the moment with disappointing clarity.

Aleksander sensed your hesitation and broke the kiss, his eyes suddenly full of worry as he met your gaze. 

“Where’d you go?” he asked, his voice husky around the edges. The sound of it nearly wiped away the trace indecision that flitted around your thoughts like a gnat. But, as gorgeous as he looked hovering over you with a concerned expression, his breath more ragged than usual, you knew in your heart what your decision was.

“I… I want you… desperately want you. But… maybe not… maybe not tonight.” As the words came out in a halting mumble, you suddenly felt incredibly sheepish. A nagging voice in your head made the sharp observation that you’ve let him go this far, the least you can do is give the man what he needs and finish the job. 

You found you were unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what you’d see in his gaze. You weren’t sure you could bear to disappoint Aleksander of all people. Much like a few minutes ago, you felt the edges of your mouth turn down and tremble, tears threatening your eyes. That hot, lusty urge that had almost consumed you moments before crumpled like tissue paper in your blood, and your cheeks burned with shame.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmured, rolling sideways onto the bed and gently guiding your chin upward with his thumb. “Never discount your needs with me.” His voice was serious, each word heavy with emphasis.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, drinking in the flickers of emotion in his mahogany-black eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” you mumbled in reply. 

“Do not say ‘maybe not tonight’ when what you mean is ‘not tonight’,” he clarified. His words felt like a riddle you were struggling to grasp. Sensing your confusion, he went on. “You deserve better than that. This-” he gestured to your two bodies, still somewhat intertwined on the bed- “will only give us what we want if we are clear on what we need.”

You’d never laid with a man, had never come this far into intimacy with Aleksander, but you recognized the truth in his words on an instinctual level. The bluntness with which he addressed you was strange and refreshing, and it emboldened you. You nodded in agreement, holding his gaze to show him you understood. He smiled after a moment, satisfied with your reaction. 

“My affection for you is not contingent on your body,” he added, anticipating the direction of your worries before your thoughts had a chance to get there. “I love you for all that you are, independent of what you share with me on any given night.” Your head spun, struggling under the weight of what you were sure was one of the most pure and powerful expressions of love that anyone had put to words. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as a crushing wave of appreciation for the man in front of you swallowed your thoughts.

Aleksander watched your emotions flash in your eyes, the tears causing him to frown slightly in confusion. He brushed a thumb at the corner of your lash line, wiping away the moisture there. His touch still sent shivers rippling over your skin, and you smiled at him. Emboldened by his devotion, you took a deep breath in and began to speak. 

“I don’t know how to give away this part of myself, Aleks. After having my virginity prized and sought after and protected for so long, I’m struggling to think of this-” you copied his gesture, referencing the space between you two where your legs tangled in his and your skin pressed on his torso “-as anything beyond duty. It’s getting better,” you added quickly, noticing the twinge of hurt in his eyes. “It is. Because of you. And I do love you. And I want this. I want to be yours, to give myself to you, including my body.” You had to swat away the urge to kiss him as you noticed the involuntary flicker of desire in his gaze at your words. “And I will. But not until I can think of sex as more than just… a gift.” 

The words tumbled out of your mouth faster than you could catch them. When you were done, you bit your lip, unsure if anything you’d confessed had made sense. You waited, studying Aleksander’s face. As usual, he was drinking you in, his intuition grasping at every minute detail in your tone, inflection, and expression. When you’d first met him, you’d been unnerved by how observant he was, how quickly he deduced your feelings and thoughts. At times, his studious attention was irritating  as it meant you couldn’t keep anything from him. But now, when you felt yourself drowning in a million emotions you weren’t sure had names, you were grateful for his ability to read you.

After a few long moments under his penetrating gaze, he smiled, softly chuckling. 

“What’s funny?” you asked, more curious than offended. He reached down and found your hand, resting on your stomach. He interlaced his fingers with yours and brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss there. When he raised his dark eyes back to yours, you saw nothing but adoration sparkling back at you. 

“You are, quite simply, the most incredible being I have ever known,” he said simply, as if he were reading a recipe list to you. “I would wait until the night swallows the sun for you. Whenever you’re ready, my love. You know where to find me.” His last words were mumbled slightly as he rolled over, twisting towards the edge of the bed. As elated as you were by his unequivocal acceptance of your boundary, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit rejected to see him turn to leave. 

“And where’s that, Aleks?” you asked. He half-turned back to you, one eyebrow raised in question. “Where will I find you?” you clarified. He smirked, picking up the candle on your bedside table and blowing it out with a confident exhale. 

“Right here,” he replied, settling in under the covers next to you, his arms wrapping around your barely clothed body and pulling you against him. You smiled in the darkness at the realization that he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you…

[call-sign-shark]

"Happiness was fragile, fleeting, but in each other's arms, they felt alive in a way the darkness could never steal. And every time she laughed, his shadows faltered, as if even they couldn’t bear to dim her light."

notes: this moodboard was done for both "Echo of Shadows" (Aleksander Morozova x Heartrender!OC) and the Peaky Blinders family. I really needed something soft for these two after how dark I've made Heaven's little meow meow in the AU. I mean, I really did them dirty even though they love each other so much so... 🤭

tagging the fam: @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature @cillmequick @evita-shelby @peakyswritings @lunarubra @shelbydelrey

tagging Echo of Shadows' readers: @lunawants , @emtaz-art

[roselibrary]

𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

The Darkling x OC Brekker/Rietveld (Grisha Character)

Trigger Warnings: none

Summary: the generals night sky was what they called her. She made his world glow and in doing so he promised her anything she wished.

Requests are open!

Kaz Brekker often wondered if his sister missed him. He wondered if she ever reminisced about her time with them before she went away. Before she became Grisha. His memory is faint, but he remembers well enough the bright grin, kind eyes that shone their brightest in the dark, the long dresses she favoured and the tight corsets that he only now understands were used as a means of attracting attention. His sister had adored that. Adored the attention her gift gave her. She shone like the stars she commanded flying fast and free and blinked out of sight in his mind just as they did each night. His sister was a shooting star one that had long since left his atmosphere with no intention of returning.

Kaz Brekker remembered the day they came. The red keftas and the blue all stood fiercely in front of his sister who held her otherworldly glow. Then he came, tall, dark, and fierce; a black kefta that swirled about him just as his shadows did. He brought forth the darkness and Kaz watched as his sister glowed; he watched as the stars filled the man's shadows and encircled them both like they, too, were constellations in the sky. Kaz knew, as he hid behind barrels with his brother, that their lives would never be the same again. His sister had always wanted more and as he saw the adoration, greed and, what he would soon come to understand as, lust take hold of the one they called the Darkling he knew his sister would fly away. She, too, had the same look reflected in her own gaze; two souls connected as one that fateful day on a long-forgotten farm. The darkness embraced the stars and in doing so intertwined two souls who would never be parted.

Kaz remembers the shock in his eyes when the darkness faded, and the sun reigned supreme once more. He saw those in red turn swiftly in his direction taking hold of himself and his brother. He watched as his sister's eyes glimmered with something akin to regret and grief before it was gone replaced with that dazzling glow and ethereal smile as she knelt before Kaz.

“Sweet brother, I must leave now. You understand, don’t you? I have to go and help those who are like me but do not worry I will visit,” poor sweet Kaz could not tell how brittle his saint-like sister's smile truly was, “Jordie will look after you, won't you?” his sister turned her head to his elder brother whom was stock still withholding tears he knew couldn’t fall; lest his younger brother realise the true magnitude of this goodbye. Unable to speak the eldest of the two boys simply nodded his head once and swallowed the lump in his throat. The sister's smile faltered for a moment and a degree of hesitancy took up on her visage - at least it did until the hand of a general grasped her own and the assuredness returned tenfold. Once more turning her gaze to her younger brother she smiled sweetly and embraced him for a final time.

A gentle kiss to his forehead and a whispered promise gone on the wind was the last Kaz Brekker felt of his sister before she was swept away in a swirl of black. Ushered into a carriage and lost in the gaze of a man whose eyes were as dark as the night sky, never to be seen again.

[cookies-and-music]

The Scam of a Lifetime.

Aleksander was tired.

Centuries of feigned deaths and new identities had worn him down.

Every day, upon waking, his mind chose a reason why existence was no longer bearable, and he spent the day brooding over it.

That day, it was about the King. Each time the king died, Aleksander had to gain the trust of the new one, prove his worth, and bow to people he could crush with a fingertip.

It had to end.

And it would end with her.

He approached her after the show. In centuries, Aleksander had seen many good actors, but none as skilled as the girl before him. Anya was young, around 16, with brown hair and light eyes. The only thing special about her was the uncanny resemblance to the Queen. It seemed that fate had spared him.

'Let's see if I understand, General Krignan.'

'Kirigan,' he corrected.

'Kirigan,' she echoed. 'Are you telling me that there existed a second daughter of the tsars, unknown to anyone, who disappeared right after birth, and the king is looking for her?'

'Correct.'

 'It seems crazy,' she crossed her arms, leaning on the back of the chair. 'But then, why is he looking for her, after all these years?'

'He is very ill,' Aleksander began.

'The tsar is dying?' the girl widened her eyes.

'Remember that everything we say is confidential, Miss Anya,' he said with a slight undertone of threat, and she nodded. 'The tsar claims that the disappearance of the second daughter is his greatest regret, and he cannot die peacefully until he finds her.'

She seemed to reflect on it for a while; Aleksander could see the gears in her brain turning. When she finished, she raised an eyebrow. 'So, I should go there, give him the farewell kiss, and then what?'

'Then you would retire to the quiet life you know and prefer, in a villa located in the countryside far from Os Alta, with more money than you can count, never worring about working ever again.'

Anya sensed it, the smell of bullshit. 'And what do you gain?'

'A peaceful passing for my beloved sovereign.'

The coldness with which he said it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

She took a second to think about it, but even if she knew he would gain something, Anya thought she didn't care much, as long as she came out of it alive. And rich. Terribly rich.

[][][]

During the carriage journey to Os Alta, Kirigan instructed Anya on everything she could say and, above all, what she shouldn't say. The lost princess Katarina had grown up in an orphanage on the border of Shu territory, never knowing who her parents were. When she was old enough to leave, she became a seamstress. They met in a shop where she worked and sold him gloves.

'But I don't know how to sew,' Anya had objected.

'You'll learn along the way,' Kirigan had replied without looking up from his lunch.

Anya had raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

Apart from that, the journey was mostly silent and terribly boring. The black carriage they traveled in had dark curtains that prevented them from seeing outside, making it difficult to distinguish morning from evening.

For three days, the General was her only company, as he had forbidden her to talk to anyone else to maintain secrecy.

Just beyond the gates of Os Alta, the terrible silence surrounding the carriage was broken by the chaos from outside. Intrigued by the commotion, Anya reached a hand toward the curtain and pulled it slightly.

Outside, an adoring crowd had gathered around the carriage. They threw flowers and shouted, 'Glory to the tsar, glory to Ravka.'

'I didn't know you were so loved, General,' Anya turned to Kirigan, who, with his dark and heavy clothes and long legs, seemed to take up all the space in front of her.

Kirigan moved a flap of the curtain with a finger.

'They're not cheering for me, Miss Anya.'

The girl looked confused, and he handed her a newspaper he had next to him.

'What am I supposed to do with this?' Anya waved it.

'Usually, people read newspapers, Miss Anya.'

She clenched her jaw, swallowing. 'The. P- Prin-cess. Princess.'

Aleksander furrowed his brow. 'Miss Anya... you can read, right?'

'Of course!' Anya seemed almost offended. 'I just don't like it that much.'

Aleksander almost laughed as he watched her straighten up and furrow her brows as if facing an indecipherable puzzle. 'The princess re-tu-returns ho-me.' Anya tossed the newspaper on the cushion beside her. 'I don't understand,' she sighed, looking at Kirigan.

‘They’re here for you, Princess Katarina.' He gave her a half-smile, and Anya's jaw dropped.

'I had never received applause before the performance.'

Aleksander almost laughed.

Around an hour later, the carriage stopped.

'Well, Miss Anya, the show is about to begin.' Aleksander opened a door and stepped out before reaching his hand inside to help Anya get down. As her eyes adjusted to the outside light, Aleksander took her arm and crossed it with his. For a moment, Anya was surprised by such chivalry until she realized that the proximity was necessary only to ensure that no one heard him when he whispered, 'And know that if you back out, no corner will be dark enough to hide you from me, Miss Anya.'

[moonlightgrisha]

Everybody knows

Ch. 9 You decide to take your destiny into your own hands, even if it means disobeying the Darkling's orders. [Masterlist] Previous - Next

You have never been scared of darkness. It didn't scare you when it was a childish game with your cousins, and it still didn't when you grew up and faced long starless nights all by yourself.

But the darkness you dive in, this time, is different. It's thick and cold, and you won't remember anything once you wake up, but just a glimpse of the horror. Shadows. Monsters. Blood.

You finally wake up, and you are not in your tent. It takes you minutes to start recalling the events that led you here, on this unfamiliar bed, with a dry mouth and a strange feeling in you gut.

Your abdomen is bandaged, and when you pass your hand on the linen, it doesn't hurt as much as you expect. You had good healers, but they are not here anymore. You look around and see nobody.

You sit on the edge on the bed and things finally begin to fall into place. You recognize the sober furnishings, especially the war table, filled with papers and notes.

As you are wondering where the the host has gone, you turn to look behind your shoulders, and you see the Darkling lying on a couch. It's more of a bench, actually, and it's impressive how he can rest on such an uncomfortable surface. He seems fast asleep, though. You take your time, looking at him. He sleeps on his side, arms folded, and when you notice a scrap of paper in his hand, you realize that he probably had no intention to fall asleep whatsoever.

You also realize that it is his bed, the one you slept for... how long? You wish you knew. But you are not going to wake him up. The things you discussed - the things that happened - it's all coming back to you, and you have no idea how to deal with all of it.

Someone tried to kill you, and you killed them instead. No, it was his doing, actually. But you signed them up for the execution.

You stand up, feeling overwhelmed, then glance at the General once more. You also found peace in his arms, for a brief moment. Isn't that the scariest thing of all? And while you push away your desire for another embrace, you spot something on the paper in his hand. You bend and gently remove the paper from his hand. He doesn't even flinch, but you feel the touch of his breathing, so close, and conjure all your will not to get distracted.

It looks like a leaftlet, but it is actually a holy picture, like the ones you have seen all your life. But this one is different.

This Saint in the picture holds the full moon on her hands, and her figure is surrounded by pitch black darkness.

"You are awake".

His voice startles you. The Darkling is sitting up, looking at you with hope. No, not hope, relief. You are finally awake, that's what he means to say.

His hands filled with your blood, when he found you in the snow, and there are many things you could tell him. Instead you show him the image and ask: "What is this?"

"That is you, according to some". He stands up, and he would probably come even closer, if you'd let him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine". Right now you only care for this paper in your hand. "Please, explain this."

"Rumors fly". You let him remove the paper from your hand, while he looks at you and says: "I'm afraid we cannot keep discretion any longer, although the King might wish otherwise. Your... spectacle, has been seen by the whole camp".

"I blew up my cover", you exhale.

"You survived", he points out.

You sit on the bed, searching for a place inside your mind for the reality you woke up in.

"Healers worked on you until this very morning", he explained. "That is why I would advise to take it slow".

"I do feel fine".

"I'm glad to hear it". His face suddenly clouds over, and for a moment he's about to speak, but he stops, like he changed his mind.

"What is it?"

"I must leave, now". He gets up and quickly wears his kefta, throwing his heavy black cape on top of it. "But my oprichniki are right oustide. You will be safe. We'll return to Os Alta in the morning".

"And then, what?"

He stops to stare at you. "I'm going to find out now".

There is something he's keeping from you and it makes you mad, but before you can enquire, he's back at your side. You stop breathing, expecting something you just once dared to dream about, and for a moment it seems he will make that dream come true. You feel his knuckles gently caressing your cheek, and it's all very fast, almost like you imagined it. He says nothing, and then he's gone.

You lie back on the bed and time slows down. Too many questions roam in your mind. You want to know who tried to take your life. You want to know where the Darkling is going right now. Are you now his guest, sleeping in his own bed, in his own tent, or are you back to being a prisoner, guarded by oprichniki?

You need to take charge of your own destiny.

When Genya suddenly enters the tent, you think you might have got also hallucinations, now. But she sits next to you and leans over to inspect your face, and you realize she is real.

"I thought worse", she says.

"What are you doing here?" you reply. "I mean, I'm so glad to see you. But shouldn't you be in Os Alta?"

"The King and Queen have moved to the Winter Palace in Ulensk for a few weeks" she explained. "Officially, it is a late winter vacation, but rumor is, it's about something else entirely".

The way she looks at you says more than her words.

"This can't possibly..." you begin, but you don't know how to end. Because Genya is right.

"Everybody knows", she adds. "Everybody is talking about it. The General himself was on his way to the palace, an hour ago. They are hosting a reception tonight, but I think there will not be any other topic of discussion than the Moon Summoner".

You instantly know what to do. "I must go".

Genya's lovely face turns a little pale. "I think you should not".

"These people are deciding my own fate, and I'm not even present".

"Listen". Genya's voice is just a whisper, now. "I am only telling you this so you understand how important it is that you stay here and follow the General's orders. Those men that attacked you... it seems they were Ravkan".

It is your turn to get pale, now.

You never had enemies. And nobody knew who you were, back at home. Except for...

Can it be? Is it such a shame, to have a Grisha in the royal family, that she would have you killed before anybody could find out? She must be so mad, that her plan had the opposite effect.

"Let me go to the Winter Palace", your voice tremble. "Let me look at the Queen in her eyes".

"I just told you this so that you would desist".

"And it didn't work".

"You don't have a proper dress for attending a reception".

"I do, actually. I brought one."

Genya's eyes open wide. "You brought a gown at the battlefront? Saints, why?!"

You feel yourself blushing. "I thought... If something happened to me... at least I'd have something decent to be buried with".

Genya hides her face in her hands, exasperated. "The General will kill me for this".

"I'll do it without your help, then".

She hesitates. She knows you mean it. Then, she gives you a long, assessing look.

"It would be a crime to let you go to the Winter Palace in this state".

This is the moment in which you know, you finally have a partner in crime. You know something inside Genya longs for taking her revenge on the Queen, the King and the whole rotten royal court. The two of you are on the same side, now, and maybe you've always been.

She helps you get ready and slip out of the tent unnoticed, right into her carriage. This is the trickiest part, but Genya knows how to make people see only what they want to see.

Now, on your way to the Winter Palace, you start to feel scared. What on Earth do you think you are doing? This is the most reckless thing you have ever done in your life. You could end up in a really bad place. Also, the Darkling won't like it. But when Genya says: "Maybe we should turn back", you immediately answer: "Not a chance".

And that's settled.

When you arrive at the palace, Genya lets you in the service entrance. She whispers a good luck, before vanishing into the grand hall. You take your time, before following her.

If you do this, there's to turning back. You become the Moon Summoner and you face the consequences.

But destiny is calling you. You hear it, now. It echoes with shadows, monsters and blood, with screams of mad men and whispers you have yet to decipher.

It is now or never.

You follow that call.

Entering the majestic grand hall, everyone turns to you. Some of them look horrified, others are in awe, some are mumbling: "Sankta". Everybody knows who you are.

You silently thank Genya for making you presentable and you march straight to the other side of the hall, where the King and Queen are seemingly conferring with the Darkling himself.

The look on his face when he sees you is indecipherable. He must have worked hard for all his long life, to prevent his emotions to come spilling out in situations like this.

But when you meet his gaze, just for a moment, you see a flash of blazing rage. It breaks your heart, and this is how you know this man has become to you more than you can handle.

You have no time to deal with your heart, now, shattered or not. You turn to the King and Queen, savoring their puzzled look, the utter fear in her Majesty's eyes. Then you give them the humblest smile and kneel. "My King. My Queen".

They definitely did not expect this.

"Raise", speaks the King. "We thought you were still recovering from your battle wound, as General Kirigan was just telling us".

"I feel much better, thank you, moy tsar", you respond. The Queen says nothing, and you take pleasure in her puzzlement, looking at her right in the eye.

It's the hardest part, now, as you shift your gaze to the Darkling, facing him, knowing so many things cannot be spoken, but hoping he will understand.

"I ask the General's forgiveness for disobeying his orders." He can't help but frown a little. You try to smile, but you know you won't charm him that easily. "He had indeed advised me to rest, but I felt compelled to be here today, in your presence."

"How thoughtful of you, dear cousin", the Queen has finally got up the courage to speak. She smiles, fake as her pretty lashes. "You shouldn't have bothered".

You turn to her, relieved to escape the Darkling's glare. "I didn't want to miss the chance to pledge my allegiance to Ravka's rulers, now that I found out I wield this great power"

"A great power?" The Queen does her best not to sound surprised, but she is not the actress she thinks.

"Please, let me show everybody". You gently raise your hand, and something does not go as you planned. The King's guard point their guns instantly, and someone in the crowd screams.

That's when the Darkling finally intervenes. He grabs your gloved hand, takes it down slowly. You look at him, hoping to find an ally, but he's cold as ice. "The Moon Summoner is only going to give a little demonstration", he says. "I assure you, it will be harmless".

His eyes are merciless. You swallow down the hard feeling of pain that just came from your heart, and nod.

He summons his shadows with a flick of his fingers, almost annoyed, giving you a black stage to perform on. You do your best to shape moonlight into a beautiful, gleaming globe. It is a miniature moon, slowly rotating above your head. A pretty trick you did sometimes in your room, as a kid.

The Darkling looks unimpressed. He called you 'Moon Summoner' without any sentiment. You feel something has broken, and while you are filled with wicked pleasure at the clapping of the crowd, you wish he would look at you like he used to. But dreams are useless, and you are in trouble.

You dissipate your moon without driving anyone mad, and the crowd is simply bewildered.

The King is much simpler than his consort, and somehow believes it a declaration of peace. He stands clapping, too. "We are honored to have such a great, rare power at our service."

"Let everybody know that I serve Ravka", you conclude. It is true. A half truth, actually.

The Queen stares at you with a little smile. Unlike her husband, she knows that this is war.

You bow to them while the crowd is still clapping.

As you and the Darkling take your leave, he whispers, so that nobody might hear, but only you. "Why did you come here?"

"You know why", you answer. "To take a stand".

"It was unwise and unnecessary. Also, you disobeyed my orders".

"I'm not your soldier".

"You are now". His words are as sharp as the night breeze that takes your breath away when you step outside. "You choose to fight, and you will fight. You will start training as soon as we reach the Little Palace".

He stops to stare at you, so full of contempt you almost burst in tears. "Welcome to the Second Army, princess".

He never talked to you like this before, and he never called you "princess", until now. You won a battle, tonight, but maybe you lost a war. And you feel so stupid that your dress, the beautiful gown you brought on the battlefield for your burial, worn on the night of your consecration, is black.

Taglist

@mysweetlittledesire@budugu@flostvs1508@aoi-targaryen@sakshi2005@rainy-day-lady

[amiramorozova]

Dual Summoner and the Darkling -Another tale- Pt. 5 Bedroom (18+)

I was pulled from my thoughts when I felt his hand on my shoulder as I looked at him seeing that he was looking in my eyes. "Amira..you ok?" He asked as I nod. Those thoughts about him made me want him more as I leaned in close. "I'm just fine." I assured him as I kissed him. He kissed me back as we started to get enthralled again as he kissed my neck again as I moaned softly. 

This man..he has such an effect on me.. I thought 

I knew too well that it was our soulmate connection but still, I knew what I wanted and clearly he did too as we both removed each others clothes before we let them fall to the floor. I may have been shorter than him but that didn't mean I couldn't outsmart him. I pushed him on my bed as he was surprised and then went over as I climbed on top of him. 

"Amira.." Aleksander said as I knew too well he wanted this just as much as I did. Part of me knew this was just my desire to feel something I hadn't in awhile but then I stopped..could he have tumbled someone else in the time we'd been apart? That thought lingered in my mind for a few moments. 

He put a hand on my cheek as if he could tell I had hesitations "Amira..I've been searching for you all this time." He said as I felt my hesitation slip as I kissed him and he kissed me. I felt him adjust me before he thrusted inside of me as I moaned in the kiss and he used it to his advantage as his tongue slipped into my mouth and I was surprised. 

The pace between us was evident and I broke the kiss as I moaned and leaned my head back..I had a feeling that I shouldn't be enjoying this but I couldn't help it. We kept thing going as I tried talking while tumbling. "Have you tumbled other girls?" I asked as he seemed to only increase his pace as I gasped. 

"Even if I had, none  compares to you." He said as he kept thrusting up into me as I gasped..and moaned as I leaned my head back. Part of me started to scream in my head that I needed to stop but I was too much into this as I knew I hadn't in so long..but the idea that another grisha touched him sort of angered me.. 

"That was not a.." I moaned as he hit just right spot within me that made me tremble, it didn't seem to matter what I did..We were soulmates..We were betrothed..We belonged together. " Amira, eya fyela chi.." Aleksander said as I knew he had to be lying..he just told me he loved me and that couldn't be true.  (Translation: eya fyela chi - I love you)

My mind started to have many thoughts while we continued like why did I even allow this? He was the only one..the only one that I allowed to be with me like this as we moaned before I felt my release hit me. I stopped thinking about Kaitlyn being there as we kept going till we both collapsed after we both reached our end.. he had his arm around me as we both caught our breaths.

He had me look at him as we looked at each other and he seemed satisfied like I felt. "Eye Fyela Chi" Aleksander said as I shook my head. "Stop saying that..you don't." I said as I knew this was a mistake..all of our hookups were mistakes yet I kept making this choice. I removed his arm and got up as I knew if I stayed there he'd just try to remind me more about what just happened. 

Saints..I'm doomed to make this choice over and over with being his soulmate..soulmates always end up together..but this was.. I thought

I felt him come up behind me as he pulled me close to him, the skin contact didn't help my thoughts as he smirked. "DId you or did you not tumble other girls before finding me again?" I asked as I knew the answer..a man has needs. Women had needs too, I had to satisfy my own when I needed. 

I felt him touch my side as his hand slid down it "Yes, I had. I searched everywhere for you..but you seemed to always be so many steps ahead of me..you're different." He said as I looked at him from the corner of my eye. Was I really different? I tumbled with him..how many girls had he manipulated to use them? 

He turned me around to face him "I didn't force you into this. You wanted this just as much as I did Amira.." He said as I hated the truth in his words..I did. I could still feel his hands on me in places no one else had touched even though he was only touching my shoulders. "You're my soulmate..you didn't ask the most important question. What I was thinking about when I was with them.." He said as I wondered if I even wanted to know. "What were you thinking about?" I asked as I figured it couldn't be that bad.. He lifted one hand up to my cheek as he leaned in and kissed me..my mind didn't want to resist all the way as I kissed him back and when he pulled away he looked into my eyes. "You..I thought about how it felt with our on again off again hook ups...how you look so distracted in pleasure..the way you looked just a few minutes ago." He said 

I looked at him in surprise knowing that I was always being a bit harsh. "I am used to not having you around..so forgive me if yo-" "Push you into desire..make you feel things that you know you shouldn't." He said as he moved his hand down and slid his fingers inside of me as I moaned in reaction. "Whatever you do to yourself, is nothing compared to what I do..that brings you pleasure." He said as he started to move his fingers as I trembled under his touch and closed my eyes.

He started to increase his pace as I moaned again "See, your needs need taken care of too..you just need to let someone take care of them." He said as he continued but he backed me up to the wall which gave him more space to probe as I tried keeping my thoughts cleared. "That's it Amira..just let me take care of you.." He said as I tried to not let it show but fuck he knew exactly what he was doing as he knew how to bring me pleasure like no one else. 

He kept up that pace as he wasn't letting up and I moaned but I should have been paying attention to the fact he was also getting hard on my moans cause he removed his fingers as I gasped to thrust inside as he thrusted inito me fast and hard as I gripped on his shouders as we both moaned before it wasn't too much longer we released togther..

Saints..that felt good...but like with every time we cum togther..saints..another pregnancy scare in my future.. I thought

Eventually we pulled apart and got dressed as we walked out..Kaitlyn was having some tea and she whistled seeing us. "Damn, when you both go at it..you go at it for awhile.." Kaitlyn joked as I knew I still had my job. "Shut up." I said 

Aleksander seemed to smirk as he took my hand and kissed it. "I will get you to see that eya fyela chi. I'll see you around.." He said as he left. 

He keeps saying he loves me..no way he does.. I thought

TagList: @lifeisingrey​,  @houseoftoomanyfandoms​, @mizelophsun11​, @budugu​ ,  @wheresthesunshinesblog

[multix-ct117]

Dancing in the Dark

Ophelia Laskin + Aleksander Morozova

the Darkling x the Moon Wielder

{Shadow and Bone}

“He was her dark fairytale and she was his twisted fantasy. And together they made magic.”

[moireia]

another fic i may never write  ↳ raisa karenin, heretics 🌑

Raisa Karenin could never really settle. She was never given the chance.

How could she when every year meant a new village to hide in? Every year meant a new name to learn. At all cost, she had to keep the secret close—one she was never to show and never to tell at the risk of her own life. The secret that her mother could read lies in heartbeats, that her father could mend wounds with a touch, that Raisa could make shadows dance. 

It was hard to make friends when anyone, even another child, could be a threat. When her family arrived at Ryveost, Raisa decided to make friends out of the flowers in the garden and the characters in her mother’s stories. Raisa created the Witch of Duva and Koja the Too-Clever Fox as shadow puppets to play with.

All these stories and all these lies were Raisa’s protection. They were the warnings that kept her safe. They were the lessons she faithfully followed even after her father was lost to the sea. Even after her mother died.

Then, after Ryevost, there was Keramzin.

Even in the loss of all that she knew, there was something to be gained. Keramzin gave her Alina and Mal—her first true friends, the three of them drawn together almost inexplicably. Perhaps it was pity for the new orphan, quiet and a little strange. Perhaps it was sympathy, knowing too well the cruelty of the others who saw you as different. Nevertheless, Alina and Mal were kind when Raisa needed it most.

At sixteen they were drafted into the First Army. It took them on different paths but they found ways to stay in touch. While Mal tracked in the woods and Alina held onto a pen, Raisa took up a rifle and became a sniper. An efficient soldier who took dangerous missions and rose quickly in rank—anything she could do to avoid the Fold. Her father had many theories about what would happen if Raisa entered the Unsea. Would it respond to her? Would the volcra hunt her, seeking shadow summoner blood even from a different line than their despised creator? Would she pass untouched? Madraya argued the risk was too great to ever try.

But then Mal is ordered to cross the Fold. Alina sets a fire and damns herself to stay with him. What choice does Raisa have but to follow? Her mother’s voice echoes in her mind as Raisa steals a cartography uniform and sneaks aboard the Skiff.

For the first time, Raisa ignores the warnings. She cannot leave her dearest friends to the darkness of the Unsea. She would follow them anywhere—even if it means risking discovery.

[ignyxdaughter]

𝐗𝐈𝐗 - 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍

(𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 /𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 𝐱 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧)

MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

A/N: English is not my first language. I’m gonna mix the books and the tv show to make the story line clearer (I read soc, the grisha trilogy and its tales). I don’t own Shadow and Bone and TO/Legacies characters; they’re, respectively, Leigh Bardugo, L. J. Smith and Julie Plec. Also, this is how I think the Darkling is,and some of the events will be changed due to the story's course!

words: 2873

warnings: mentions of witch/grisha hunt

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They are now cuddled, both their backs resting on the Black Heretic's fountain while gazing at the woods. The witch rests her head on the Grisha's chest, hearing the calming rhythm of his heartbeat. Him, on the other hand, lets his thumb caress her arm.

This is all so new to them, so... peaceful. It seems like a weight has left their shoulders as soon as they found equality in each other, the desire of wanting someone to understand them finally fulfilled.

"So—", Katherine's soothing voice breaks the comfort silence "what made you change your mind?"

Kirigan doesn't take his eyes off the tree he's been looking at for the past minutes. He is still enjoying the fantastic sensation of believing that everything is going to be alright now. "I started to think about what you had said. The Second Army is young, none of them have experienced the Ravka before the Fold. They have the idea that the Unsea is the issue, and that all of Ravka's problems will be solved once it vanishes. However, it is the complete opposite: if we destroy it, things will worsen." She nods, patiently waiting for him to continue. "There is no way to guard the entire border, therefore, Ravka will be exposed to many travelers. The Fjerdans and Shu Hans will take advantage of the country's vulnerability and attack. The drüskelle will have more access to accomplish their hunts too." He turns to the woman by his side, who is gazing at him since he started speaking. "Grishas will be in great danger if the Fold is destroyed."

"The Supernaturals too."

"Ravka will be no more safe haven."

"No, it won't."

"Also—", he takes a sharp breath to gather forces to tell her his conclusion "you were right."

The shadow singer's smile almost reaches her eyes. Oh, how she loves to be told that! No matter how many times that often happens, the pride feeling filling her chest always appears. "Pardon? I don't think I quite heard you."

"I won't repeat myself, Katherine."

"Why not?" Her smirk increases as she sees him scowl towards her. "Your words had such a beautiful sound."

He rolls his eyes. "You are not used to hearing that, I assume."

"Oh, no—", she chuckles. "I am more than used to it. After all, I am always right."

"If people see Alina's powers expanding the Fold, they will label Grishas as aberrations again." He ignores her to continue his line of thought. "Another hunt will be made and, with the Unsea blocking the borders, it'll be difficult to escape. The only way to protect ourselves will be killing all the hunters, which will practically be almost all otkazat'sya."

Ravka will be the stage of a massacre, the unsaid words float through the air. All due to the fight for survival.

"I want my country to be a safe haven, not a remembrance of a bloodshed."

Katherine's gaze softens in compassion. She shares that wish with him; she wants the Grishas and Ravka's Supernaturals to see their country as a secure place where they cannot fear. It would be wonderful if Os Alta transformed into what New Orleans is to many: home.

"Although living now more peacefully, your people still dread, Kirigan. Even receiving all the trainment in the world, there is still the terrifying thought of being attacked by the drüskelle and losing a fight with them. That fear will only grow if they witness a magical imbalance, especially one made by their General. Your Army will work based on dread instead on loyalty, and that is dangerous, because, soon, they will grow tired of feeling this." Her light green eyes are full of worry as she looks at him deeply. "This happened a lot through the centuries, and it always ended with the leader murdered by his own people."

"I know. I searched about those historical revolutions." Her eyebrows raise in surprise to see The Darkling agreeing. "Most of them were because the monarchy prioritized the court instead of the commoners, which were the majority. Only a few people had good life conditions, while the plurality suffered with poor ones. They got sick of injustice and repression, tired of having to survive to make others live. They wanted that possibility for themselves, so, after generations had passed and nothing had been done, they decided to fight for it."

"I witnessed some revolutions and that is what happened, indeed."

"I have lived the conditions of these commoners." Kirigan admits with a heavy chest. Sometimes, he is still affected with the memories of his tough childhood. He used to eat poorly, suffer from the cold, fear the dark when the night came, train for straight exhausting hours in order to learn how to control his powers, have to make new identities in a short period of time, and pass through many other unpleasant experiences. "It was terrible."

The sudden warm hand on his cheek tells him that he is not alone, that Katherine has suffered the same as him and as the many unfortunate people that were part of revolutions. "Survival isn't life, Kirigan. But it is just when you are old that you learn that the change will only come if you fight for it. That's why your Grishas are so immersed in the Fold's utopia: their youthness makes them believe that the time has finally come, that Alina will be the savior to fix all the problems." She offers him a sad smile. "My people are old and are struggling to live in Os Alta poorest area. One of the reasons why they hate your lightscum is this, since she represents all the illusion they had once believed."

"So they are willing to fight for change?"

She nods. "With all of their strength."

"If I promise better life conditions, will an alliance be possible?"

"Only if you guarantee that you have no intentions to destroy the Unsea. Firstly, you have to win their trust, especially the leaders' trust, then you may focus on a deal."

He gently grabs her hand that still is on his cheek. "I think I'll need a bit of your assistance, then."

The witch smirks as soon as she sees the glint on his dark brown eyes. "It will be my pleasure."

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

"I swear it was her, Genya!" Michelle stops on her tracks as she hears Alina's voice echo through the room she was entering to clean.

"That's impossible."

"No, it isn't, and you know it!"

The Tailor shakes her head, making many of her red strands fly in the air. "Ms. Anya was playing a dangerous game here, Alina. The Darkling saw her as a threat and sent the oprichniki after her. She's probably dead now."

The Sun Summoner's brown eyes widened in shock. "Dead?"

"Yes." No. Michelle had to restrain a scoff. "I honestly think she was a spy."

"A spy? Really?"

"She knew too much for an ordinary otkazat'sya."

While starting to tie the room where the two Grishas were, Michelle began to make her own opinions. They aren't completely wrong: this specific servant knew too much and was considered by the General himself a threat, which led him to hunt her. However, she is pretty much alive, or better, Katherine Mikaelson is alive. No one knows what happened to Ms. Anya, she just... vanished.

"But, Genya, I swear I saw her today!" The blond's body stills as she cleans a desk. "Are you sure about that all? She seemed so real."

"There's no way Ms. Anya isn't dead, Alina. You probably were tired and hallucinated."

The younger girl looks deeply at the other, brown eyes meeting blue ones. "I know what I saw. Ms. Anya was at the beginning of the woods early this morning. She was hidden, but I saw her looking at Kirigan's chambers."

Oh, damn it, Katherine! You let yourself get caught by a teenager?! Michelle's face instantly turns into a scowl due to the anger she is feeling towards her cousin. By the Ancestors, Kat, you really turn into a fool when you like someone!

The Tailor takes a few seconds to answer her friend, but, finally, she shrugs her off with a hand. "I still think it's nothing to worry about."

I hope so, Genya, because I'm gonna kill Katherine if she drags the family into another trouble with insane plans.

The water singer leaves the Sun Summoner's chambers with heavy steps. As a way to calm herself, she goes to her little room and begins to read one of the books she had picked early in the morning. It is written in French, which eases her off with the thought of being close to her native language, and the author describes actions that may help people who are suffering with memory loss. After all, Michelle isn't certain that a spell will recover all of Agatha's remembrances.

Former lovers who had a long and healthy relationship with the victim may trigger good memories. However, the paramour must reproduce habits that were performed frequently during the time they were a couple.

Her blue eyes widened in sudden realization. There is someone that can aid them.

Of course, she didn't talk to Agatha's ex-lover for decades, but she had a good relationship with her; every Mikaelson — unless Katherine — had. The woman is a mesmerizing person and powerful witch, always willing to help the Supernatural. Michelle is sure that if she sends her a letter explaining about Agatha's current situation, the woman will appear in Os Alta in less than a day.

The water singer closes the book with a smile and immediately stands up. She needs to tell Katherine her new idea, but if her cousin takes too long to arrive, then she will handle the matter in her own hands.

With that in mind, the blond confidently states: "If there's any of Kat's shadows here, tell her to meet me at the Little Palace's library now."

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

Hours had passed, and the couple had to go back to their respective places. After Kirigan had just left with his horse, Katherine was almost entering a shadow to go to Praecantrix when she heard Ikatris' smooth voice: Your cousin wants you at the Little Palace's library now. Seemed urgent.

She frowns with the unusual situation and mentally asks the dark figure: Which one?

The spoiled French.

Despite knowing patience isn't one of Michelle's virtues, she can't help but worry, her intuition wanting to alert that something is about to happen. However, as an attempt to ignore this uncomfortable feeling, the witch rolls her light green eyes at the shadow's answer. You know their names, Ikatris. So why do you insist on calling them with these nicknames?

She can almost feel the creature smirking. Because it irritates them.

Katherine can't help but chuckle. Her cousins indeed hate all of Ikatris' nicknames and always tell her to talk to the shadow in order to make him stop, however, it never worked. He is immediately delighted as he sees Hope — manic tribid — sends him a death glare, Michelle — spoiled French — huffs in impatience, Nick — justice alpha — rolls his eyes in annoyance, Agatha — dramatic queen — holding the urge to attack him, and Levi — Kol's counterfeit copy — walking away from him to not get into a fight.

Why don't you give me a nickname too? I have never received one from you.

Because you're Katherine, there's no one like you. You are already unique.

She smiles, a warm sensation reverberating in her chest. Thank you, Ikatris.

The witch then orders her shadows to guide her to the Little Palace's library, where she finds Michelle pacing through the Norse Runes book session. She seems nervous, clenching her fingers on the long white skirt, her blond hair that is usually perfect, is now disheveled. "What happened?"

The French woman turns abruptly and looks at her in rage. "You!" She extends her hands towards the brunette as if wanting to strangle her.

Katherine frowns. "What have I done?"

"What have you—" She seems to be using all of her control to not start yelling in fury. "What have you done?!"

The shadow singer seems uncertain of her actions now. Has she found out about Malyen Oretsev? "Yes?"

"You let yourself be seen by Alina!"

The nervousness began to grow in her stomach. "What?"

"Today's morning she saw you in the beginning of the woods, looking at Kirigan's chambers. Is this true?"

Shit.

"I... I, ehm—"

"Damn it, Katherine!"

"I didn't know she was there! I was focused on a more important task!"

Michelle grabs her cousin's shoulders to make her look straight at her. "She's sure Ms. Anya isn't dead, and now I think Genya suspects that too."

The older woman shrugs as an attempt to exhale confidence in order to calm the blond down. "They don't know much, Michelle. I am sure it will do us no harm."

"You were supposed to be the responsible one who fret about things that go out of control, not me!" She lets go of the brunette and crosses her arms, a pout forming on her red lips. "I didn't enjoy this."

"Well, welcome to my life.”

"It sucks."

"I know." Katherine sighs and slowly approaches her frustrated cousin. "But I also know that you wouldn't call my shadows only to yell at me. What happened?"

Her blue eyes face the light green ones. "I have a plan that may work."

"About?"

"Agatha." She passes a hand through her long blond strands, a habit that she does when is restless. "There is someone that may trigger some of her memories, and, maybe, even help with the spell."

"That is wonderful news!"

"Yeah, but not for you."

She raises an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

The water singer looks away, averting her cousin's gaze. "I just want to know that this is the best for Agatha. I would never do anything that could harm her."

If Kathreine wasn't sure why the French woman was acting like that, now she knows: Michelle did the idea before consulting her, the brain of the family and the mastermind behind the plans. "Michelle—"

"And, maybe, I-I've become a little anxious because I haven't found Hope and it was taking too long for you to arrive."

She clenches her teeth, already predicting the enormous trouble she got themselves into. "Michelle—"

"So I took the matter in my own hands before consulting any of you and sent a letter to her."

"Michelle, who did you call?"

She gives her a nervous smile. "The brightest person in this world."

The shadow singer frowns, though her stomach is currently twisting in dread, since it seems that this someone could be a horrible person. "Who?"

"She is just so full of light, you know." Despite continuing to smile, the younger one  begins to hug herself, as if this would protect her from Katherine's reaction.

The realization sinks at the brunette's chest like an anchor. Soliel Alvarez is a light singer witch that was Agatha's paramour for half a century. She is a woman obsessed with power and very practical: get in her way and you will die. For her, time is precious, so, unless it's necessary, she doesn't waste time with torture ceremonies.

Beyond hating shadow singers for their ability to dim her glow, she also hates her own kind. According to her, light singers are people devoid of character and who do not deserve trust or loyalty. For these reasons, she feels no remorse when draining an equal; in fact, she takes satisfaction in seeing their despair as she senses the victim's power entering her veins and thus making her stronger.

For sharing the same thought as her about lightscums, Katherine doesn't hate Soliel, however, she is always careful towards the woman. After all, light singers aren't trustable. The adopted Mikaelson relationship with her is tense, and only Levi knows that his cousin slightly likes Agatha's ex-lover.

Soliel is a difficult person to deal with, someone that will always try to trick you if you aren't aware of her true nature. In other words, she is a brutalest version of the shadow singer, and Katherine isn't in her right mind to meet her. She is already worried with Agatha's cure, about her affair — is that what they have now? — with Kirigan, with Ravka's Supernatural's current situation and with the execution of the coup. Soliel here will only overwhelm her and worsen the emotional weariness she is still feeling.

"You didn't."

Michelle looks at the ground as if it was the most mesmerizing thing in life. "Her and Agatha's relationship was so healthy and ended so well. They're still friends and see each other sometimes!"

The British woman can feel her breathing fasten. "Please tell me you are lying."

"And the book said that a good ex-lover can help on triggering memories, so—"

"Oh, Michelle!"

"—Soliel's coming to Ravka."

Everything stops. The air in her lungs, the frustration, the racing thoughts in her mind and the nervous twisting in her stomach are all gone. Suddenly, the forces in her entire body disappear too. Soon, her clear vision is replaced by the dark and she falls on the floor.

[stardustmorozov]

At The Speed Of Love || S4E10

A/N: I have been watching too much "Drive To Survive" I am so sorry A/N: Shoutout to @becauseicantthinkwritings for enabling me enough to finish this thing

Summary: An imagining of an episode of Netflix's Drive To Survive about Noa's stuggles with Hammer Racing

Pairing: Billy Russo x Noa Barceló (OC) x Darklina

Wordcount: 2102

Drive To Survive Season 4 Episode 10

The Last Straw

The episode opens with a series of clips with misfortunes Noa had with her car while racing for Hammer Racing.

The first clip appears, showing Noa's car going slowly by the side of the track while the commentator shockedly narrates the event in front of them.

"And what is THIS? After leading over half the race, the motor of Barceló's Hammer seems to have given up! A fantastic weekend for Hammer, has ended in disaster."

A second commentator chimes in. "This is the third time it has happend this season and we're only just half way! What has happend to the two time world champion and her team?"

Cut to a different clip. She is lining up for an overtake in the rain until suddenly the rear of her car suddenly slips from under her, catapulting the car into the gravel and the tirewall, totalling the car.

"Noa are you okay?" her engineer cekcs in with her, anxiety dripping off of his voice even through the crackling microphone.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she says dejectedly as she undoes her steer and gets out of the car, "Just... where the hell did that come from?"

"We don't know, but we are looking into it."

The clip quickly fades into another, this time with an onboard camera as Noa gives the team back in the pit some worrying news.

"Guys? The brake is gone, I can't slow down."

"Copy. Try and cool them before you turn into the next corner."

"I have no brake to cool. They're gone, my brake is gone."

"Copy that. Put it on the side of the track, or if you can make it, pull into the pit lane."

"Okay. I'll try for the pit lane."

The clip cuts to a view of her car as it pulls around the pit lane corner. The voice of the commentator almost drowning out the sound of th motors of the other cars speeding by.

"And there comes Barceló, swerving into the pitlane, trying to slow the car down as much as possible. It seems that neither Hammer drivers can catch a break in misfortunes this season. What a shame."

Hard cut to black which fades into a portrait shot of a Formula One journalist, his name fading in to his left. It reads: Andrei Morgan.

"Everyone knows Hammer has had an incredibly difficult season. When you consider that they have won two championships and one of the best, new and young talents in their car it is almost incredible how far they have fallen over the course of a single stop. Combine that with the fact that almost no one expected her to sign for another season with Hammer, given how critical she's been of them since the start of the season when she won her second world title."

Cut to the title card of the series which shows the pit stop of a blue and white car, recognised as one of the Stark drivers. The title of the series appears when the car drives away from the team.

From the title card it transitions into a post-race debrief.

"So Noa, you noticed nothing in your breaking prior to that turn?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. And looking back, there are no other things I could attribute to the cause either."

"Okay. Elliot, you had a steering issue, any idea what could have caused it from your side of the wheel?"

Cut to the camera following Noa and Elliot from behind, outside the paddock as Elliot comments on the shitty weekend they've had while they make their way to the pop up office and the shot quick fades into a portrait shot of Andrei Morgan.

"It is no secret that, when Noa first signed with Hammer, Sergio Debiar fully intended on having her as a second driver. Which she did well. Unfortunatley for Debiar, Marcus Puckett signed with Nemostones for 2019 and Elliot Maker took his place. Debiar was fully intending on keeping the team dynamic as it was but suddenly there was this very clear shift as Noa started outperforming her teammate weekend after weekend and all but forcing Debiar to put her on the winning strategy.

In a sense things only got worse when she won her first world title because he got a team that worked like a miracle, but not in the way he wanted it and this was only amplified when she won her second world title the season after."

A black screen card appears with the title of the episode. It reads: The Last Straw. Cut to an overview shot of a city with white text overlaying the shot, defining it as Milan in Italy and immediately after cuts to a black screen card with white text reading: Friday, Training.

The view changes to an onboard camera in the car of Elliot Maker. He is performing relatively well for his abilty and the car he's been given and feeling out some of the things that changed about the car in comparison to last weekend.

"Car is performing well, understeer is a bit much though," Elliot's voice crackles over the microphone as he turns through a set of corners and chicanes.

"Understood."

The camera follows an overhead view of Noa's car, which is faster than that of her teammate, though she comments on the same issue with the understeer and a few others Elliot did not catch.

"Well done. You were fourth fastest on the track today. You did a great job."

"Thanks man."

A black screen card pops onto the screen. Saturday. Qualifying.

The camera cuts between different views of Noa's qualifying lap as the commentator remarks her times.

"And Barceló has a purple first sector! Getting off to a good start with the Hammer car this session, and she colors sector two purple as well. Can she beat the Stark of Sam Wilson? Green in sector three makes that a no, qualifying her to start on the second row tomorrow next to Peter Parker, who is coming in... fourth place! Meaning he will start on Barcelo's right. Tomorrow, here in Algarve"

Cut to a portrait shot of Andrei Morgan.

"After this season Noa Barceló will be out of a contract with Hammer. Everyone knows she is not going to stay and Sergio Debiar knows it as well. So why then, is he clinging to the hope that she will sign another contract with them?"

A hard cut to a portrait side view of Sergio Debiar as the interviewer asks him why he thinks Noa will sign on for another season or two with Hammer Racing.

"There is a strong correlation between Noa's success as a driver and Hammer's ability to produce a car that was capable of winning a world championship. Twice in a row even, so I don't see why she would leave when we have proven that we are capable of producing a car that is able to win races and most importantly, championships."

Cut back to Andrei Morgan. "Noa Barceló is an extremely accomplished driver, who not just holds titles in Formula One now, but also in Formula Three and Two. She holds a total of six titles across all three leagues, half of which she won as a rookie. Then there is the fact that when she raced for Roket Mercury Motorsports she lost both her father and godfather in the span of barely a week. Not even forty-eight hours later, she was in a race car and qualifying for the Monza Grand Prix and came dead last. On the day of the race she managed to claw her way through the grid and win the race. To lose two people so close to you and then to be able to get in a car and win a grand prix is...astounding far above a level I am able to put words to. If there is anyone who is mentally strong enough to be in Formula One, it is Noa Barceló.

Then again there is far more to racing than just having a fast car. Debiar knows this as team principal of Hammer, yet he seems to denounce it when it comes to Noa. She's driven four seasons for them so far. At some point you gotta recognise that the driver you wanted in the second position is better than you expected and let them play a fair game."

Cut to a post race interview with Noa Barceló, Zoya Nazyalensky, and Sam Wilson.

"Question for Noa. Now that you have gotten a podium again, how would you feel about signing for another season with Hammer?"

"Honestly? Everyone knows I am out of a contract after this year and I have to say, I kinda look forward to opening a new chapter in my life in terms of racing. Like, at some point or another you have to stop doing what is old and familiar and take the leap to do new things."

Cut to a back view of Noa and her best friend Alba Rivera in a car, discussing different opportunities with two teams in particular. Anvil Motorsports and Lucendi Volcra Racing. The two speak spanish among another.

"What do you think of the rookie?" Alba asks her, turning a corner in an unidentified city.

"Well... they're good. So that makes them dangerous."

"They're a rookie, what could there be for you to be afraid of them?"

Noa scoffs. "Did you really forget about Gostinni already? I thought you had a better memory than that."

"Ah. Yeah you scared me shitless when you two crashed each other in Baku."

"Precisely."

"What about the other one then? Anvil."

"I'd mostly like to know which of their drivers I would be replacing. Because, depending on that, I could end up as the second driver or not."

"Honestly, you replacing either of them would put you up for first driver immediately I think. Look, they're both good drivers in their own right, but even in a Hammer car you can overtake them on a good day."

"Provided I get close through the traffic. Heh."

Cut to Noa preparing to go scuba diving with her friend Alba. An english narration of Noa's voice plays over the footage.

"In a way... I think I have always known I would be done with Hammer sooner or later. When I signed for my second contract with them after my first world title, I already knew I would not want to renew it once 2020 would come around; and with the race results I've had thus far, it seems to have been a wise decision. I have to take a leap forward an thrust myself into the unknown," she says as the footage shows her jumping off a boat, into the water, "Staying with Hammer for this long... It has felt like I have been fighting with one arm tied behind my back. And no, I am not going to lie, I have done a more than excelent job at fighting for podiums and for the world title this year with the car I have been given, but I would also like to know what it is to fight with both my hands free.

I have the luxury of being able to choose between multiple teams, and in a way, that also makes it incredibly scary. Will I choose the right team? What if I make the wrong prediction about the team dynamic? They're all questions that are going through my head as I try to figure out what is best."

The shot shows Noa and Alba swimming back to the surface, but cuts to black before either of them can reach it. The black screen displays a small paragraph of text, reading: On the 7th of December, 2020, Noa Barceló announced to the rest of the world that she would not be renewing her contract with Hammer. The screen card fades into a studio interview with Noa in her Hammer attire as she smiles at the interviewer and it is the happiest we've seen her all season.

"Do I look at you or do I look at the camera," she says with a toothy smile as she takes a sip of water.

"At me," the voice of the interviewer sounds off screen.

"Okay."

"So please tell me your name, your profession and which team you will be joining next year."

"My name is Noa Barceló, I am a Formula One driver and I will be joining Anvil Motorsports for next season."

She smiles brightly when she finishes speaking and the screen cuts to the credits of the episode.

Taglist: @ramadiiiisme @becauseicantthinkwritings @idaofinfinity @mysticaltwoface @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @dreamlandcreations @marvelmusing

[hottpinkpenguin]

The Sun Blade - Darkling X OC

Book 1 of the Blade and Blood series Summary: Cresana is training to become a Blade, a group of highly trained assassins who protect the Grisha on the battlefield, until she attracts the attention of a particular Grisha with a special plan for her unique talents. Crossposted on AO3: read it here Chapters: 15 Content Warnings for: canon-typical violence, canon divergence

[call-sign-shark]

Echo of Shadows || Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!OC || Alina Starkov x Heartrender!OC || Malyen Oretsevx HeartRender!OC

Summary: "They called her the White Plague, a saint or a monster—but she was neither, only destruction wrapped in a pretty bow."

In Ravka's frosty heart, the legend of the White Plague spreads—a woman with snow-white hair, frozen-fire eyes, and powers that rival those of Jurda Parem. Once a slave in the Menagerie, the one who calls herself Heaven is now a myth, either leaving towns in ruins or former disease-ridden people crying with gratitude. A Sankta.

General Kirigan's interest soon turns dark and his desire obsessive. Never had he been so captivated and haunted by someone. Someone he could finally share his eternal life with. Caught in a cruel game of power and love, she's torn between Kirigan’s corrupting passion and Alina Starkov’s promise of freedom.

Amidst the chaos, one question arises: will she become a savior, a monster, or something far more dangerous?

TW: Explicit sexual content, slow burn, borderline consent, heavy pinning, toxic relationship [manipulation, obsession, extreme jealousy, controlling behavior], graphic sexual description, graphic depiction of murder and torture, blood!kink, size!kink, reference to past SA and child SA, dark romance & mad romance trope, ambiguous relationship with Alina. This story is brutal, bloody and rated +18.

ACT I

1. Keep Moving, Little Girl

2. Their Frozen Shackles

3. The Court of Shadows

4. Beneath his Watchful Eyes 🔞

5. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Light

ACT II

6. Gazed into the Abyss...

7. I'm not Ruined -- I'm Ruination

8. After the Storm, the Sun

9. Your Darkness Flayed 🔞

10. It's in Our Veins

11. Safe in the Dark 🔞

12. I'd Rather Burn

13. Your Love is an Open Wound 🔞

ACT III

14. The Mask of the Red Death.

15. Golden Cage for a Dove

16. Paint It Black 🔞

17. Your Heart, My Chains 🔞

18. The Roots of Evil

19. Burn With Me

20. The End of Us

Epilogue: Symphony of Our Ruins

ONE SHOTS

Much Ado About Jam Toasts- fun & fluff

Happiness Therapy - modern AU, fluff

MOODBOARD

Light in the Dark

Notes:

☾ I haven't read the books yet so this work is based on the TV show even though I know it's fairly different from the original Grisha verse. If you're an adorable lore psycho, you might not want to read that! :(

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989

☾ The whole work was supposed to be written with the "you" POV but people on tumblr don’t consider it Reader x Canon. So this is will be written as full Original character. However, to make the full story more immersive, I’ll also post the x You version someday.

[asirensrage]

Kiss to the side of the head, for any of our soulmate pairs plz!

hahah, not me being like "...who are our soulmate pairings again?" (I remembered Valya but...)

She sits in front of her vanity, exhaustion lining her frame. She can see her soulmate, now called husband, moving behind her in the reflection. She goes to pull the pins from her hair.

"Let me," he thinks at her.

Her hands fall, hands clasping together in her lap, as she watches Aleksander remove the pins and decorations that hold her hair in place. She hears him thinking, kind and soft words, words of his devotion that are only for her to hear in her mind. Once her hair falls free at last from the pressure of being held in place, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

"My Queen," he murmurs. "My Valya," he thinks.

In all her plans, all her preparations, nothing had led her to this ending. "My Aleksander," she thinks back, allowing herself to give him a genuine smile as he presses a kiss to her neck. How fortuitous. For both of them.

let’s do some prompts and drabbles!

[cookies-and-music]

Greed They both suck. At least they found eachother.

Implied violence.

Anya was an orphan, raised in a traveling company. As a child, lacking any talent, she collected offerings from the audience and learned to pickpocket.

When she was 12, a fortune teller joined the company, elegant in appearance, with a face that maintained austere beauty. She posed as a grand lady, teaching Anya to walk and move with lightness, to eat with refinement and to smile with grace.

Anya observed the noblewomen of the cities, with their extravagant dresses, eccentric hats, and sparkling jewels, and thought that such things would suit her better. Meanwhile, she ate chunks of stale bread.

Anya learned to play and sing, starting her own performances and making her own money.

At the age of 14, Anya asked the fortune teller to read her future. The fortune teller had taken a candle and placed it between them. Anya watched the flame move between them, drawn first to one side and then the other.

"You will be rich, as you desire," She assured her. "You will be surrounded by splendor and have much power, but for every day you spend happy, twice as many sad days will follow."

Anya stopped listening when she mentioned power. Happiness meant little to her. In the end, it was a relative concept, different for everyone; for her, happiness would be wealth.

"How do I obtain it?"

"You must follow a knight clad in black with a serpent's tongue."

[] [] [] [] []

At the age of 16, Anya heard that a group of knights from the second army had arrived in the city where they were performing. In small towns, everyone got nervous about such news; anyone with even a tiny secret feared that the soldiers had come for them.

She felt the same fear while performing on the small stage in the town square, when the soldiers stopped to applaud her song. She smiled in the sweetest and most innocent way she knew while continuing to perform.

Then she saw him. The man in black.

He didn't clap and he didn't smile.

The man in black returned every day at the same time.

Anya performed, and he sat on his horse, watching her.

On the fourth day, Anya made a switch. She let another one of her sideshow companions take her place on stage, and she moved through the crowd with the offering basket.

The man in black furrowed his brow, expecting to see the malnourished girl with the battered guitar. He dismounted.

"An offering for the show, sir?"

He lowered his gaze, finding her in front of him. She was short, with big eyes and curly brown hair framing her face.

He didn't give her more than a glance and tossed a few coins.

"Why are you in town, sir?" She tried to catch his attention.

"Crown matters." He crossed his arms.

"What kind?"

"Private." The man in black grabbed the horse's reins and began moving through the crowd.

Anya handed the basket to one of the kids in the company, watching him pass behind her from the corner of her eye.

"I've seen you here often. Do you like my show?" She pursued him.

"I don't come here for that."

"Then for what?"

He stopped, turning to look at her. Anya smiled. He observed her face for a moment before getting back on his horse.

"Have a good day, Miss," he wished her before leaving, parting the frightened crowd.

[] [] [] [] []

Anya spent the rest of the day asking around about the knights and the reason for their presence. At first, she heard there was someone in town with a heavy bounty on their head; then, they were looking for someone missing but not a criminal. Some said it was the son of a noble, and others claimed it was the missing daughter of the tsars. The latter sounded absurd, but most people insisted it was true.

Many young women presented themselves at the tavern where the soldiers resided, claiming to be the missing princess of the tsars. Anya saw the line extending outside. She shook her head; this was madness.

The tavern had only one entrance and thus one exit the soldiers could use. She saw the line move throughout the afternoon until darkness fell. In the evening, the remaining girls were sent home, and from the door emerged him, the man in black.

Anya rose from the filthy street floor and gestured, "Sir!"

He turned for a moment, sighed, and began walking faster.

Anya chased him until standing in front of him.

"I know why you're here." She reached out a hand between them, as if to stop him. "And please, listen to me."

He crossed his arms.

"I know why you always came to my show," Anya took a breath. "It's because I resemble the tsaritsa, isn't it?"

The man furrowed his brow.

"I have eyes and hair of the same color, the same height—"

"The tsaritsa is much taller."

"I can wear heels."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"You know you're not the tsar's daughter, right?"

"But I could be," Anya straightened up. "I'm the same age the princess would be today, just an orphan raised on the streets, I have no past, which means I can be anything."

"And you would be willing to do anything because you have no future."

She nodded, finding nothing wrong with it.

"Clearly, you seem very determined to find this girl; you'll gain something you ardently desire, otherwise, you wouldn't spend your time searching for a needle you're not even sure exists in such a large haystack."

He stared at her.

"By choosing me, you secure whatever has been promised; otherwise, you could spend years searching the country for someone likely dead, achieving nothing".

They looked into each other's eyes. Anya thought that his were darker than the alley they were in; while Kirigan thought that it could work. And if something went wrong, he could claim he had been deceived.

"You can call me Kirigan." He reached out a hand to her.

"Anya." She shook it with a smile.

"Well, Miss Anya, it seems you and I have an agreement." Kirigan leaned down towards her. "But if one day you regret it, remember that you came to seek me."

She nodded, swallowing, more due to the proximity to the man than his words. She immediately withdrew her hand.

"Tomorrow morning at dawn, we leave."

She nodded again, wrapping herself in her cloak as she walked in the opposite direction.

"Oh, and Miss Anya," Kirigan called her one last time, remaining fixed in the shadows of the alley, "make sure your friends in the company don't become an obstacle for us in the future."

Anya took a deep breath, nodding as she kept her gaze low.

She knew he was right.

[] [] [] [] []

During the night, Kirigan was awakened by a huge commotion and the city bells ringing.

When he reached the center of the town following the crowd, he saw a massive fire engulfing the wagons and tents of the traveling company.

He grabbed the arm of one of his associates, a Tidemaker who had come to help.

"Are there any survivors?"

"Only one, sir, the young one there." The Grisha pointed. "She was the one who raised the alarm."

Kirigan nodded, letting her go.

A few meters away, Anya met his gaze, wrapped in a blanket that someone had brought for her. She looked at him with tear-streaked but totally expressionless, stoic face. In that moment, Kirigan understood that he had made the right choice.

Kindred spirits are indeed drawn together

Hi everybody, this is a one-shot that could become the first of a collection, depending on how it goes. It's a sort of AnastasiaAU (?) but not really, you deciede. English is not my first language, so please do tell me if there are any mistakes.

[lostinthemind27]

“What are you?”

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Grisha!OC

Summary: Running and hiding. That’s what Arina was good at. She’s done it for years. Yet the moment she lets her guard down everything changes. Though she doesn’t know if it will be for better or worse...

Word Count: 2490

Warnings: Slight mention of wounds and acid burning. Some violence. I think that’s it? If I left anything out please tell me!

A/N: So I thought I’d share this A) because season 2 trailer of S&B is dropping tomorrow and B) because this has been sitting in my drafts since like last year. Also it is supposed to be the beginning of a whole multi-chapter fic, but idk when I’m gonna be able to actually get around to finishing it because I have like 10 other fics in my drafts...It’s a problem, I know. Anyways, came up with this because I thought that since Grisha powers are called “small science” I figured why can’t they expand their designated skill set and I always love the tent scene in both the book and show. Also this is set like centuries before the events of S&B. If that makes sense and sound interesting then have fun reading!

(Mood board was created by me! All the pictures were found on pinterest and belong to their rightful owners. I also have mood boards for both Aleksander and Arina which I’m still debating if I should share those...)

The howls carry through the air to her ears. The cracking of a twig makes her head look up from her frantic packing. She didn’t have a lot of time. The wind enhanced the crunch of the footsteps that they tried to hide.

They knew what they were dealing with, they’ve killed hundreds of her kind before without blinking an eye. This time shouldn’t have been any different.

She hoisted her bag up and let it rest across her body, the small satchel containing everything she needed. Her head twists, observing the snow-covered trees and ground. She can’t see them. Not yet, but the continued sound of footsteps gives her enough of an incentive to start running.

Her feet hit the ground as with each step her pace quickens, trying to outrun the hunting party whose steps she could hear match hers. The trees passed her as she weaved through the forest, trying to lose the hunting party in a wood they knew so much better than her.

Her foot caught a wayward root as she looked behind, crashing to the ground, her hands barely catching her before she’d face plant into the snow.

The growl of a wolf was in front of her now. The hunters closed in around her as she lay still, propped up slightly by her arms.

That wolf snarled at the woman as she stared at it. Its dark eyes reflected the moon and its pure white coat shone in the light. The woman and the wolf continued their staredown until she heard a twig snap, her focus shifting to the other hunters surrounding her.

She raised herself to a crouch, her eyes flicking from one hunter to the next, worried about some eager boy releasing his bowstring pushing her to slow her movements.

“Drüsje,” one of them spits at her.

She smirks to herself, slowly moving her hands closer together.

They tighten their grips on the bows and the wolves snarl once more.

Her hands touch and as soon as they move again, a circle of air blasts from her, knocking the hunters and wolves off of their feet.

She pushes herself to stand and takes off running once again. The hunters, wolves, and snow fade with each step she takes towards what she hopes will be her sanctuary.

**************

The screams were the first thing to reach Arina. Not the sound of acid fizzing, nor the smell of burning flesh, but the horrific screams of a fellow Fabrikator. Screams that haunt Arina’s nightmares.

Her feet started to move towards the sound, pushing aside the small crowd that had formed. A tingle emanated in her fingertips and slowly crawled up her arms, a sensation she hasn’t felt since she came to the Little Palace. The feeling travelled from her hands to the burning flesh under her touch, the sizzling stopping as the skin mended. She couldn’t hear the whispers of the people behind her or the grimace coming from her fellow Fabrikator, Arina was so focused on the wound in front of her that she didn’t hear the oprichniki enter the room. 

She finally opened her eyes as the buzzing dissipated and connected gazes with the Fabrikator, who ended up being a girl named Iva. Instead of a “thank you” escaping her lips, Iva backed away from the older woman as she looked past Arina’s frame. 

The fear in the girl’s eyes is one Arina has seen in thousands of people before when she displayed her power, but for once it wasn’t directed at her. As she turned her head her arms were grasped by two oprichniki. They dragged her from her feet and out the door of the workshop before anyone could say a word, including Arina herself. 

They pulled her through the halls of the Little Palace, their hands still grasping her arms in a tight hold as two guards stood in front and two behind them. Arina felt like a prisoner in the one safe place for her people. “Where are you taking me?”

She received no response from the soldiers. Though as they turned a corner and the big black mahogany doors with the sun in eclipse symbol carved into them was revealed, it was pretty clear. 

The soldiers standing to the sides, pull the doors open for the approaching party only to reveal the General standing with one of his trusted Corporalki.

“What is this?” The Darkling says, obviously annoyed with the group of soldiers dragging a Durast into his room.

“Moi soverenyi this woman, Yelena Ivanova, just healed a fellow Fabrikator after an acid spill.” One of the men in front reported as they stepped to the side to allow their General a look at the strange girl. 

Not a girl. The Darkling studies the woman as she’s still held in the grasp of two of his oprichniki. Her light brown hair that’s tied in a bun with strands falling in her face, highlighting the beautiful shape and cheekbones of her face. Yet, for a practising Grisha, her eyes held slight bags and her cheeks look sunken in. She’s missing something, The Darkling thought. Though he puts aside studying her when it finally registers what his soldier said to him. A healer dressed in Fabrikator robes. How interesting. “What are you?”

“A Durast, General.” She answers with her head held high, no trace of fear on her face. 

“You healed a fellow Grisha, something that is outside the skill set of a Durast.” He takes a step towards her, “So I’ll ask again, what are you?” 

“A practitioner of the small science, nothing more.” He walks towards her with a small dagger. She knows what he’ll do, testing her again after she already passed as a Durast, hiding the other parts of her that are buried so deep down. “What reason do you have to test me again?”

“Call it curiosity. Now, your arm, please.” He holds out his hand waiting for her to place her arm in his grasp and motioning for his soldiers to release their grip.

Once they make contact, a rush of power flows through Arina. He’s an amplifier. As the dagger drags through her skin, she can’t hold the door close. His call is too strong, even after years of practice. That tingle that she felt when healing Iva grew to a roar through her body. The strength of her power cascaded down on her like a tidal wave after years of burying it deep down. While she felt the door break open a relief ran across her and a whisper from the man in front of her, “Don’t hold back.”

A rush of wind blows through the room, the candles burn brighter to a blinding white, the general’s heart rate picks up to the point he struggles to breathe while the guards around them start to collapse. The Darkling releases his grasp on her and their surroundings return to normal, his heart slowing down to a preferred rhythm. 

“Leave us.” His voice boomed towards the recovering guards that resided in the room, dismissing the oprichniki and other Grisha. 

The two Grisha study each other. The Darkling, a man who held himself with such power and strength was in awe of the young woman in front of him, whose skin brighten after her release of power. Though he didn’t know if young was correct. With her power, she could’ve been as old as himself. 

Arina looked into the shadow summoner’s eyes. So dark and deep are the pools that hold so many secrets, much like her own. She could see the age and the weariness that he carried because she sees it in the mirror every day. 

“How?” The General continues to analyse her as he waits for a response.

“How what?” The Durast feigns ignorance as she walks around the ornate wooden map table, studying the troop positions and staring at the scar on Ravka.

“You are able to heal a being with the ease of a born Healer if my soldiers are correct. You made the wind move and the candles burn like an Etherealki. My heartbeat sped up to a rate that only a Heartrender could manipulate it to. And you’re a Durast.” He takes a few steps toward Arina. “I will ask only one more time. How?”

Arina doesn’t know if she should tell him. Her walls have been built so high that no one was able to climb or topple them. And yet, when the Darkling connected with her a sliver formed. The door to one of her hidden rooms blasted open and she couldn’t fix it. Did she want to fix it? She’s hidden herself for years, trying to stay alive, trying to survive. She’s been successful. She found her way to a sanctuary, a haven for Grisha that only a few years ago didn’t exist. Why couldn’t she share what she’s learned? It’s not like it hasn’t been done before, give or take a couple of hundred years ago. But her secrets have kept her alive. She’s seen plenty of friends die because of just being Grisha, she doesn’t want herself to be next because she’s different from the rest. Yet the Darkling looks at her in awe, not in fear. 

“I’ll make you a deal.” The Darkling scoffs at her, and she ignores him. “I’ll give you an answer for an answer.” She raises her brow at him, waiting for him to accept her rules. She knows he’ll accept, he’s too curious not to.

“And why would I accept that deal?” He’s curious, how could he not be? But he still has a reputation to uphold and he couldn’t be seen as to eager for her answer.

“Because I have something you want and the only way you’ll get the answer is if I get one in return.” She looks him in the eye. “Or else I can walk right out those doors and maybe even out of the Little Palace.”

No. The Darkling didn’t want her to leave. She could turn the tide and if she can learn how to summon the water, wind, and fire maybe… “Deal.”

“I taught myself.” He gives her a quizzical gaze. “What I learned most as a Durast is that everything, on a fundamental level, is the same. If I can manipulate wood or metal, why couldn’t I change chemicals? Or the human body? Or the flames? It’s not magic, it’s science. Or rather, small science. We do not conjure from nothing, we manipulate that which already exists around us, and everything is the same.”

“You taught yourself? How were you able to accomplish that in such a short time?”

“No. I gave you an answer, I want one in return.” He quells his curiosity for a moment, remembering the deal. He motions for her to ask. “How are you an amplifier?”

“Bloodline.” He answers simply, not willing to tell her the whole truth. His trust in others was shattered at a young age and only built again for a few. He didn’t think this woman had earned his trust, but maybe she could.

“I gave you a whole speech about the small science and you give me a one-word answer? How is that fair?”

“You wanted an answer and I gave you one. You did not specify the length of it.” He steps towards her, trapping her against the map. “Now, I would like another.”

Arina doesn’t shrink, she doesn’t look away from his dark eyes. “And what do you want answered?”

“How old are you?”

She’s startled by his question but hides it behind a smirk. “You should never ask a lady her age.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“I’m old enough to have seen the creation of the fold and the rise of a safe haven for Grisha.”

“Who’s giving the vague answers now?”

“Two can play a game, Darkling.” She analyses his face quickly, “How old are you? Your face may look young, but your eyes hold centuries of pain and torment.”

“Being hunted most of your life can add years to you. The pain and torment I hold is a burden shared by many Grisha.” He looks down at Arina, her eyes the opposite of his. They hold light, a glimmer he hasn’t seen in someone since Luda. Yet as he delves further he finds that shared pain. That shared suffering is covered by the warmth she holds for her people.

The Darkling takes a step back, distancing himself from the mysterious woman, and pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. “You’ll be moving to a different room and developing your skills with either Bahgra or me. You can continue to work in the Fabrikator workshop if you like.”

Arina couldn’t move. She couldn’t believe that she was getting treated differently than the other Grisha. Why was she special? She’s just another Girsha, it’s not like she can summon the stars or sun. Sure she’s a lot older than all of the Grisha here (minus the Darkling) but all she can do is what any other Grisha could. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you moving my rooms? Why am I being treated differently?”

“Because you are different.”

“I’m really not.”

The Darkling couldn’t understand why Arina thought so little of herself. She can manipulate the small sciences outside her original cast, and she thinks she isn’t special? She’s the only one to do so since Ilya Morozova, a man that used merzost, and she did it from years of studying alone. “Why do you discount how special you are?”

“Because I’m not special. I’m just a Durast that taught herself the small sciences. Any Grisha could do that.”

“But they haven’t.” That shut her up. “We’ll help you expand your abilities and maybe you can teach other Grisha as well.”

“And what do you know about the other classes?”

“Some. But it will be Baghra that shall advance your studies in the typical orders.”

“And what will you do?”

“I’ll help you grow.” He smiles. A genuine smile because for the first time in a long time, Aleksander has hope. “You may leave and gather your things, my oprichniki will show you to your new room.” Though as she turned to leave he remembered one more thing. “What is your name?”

“What?” She didn’t know what he meant. He already knew the name she gave, how could he possibly know that it was fake?

“Your name.” He approached her once again. “You most likely lied about your name when you came here, so Yelena, what’s your name?”

“If I tell you mine will you tell me yours? Because I highly doubt your real name is Leonid.”

All she receives is a smirk from him and she gives the man one in return. That smirk is the last thing he sees as she disappears through the door, both of their true names still kept in the dark.

[keepsdeathhiscourt]

Pairing: Aleksander Moroza x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Summary: Alyra Koshkova has always lived in the shadows, concealing her true nature to survive. But when tragedy forces her into the heart of Ravka's Second Army, she finds herself under the watchful eye of General Kirigan, the Darkling—a man as enigmatic as he is powerful. Struggling to come to terms with her newfound role, Alyra must navigate a world of hidden threats and dangerous alliances. As secrets unravel and the Darkling’s intentions grow ever more unclear, Alyra’s choices could reshape the fate of a nation—or lead to her own undoing.

Series Masterlist

Read on A03

Warnings: Violence, Language

Additional Tags: Canon Divergence, Language, Depictions of Violence, War, Political Intrigue, Horror Elements, The Darkling has a Heart, Grisha!OC, Grisha Sympathetic, Alcohol, The Darkling was right about a lot of things

Chapter 4: The Rock and the Hard Place

As with all their most intimate of conversations, it was deep into the darkest part of the evening when Alyra strained against her bonds to settle beside him. It was then that he learned her story.

“The Druskelle took me in Ryevost,” her soft voice cut through the night, barely more than a whisper. “But the village I grew up in was in central Ravka.”

Ivan squinted at her, eyes narrowed against the dark as he tried to figure out where she was going. “I don’t understand—“

“You told me Petra’s story—the story of the General’s Grisha,” she cut him off. “Now I will tell you mine, the story of the Grisha beyond the Little Palace.”

He shuffled close so that he might hear her properly, stopping when only an inch of space remained between their shoulders. Settling in, he waited patiently for her to continue.

“My father died when I was young; I barely remember him. But my mother raised me outside the village. I never received a formal education, but I never suffered for it. She taught me my letters, how to chart the months by the position of the stars, and which plants would cull a fever or soothe a toothache. She always had a way with plants. I think the Second Army would call her an Alkemi, though she was only ever ‘Mama’ to me.” A soft smile played at her lips, some of the strain of their captivity peeling away in her sudden unguardedness. “I spent my days running through the woods and playing in the streams. They were the happiest days of my life.”

Ivan tensed, waiting for the inevitable turn in her tale. “But then she was taken by witch-hunters and I never saw her again.”

“You must have been very young to be on your own.”

“I was ten and wandering the woods when an apothecary and his wife found me. I think he knew what I was from the start, but he didn’t care. All Pavel saw was a little girl alone in the world that needed his help. They took me with them back to Ryevost, and that was that.” 

Ivan nudged her with his shoulder. “He sounds like a good man.”

“He was,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t enough to save him.” 

She shifted her cloak around her shoulders, pulling it up around her neck to block out the wind that had begun to pick up. “He had this way of making you feel like the most important in a room, and everyone who knew him respected his opinions. But he always had a hard time sitting by when he didn’t like something. So when Druskelle began to steal away Grisha in the night, and children with powers they never asked for were sold to brothels or pawned off to Shu Han to be experimented on, he decided that if the king would not do something, then he would.”

“I think I was thirteen when I first realized that he was smuggling Grisha into the country. He tried to shield me from the worst of his back-alley dealings, but life in a port city is rough and I would have been wrapped up in it one way or the other.” 

Ivan drew a breath, the pieces starting to come together. “So that is how the Druskelle found you.”

She nodded, eyes drifting to some undetermined point on the horizon. “I told him it was too risky, but it didn’t matter. Not when there were lives at stake. It would have been fine, but somebody tipped them off.” A puff of laughter escaped her lips, bitter and hollow. “Pavel always said I couldn’t hide forever. That eventually the world outside would find me. And then one day, it did.”

He brushed his shoulder against hers, an uncertain show of comfort. And although he dreaded the answer, he asked, “What became of him?”

“They tore the shop to pieces before dragging Pavel and his sick wife from their beds. I tried to run, but a second troop caught up to me too. I don’t know what happened to them.” Her eyes glassed over in remembered pain, tilted her head up to meet his stare. “He committed his life to helping the Grisha when it would have been easier to bury his head in the sand. And look where it got him.”

“He did not deserve his fate,” Ivan murmured.

“No. He didn’t, and yet the world still turns.”

Ivan said nothing. There were no words for grief such as theirs. Instead, he nudged her towards him, settling her head against his shoulder, the ghosts of their pasts watching on.

The pieces of their pasts laid bare between them, and a tentative bond began to form between the captive Grisha. Each day, they endured the grim reality of their existence, and each night, when their jailors had fallen asleep, they would share stories of their childhoods, of memories from better times. Most were happy, some sad, but none as harrowing as the tragedies shared in those first tense nights.

One chilly autumn evening, with the stars scattered like diamonds across the sky, Alyra broke the silence, her voice barely louder than the rustling of leaves. “You know, you’ve never told me where you’re from, Ivan.”

The nights grew colder with each passing day, and in the mornings, the ground was covered in a lacy blanket of frost. The crisp air was a constant reminder that winter was fast approaching. Ivan watched as she tucked her legs beneath her, her movements slow, almost mechanical. She was thinner now than when they’d first met, a hodgepodge of sharp angle and ragged fabric. He wondered what he must look like to her—did she see gaunt cheeks and hollowed eyes when she looked at him?

“You never asked,” he quipped, shaking the thought away with a slight tilt of his head, then rested back on his aching wrists.“I was raised on a farm outside Os Alta.”

Alyra hummed in amusement. “A farm boy. I should have known.”

He arched a brow at her, the shadow of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing,” she teased, her smile evident even in the dark. “you just seem the strapping, hardworking sort. I bet you were quite popular with the girls in your village.”

There was a beat. He turned toward her, his expression loaded with meaning. The silence between them deepened, charged with an unspoken truth.

She caught on quickly, her mouth forming a small ‘o’ of surprise before she flashed him an understanding smile. “I see.”

He grunted in response, content to leave it at that. But Alyra seemed more keyed up than usual tonight, eager to engage in conversation. 

“Did anyone ever catch your eye then?” she asked, rolling onto her stomach to watch him, mischief dancing in her eyes.  “A handsome apprentice from a neighboring village, maybe?”

Ivan sighed, a long-suffering sort of sound. “Not during my time in the village, no. But there was someone waiting for me when I left the Little Palace.”

The strings of his heart tugged painfully at the thought of Fedyor, with his easy smiles and gentle hands. He wondered how he was faring if he was out there somewhere searching for him. Ivan swallowed hard, scooping a handful of loose dirt between his hands, letting it slip through the cracks between his fingers.

“And you?” he asked, his voice a little rougher than before.

Alyra snorted, a comforting sound in the quiet. “I fancied myself in love once. Andrei was a sailor. Scandalous, I know,” she said with a soft chuckle, the white of her teeth catching the faint light. “A few times a year, when the whether was good, his company would dock in Ryevost. Sometimes they’d only stay a few hours, sometimes weeks. But each time, he’d  seek me out with some trinket he’d brought back from his travels in exchange for a kiss.” She paused, her expression clouding,” Pavel hated him.”

Ivan huffed in agreement, the sound low and thoughtful.

“I thought you might say that,” she said, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground. “I used to fantasize about the day he would take me away from the stink of the canals for adventures on the True Sea.” She scoffed, the bitterness in her voice cutting through the stillness. “I was a foolish girl. I let him take my virtue in a back alley. After that, the visits became less and less. That was a hard lesson.”

They fell silent, the weight of her words lingering in the cool night air. Ivan watched the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders as she shifted to lie on her side. Then, surprising even himself, he whispered, “I think he was the fool.”

He knew that she heard him because he heard her breath catch. But there was no reply—none was needed.

Ivan shifted onto his back, stuffing as much of his cloak beneath his head as he could spare without freezing. Sleep was within reach when he heard he whimper once, then again as little shivers dissolved in a body-wracking tremble. She had been unwell since they’d met, but her state had taken an abrupt turn for the worse alongside the changing seasons. With a harsh Ravkan winter approaching and mired down weeks away from the capital, Ivan doubted she would survive to see spring. 

His chest tightened at the notion, an overwhelming fear seeping in around the edges of his thoughts. If something should happen to her, he would be well and truly alone. With a sigh, he slipped the worn cloak from his shoulders, tucking it around her frail frame, and exhaled in relief when the shivering subsided.

As he turned to pull away and search for sleep once more, her hand shot out and wound around his wrist. They lay there in the dark, face to face, both wrapped up in the silent terror of the unknown.

“Ivan,” she whispered finally, her breath ghosting over his face as she squeezed his hand.

“Yes?”

Her eyes squeezed shut, and in the moonlight, he saw a tear catch on her eyelash before escaping down her cheek. “I’m afraid I’m going to die out here.”

Ivan closed his eyes as if the darkness behind them might shield him from the raw sting of vulnerability. “So am I.”

---

It was a frigid morning in late autumn when everything changed. The sun, hidden behind oppressive dark clouds, left the world wrapped in a shroud of thick fog. Alyra was jolted awake by the usual scramble of movement and the sharp steel of the Commander’s voice barking orders. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stretched her aching muscles and immediately sensed that something was wrong. The camp was in disarray—men sprinted from one tent to the next, rousing their dozing comrades. And when they emerged into the misty morning, fear was etched in their eyes. The air crackled with frenetic energy as the Druskelle shouted back and forth in clipped, panicked tones, rifles hastily slung over their shoulders. Alyra knew the source of their fear immediately. Three nights ago, scouts had spotted a large unit of Ravkan soldiers—Grisha in colorful keftas. Since then, it had been a game of cat and mouse, the Druskelle skittering through the shadows in a desperate dash to the border, hoping to avoid confrontation with the Second Army. But each time they seemed to gain the upper hand, Ravka was always a step ahead. Tension grew, the feeling of being hunted warping into a wretched, tangible weight, intensified by the sudden and overwhelming press of fog. It had crescendoed into a fever pitch. Her eyes strained against the mist, searching for the telltale colors of red, blue, and purple among the trees. Then, startled, she cried out as a rough hand yanked her to her feet. The man’s green eyes were tight with unease as he snapped at her in a tone that needed no translation, pushing her forward. They were going to make a run for it. Alyra balked, her heels digging into the dirt, eyes desperately roving the camp for any sign of Ivan. Her resistance earned her a backhand across the face. She hit the ground hard, the taste of blood trickling into her mouth from a split lip, but she paid it no mind. Forcing herself back onto her feet, she caught sight of the man who struck her—his eyes wide with terror—before he dropped like a sack of potatoes into the mud. His body jerked once, then went still, blood oozing from his nose. Her head whipped around, searching for the source as dread coiled in her gut. The fog had thickened, blurring everything beyond a few paces ahead, swallowing up the familiar landmarks of the Druskelle camp. A muffled cry echoed somewhere to her right, though she couldn’t say how far. Anything beyond arm’s reach might as well have been on the other side of the woods for all she could see. The Commander’s frantic voice cut through the fog, but his words were garbled, lost in the chaos. Then came the staccato bursts of gunfire, and she watched silhouettes retreating back toward her, dropping one by one as they fired blindly into the mist. All at once, the camp was lit up as if the sun had burst through the clouds. Alyra caught a glimpse of collapsed tent poles, the crumpled bodies of the dead, as a fireball arched through the clearing, heading straight for her. Heat licked at her skin, and she barely managed to throw herself clear before it exploded against a tent a few feet away.

She craned her head to assess the damage, only to find herself rooted to the spot as a powerful gust of wind ripped like a scythe overhead, cutting back the mist and carrying the flames from tent to tent. Within seconds, the world around her was a whirling inferno, the air filled with the cries of men burning as they tried to jump free of the flames, only to be forced back by the wind. “Ivan!” she cried out, coughing into her cloak, her eyes stinging from the plumes of smoke.

The remnants of the camp were in absolute chaos as the core of the Second Army battalion swarmed into the field, spreading out rapidly in blurs of bright color against the black uniforms.

A hand gripped her shoulder, tugging her back as another fireball whizzed by, close enough to singe her cloak.

“What are you doing, you little idiot?” Ivan growled, wrenching her around to face him. Metal glinted in his miraculously unbound hands, the dagger coated in blood as he cut her free. Her wrists screamed in gratitude, but she only had a moment to rub at the chafed flesh before he was tugging her away from the heart of the burning encampment.

The smoke was thinner at the edges of the clearing, but the fighting was just as fierce. She watched a man in blue and gray curl his hands into claws, sending a Druskelle soaring into a tree where he collided with a sickening crack. A burst of rifle fire exploded to her left, and she jumped back just in time to see a bullet graze the neck of an unfortunate woman, extinguishing the spark between her fingers. With a cry of pain, the woman staggered, clutching at her bleeding wound as a man in red rushed to her side.

Alyra didn’t have time to see what happened next. A flash of movement in her peripheral made her react on instinct, but she wasn’t quick enough. The Ginger-bearded Druskelle slammed into her, tackling her to the ground and out of Ivan’s grasp as they were parted by a wave of soldiers. She hit the ground hard, the air wrested from her lungs as she blinked up into a familiar, hateful stare.

He bore down on her, icy eyes murderous in the fiery glow. His knee held her legs in place, and when she tried to raise her arms, he pinned them uselessly above her head. Panic erupted in her then, and she thrashed against him with all her might, kicking and gnashing in desperation. But he was stronger, nearly double her size. He might as well have been carved from stone.

Fear pooled around her, cold and paralyzing, as he shifted her wrists into one sweaty palm so the other could wrap around her throat. The pressure was unyielding, the effect immediate. She kicked out blindly, hoping to make contact with some soft part of him, but found only empty air as the edges of her vision darkened.

“Witch,” he spat, squeezing hard enough that she feared he might break her neck. She struggled to make out the rest of his words over her screaming lungs and the chaos around them. Heat thrummed in her veins, eager to lash out, to protect, but rendered utterly impotent by the space between her hands.

“We should have killed you when we had the chance,” he hissed, breath hot against her face. “But I will make it right.”

It was a vow, a promise that chilled her to her bones as her chest heaved in agony and black spots seeped into her vision. The pressure increased tenfold, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but all that came out was a fountain of red.

The blood was hot where it splattered against her skin, her ribs aching as he collapsed against her with a gurgle. Then he was silent.

Alyra gasped for air, her lungs greedy and desperate, as she tried to wriggle out from under the dead weight. All at once, the pressure lifted, and she found herself staring up into two sets of dark eyes—one familiar, one unknown. She caught Ivan’s hand, allowing him to haul her to her feet.

“Are you alright?” the man beside him asked, his brow knit with concern on a face both soft and angular.

Alyra rubbed at her neck, her throat burning. She opted for a nod in response.

“Good,” he said, flashing her a weak smile, and she caught a glimpse of a dimple. “I’m Fedyor.”

“Alyra,” she rasped. He squeezed her shoulder before Ivan stepped between them.

“There will be time for introductions later. We’re sitting ducks here,” Ivan shouted over the roar of fire and shouting. He charged forward, his broad frame cutting a path through the carnage, making it easy for her to follow. Fedyor fell into pace behind him with Alyra at his heels, stepping sidelong out of the way as a Druskelle hit the ground beside her. It was only a moment, but just enough time for three men in black to slip between them, effectively cutting them off from one another. One of them whistled with a sharp hand gesture, directing his comrades toward the trees.

That’s when she saw them—six men with rifles, positioned between the thin trunks, all poised to fire, their barrels trained on Ivan and Fedyor.

Alyra’s heart pounded in her chest as she cried out for them, but her voice was carried away by the fog and the fighting. She needed to warn them, but they were already too far ahead, nearing the treeline, and she knew she would never make it in time. The soldiers’ guns raised in unison, and there was no more time to think. Alyra reacted, jaw clenched as she felt the power bubble up like an uncontrollable geyser. It surged forward. The grass around her withered and died, energy diverted in a deadly rush toward the gunmen.

It was over in seconds. Bodies dropped like flies, their skin withered and gray, eyes wide with horror. Alyra’s vision swam, her body drained from the effort. But Ivan But Ivan and Fedyor were unharmed, gathered near the fallen gunmen. Alyra stepped over the fresh corpses, her gaze drifting down to their lifeless faces, their empty eyes staring back at her. A sick feeling churned in her stomach as she realized what she had done. She forced herself to meet Ivan’s gaze, his expression stricken with a mix of shock and something else—something she couldn’t quite place.

Suddenly, it felt as if the world had narrowed to just the three of them, the burning encampment, the dead men, and the raging battle all fading into the background. Alyra’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath quickening as she took in the horrified looks on their faces. She knew those looks, knew the disaster that always followed them. Panic coiled in her gut, and her muscles tensed, fingers twitching in anticipation.

Ivan must have noticed her shift because he took a step forward, his hand outstretched. “Alyra, wait—”

But she was already running, her legs pumping as fast as they could carry her toward the dark stand of trees beyond. Her body was weak, unaccustomed to the sudden burst of activity, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. The treeline was close, tantalizingly so. If she could just make it to the safety of the shadows, she might be free.

Two soldiers in blue keftas stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She pivoted, boots sliding in the muck, but they mirrored her movements, cutting off any escape. The gap between them was small, but she was fast, and surprise was on her side. She shifted to the balls of her feet, ready to dart through any opening, but these were trained soldiers, seasoned by combat.

Salvation came in the form of a gunshot somewhere to her left. It was too close for comfort, but Alyra didn’t have the luxury to be alarmed. The soldiers’ eyes drifted toward the sound, just for a second, but it was all the time she needed. Alyra seized her chance with both hands, darting between them and bolting for the trees at a dead sprint. Somewhere behind her, she could hear Ivan’s voice calling for her, but she didn’t stop. She had a head start and the cover of the forest on her side. Ivan would be safe among his kind, but Alyra had no such guarantees.

Breathless, she pressed forward, unsure how much distance she had covered. Her lungs burned with every ragged breath, each step becoming more laborious as her legs turned to lead. The mud clung to her boots, making every movement a struggle. She finally pulled her foot free, only to lose a boot in the process. There was no time to retrieve it. She pushed on, her blood thick and sluggish in her veins.

Her chest ached with a vengeance now. She willed herself to keep going, but her body had reached its limit. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she crashed to the ground, her cry of frustration escaping as no more than an exhausted whimper.

Footsteps approached behind her. Slowly, she turned her heavy head to peer over her shoulder. Red fabric danced in her vision as the world tipped, and she collapsed into the mud.