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skepticalcatfrog · 9 months ago

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Kerch, Ghezenism, and the Van Eck Family

The title pretty much sums it up. This is a rather extensive analysis, and to be honest with you all it is 2,500+ words. So get into this absolute beast at your own risk!

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From my experience in this fandom, I've seen it discussed very frequently how important religion is in the Grishaverse. Not only is it very deeply developed, to the point where many of the different countries have unique beliefs - which I'm not sure is seen very often in newer literature - but the various religious systems are also deeply important to many major characters, such as Matthias and Inej. However, one aspect of Grishaverse religions that seems to be overlooked somewhat often is the Kerch religion of Ghezenism. This may just be me, but I have a lot of thoughts on it. A big reason for that is that Wylan is, and always has been, my favorite character, and the culture surrounding Ghezen is actually a very important part of his character for many reasons. When you look into it in the way that I have, you discover that there are a lot of peculiar aspects of Ghezenism that make it stand out, as well as many ties that it has to major aspects of the story.

Right away, one thing that makes Kerch religion different from the others is how deeply connected to the economy it is. So much so that a lot of aspects of the two subjects are one and the same. Given that Ketterdam is a city largely fueled by commerce, it makes sense that Ghezenism would heavily tie into Kerch culture as well. Symbols of Ghezen can be found in many places throughout the city, even beyond the Church of Barter. A very good example of this is Vellgeluk, the island where the Crows meet Van Eck expecting to get their reward from the Ice Court heist: “Smugglers called it Vellgeluk, “good luck,” because of the paintings still visible around the base of what would have been the obelisk tower: golden circles meant to represent coins, symbols of favor from Ghezen, the god of industry and commerce,” (Six of Crows, Chapter 44). This just goes to show how many people in Ketterdam, and the wider country of Kerch as well, put their faith in Ghezen. Vellgeluk is a chosen place for smugglers to do business, specifically because favors of Ghezen are still present there.

Another interesting part of that passage is the fact that Ghezen is referred to as the god of industry and commerce. Kerch may have other gods, but as far as I can remember - and I may be wrong, but I don't think I am - we never hear about any of them. A similar situation can be found in Fjerda, where Djel is specifically the god of life, implying the existence of other gods. In Fjerda, it is very clear that Djel is mainly what they base their culture and belief system around. This makes perfect sense for a god of life, but isn't Ketterdam’s situation a bit more unusual? The most frequently discussed god, Ghezen, represents industry. We can assume Ghezen is the primary god within the Kerch religious system. Not to mention that their largest church is called the Church of Barter, barter obviously being a term that has much to do with economics. Ketterdam, if not the entire country of Kerch, seems to have no real concept of the separation of church and state. They quite literally hold auctions inside of the church; the auctioning of Kuwei is not a singular event.

The impacts of religion can also be seen in the culture and behavior of the people of Kerch, as seen in a brief section of Crooked Kingdom. “Kerch women—even the wealthy ones—didn’t bother with anything as frivolous as embroidery or needlepoint. Ghezen was better served by tasks that benefited the household,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 14). Obviously, things like this are much more typical of religion. But I would argue that even this holds traces of the same values expressed by the connection between Ghezenism and the economy. It is specifically mentioned here that Kerch women are encouraged to participate in tasks that will “benefit the household”. This displays one of the very prominent aspects of the Ghezenite religion, which is that one of the most important things a person can do is be productive, and create a prosperous life for themselves and their family.

In addition to direct ties between Ghezenism and the Kerch economy, occasionally the legal system is put into the mix as well. While considering what consequences his father might face after the events of the auction, Wylan reveals this piece of information: “Knowingly entering into a false contract for the purpose of subverting the market wasn’t just illegal, it was considered blasphemy, a blight on the works of Ghezen, and the penalties were harsh,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 41). Essentially what he means by this is that not only is tampering with the economy against the law, but it is also heavily frowned upon in a religious sense, and anyone who does so will face punishment from both sides. This is extremely unique, even within the Grishaverse. This single sentence also reveals another very interesting thing about Kerch society. The market, as it exists in Ketterdam, is believed to be a creation of god - it is referred to here as being a part of the “works of Ghezen”. That, more than anything, is concrete proof of just how interconnected the economy of Kerch is with its primary religion. This also means that committing a crime such as Van Eck did isn't simply illegal (which we can assume he has no issues with), it is also an act that goes against his own religion. But stop to consider for a moment: does he really have a problem with that either?

There are numerous examples throughout both books of Van Eck blatantly abusing the values of his own religion. On its own, the teachings of Ghezenism aren't inherently bad. After all, things such as tampering with the market for your own gain are actively discouraged using the threat of blasphemy, which I'd say is generally beneficial. The issue, however, arises when Van Eck in particular attempts to twist some of these values in order to justify his own actions. If there is one single quote from the duology that exemplifies this, it would be this one: “Ghezen shows his favor to those who are deserving, to those who build cities, not the rats who eat away at their foundations. He has blessed me and my dealings. You will perish, and I will prosper. That is Ghezen’s will,” (Six of Crows, Chapter 45). Van Eck openly believes that, since he is a member of the upper class, he is somehow more deserving of a blessing. He is insistent that “Ghezen's will”, or what he interprets as what Ghezen wishes for him to do, is to trample others in order to further his own success.

It doesn't matter to him who stands in his way, and it never will, because his goal is only to make himself more wealthy; he simply hides this behind a thin veil of piety. This motivation is especially clear when he is speaking to Inej while he is holding her captive. “When I leave this world, the greatest shipping empire ever known will remain, an engine of wealth, a tribute to Ghezen and a sign of his favor. Who will remember a girl like you, Miss Ghafa? What will you and Kaz Brekker leave behind but corpses to be burned on the Reaper’s Barge?” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 7). He frames people less fortunate than him - in this case Kaz and Inej - as forgettable and unimportant. The only thing he considers truly important is wealth, which he equates to power. He even references Ghezen here, claiming again that all of his actions, as well as his empire and legacy, are meant to show his dedication to his religion. He also claims that his ability to attain this level of success is a sign that Ghezen favors him. That in particular is a display of his extremely warped view of Ghezenism. The truth is that his success can only be attributed to his unethical actions, but the fact that he claims it is due to Ghezen's favor means that he will never be able to be convinced that he is wrong. He has what he believes to be an airtight justification.

His classism is also extremely evident, while indirectly, in an exchange between Kaz and Wylan earlier on in Crooked Kingdom. ““Your father much for charity?” “No. He tithes to Ghezen, but he says charity robs men of the chance at honest labor,”” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 2). This shows that Van Eck is very protective over his wealth. Which, quite frankly, is more likely than not the exact opposite of what Ghezenism is intended to promote. Based on what we are shown from an outside perspective, it seems as though one of the main aspects of Ghezenism is to create a prosperous economy for everyone. However, what Van Eck seems to believe is that he is intended to simply accumulate as much wealth as he possibly can, and keep it all for himself.

It is incredibly clear that Van Eck doesn't care about the well-being of anyone other than himself when it comes down to it. It could be argued that he cares for Alys, and will care for their child when it is born, but this simply cannot be proven. Just look at the exact mirror of this situation: Marya and Wylan. Wylan states about his parents, “I think he really loved her. They fought all the time, sometimes about me, but I remember them laughing a lot together too,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 14). If we are to believe that this is true, and Van Eck truly did love Marya, that doesn't change the fact that he didn't hesitate to send her away as soon as he discovered that Wylan couldn't read or write. There is no evidence to say that he wouldn't do the same to Alys, under similar circumstances.

And, of course, this all leads back to the matter of Wylan. When Van Eck decided that Wylan wouldn't be useful to him, he stopped caring about him very quickly. Near the end of Six of Crows, we hear more of the specifics on Van Eck's opinion of Wylan. “I have hired the best tutors from every corner of the world. I’ve tried specialists, tonics, beatings, hypnotism. But he refused to be taught. I finally had to accept that Ghezen saw fit to curse me with a moron for a child. Wylan is a boy who will never grow to be a man. He is a disgrace to my house,” (Six of Crows, Chapter 45). Van Eck believes that Wylan is a curse from Ghezen, purely because he thinks that Wylan will be incapable of producing profits for their business. This is perhaps one of the most egregious examples of his blatant abuse of his own religion, because he is entirely willing to abandon and even murder his own son in order to fulfill his goals, which he claims is all Ghezen's will.

There is no feasible way Wylan would be able to grow up being raised by Van Eck, and not be affected by his religious ideas in some way. In fact, there is evidence contained in the text that proves this rather thoroughly. There are even certain things that have already been cited within this analysis that can be circled back to, such as the quote just above. This quote exemplifies the sort of treatment Wylan was subjected to while growing up. This is mostly speculation, but it's safe to assume he was told at a very young age that his own father considered him a punishment from god. That is objectively terrible, and we know that by the age of eight his father was his only parent. The psychological impacts that that would have on a child that young are unimaginable.

Additionally, we can return to this quote from Crooked Kingdom: “When I leave this world, the greatest shipping empire ever known will remain, an engine of wealth, a tribute to Ghezen and a sign of his favor. Who will remember a girl like you, Miss Ghafa? What will you and Kaz Brekker leave behind but corpses to be burned on the Reaper’s Barge?” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 7). While Van Eck is not talking to Wylan here, and Wylan isn't even present at the time, this passage still indirectly displays Van Eck's feelings about Wylan. Here he is expressing the fact that he maintains that if a person is not able to create wealth and prosperity for themselves, they are essentially useless. As we know from the previous example, he believes this of Wylan as well.

It is evident that Wylan was taught Ghezenite values from a young age. While examining the exterior of the Church of Barter, his thoughts include this: “He didn’t need to be able to read the words engraved over the arch. He’d heard his father repeat them countless times. Enjent, Voorhent, Almhent. Industry, Integrity, Prosperity,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 31). This is confirmation that Van Eck frequently encouraged Wylan to think about these values, and it can be inferred that it likely wasn't in a particularly positive manner. Industry, integrity, and prosperity are clearly the three main ideals of this religion, and we can easily be led to the conclusion that Van Eck is certain his son is capable of none of them.

It is also suggested that Wylan may even associate his father's disapproval with religion subconsciously as well. A good example of this is in Crooked Kingdom, after Wylan is taken to the Church of Barter. “Van Eck shook his head. “Every time I think you cannot disappoint me further, you prove me wrong.” They were in a small chapel topped by a dome. The oil paintings on the wall featured battle scenes and piles of armaments,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 31). While this is also simply meant to provide the reader with a description of the environment, the juxtaposition between the two halves of this passage cannot be an accident. What we can observe here is that after Van Eck once again expresses his ever-present disappointment with Wylan, emphasis is immediately put on the fact that they are in the church. This, along with the other passages listed, creates a clear link between Wylan's negative relationship with his father and the effects that their shared religion has had on it.

What I consider to be one of the most important quotes for this subject, despite also being the shortest one used, comes near the end of Six of Crows. After Wylan has played his role in foiling Van Eck's plan to trick the Crows, he says this: “Maybe you can pray to Ghezen for understanding, Father,” (Six of Crows, Chapter 45). This is sort of the first act of retribution that the reader sees from Wylan. He has just made his father look like a fool, and then he practically spits in his face by taking the thing that was used against him for so long - their religion - and using it against his father instead. Not only is this moment incredibly satisfying, it also marks the beginning of Wylan's growth as a character that eventually leads to him being able to stand up to his father in more ways.

Despite being arguably the least explored Grishaverse religion in online spaces, I find Ghezenism to be extremely interesting when it comes to the ways it ties into the themes of the story. It represents wider, more general themes found throughout the book, such as the idea that people often value their own success over the well-being of others, but it contains even more when examined under a closer lens. It opens the door to a completely new aspect of further analyzing the relationship between Wylan and his father, and introduces vital elements of in-depth characterization for both of them. The way Wylan and Van Eck each view the same religion is highly indicative of their individual values, and that is a very interesting thing to expand upon. It simply goes to show just how much thought went into creating both the culture of this world, and the characters who live within it.

#this is virtually just a huge monster of a brain dump #don't bully me too hard if some details are off guys #six of crows #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone #shadow and bone s2 #wylan van eck #wylan hendriks #soc wylan #wylan soc #wesper #jan van eck #marya hendriks #alys van eck #ketterdam

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amsgrey · 2 years ago

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it will be enough

requested: yes

Grisha power wasn't specified, so I picked a random one. (and by picked I mean I literally added them to a spin-the-wheel thing and went with it).

Spoilers for Season Two of Shadow And Bone

warnings: Not proofread or edited, Nikolai being jealous, fluff at the end, more things that I have forgotten

You met Nikolai when he was still parading as Sturmhond, the witty privateer who was all about money and fun. You had been locked alone in the hull of a slaver's ship for longer than you could remember, wasting away without food, water or the ability to summon. Everything had been a blur, shouting, fighting, and then you were being unchained and helped upstairs. You remembered the first time stepping into the sun after that whole time, it burnt your eyes and you had to shield them with your arm.

You had met Sturmhond on his own boat, someone had laid you in a cot and forced you to drink water. Then, a man in teal had asked you your name, told you you were safe and would have a place on his crew if you wanted it. You had taken him up on it, there was always a space for a Squaller on his crew. Nikolai grew to trust you, and put his faith in you as he did Tamar and Tolya. Since then, you would follow Nikolai anywhere he asked.

That included helping him bring peace back to Ravka with the Sun summoner. You had been hesitant to leave your comfortable life with the crew of the Volkvolny, but you loved Nikolai, you would go with him to the ends of the earth. You and Nikolai had been dancing around feelings for each other for almost as long as you had known each other. Tolya was always teasing you about it, reciting cliché poetry and watching you and Nikolai exchange stolen glances. You were sure they were unrequited feelings, so you never acted on them.

It only got worse after returning to Ravka and meeting with the rest of Nikolai's allies at the Spinning wheel. You saw the way he looked at Alina, the hope that lit up his eyes, she was all he needed now. You tried your best not to be hurt about it, you knew loving a prince would only lead to pain. He would never be able to love you back, a commoner. So you volunteered to join Tolya to travel to Ketterdam. You were born and raised in Kerch, and you had the strongest language skills out of all of the party.

Nikolai hadn't spoken to you since announcing his engagement to the sun summoner, it felt like he was avoiding you. He finally approached you on the Hummingbird the day you agreed to leave.

"Y/N?"

You turned to find him leaning against the railings, watching you prepare the sails for the journey. "Moi Tsar."

Nikolai cringed, "Not yet."

You smiled, walking over to join him, "Does that mean I can still can you Sobachka?" You laughed, playfully shouldering him like you would do on the Volkvolny.

Nikolai rolled his eyes, "What is your obsession with that name?"

You enjoyed watching him squirm, making fun of him was too easy some days, "I like calling you Sobachka, makes me think of you like a little cute pup."

Tolya interrupted you both before Nikolai could answer, "We getting this show on the road?"

Nikolai took an extra look at you and the bright smile you sported, "Be safe," He ordered, returning to his Prince persona.

"We'll bring back Neshyenyer," You promised.

Returning to Kerch and meeting the crows felt like a fever dream. Somehow, you slotted into their ranks easily, quickly becoming fast friends. You grew to enjoy Kaz's company as much as the others, something about spending time with someone else from Kerch, who really understood. Besides, he was serious and unwavering and you kind of enjoyed someone who was as serious as you.

After the events in Shu-Han, you were having second thoughts about staying around in Ravka after the war. Nikolai had everything he needed now and Kaz had offered you a place with the Crows if you wanted it. The only thing that was keeping you in Ravka was Nikolai, but why stick around to love someone who would never love you?

You jogged along with Kaz, Wylan and Jesper, headed towards where Nikolai was rumoured to be. You followed Kaz's lead as he peeked over a wall, watching three Grisha rounded on Nikolai and his forces.

"Wylan," Kaz turned to the boy, "Grenade."

Wylan handed it over to him, everyone watching him light the fuse.

"Y/N?"

You nodded, stretching out your hands to summon wind to propel the grenade to your target. You all watched it make its mark, blowing The Darkling's Inferni back until she lay dead on the battlefield.

Nikolai looked to Tamar, "Where did that come from?"

Kaz stood proudly, declaring, "My Demolitions expert."

You stood to his right, just as proud to be joining the fray.

"Expert?" Wylan mumbled, looking at Kaz. You all looked at him as he corrected himself, "I mean, yes. Expert."

You and Jesper smiled, amused by his fake confidence.

You all took a step forward, sliding down the shingled roof and dropping down the wall. You used your small science to soften everyone's fall, allowing you all to rush towards the gates. Jesper quickly worked on the rust that bound the gates closed, leading Wylan to the barricade Tamar, Nadia and Adrick hiding behind. You and Kaz headed opposite them, where Nikolai was crouched.

As you both rushed over, Kaz muttered, "What nightmare have we gotten ourselves into."

Jesper looked over at your group, "Why's Sturmhond here?"

Tamar frowned at him.

"Round here he goes by Nikolai."

"Nikolai Lantsov," Jesper realized, looking over to the man in question. Nikolai shrugged, you couldn't help the chuckle at Jesper's annoyed expression.

"All this time, close personal friend," He spun his pistols into his hands, preparing for a fight.

Nadia and Tamar looked about as confused as could be, "And you are?" Tamar pressed.

Wylan was tucked behind Jesper, his hand resting on his back, "You must be Tamar." He answered, "We came with your brother."

That didn't seem to make the woman any less confused, but she didn't press it any further.

You all watched the Darklings Squaller and Tide Maker rise to attack again. The tide maker raised her hands, drawing water from the sky to draw her attack. Jesper sprung into action first, followed by Adrick and Nadia who came to his support. Watching Jesper shoot would always entrance you, he was such a great shot, aided by his Durast abilities.

You were about to stand and join the fight when Nikolai stopped you, "Did you get Neshyenyer?"

You nodded, "Zoya, Nina and Inej are finding Alina, they'll get to her."

Nikolai nodded in relief, as you looked him over you realized there was blood staining his jacket.

You pressed your fingers to the blood, "Are you hurt?"

Nikolai followed your gaze to where your hand rested on the stain, "it's- It's not mine."

You looked up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes. You would ask more later, for now, there were more pressing matters than those you'd lost.

Jesper finished his attack on the Tidemaker with the buttons on his waistcoat, lashing out and turning them into their tiny blades. As you looked past Nikolai you watched the Squaler draw lightning to his palms, it crackled and hissed as he tried to amass it.

Kaz nudged you with his crow's head cane, handing it over for you to use as a conductor. You quickly jumped to your feet, rushing to Jesper's side and using Kaz's cane and your powers to channel the electricity. Lightning was notoriously unstable, It didn't react well to being controlled. You threw your hands up, forcing the lighting to connect the two of you through Kaz's cane, then expelling the power back into the storm clouds it came from. The more lightning the Squaller summoned, the harder you worked to draw it away. Eventually, he ceased, knowing he could not lash out with the electricity you too controlled.

"I have Datura Meloxia!" Wylan shouted.

"Wylan! Now."

The boy uncapped the vile, calling for Adrick and Nadia to help him propel the powder, "Air support!"

You and Jesper ducked to avoid the powder being swept into Grisha's face, watching him stumble around in glazed confusion before Tamar sent her axe into his head.

As the Tidemaker tried to fight back one last time, she realized just how effective Jesper's attack had been. Screaming at the realization her fingers were gone. Nikolai was appearing to the side, raising his pistol and firing one last bullet, taking down the final one of the darklings Grisha.

"It's done."

You and Jesper both let out matching sighs of relief. He bent over to retrieve his pistol, then dramatically threw his arm around your shoulders to pull you into a side hug.

"Thanks for that, gorgeous."

You smiled, "My pleasure, Handsome."

You joined Kaz and Nikolai, the two of them eyeing each other. You retrieved Kaz's cane from the mud, handing it over to him with a triumphant smile, "I believe this belongs to you, Brekker."

Kaz took it from you, twisting it in his hand as he admired the crow's head.

Nikolai looked from you to the man who you were grinning at, suddenly less pleased to see Brekker, "I didn't realize you were patriots."

"Well if you die, we don't get paid," Kaz said like it was the most straightforward answer. You couldn't help but laugh, after the stress of the fight and Kaz's arid sense of humour, you needed it.

Nikolai was sure he could listen to you laugh every minute of every day and never get sick of it. He hadn't heard it enough in the last few weeks, and it pained him. He longed for the evenings on the Volkvolny when the crew would laugh and drink without the looming threat of death and destruction.

Everyone smiled when Tolya appeared, pulling his sister in a crushing hug. Nikolai looked around his gathered allies.

"We have to find Alina. If Kirigan brought the fight here, he's gunning for her."

Tolya nodded, "I've cleared us a way into the fort. Come on."

You fell into step with Nikolai at the back of the group, his unofficial bodyguard for the fight you were about to delve back into. Nikolai couldn't help but spare you glances, you looked tired, the lightning summoning had worn you out. He wanted to stop, allow you to rest, and bring back the bright smile you almost always wore. He knew better, though, just plotting along silently beside your group.

You sat next to Tamar as everyone took a much-deserved breather.

"A moment of sun before we deal with out losses," Nikolai sighed, glancing over the wounded and dying that lay on the grass, "Dominik..."

Tamar comforted her friend quickly, "He did exactly what any of us would have done for each other."

"For you," You added, leaning over and grabbing Nikolai's hand. He glanced down at your clasped hands, giving a small squeeze as thanks.

You all looked up as Alina, Inej, Nina and Mal walked over the hill. Nina stayed by the wounded while Inej and Alina exchanged a few quick words. Alina chased after Mal, leaving Inej to inform the group.

Nikolai thanked the crows for their help, he took Tolya's arm and headed away to address the consequences. You were about to join when Kaz called your name.

You turned to the man, a small frown on your face, "Yes?"

"If you ever feel like coming back to Ketterdam," He spoke, "We would welcome a crow with your abilities."

Jesper and Inej both nodded, showing their support.

You couldn't help the smile that grew, "I'll think about it." You promised, taking your leave to follow after Nikolai and the others.

When you met up with Nikolai, he wouldn't meet your gaze. Looking at everyone else but you. He made preparations for the Darkling to be burned on a pyre, leading all of his most trusted allies to join him. It was strange, that it was all over. There was no more fold, no more bickering or fighting between otkazat'sya and Grisha, it was an entirely new beginning.

You wanted to stand by Nikolai as he addressed your small group, but there was something off about him. He still had yet to make eye contact with you, ignoring your small gestures of comfort. Eventually, you gave up, coming to stand next to Nina behind Alina.

As Nikolai finished his speech, Kaz led his crows away. Nina looked at you, knowing you needed the support. She took your hand, leading you away from the flames with the rest of the crows.

The gathered forces were celebrating as you all exited the sand that was once the fold. Offering all of you drinks and food. You couldn't find the energy to join the festivities, brushing off friends and fellow Grisha to find a quieter space.

You found yourself wandering until you reached the roof of the compound, finding a perch on the edge of a wall looking over the land around the compound.

You let out a quiet gasp in fright when Nikolai appeared at your side.

He quickly grabbed your arm, "Don't fall."

You smiled, "I won't. Probably."

Nikolai chuckled, joining you on the ledge. You were struck by how many times you would sit together like this on the Volkvolny.

"Shouldn't you go find a healer?" You asked, gesturing to the bandages wrapped around his leg.

Nikolai shrugged, "I needed to talk to you first."

You looked away, "About?"

Nikolai was staring at the horizon, clearly also struggling to find the courage to talk. Something had changed between you two for sure.

"What did Brekker say," Nikolai finally spoke after a long silence between you.

You glanced at him, the afternoon sun was illuminating his face. His hair was still cleanly combed back, neatly styled to make him look regal. His cheek was still bruised, the only thing that made him look like the Sturmhond you knew.

"He said if I ever wanted to go home, I had a place with the crows."

Nikolai nodded, "Home to Ketterdam?"

Nikolai knew how much you missed Kerch, you grew up in the countryside on a farm with your siblings. You had stopped in Ketterdam once or twice with the Volkvolny crew, but it wasn't the same as going back to live there.

"I know it sounds crazy," You fiddled with your hands, "I never thought it would be possible to go back, maybe now..."

Nikolai could relate to that, he never felt entirely at home in the Grand Palace, and he didn't think it would ever be possible to. Now he would rule there.

"When are you and Alina leaving for Os Alta?"

"Tomorrow," Nikolai replied, "Tamar and Tolya are taking over captainship of the Volkvolny."

You hummed, "I'm sure they're excited about that, Tolya can stop for all the snacks he wants."

Nikolai laughed, a carefree laugh that made you smile too.

You both sat in peaceful silence for a while, listening to the celebrations going on under your feet. You felt like there was something more to say like you both wanted the other to confess the feelings you shared.

You kept coming back to the fact Nikolai and Alina were engaged. You knew that it wasn't a love match, Alina loved Mal. But even so, they would be tied together for as long as it took for Ravka to rebuild. You were being childish if you thought you and Nikolai could be anything other than friends. And so you were thinking more and more about returning to Ketterdam, joining the crows. Leaving Nikolai would hurt, but it would hurt more watching Nikolai with Alina.

You eventually came to the conclusion there was nothing more you could say, Nikolai clearly did not share your feelings. You cleared your throat, stretching casually and then getting to your feet.

"They're probably missing us," You said, trying to hide your disappointment.

Nikolai didn't respond, staring out at the horizon a while longer.

"You should stay."

You almost didn't hear it, already a few steps away from Nikolai. You turned to face him, "What?"

Nikolai got to his feet and stood before you, giving you his full attention for the first time since leaving the Volkvolny.

"I want you to stay."

You struggled to find any words, gaping at the man before you.

Nikolai kept talking, "I know that I can't ask this of you, I know I Shouldn't. But seeing you with Brekker, the thought of you going to Ketterdam with him-"

Nikolai stopped when you giggled. He frowned at you, "What?"

"Nothing," You giggled.

Nikolai grabbed your hand, "What? Why are you laughing?"

You stifled your laugh, "Are you jealous of Kaz?"

Nikolai faked being offended, "Me? Jealous?"

"Oh, you so are," You cackled, getting a lot of amusement out of watching the Tsar squirm, "Nikolai Lantsov with his damnably handsome looks is jealous?"

Nikolai dropped your hand and threw his hands up in exasperation, "You are the worst."

You grinned, then remembered what he had asked. "Do you really want me to stay?"

Nikolai looked serious again, "I do. I want you to stay with me, by my side."

"But you're engaged to Alina."

Nikolai seemed to realize at the same time you did, he nodded solemnly, "We couldn't be anything to each other in public. At least, not until Alina and I end our engagement."

"You'll end your engagement?"

"It was always the plan," Nikolai explained, "She loves Mal. I love you. It's just for political-"

"You love me?" You cried before you could stop yourself.

Nikolai's face flushed, he scratched his neck sheepishly, "Yes."

"Well," You reached out and took his face in your hands, cupping his cheeks gently, "Aren't you lucky I love you too."

Nikolai's face burst into a cocky grin. He grabbed your waist, firmly holding onto you and dragging you closer to him. He reached one hand u to cup your cheek, guiding a thumb over your cheekbone tenderly.

"I can't believe you were jealous of Kaz," You teased, drunk on the feeling of being so close to Nikolai.

"Shut up," Nikolai scoffed, he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss. He pulled you even closer until you were flush with his chest. You brought your hands to the back of his neck, twisting your fingers into his hair. You couldn't help but feel relief, the feeling of it washed over you. You had spent the last few days worrying about where you stood. This answered that gnawing fear, Nikolai felt the same.

Nikolai pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. His arms wound around your waist, holding you close while he stared into your eyes.

Your face was flushed and you were breathless, "I have been waiting years for you to do that."

Nikolai smiled, "I've been wanting to do that for years."

You knew this wouldn't be the end of this discussion, about him and Alina. But for now, you were happy to follow him to Os Alta, to know he felt the same way. That would be enough for now.

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restinslices · 1 year ago

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Liar Pt2

Me finally writing the part 2?! Wow! So this part is honestly filler. It's Matthias being in his own head and meeting Nina, who will become an ally. Imma be real, nothing happens BUT LISTEN- it's setting shit up. Have faith. Enjoy his mental crisis. Druskelle!Matthias Helvar x Heartrender!Wife!Reader (she does not make an apperance-) Word Count: 2059 Summary: Ever since you've left, Matthias has had conflicting thoughts about your relationship and it's driving him insane, but an unlikely friend makes him realize not all hope is lost. Y/N - Your Name D/N - Daughter Name Link to part 1

(Lowkey should've used this gif for part 1 and part1's for this, but rip)

“Dear my love and life,

I don’t know what to say. Maybe I should say sorry again for the whatever thousandth time. I never know how to start these, so I always say I’m sorry. I wish Djel gave me the power to go back in time and fix the mistakes I’ve made. I wish I could go back and hug you when you told me about you being Grisha, instead of pushing you away. I wish I would’ve held you and told you I’d forever love you instead of calling you a witch. I wish when I woke up, I had my wife beside me and my daughter in the room next to ours. I have lots of wishes, and since I can’t change the past, I have a wish that’s selfish and cruel.

I wish you both were dead. I wish that the Druskelle had found and killed you two, or all of you instead of just Elise and Erik.

I know I sound terrible, but not knowing where you are or how you are hurts more than you two being dead. I wish that one day, I’m sitting at home and someone comes in to say they found and killed you both.

Am I a bad person for thinking this? I’ve heard rumors about other countries. I’ve heard Ravka trains their children for war. I’ve heard Shu Han does terrible experiments on Grisha. I’ve heard in The Wandering Isle that the Kaelish kill Grisha so they can drink their blood. I’ve heard in Kerch, Grisha are put under contracts and basically become slaves. I’d rather you be dead than go through any of that.

My love, you remember the day I proposed to you. I know you do. What you don’t know is that the night before I did so, I sat outside for hours. I couldn’t possibly sleep when I was terrified about what I was gonna do. I saw a star that shined brighter than the others, and for some reason, I thought it could be Djel watching over me. I prayed and begged Djel to convince you to say yes, and you did.

Maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong. Maybe I’m too busy wishing, instead of praying, but I haven’t felt like praying in so long. Maybe if I find that star again, he’ll hear me better like he did the first time. Maybe I’ll get another chance and we’ll all run away. Maybe-”

“Anything going on up there?” the Grisha woman asked.

Matthias found himself writing a lot since you left. Not in some diary though. He’d write letters to you and his daughter, then throw them in the fireplace and watch it be engulfed in flames.

At first the letters were angry and full of betrayal. You lied to him for years. You used him. That’s what he thought at first.

It had been days and you hadn’t been caught. He happened to have paper and ink around him, so he wrote this letter filled with insults, profanities and accusations, then he threw it in the fireplace. Although he wrote all this down, about how you were a liar and a witch, he didn’t go with the druskelle to try and capture you. Others assumed that your “witchcraft” made him still feel sick, but in reality, Matthias knew deep down that if he saw you he wouldn’t be able to take the shot. He would’ve been expected to either kill or capture his ex wife and child and he knew he couldn't. You were his love, and once your daughter was born, you both promised each other to make her number one in your lives. You’d raise her with love and guidance and make sure she never knew a lonely day. You even promised each other that if one was to die, the other had to keep going everyday even if they didn’t want to. You both promised to make her your whole life. Now he was expected to forget all about that. He wanted to forget all about you, but he couldn’t.

His letters went from angry to pleading. Sometimes his letters would be destroyed by his own tears before it even reached the fire. This especially happened whenever an important date passed, like your daughter’s birthday. It hit him hard then. The loneliness became more apparent. Matthias had quit being a Druskelle, telling Brum some bullshit about how his head still didn’t feel right and he didn’t want to mess something up. In reality, being a Druskelle didn’t feel right anymore. His brothers gave him sympathy, saying you were evil and he was strong for realizing this and breaking out of your spell, but it didn’t make sense. When people look back at their memories with a manipulator or abuser, they notice signs. They see things they didn’t see before. And while Matthias did indeed notice signs that you were Grisha, he didn’t see any signs of evil.

Matthias knew you even before his family was killed, and you stood by him as he mourned. You stayed even when he was sure you’d leave. How could you possibly be evil? It didn’t make sense.

Matthias doesn’t know why he accepted Brum’s offer to go on another exploration. Maybe it was loneliness. He had practically isolated himself for two years. No more you. No more D/N. No more brotherhood.

Or maybe he was hoping somehow they’d find you and he’d be able to escape with you.

Either way, he accepted. A mistake.

The boat ended up sinking and Matthias was sure he’d die, until he suddenly felt his heart speeding up in his chest. When he came to, he realized one of the Grisha, a heartrender with brown hair and a smart mouth, had saved him. Granted, it was just so he could push them to shore, but at least he was breathing.

They found a hut, slept by each other, and that’s when he realized two things.

Number one, your wedding ring, which he always kept in his pocket, was gone.

Number two, when the woman sped his heart up so he stayed warm, it felt familiar. It was how he felt when he laid next to you. He always assumed that maybe his heart beat so fast because being near you was the greatest honor and he hadn’t gotten used to it. He’d still say that was true, but the reality was that you used your power to keep him warm every single night. If he hadn’t been around someone, he might’ve cried.

He heard fingers snapping next to his ear. “Druskelle? Anyone up there?”.

Matthias blinked hard to snap himself out of his thoughts, then cleared his throat. His eyes had been on the fire in front of him the whole time, as if he could burn his letter like he usually did. He looked to the side as the woman sat next to him. He couldn’t even remember what they were talking about.

It was as if she read his mind since next she said, “you were telling me all about Fjerdan woman then you stopped. Hoping one appears?”.

“Yes” he answered without thinking.

~~~

Matthias refused to answer any of her questions. In all honesty, she was annoying him. She was incredibly nosey and kept insisting they were lost, but they couldn’t have been lost because Druskelle didn’t get lost! All trees look the same! Rocks look the same! A certain patch of snow looked the same as other patches of snow!

They were lost. Dammit.

Matthias sat on a big rock with a flat top in defeat. What good was being alive if they were just gonna freeze to death?

The woman sat next to him, “I’m gonna ask a few questions if you don’t mind”.

“I do mind”.

“What’s your name? I like ‘Dumb Druskelle’ but surely you were born with something else. Todd? A Kevin maybe? James?”. Matthias hated she gave the same comfort a friend would. It was strange. He didn’t know her, but he had been so lonely that he enjoyed having someone else near. And if he was gonna die, he wouldn’t mind dying with someone else.

Although Matthias was silent, she kept going. “Who’s back home for you?”.

“No one” he thought.

The woman pulled something out of one of her pockets and presented it to him. It was your wedding ring, the one he thought probably sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Before he could speak she said “I grabbed it before it sunk too far. Figured I could use it as leverage to make you get us to shore, but you agreed before I could”. Matthias took it and since no one he knew was around, he put it back on.

Some people prefer the feeling of a weight lifting off of them, but he preferred the weight the ring added to his finger even if it wasn’t that huge of a change. The woman was still looking at him then he had an idea. If she was Ravkan and you ran there, maybe she knew you! He asked her if he knew a woman fitting your description with a child that had recently came to Ravka. When she said she was usually in and out of the palace, but had gotten a letter from a friend who mentioned a new Grisha with a child he felt conflicted. On one hand, this could’ve been you and this meant you were safe. On the other hand, this meant his daughter was probably being trained to become a soldier for whatever other war Ravka would join.

She made a sarcastic remark, asking if he had been hunting this woman also and she happened to get away. He spilled his guts then. He told her everything. How you met, how you were always there for him, how you fell in love, your marriage, your child, the incident, him turning on you. All of it. It felt amazing to say out loud to someone else.

“You had an incredible wife but chased her and your child away? Remember when I said there was a brain inside all that muscle? I lied”. He didn’t argue. What was the point? “What would you do if you managed to see her or your child again?”.

He thought about this every night and he still didn’t know. He’d apologize but what then? Let you go? Beg for another chance? What if you had met someone else by now? “I don’t know” he answered honestly “but I’d beg for as long as she wanted me to”.

“You do realize that you were gonna kill more Grisha on that boat right?”

“You would go on trial”

“Your trials are a sham, we’ve been over this. The loneliness won’t end by becoming a Druskelle again. You and I both know it”. Matthias went quiet again as he thought. He hated she was nosey, he hated that everything that came out her mouth was sarcastic or said with an attitude, but more importantly

He hated she was right.

“I have known one way my entire life. I don’t know how to be anything else. I… I don’t know if I can be better”.

“It’s possible” she said. She stood and moved so she was in his view. “Get on your feet-”. It all happened so quick then. She backed up, then all Matthias heard was the ground crumbling and her screams. He dived down, catching her hands.

She pleaded for Matthias to pull her up and for a split second, he thought he’d let her fall.

He refused to turn his back on anyone else though.

He pulled her up and let her catch her breath on the ground. After a few seconds, he stood with his hand outstretched, “Matthias… Helvar”.

She took his hand and let him help her to her feet. “Nina Zenik. Nice to make your acquaintance”. Matthias draped one of the fur coverings he was wearing on her shoulders then they started walking again.

“You saved my life”

“I put you in chains. It was the least I could do”.

“That’s all very true, but I was going to say something before I fell”. Nina grabbed his arm, making him stop and look at her.

“I’m going to help you find your family”.

A/N: I need to stop deciding to write at 11pm-. Anyway, did anything really happen this part? No. Lowkey this should say part 1.5 but that looks ugly so here we are. I will not procrastinate for another two months, I promise. Also I remembered that Matthias is 18 and ya'll kid is 10, so uhhh let's say the kid is 6 and ya'll are mid twenties. Imma edit the last part too, don't even worry. I think part 3 will be the last part unless I decide it's too long and split it. Taglist: @luvrrish @katie-the-bookworm @favouritefeverdream (Idk if you wanted to be tagged, but you commented so imma do it anyway)

#matthias helvar x reader #matthias helvar x you #matthias helvar x y/n #matthias helvar #matthias helvar oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone oneshot #shadow and bone imagine #matthias helvar imagine #six of crows #grishaverse #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows x reader #i am so down bad for him

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batmanlovesnirvana · 2 months ago

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— Faith in the grishaverse.

I’ve always thought that, despite the important role religion plays in the Grishaverse, it isn’t very well explained when it comes to the Ravkans.

There is no central Ravkan deity. People pray to the saints, who are the ones performing miracles, unlike the real-world concept where people ask saints to pray to God on their behalf.

Not all Grisha are saints, but it’s been debated that all saints were actually Grisha. Grisha used to be much more powerful, but their powers diminished after the formation of the Second Army and its orders.

The world was created in The Making at the Heart of the World (let’s call it MHW for short, lol), which is like the central point of creation where everything comes from. The Grisha are connected to MHW—they come from it and return to it after death, but the concept of "Grisha" came later than the Ravkan religion. People credit Sankt Grigori, who was a healer, with forming the first Corporalki, but even in Grigori’s time, saints were already a thing.

The religion is older than Ravka itself. The monks helped the first king of Ravka unify the country, and then founded the Priestguard in exchange for their help. It’s suggested that they were also Grisha.

It’s implied that all gods are the same god, meaning Djel, the saints, and even the Ravkan religion come from the same central source. (I don’t totally agree with this because Ghezen is opposed to Djel, but okay, lol).

Leigh has said the religion is based on Slavic paganism, but the very concept of having saints, cathedrals, icons, monks, and a kind of central religious authority (the Apparat) feels a lot like Eastern Orthodoxy, which was the official religion of the Russian Empire.

In an interview from 2012 (pre-Six of Crows), she said: “I never get specifically into Christianity. That was really important to me. There is no Christ in this world. The religion that is in the world is much closer to the kind of pagan tradition that was in Russia pre-Christianity, and even that grew out of the influence of Christianity, but that couldn’t tamp down these local mythologies.”

Interestingly, a concept of heaven or hell is never mentioned… The Fjerdans are very focused on not sinning against Djel, but we don’t really know what happens if you do. Djel has his saints and is the higher power for the Fjerdans, just like Ghezen is for the Kerch. But there isn’t a central Ravkan deity, and we haven’t heard much about the Shu religion either, just that they believe in some « seven knights », but it was never adressed. I think they believe in more sciency/superstitious and the Suli believes in their Saints, Gods and curses…

Grisha, on the other hand, don’t believe in life after death, though it’s unclear if non-Grisha do. In Crooked Kingdom, Inej tells Nina to let Matthias go to his god, which might imply some kind of afterlife for the Fjerdans. At the end of Rule of Wolves, it’s hinted that all gods are the same god (AGAIN I’d disagree—don’t tell me Ghezen and Djel are the same), suggesting Djel could be the central god of the Grishaverse, taking different forms depending on the culture.

The use of expressions like “heaven” and “hell” might just be a way of speaking that’s familiar to us in the real world. Sometimes authors reshape these concepts to fit their fictional worlds, but Leigh Bardugo doesn’t seem to have done that here.

Honestly, we don’t know much. We know more about the Grisha’s involvement in religion and how people interact with it than we do about the beliefs themselves… What do they believe in? Is there a code of behavior/practice? Is MHW like the Big Bang, or was it set in motion by someone else? I have questions, too…

I had another point, but I forgot it before I could type it out—I'll add it in the comments if I remember… The Nikolai Duology touches on this more, but it doesn’t explain a lot either. It’s more about the influence of religion on Ravkan/Grisha society than actual world-building.

#grishaverse #six of crows #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone #grisha #the darkling #the starless saint #s&b #soc #ketterdam #ravka #religion studies #sun summoner

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jeanbie · 1 year ago

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SHARKBAIT ★ masterlist.

pairing: tolya x reader

warnings: long distance relationships, set after s2 | wc: 6.9k

note: i'm pining over tolya right now. also i know a loooot of fans view tolya as aroace so hopefully this reaches the right audience (and if the show runners or leigh ever confirm this then pls tell me)!!

⏤ Tolya can go months without seeing your face, but he can make out your shape in the darkness of the ship when you steal your visits, fleeing when the sun begins to light up the decks.

Tolya knew what it meant to long, to pine, to wonder and yearn for something you couldn't have. He saw it a thousand times with his poems, between the lines and in each stanza where a romance formed with metaphors and analogies; he saw it in his crew as they busied themselves across an unsteady ocean, searching for purpose and meaning in the vastness of blue and brown. He even saw it in his sister and passing maidens, in his captain and his need to be seen as something more than an amplifier, and he saw it in his own life- with his faith and his resilience, with his own novice works of poetry tucked into journals in his bunk, and in the whispers of silence between the two of you whenever he saw you again, and especially in the stretches of days where he didn't see you at all.

On board the Volkvolny, for what felt like years on end, Tolya had nothing but time to become familiar with what it meant to long. He'd stare out across the expanse of the sea, outlining your body in the clouds as they dipped below the horizon, in the waves rippling under the ship as it sailed away from Os Kervo to Kerch. Sometimes he thought he could make out your shape in the darkness of his bunk, a thin ghostly outline come to haunt him in his sleep, to torment his dreams. Often he woke up to a fading outline of body just to the side of his hammock, remembering that you weren't there, and wouldn't be for some time.

He supposed that he was lucky to be on this ship, with the world at his hands. There were days where he was so caught up in the passion of his work, alongside his never-faltering faith, that he didn't have time to think of you, instead only stumbling into your body through dreams, where you came to him as easily as the sea to the shore. Today hadn't been one of those days, and he feared that the crew on board the Volkvolny knew it too well.

It started off with his last nightmare. Taking steps together on a shoreline that looked like it belonged to a dip of earth in Shu Han, Tolya met you on the sands, his hand slotted into your own as he followed behind you, stepping into your sunken footprints. Tolya had been inches from your mouth before he was ripped away with the sound of horns and laughter, drops of water leaking through the deck overhead. Work was demanding his consciousness, and the image of you remained only on his eyelids as he groaned, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He'd gone about his day relatively normally after that, or about as normally as he could stomach it. Tamar had seen the worst of his mood- she watched him heave himself up the stairs to the deck with a frown deep on his face, an ache at the corner of his lips tugging down. The front he performed of happiness did little to arouse his crewmates, although they joined the spectacle, letting him think he was giving a performance of a lifetime.

For a while, his mood had settled. He'd only counted seeing you in hallucinations maybe three times, but he'd stopped counting after the third, and couldn't be sure if his mind was allowing him to stick with three for the sake of his own sanity. He'd spotted you in the twist of water under the bowsprit, once in the ripple of the sails and again in the clouds. After the third, his mood was so sour that he opted to be silent for the day's voyage. People never thought they'd miss the sound of his poetry until he took his pitiful vows of silence.

Saints, how he missed you. Each time you were gone, Tolya regretted every second of silence between the two of you, every time he passed up the chance to tell you how much he loved you. And each time you were here, back with him in his arms, he couldn't seem to find the words. You weren't part of the crew on voyage with the Volkvolny, although you were never not welcome as far as Sturmhond was concerned. It was just that you preferred being on land, seeking out thrills and leads and injustice, trying to piece together the gaps in your history. Tolya knew that was what held you to the Crows, and what Inej often said was your lifeline away from him. Still, Tolya yearned for the days you were back with him, however short and fleeting. Months could pass at sea and when he saw you again, it would be like no time had passed at all.

Kerch loomed in the distance. From the crow's nest, he was told that through the spyglass, the oblong shapes of Ketterdam ports could be seen, the buildings packed together tightly and the smoke rising in the air, thick and dark like fires were blooming in the streets. It would be about two days of sailing, if the winds kept up, but if they were lucky, they might arrive ahead of schedule. Tolya couldn't count the moments quick enough- two days would be agonising until he saw you again.

"Yeesh. I kinda miss your poetry right now." Tamar crept up from behind Tolya on the hull of the ship. Not far from where Tolya was standing, with his elbows holding his body up on the side of the beams, was Jacob's ladder, hitting the side of the vessel with irritating small clicks.

Tolya glanced at her, a smile naturally falling into place. As foul as his mood might have been, there was always room in his heart for his sister. "That's something I'll never hear you say again."

His sister grinned. "I'm serious! Go on, give me something?"

Tolya replied with quiet laughter, and Tamar did the same. The twins shared their laughter for a moment before finishing in silence, and Tamar stole a glance as her brother cast his gaze to the water, curving like ribbons around the underbelly of the ship.

"Missing her?" she asked softly.

Tolya rolled his eyes, but saying nothing was as good as admitting it.

"You know," Tamar continued, spinning so her back was pressed against the beams, "you could always just ask her to come with you." She gestured to the prow, "come with us."

"She wouldn't want to do that," Tolya said, shaking his head.

"Oh, so you asked her already?"

"Well— no."

"Then how'd you know?"

Tolya sighed, twisting his head. He knew that you were as good as a Crow— although not exactly affiliated in whatever Kaz did or did not do, anybody who knew you knew that you did work for Kaz that filled the gap Inej made on the quest to find her brother. Even before that, you'd told Tolya that Kaz occasionally found himself asking for your help with requests that extended outside of his immediate access. You had been of some help to him finding the name of the slaver ships and traders, of which the Volkvolny was sailing back to Kerch to deliver rescued shipment (one lacking Inej's brother in tow, and the slaver who sold them).

Your place was on land, on high ground. A bird could fly at sea, yes, but he feared you'd grow restless with little purpose on the ship. Everybody had a place and a role—he knew that simply being there for him wouldn't be a good enough reason for you to abandon whatever work you had unfinished on dry land, which is why he'd never asked you to come in the first place.

Tolya turned to face Tamar, eyeing her side-profile as she meticulously assessed the state of the ship. Many crewmates were down below, rifling through Shu poker cards and coins and sharing ghost stories with cups of ale and wine.

"Have you ever been so scared of losing something good?" he asked suddenly, making Tamar look back at him.

"All the time," she replied.

Tolya dared a glance back at the ocean, relieved that he didn't find you there. "Every time I see her again, it's like magic. Bigger and grander than any kind of Saint-like act. She becomes the most important thing in the room." He blinked. "I don't want that feeling to go away."

Tamar tilted her head, as if to say, 'Go on'. There was a comfort in their twinnish bond, but even with that, Tolya struggled to find the words. Writing poetry was easy—every embarrassing thought could be passed off as fictional prose, but in a conversation it wasn't quite as easy to put on a façade. At the best of times, Tolya was as cool as a sea-cucumber, with an easy going air that put people at ease. Just another performance of a lifetime, but he didn't have to pretend sometimes when he was with his sister.

"We're just very different," Tolya said cautiously, almost like he didn't believe it were true as he said it. "I'm worried she might grow too used to me. Might get restless."

"Bored, you mean?" Tamar interrupted. When Tolya said nothing, she threw herself into extended conversation, "Brother, she adores you. That kind of love is special. And if she didn't love you more when you were doing what you do best- as in, meandering around this beast with your poetry and stupid jokes-" He looked at her with a rising smile- "-then you'd be better off for it."

His stomach churned. He didn't want to be better off without you.

"Besides," Tamar offered her last words of comfort before pushing herself up and away from him, "there are thousands of men and women in the world for her to see each passing day, and yet she still falls into those arms of yours when we arrive in Ketterdam. If she can love you from a hundred miles away, then I think she'll manage loving you and your quirks on the open sea."

There was an insufferable ache in Tolya's chest whenever he thought back to his conversation with Tamar.

He'd busied himself the next day, throwing himself into heavy work around the ship as it sailed nearer to the coastline. His crewmates were thankful to see him in reasonably good spirits— Sturmhond had been particularly put off by his lack of comedic timing the day before, and had tried to think back to his own experiences with Alina back in Ravka, putting the pieces together in his own time— but they knew it was bought time with Tolya's pleasantries. Tolya wouldn't be at ease until they docked and only then could his mind be put at ease. It was always the days before returning to Ketterdam where Tolya seemed at his darkest, and it had happened enough times that they should all be used to it, but the sight of his downturned face never got any easier to process.

Night ensued, the moon casting a fickle light to the ocean as it lulled to a cool and calm tempo. The winds were kind tonight, not carrying the wind in an angry gust, and the waves were short and fluid. No storms hid behind thick flurries of clouds, and the creatures below whipped their fins and tails in harmony— no trouble would come tonight, he thought, and glad of it.

Tolya lay in his hammock, staring at the wooden boards above his head. Around him, his crew slept in peaceful slumbers, and to the far side of the room he could see the auburn light of Sturmhond's—now Mal, now that the charade was over— little black lamp sheltered next to a book he'd inherited with his title, now reading to fall asleep. Tolya sighed, his gaze back above.

The glow of light to his left allowed room for your shape to slowly appear, just an outline that got more hazy in his memory as the months went by. He gulped, the lump in his throat hard and sour tasting, and he closed his eyes quickly to throw away the image of you. Yet you remained, imprinted on his eyelids, smiling as he found sleep to take him away into the night.

When he awoke, he could hear the caw of gulls and loud voices beyond the ship, louder than what he knew his crew to be capable of. Tolya stirred for a moment before coming to his senses, his eyes honing in on the same spot he'd last seen you in above his slumbering form. The forecastle was bathed with yellow light, with the sun at an angle pouring down through the hatch to the upper deck, and as he awoke, Tolya could smell the distinct scent of crab hooks and wet moss, the lingering scent of oil and sewage and copper. Strange, he thought.

Balancing on the hammock, Tolya raised himself with his elbow and stole a glance around the forecastle. Two men lay snoring, too drunk the night before, and he noticed a third figure at the foot of his hammock, their back to him but hiding nothing about their identity. His heart lurched, he baulked, and the hammock twisted beneath him with a sudden jolt and his body was sent to the floor with a thud and a grunt.

"Easy, sharkbait."

Tolya's head whipped up quickly, the click in his neck aching. It was you- Y/N, his beloved Y/N, dressed in a blue coat that looked like Mal's. Underneath you wore a dark brown shirt tucked into your trousers—today the attire was more casual, for when you were at work you wore black and black alone. Inej told him it was to blend in with the night, but Tolya reckoned it was also because it flattered you.

You smiled at him warmly, laughing when he didn't move from the floor.

"Come on. Don't tell me after a few months you've forgotten this face?"

Tolya's mouth opened and closed. "What—no! How could I—wait, is that Mal's coat?"

He heard your laugh again as you drew near, pulling his bicep to pick him up off the floor. You were more than capable of pulling his weight, but you still found fun in pretending you couldn't. Tolya rose from the floor, both of his salt-soaked hands gently wrapping around your wrists as he faced you. A smile dawned on his lips as he drank in the image of you; fully fleshed out, solid, real, not a figment of his desperate imagination.

"I saw him up top," you told him. "He looks good as Sturmhond, right? I was almost charmed." You said it with a grin that made Tolya think otherwise, and you shuffled closer towards his torso, the action welcomed as his grip fastened slightly around your arms.

"Charmed enough to take his clothes?" Tolya asked. He knew that there would never be anything there with Mal—Saints, everybody knew that. Mal was too busy having his own mental quarrels with Alina to entertain the thought of somebody else, and well, you seemed perfectly content being charmed by a different captain below deck, smiling at you with sleep still hanging in his eyes.

"I always did look good in blue," you said.

Tolya hummed. "Yeah."

Falling into a silence, Tolya's eyes flickered across your face, soaking up the sight of you, making a mental note of what had changed while he'd been away. Not much, he found, bar a few scratches across your left cheek flanking down to your chin, and a greenish bruise under your eye. He frowned, moving his hand to ghost his fingers across the painted skin. Meanwhile, you did the same, observing changes in his appearance, concluding every detail: the richer tan across his skin, the stubbly pricks of hair around his jawline and the appearance of a new mark under his right nostril. Drunk on the image of him, you fixed your eyes back on his, surprised to see him already looking.

"What're you doing down here anyway, sharkbait?" you asked. Your voice was lower, quieter and softer, but he knew it had nothing to do with a shift in mood. Instead, you were just simply close enough for him to hear you without strain, close enough to hear you whisper, to hear you breathing.

Tolya offered a boyish smile. "You know."

"Had a long night?"

"Terribly long."

"What, enjoying someone's company til sunrise?" you teased, entertaining what could be signs of an insecurity in the bilge of your belly. Tolya pretended to ignore it, yet his heart sank nonetheless.

"Come on, you know me better than that," he laughed, bringing you in closer to him. Tolya nestled his nose against yours, moving it across your face to your cheekbone and closing you in with his arms around your shoulders. He sighed, comfortable. He'd missed this, the way your body felt against his, the way your arms felt around him. Saints, he'd missed this. Tolya took in a breath, his nose above your ear. "I've missed you."

Tolya heard a hum near his sternum, rumbling with a small vibration. It made his body bristle slightly but he warmed to your touch, his arms tightening around you.

"Me too, moi sol ye tselai," you replied, feeling his nose twitch as a smile grew on his face.

For a moment you stayed like that, entangled in the quiet of the forecastle. Tolya didn't waste a single second of it, not after the torment he'd given himself just hours before. After some time, Tolya felt you wiggling in his arms and he relaxed, opening the distance between you as he leaned back to look at your face. You looked back at him with a smile, head angled up to marvel at him, and Tolya's eyes shifted into crescent moons as he brought his head down to kiss you.

His one hand cradled the side of your face, the other at the back of your neck, and you made no resists to his advancements. Tolya kissed you deeply, lost in the familiar taste of your lips, sweet like the breakfast you must have ate before coming down here. He felt you kiss him back, the pressures combined, your hands up around his wrists. Your head leaned back slightly, his dominance slightly more assertive, as he captured your lips once, twice, thrice, never allowing a minute of rest.

When he did pull back, he was met with your widened eyes, shining in the light, and you bit down on your bottom lip to try and refrain from a smile. He saw it anyway, kissing you once more in a swift gesture and bringing himself back in what he thought was a commendable act of self restraint.

"I take it we are in Ketterdam," he asked, more of like a statement. It had to be true, since you were here. Unless he was dreaming, which he had a sinking feeling that he could be, perhaps trapped in a powerful lucid dream, some kind of sleep paralysis that had him smooching something akin to a squid on the prow. Unlikely, but not impossible, given his mood these days.

"How else would I be here?" you replied with a gentle laugh.

He held you by your waist as you turned, observing the forecastle he sometimes called home. Tolya freed his grasp with reluctance, holding your fingers til the last second and he fell forward a few steps trying to grab you back. You moved around the hammocks, ducking under a lamp with a feigned interest in the bunks. Tolya didn't like to use his heartrending on you, but he could hear your hammering heartbeat even without using his talents. He smiled in private, watching you with adoration.

"I arrived here as soon as you docked," you explained, still looking around. Tolya hummed with interest, leaning his weight against a support beam. "I was having breakfast with Nina when Jesper told me that your Volkvolny was coming to the harbour. I finished, paid and came here as fast as I could. You didn't meet me at the deck, but it was so early, I figured you'd be sleeping. I greeted your crew, shook hands with your new captain, hugged Tamar, stole a coat and then came down here." You smiled, spinning back to look at him. Your bravado was complete. "To answer your question—yes. Welcome back to Ketterdam."

Tolya loved when you launched into explanations like this. He had a series of entries in a journal you shared where you'd given full detailed accounts of your adventures, but the ink never did justice to the words as you said them. Tolya's grin widened.

"Kaz wanted to speak with you, too," you added, stepping back towards him and stretching out your hand. Tolya's stomach churned again when he took it with his own, feeling the small blisters across your skin from all your ropework and midnight affairs as an unofficial Crow. Like his own, actually, littered with chafes and burns from the ropes to the masts, sea salted splits across his hands whenever he got too heavy handed around the deck or in other ports.

"Let's go up, then."

You led the way, all the way to the stairs where Tolya enjoyed watching you ascend before following. It'd been a minute, he'd take whatever he could to feel like everything was good again. Once he stepped up out of the dappled light of the forecastle, he cringed in the brightness of the sun. It was never very bright in Ketterdam, but anything was brighter than the lamplight below. The harbour was alive with noise and merchants. He never missed the smell of Ketterdam, although he admitted that it was a stench that one really did grow accustomed to, as it were with any foreign harbour.

From the deck, he could see the stretch of sea behind him and back ahead, a small cluster of faces across the way. He knew them all already, each by both name and face, and he stepped towards his sister-in-command with you close in tow. His body shivered when your hands smoothed around his middle to manoeuvre around him and Tolya watched you meet your hip with Inej's. Tolya spared another hungry glance at you and then looked back at Kaz expectantly, as he launched into an explanation on affairs in Ketterdam.

The Volkvolny would stay in Ketterdam just shy of a day, giving Tolya more anxiety than it did comfort. There wouldn't be enough time for him to remind you of how much he missed you, and there was certainly no privacy for him to put it into actions instead of words. But business needed to be swift, that was if they wanted a good chance at catching the ships that both you and Kaz felt could hold the secrets to Inej's brothers' whereabouts. The Crow Club was magnificent, but no place for a love-filled reunion, and he couldn't see either of you feeling particularly romantic in the streets. With the Volkvolny being groomed for their next sail, Tolya resorted to holding you close at all times, with meaningful stares and listening with colourful interest about your life over a table in the club, while Kaz oversaw his business and friends reunited once more. Tolya ate up what he could learn about your life during the three months he was at sea.

You had been working with Kaz to crack down harder on slavery leads, finding nothing much about your own family and little to nothing about anybody else's. Inej had been given a much narrower list of names thanks to your good work on the streets, and Tolya heard from Jesper that you'd been a useful asset to the Crow's, although always declined the hospitality of their affiliation for some reason. Meanwhile Tolya offered what he thought might interest you the most about his time away; battles against rough waves, giant squids and krakens lurching from below, sharks and dolphins scratching the surface of the water with their fins chased by swirling serpents; funny tales from travellers in different ports, a retelling of Mal's first night getting drunk at sea.

Tolya thought, as you mused and laughed opposite him at the table with your friends and found-family, that you were most beautiful when you were off guard. As he stared at you, he felt his heart tug once more. In just a few hours, there'd be nothing left to look at, just shadows in the dark, voices in the wind mimicked by sirens as they fondled the underbelly of the boat, enticing deaf ears to the water as the crew grumbled and sang over their call. The thought of leaving you made him feel sick.

He briefly thought about what Tamar had said. It was true that Tolya had never asked you to join him at sea, but he was pretty sure he knew what the answer would be. There would always be something keeping you here, keeping you both apart.

"How long this time?" you asked, when you both managed to steal some time alone to walk along the dark streets of Ketterdam. With Rollins in prison and with Kaz taking command of a smidge of the barrel, you figured it would be safe out here. Besides, Tolya was tall enough to tower over even Fjerdans, and that was no easy feat. Anyone dumb enough to pick a fight with a man his size could break a few bones trying, even if you both knew that out of the two of you, you had more practice taking down the big guys.

Tolya dipped his head. "If we're lucky, then a month or so." He paused, thinking, "You said that list you gave to Inej was accurate, right?"

"I think so. Every lead I had took me right back to those three names," you replied. Inej had flinched at the sight of them, meaning your hunch was accurate enough to give Tolya the hope of coming back soon.

"If the winds are kind, and the journey is good, we can be back before it starts getting cold here," Tolya said, almost like he was making a wish at a well or a plea to a Saint. "Without any luck on our side, it could be longer..."

You frown, looking over at Tolya and tightening your grasp on his hand. "We'll manage."

"I hope so, milaya," Tolya said, kissing the back of your hand.

Once you both reached a bright streetlight, you turned to face him. "Do you think it will ever end?"

Tolya paused. "What do you mean?"

"As in…this search. Once you find Inej's brother, what comes next?" you ask. You turn away slightly, Tolya's gaze tight on your movements. "Suppose you'll go sailing to wherever next, right? Or…will you stay a while?"

Tolya knew what you were asking, obvious in what you didn't say. There had been countless times where Tolya had imagined himself throwing his life on the Volkvolny away just to be with you, to retire with you to some peaceful town with no worries, nothing at all but peace gifted by Alina tearing down the fold and enough money and shelter to settle down, explore the world, fall deeper in love. But the Volkvolny was his life, his meaning when he didn't fall into his faith. You were his love, his beloved, but neither one could expect the other to give up their identity to be somebody they weren't.

"I'm not sure," Tolya said truthfully. "And yourself? You're so busy with Kaz here, you may well be a Crow by the next time I see you. Your work seems to spring up like fleas."

Your mouth tilted downwards. He was right. Tolya was the love of your life but there would always be the issue of work. Without your demand with the Crows, what were you? Nothing but a shadow skulking around the city, tailing crooks, locating slaves? You supposed you could be more—you'd thought about it a few times, getting up and going with Tolya wherever he asked you to go. But those were dreams, frightening dreams you weren't sure Tolya saw eye to eye with. His voyages felt to you like escapes.

"Well—" Tolya broke through the silence, using his index finger to pick up your head by your chin. When your eyes met, he smiled warmly, kissing you. "Whatever comes next, I'll be there waiting for you."

Tamar stood beside Kaz and Mal as Tolya heaved himself up the ramp and onto the ship. You were close behind, shadowing his steps, cautious about even a step of distance. Tamar sighed loudly, and Kaz looked over at her and followed her gaze.

"What is it?" he asked. Kaz thought he already knew, but it didn't hurt to be sure.

"Oh, a lovers parting," she said dramatically.

Mal smiled, not quite reaching his eyes. "If they're trying to be subtle about things, they're doing a terrible job."

Kaz observed the couple. Kaz knew you well enough to respect you, perhaps even call you a friend, and he had no obvious qualms with Tolya. He'd never forget his loyalty before Alina tore down the fold, and had no concerns about him being a weakness to who might just be his next Crow. He stared at the back of Inej's head for a second too long as she helped someone heave some shipment to a different compartment of the ship, and then he looked back to Tolya and yourself with a funny feeling twist in his stomach.

"Why grovel?" Kaz asked. "Y/N can leave at any time if she wishes."

Tamar glanced over quickly, as if the news was surprising to her. "She's not working?"

"Her work is done," Kaz said plainly. Tamar and Mal's look of confusion made him twitch with slight annoyance, but he otherwise elaborated on what they didn't know: "I told Y/N to find leads on the slavers. She supplied the list of three and now you will be on your way to locate them. Her task has been completed, and she is free to go."

"Yeesh," Tamar said, "way to make her sound expendable."

"Everybody is."

Kaz looked back at Tolya, holding you in his arms. "I have Nina on a lead already. Until I have something for Y/N to do, she is free to do whatever she pleases." He added as an afterthought, "After all, she's not under my employment."

Hm. Tamar and Mal exchanged a look, but said nothing.

"Will you be here? When we come back?" Tolya asked you. From afar, he could sense his sister's lingering gaze, and he spared a look, alarmed when he saw her, Mal and Kaz watching the pair of you.

"Most likely," you said. You followed his gaze and nodded your head in their direction, Tolya leading you by the waist back to the step-down where Kaz stood at the top, like a bouncer guarding the way. Tolya greeted each one with a glance and a smile before looking back at you.

There wasn't enough time this time around. Tolya's heart wrenched as he looked at you, trying to remember every detail before he had to leave. Their stops in Ketterdam were never very long, but how he longed for a day more by your side, simply one more hour in your company. The thought of leaving you made his throat harden, tears springing behind his eyes. A blink would surely set them free, but he knew the ways to keep them hidden until he was safe in the darkness, not until you came to him in a premonition like a sick joke.

Tamar and Mal—Sturmhond, now he was back on the wood of the ship— gave a look to Kaz in farewell and stepped around the back of you to move further on the deck. Tolya's heart quickened and you watched them go with a rapid look, glancing back at Tolya with twinkling eyes, twinkles he knew were tears and not reflections of light.

"None of that," he said quietly, with a small smile and he reached out to cup your face. Tolya guided you close for a kiss, and a bell rang from somewhere in the harbour and his heart leaped to his throat. He tugged you closer, kissing you harder. Kaz looked away, fixated on Inej but giving you at least the luxury of some privacy. Tolya lost himself in your kiss, his fingertips brushing your hairline and he swore he could taste the salt of your tears between his lips. Tolya pulled away from you slightly, his eyes slightly wide and breath raspy and all of a sudden: "Come with me."

There was a beat of silence.

If other crewmates heard, they didn't give much away. Kaz had torn his eyes from Inej in a painful defeat, with no option but to assess the lovers before him, and truth be told, Tamar and Sturmhond never stopped watching. Tolya didn't allow the silence to kill his courage. If he didn't say it now, he never would.

"I love you," Tolya said. "I love you so much—eya fyela chi, hm? And I know that your heart is here, with the city and the Crows and your life but, Saints, Y/N I see you in my dreams, I see you in the water and the sky and hear you in the ocean breeze. When I close my eyes, I see you in flashes. You have bewitched me, you are in my soul. I love you. Whenever we are apart, it's like a torment." He gulped. He sounded a lot like some of the amateur poetry he wrote when he felt lonely, poetry he sometimes recited to his crew if he got drunk enough. "So, please, please come with me. See the ocean, go across the sea. Be with me, stay with me—come with me."

His eyes searched your face for a sign, something—anything. You blinked, bewildered, holding his hands as they cupped your face.

"But…" you began to shake your head, and his heart sank deeper, "but my work…"

You spared a glance to Kaz. He could act like he hadn't been listening, but it wouldn't do anybody any good. You were almost startled to see him already observing you.

"I don't need you," Kaz said simply. "I just owe you a debt."

"But, the slaves—"

"You did your job," he repeated. "So you're free to go."

Tolya was just as surprised as you were. He looked at Kaz with round eyes and met yours in a simultaneous turn. He wasn't quite sure what to say about any of it. Was Kaz telling you to go? Was he giving you permission, saying go, leave, or were you now useless to the Crows? Was it only because he had asked? Maybe you didn't want to leave.

"Am I fired?" you asked dumbly.

For a moment, you could have sworn you saw a flicker of a smirk on Kaz's face. "I expect your contract will need renewing upon your arrival. There are many things to do in Ketterdam, just not now. Not for you, at least."

You blinked. Processing his words felt like an eternity—you were free to go. Kaz had made it clear that you'd still have a life on shore when you arrived, if you even left in the first place. Marvelling at the thought, you looked back at Tolya. Travelling the oceans with him; being in his arms each night, getting to know the parts of him reserved to his crew, his faith and his poetry and his talents on the deck, seeing what caused the scars on his hands, what caused the creases in his skin; what he ate and drank, what he wore on different days, how his hair fell in the mornings when it wasn't fastened out of his face. All of that for the taking, and you just had to say the words.

Tolya's face didn't waver, giving nothing away as you said nothing to him. For a while, he thought he knew what you'd say. Tolya, I'm sorry, but I just can't—

"But where would I sleep?"

He hadn't expected that.

Laughter bubbled in his chest. "I think there's room for you in my hammock, if you'd like." He caught your look of doubt and grinned, "Aw, come on. I'm not that big."

"What would I do?"

Slowly but surely, Tolya thought he could sense hope building inside of him. You hadn't yet declined. Your piqued interest gave food for thought as Tolya studied your expressions.

"Well," he said, thinking about it. Actually he'd already thought about it, more than ten times out at sea, twice within the few hours they were in Ketterdam, "you could do anything you wanted. Gaze out at the seas. Play card games—in no time, you'll be a better player than Tamar. You could paint the decks, climb the masts, sit in the nest all day for all I care. I just want you to be with me, for longer than just a few hours."

Tolya's eyes were almost pleading. You gazed into them. There was no need to think, you already knew what you wanted to say. Chewing the skin of your inner cheek, your eyes flickered to Mal. As Sturmhond, you figured whatever he said went. Tolya followed your gaze and laughed when he spotted the source of your interest.

Mal's eyes flickered, like he'd been alerted back to the present. He looked around innocently, refraining from smiling when he caught the glimmer in Tamar's eyes next to him.

"Don't look at me," Mal said to you, shrugging his shoulders and raising his hands, "I'm not in charge."

When you next looked at Tolya, you were smiling. From the corner of your eye, Tamar clapped Mal on the shoulder and disappeared into the crew, helping Nadia unload cargo to a different spot below deck. For a second, Mal looked as though he didn't know what to do with himself, until he shuffled further towards the bow, scanning the horizon. Kaz was no longer on the ship when you turned to acknowledge him. You saw the shape of his coat disappear back into the masses in the harbour, and Jesper extended his hat in a farewell and turned to follow. Nina would understand, you hoped, as you were sure she'd still be occupied with freeing her 'hunk of meat'.

"What do you say, lapushka?" Tolya asked. He knew he was cheating by using the Ravkan tongue on you. You'd mentioned it was your mother language only once in passing, and he'd never wasted a second on charming you with it. He ran his hands up and down your arms, arching to look into your eyes with a wide smile on his face. Tolya grinned as he moved with your shyness, a laugh huffing through his lips. "Hm? Will you come with me?"

You laughed, giggled in his arms, as he brought you closer with a kiss under your eye. Squirming, you faked revolt, wrestling out of his grasp. Your smile told him your answer—the rest was roleplay.

"I know we're going far from home," he said, watching as someone stepped close to pull up the ramp from the harbour. The distinct clink of the anchor filled his ears, departure would be soon and if you wanted to say no, then now was the time. You never did. "But I promise I'll take care of you."

You gazed at him fondly, reaching up to steal a kiss from his lips. He lingered, his face warm in the rising sun. "You can focus on your business, and I'll keep you safe from harm."

Tolya gasped teasingly. "You know the way to a man's heart, I see."

He pulled himself away, with some reluctance, with a grin and shuffled to aid his mates with assembling the ship. Before he could stray too far, you hooked your finger around the strap over his shoulders, used to hold his ensemble of guns and weapons. Tolya looked back as he felt the pull, the adoration in his gaze never faltering.

"Only the hearts of men I love," you told him, and he smiled, bigger and brighter, tilting his head as his eyes folded into Cheshire smiles before he winked, dipping his head back to look at his crew.

You watched him retreat along the deck, his assertion cool and respectful, commanding the attention of the crew as they fell into their formations. Figuring you had time to find your place, you stood rooted where you had been standing this time, casting one final look at the harbour; you bid silent farewell to the streetlights and carts, to the horses snuffling as they loaded merchandise and travellers into the carriages pulled by their strength, to the place you lovingly called home, until a new one found its way to you in the shape of a man named Tolya, who wherever you were together became your new anchor, the new place you fell to for comfort and safety. The man you loved, yours for the taking, for a life stretching past the horizon across that plane of endless sea.

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jccatstudios · 1 year ago

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Six of Crows and Colors

I made a poll yesterday asking which color (teal, blue, indigo, purple) best represents Inej, and it was great to hear everyone’s opinions! I also promised to share my thoughts, so here’s my answer.

I think all four are her color, it just depends on which part of the story it is.

Purple is pre-SOC, specifically her time in The Menagerie. It’s a color that was forced upon her, giving her negative associations with it in terms of her own identity.

Indigo is SOC. It’s been a year since she left The Menagerie. Her color evolves away from purple into blue, but the violet hue still remains with her. She hasn’t escaped that part of her past, especially since her indenture hasn’t been paid off yet.

Dark Blue is Crooked Kingdom. As she realizes her dreams lead her away from Ketterdam, purple gradually leaves her design. Blue, a color associated with piety and the sea, represents her regained sense of identity.

Dark teal is post-CK. It still has blue to signify her faith but now with warmer tones for her newfound happiness. Also, teal is very much a seafaring color.

In short, Inej’s color is ever-evolving! As for the other characters…

While black is the usual pick for Kaz, I’d like to suggest purple as his hue! It’s a color that best represents Kerch and kruge, so it’s a good accent to break up the mercher black he wears. Also, by making Kaz’s color purple, it ties into a theme of a character representing a color their partner once had negative associations with (ex. Inej with purple, Jesper with jurda field orange, Matthias with Corporalki red). They replace these old symbols of pain with positivity and growth.

Jesper is of course lime green. While kruge is purple, readers can connect green with luck, wealth, and the cultures that inspired his Kaelish heritage. Bright green can also represent having a lot of energy, which Jesper certainly is known for.

Nina is crimson. It’s the color of the heartrender class, her strong will, and her love for others.

Matthias is ice blue. It reminds him of home and his traditional life. Like Inej, blue can represent his religious background.

Wylan is burnt orange. Besides it being his hair color, orange is also a mixture of the Van Eck colors, red and gold. He is neither of these colors, but he is still born out of them, creating a new identity.

#btw I'm posting new pages later today #six of crows #inej ghafa

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thebadgerclan · 2 years ago

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Jealousy

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: Jealousy is a heady thing

In the four years of your marriage, you never had reason to doubt Nikolai. He was faithful, loving, adoring to a fault, always making it explicitly clear that he was yours and yours alone. And you were his, and you were happy. However, you were not only Nikolai’s wife, but the Queen of Ravka, and such a position came with more than a few smitten admirers.

Letters arrived at the Grand Palace daily, which were opened, read, and sorted by palace staff. It wasn’t unusual for upwards of 20 letters a week to arrive for you, most of which were declarations of love, sonnets of your beauty, pleas for you to abandon your husband and marry them. You found them humorous, but they sparked Nikolai’s jealousy. Letters were one thing, an abstract thing, easily tucked away, but when his courtiers, his advisors, and even foreign dignitaries expressed their desire for you, the King thought he could explode.

Nikolai knew that you were faithful, but he was a man: a man who loved and adored his wife more than anything else, and a man who was very protective of you. Of course, the King of Ravka attracted admirers as well; “An occupational hazard, my dear,” your husband said, but that didn’t mean either of you had to like it.

Now, you knew exactly how Nikolai felt when an advisor made eyes at you or a courtier presented a poem of your beauty. You were attending a state dinner held by the Shu, and as soon as the two of you had entered the ballroom, Nikolai was swarmed by all of the unwed Taban sisters and several of their ladies. As you’d stood in the entryway, waiting to be announced, your husband had taken your hand and pressed a lingering kiss to it.

“You are divine, my Y/N,” he praised. “The most beautiful woman to walk the earth.” You’d chosen a gown of deep purple, your skirts flaring out in a ballgown shape, the fabric light and gauzy. An amethyst necklace hung in the divot of your collarbones, matching gems hanging from your ears. Your hair was twisted into an updo, and the tiara perched there matched the precious gems on your neck and ears. When you were announced and entered, all eyes in the room turned to you and Nikolai, mutters in several languages filling the room.

But it was soon after that your husband was flocked by simpering women, all of whom clearly desired the man at your side. Nikolai kept you on his arm, positioning his left hand just so to show off his wedding band, but the Shu ladies seemed to pay it no mind. “Oh, Your Majesty,” one of the Taban princesses, Yenye, you thought, cooed in Ravkan. “You simply must stay here for a few days. Perhaps to receive a tour of the capital?”

Her attempt at flirting was shameless, and you fought to avoid rolling your eyes. But your husband simply smiled. “I would love to, Your Highness, but I’m afraid I must return home. My wife and I have much to attend to.” Nikolai had deliberately referred to you as his wife, but the women before him were not cowed. They continued to compliment the King: how intelligent he was, how brave he was, how handsome the Ravkan men were, all of which had your temper boiling.

At one point, Princess Kheru dropped her fan, and when she bent to retrieve it, gave your husband a rather opportune look at her bosom. Nikolai pointedly averted his eyes, squeezing your hand as he did. This song and dance went on for quite a while, but it was a whispered phrase in Shu from one of the princesses ladies that made you snap. “It’s a good thing that marriage is not sacred to the Shu…”

You pulled yourself upright, forcing every bit of regality and poise into your voice when you said, “But marriage is sacred to the Ravkans, and you will have no success in your pitiful attempts to woo my husband,” in perfectly accented Shu. The lady went ashen, and she bowed her head. “Your Majesty, I did not know you spoke Shu.” “I do,” you said, voice clipped. “Ravka, Shu, Fjerdan, Kerch, Zemini, but that isn’t the point. I understand the difference in our cultures concerning the sanctity of marriage, but allow me to make myself clear:

“I will not tolerate any advances towards my husband. He is devoted to me, as I am devoted to him, and if you think your pathetic attempts at flirtation could make him stray, then you are delusional.” The princesses and their ladies stood shocked, all staring at Nikolai, who merely shrugged. “My Queen, as usual, is correct. I’m flattered, ladies, but I only have eyes for my beloved. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Your husband steered you from the ballroom, ignoring the questioning looks you received. When you were clear of the opulent chamber, you took Nikolai’s hand and dragged him back to the rooms you’d been given. Your husband followed you with surprised delight, which only increased when you entered your room, shut the door, pressed him against said door, and kissed him hungrily.

Nikolai was all too happy to let you kiss him and tug at his jacket until it was unfastened, but when you broke the kiss to press your lips over his neck, he smirked. “All Saints, you’re jealous, aren’t you, Y/N?” You didn’t answer, only pushed your husband’s jacket from his shoulders. “Sweetheart, look at me.” Something in his voice compelled you to lift your head, and you saw your husband gazing at you with infinite love and affection.

“I am yours, Y/N, I always have been, and I always will be.” “I hated seeing them look at you like that,” you admitted. “Like you were…theirs for the taking.” “I know, lapushka, I’m no one’s but yours. But perhaps you know what it’s like having all those men back home looking at you that way.” You nodded, feeling your jealousy and rage cool. “I suppose.” Your husband lifted your chin gently, his eyes locking with yours.

“I love you, Y/N, and only you.” “I love you too, Nikolai. I’m yours.” Your husband kissed you again, this kiss sweeter, more tender, but just as deeply and passionately. “We should get back to the dinner,” Nikolai said, pulling his jacket back on and fastening it. “How do I look?” “Perfectly rugged,” you replied, and your husband pecked your cheek. When you returned to the ballroom, no one mentioned what had occurred between the Queen of Ravka and the Shu princesses, nor did they mention that said Queen appeared to have been thoroughly kissed.

#nikolai lanstov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone reader insert

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stromuprisahat · 6 days ago

Note

Bardugo had the perfect excuse for Crows cameos(and alive!Matthias as a bonus).

Inej,the Captain that hunts slavers and trained spy,has Fjerdans on her ship(perhaps including Matthias,if he's alive). Maybe she sets eyes on the Ice Court and joins efforts with the Ravkan crown. The whole "keeping Jarl Brum alive" would make more sense if Matthias was the one who had the opportunity to kill him but wasn't able to. If he was executed for such failure,I'm pretty sure it would've been a much less idiot death than the one he had on canon.

Look, I'm not a fan of cameos. It's rarely done well, and if there's one thing I've learnt from twelve seasons of Supernatural, it's that fanservice isn't good for the story. And the Crows' appearances in KoS were nothing but a badly-handled attempt to get some points (and money) from their fans.

I'm only halfway through SoC in my re-read, but Inej just realized she wants to go after slavers. She doesn't think about Grisha. Ravka on the other hand allegedly helps Grisha outside of their borders. They've got enough on their plate to meddle in slavery abroad, plus they can't exactly piss off Kerch. While their efforts might be viewed as complimentary, I don't think they'd co-operate at this point.

Which is okay. You don't have to be set to right every single wrong around you. It doesn't make you a bad person, or support the thing you don't focus on. At least when you're an individual (, who just got the resources to buy themselves out of indenture). I'd be harsher towards representatives of a country with absolute power at their fingertips.

Yes for Matthias, and I'd add Matthias spreading his newfound faith in Grisha as Djel's favourite children, when he's apprehended by his once-mentor. Now what to do with him? Letting him live is dangerous, since he isn't willing to abandon his heresy, but executing would make him a martyr...

(Yes, Matthias was one of the Crows with the greatest potential, which was wasted to make a rather weak "point".)

#reply #Grishaverse #The Crows #Inej Ghafa #Matthias Helvar #The Righteous Gang™#What if/AU/...#grishanalyticritical

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writing-havoc · 2 years ago

Text

A Moments Pain

♡ Summary: Kaz thinks you get shot with him while running from the Stadwatch. Imagine his surprise when you're fine

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Blood, Guns, Drugs, Alcohol, Gunshot wound, Self-harming behaviour (only mentioned)

♡ WC: 4.7k

Soulmate au time! Pain sharing <3

This is a pain sharing soulmate au where your soulmate can feel your pain and they can feel yours.

Reader is a Squaller in this and as usual, gender neutral

Hope you enjoy <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling errors

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Soulmates have a very particular place in Kerch conversation.

There's those that believe soulmates are a concept and reality directly bestowed upon humans by Ghezen himself as an ultimate act of trade. That there is nothing more holy than finding your soulmate and sharing your life together, because the pain you trade daily is a piece of Ghezen permanently part of your being and can be offered back as a sign of your faith.

These people share pain every day, purposefully pricking their fingers and smiling when their other feels it too, thanking their Saint for their life and the opportunity they got to trade this pain directly and receive it in full.

Then there are others that see it as a slight against him, that it's an easy way out and that soulmates were fabricated long ago before the time of Ghezen. That in order to be seen and heard by him you must put in the work to do so, to volunteer and offer your time till you're covered in sweat, tears, and even blood, and only then will you be worthy of the pay and recognition you're earned and deserved.

These people see using your soulmate as an offering as cowardly and lazy, and not as a true sign of faith, but more like a mockery.

It's a conversation you can't escape if you live in Kerch, especially Ketterdam.

Kaz can count on two hands the amount of times soulmates have come up in conversation under a different light than that. And it's almost always brought up by Jesper trying to poke fun at Kaz for not finding his, or Nina who talks about how Ravkan culture handles it much differently (Matthias tags along on said discussion to butt in about Fjerdan soulmate rituals but its only ever on the tail end of the conversation).

It doesn't concern him, not finding his soulmate. He doesn't think he even wants to meet them, to see the face he's caused to have suffered so much pain over the last decade and will continue to cause them for as long as he resides in the Barrel.

Their anger would be understandable, but he hates that he feels any guilt about it at all.

He had to do it to survive. The pain he's been through and the scars left behind are reminders that he's still alive and breathing, that he still has fight left in him. He will not be made to feel sorry for that.

So, perhaps its not that he feels guilty, but that he hates the concept of being forced to feel guilty for something that he's proud of, for something that's necessary.

Now matter how many times he has this conversation with himself, he always comes to the same conclusion and never feels any less guilty than he did before.

"Eat my arse, Jesper!"

"I will!"

He sighed, opening the door to the Crow Club and allowing it to shut behind him. A cacophony of sound assaulted his ears, people talking amongst themselves and dice and cards slapping against velvet covered tables. A bar towards the back brandished in dark wood and brightly glowing lights was at the focal point of his attention. It was like his ears had some horrible ability for picking up his crows voices. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Jesper, Wylan, and you were huddled together, chairs pulled away from their evenly distributed spots in front of the bar. You were talking animatedly, your hands flying in directions that he's not sure made the story clearer or more confusing the more you went on, but the two men in front of you seemed to be following just fine.

"... coming out the building, smoke blows in my face and I swear I met Ghezen himself." You leaned into the dark wood, resting your head on your hand.

"As if he'd want to meet you personally." Jesper snickered at the way your jaw fell open, Wylan laughing when you lunged out and swatted at Jesper.

"Not the point!" You hollered, giving a good shove to his arm before pulling back.

Kaz clicked his cane against the ground, standing not three steps to the left of your chair. "If Jesper has to take sick leave its coming out of your paycheck."

You turned to face him, a wide grin adorning your face. "Ill make sure to only beat him to the brink of qualifying for sick leave."

"Bold move discussing your plans in front of the boss like that." Wylan chimed, hooking his pinky to Jespers.

"Kaz doesn't care so long as the job gets done." You turned to the man behind the bar and held up a finger, ordering your regular.

He clenched his jaw, giving you a hard glare. Yet he felt his heart twist. "I would still prefer to have Jesper in optimal working order, Y/n."

"Fine, I won't touch him anymore." You said as your drink was handed to you. You inclined your head at the bar man, giving a silent thanks as you downed half of it in one go.

There was another thing about soulmates that's more unknown. Not really unheard of, but it's not discussed.

Fatal attacks don't have the same physical affects on your soulmates, neither do life altering diseases, bone breaks, or limb losses. But they aren't unfelt. It'll be a long lasting piercing pain in some cases or nerve damage depending on the placement, but nothing ever as extreme as what your partner experiences.

In cases of poison, the effects are similar but not a direct match.

If the poison makes you tired, your soulmate will also tire. If the poison chokes you alive on your own spit, your soulmates mouth will salivate uncontrollably. If the poison makes you bleed from every orifice and your skin melt off your body, your partner will ache all over, maybe even bleed from scabs, cuts, and scars that should have no reason to be bleeding.

Alcohol is technically a poison of sorts. Toxic. Once your partner drinks, you'll feel it too. But it's entirely dependent on your own tolerance.

Kaz's tolerance isn't excellent, but he's certainly not a lightweight. You, however? Huge lightweight. With the portion of the drink you just downed you'll be inebriated within fifteen minutes tops, stumbling on your own feet and apologizing to light posts upon running into them. He only hopes your soulmate has a higher tolerance than you do.

He has seen you become such a way at the hands of your soulmate twice. Both times you had thought you were dying.

"Tomorrow we've got a job." Kaz pipes up. "Be ready at seven bells. Pack very light."

You groaned. "I wish you had told me that before I downed half of this."

"Im telling you now before the whole of it is gone."

You put the glass to your lips, staring at him as you drank the rest.

There's no way you'll be up in time tomorrow.

-----

He was kind of right.

After very faintly stumbling back to the Slat because of his soulmate feeling the need to get inebriated, he sat at his desk and finished whatever paperwork he could before preparing for the next day's mission.

Somewhere while doing so he fell asleep, and when he awoke the next morning at six bells he immediately went about making sure everyone was ready.

Inej had her knives and was actively packing any other essentials on her person, Nina and Matthias were still sleeping, but the latter was stirring as Kaz cracked the door open, Wylan was in the process of waking himself up while Jesper snored under a pile of blankets, and you were... kind of awake.

When he checked on you, you were sitting on the edge of your bed, sleeping pants rolled down to just above your knees while you stared with glassy eyes at the wall opposite of you. The window was open, streetlights barely making their way through the glass, your face glowing in the soft light.

He stepped fully into your room, walking closer to inspect your figure. He's not sure you're even blinking until you do so, eyes moving separately from eachother in a way that's oddly frog-like.

"Y/n." He called firm and gentle, waving a gloved hand in front of your face.

You hummed, moving your head slow like syrup to look up at him, eyes syncing up. "Morn'n, Kaz."

He ignored the way his name sounded on your sleepy tongue, afraid of the palpitations punching his heart. "Just making sure you're getting ready."

"'m good. Changin' righ' now." You put a hand on your bare thigh, looking to your left at the clothes you laid out for yourself.

Dark, natural, and earthy colors made up your shirt and pants aside from a bright white pouch which held stimulant capsules. You would need one later. A pair of lace up boots was at the foot of your bed, along with a jacket and belt that sheathed a knife Kaz had gifted you a few weeks into your time with the Dregs.

"It's half past six bells," he said, voice softer than he was intending. "Hurry it up."

You hummed, pushing your thumb under the waistline and pushing them down, pooling them around your ankles. Kaz took that as his cue to leave, closing your door softly behind him.

For a moment he allowed himself to pause, thinking with his hand gripping the creaky knob. Your morning voice, bed hair, soft eyes- it made his head /spin/. If you weren't hungover and running on four hours of sleep you would have cared more and that knowledge was sobering enough that he could let go of the handle, cane clicking on the ground as he walked back towards his office.

While the Kerch had plenty of different opinions about how to utilize your destined partner, there is a long standing opinion that most natives held above all else: you do not deviate from your soulmate.

Because while there are those who believe using your soulmate as a way to trade is simply lazy, they're also the ones that tend to believe that deviating from them is a form of cheating and you'd be robbing someone else from a happiness they deserve to achieve.

The only exception to this would be if you found out your soulmate is dead. But who's to say your soulmate isn't already dead and you're searching for someone that no longer exists? It's a trap. No matter what you'll either be shunned or disappointed.

He's never heard your opinion about soulmates. He knows you have one, as you're often complaining about how much they get hurt, but you never participate in the talk. You either excuse yourself or sit back in your chair, promptly passing out before a question can be thrown at you about it.

The only one that's ever been able to get you to answer a question about it was Inej. And your answer was incredibly vague- or rather, simple.

She had asked your thoughts on the Kerch interpretation of soulmates and their usage. Your answer was, "I guess it makes sense" and following a shrug, that was the end of it.

Kaz never thinks about it. Except for when he does, which seems to be a lot recently.

He stepped forward, and cursed his leg when a flash of pain soared up his shin and into his thigh. He stepped down the stairs wrong perusing his thoughts.

The sound of a door opening and slamming shut caught his ears. "Fuck my soulmate." You came storming out of your room, fully dressed and considerably less tired than before. He wasn't that distracted, was he? "Doesn't know when to stop fucking around." You stormed past him, making extra careful to keep a distance as you walked down the stairs.

There was something a little off about your gait, but you were faster correcting it than he was at putting the pieces together for once, so there's not much he could infer.

Walking down the stairs, everyone emerged from their respective rooms and gathered at the center of the Slat. Like magic, the bell clock chimed seven bells.

Kaz looked at his team, scanning them over with a faint nod. "Right on time."

"Don't want to be at the receiving end of that cane of yours this early in the morning." Jesper commented. You snickered, Nina and Inej smirking at him while Wylan and Matthias took it upon themselves to school their expressions into fond smiles.

Kaz checked his watch. "We have half a bell to get to the Zelver District, let's move."

------

"I cannot believe that you thought seventy-seven and thirty-three made a hundred." Wylan states incredulously. "It's appalling, actually."

You snort. "Easy there with the fancy words, Mister Dictionary. In my little fourteen year old mind it made sense."

Jesper barks out a laugh. "Who taught you to do math? Even I know it's a hundred and ten."

"Bugger off why don't you!" You give him a lighthearted slap with the back of your hand to his arm, to which he hardly flinches and ruffles your hair.

His own head itches. He takes off his hat and fixes his hair, ignoring it.

The job had gone off without a hitch, which was good for everyone's spirit considering the last few weren't as lucky. Spirits were lower than he would have liked, so the twenty thousand kruge in his pocket and diamond necklace in your pouch were perfect for raising everyone's morals.

You did, in fact, end up needing to take a stimulant capsule soon after they left. Even with the added aggravation from your soulmate, you just couldn't stay awake.

He makes a mental note to watch you more closely. He's seen what those stimulant capsules can do to your impulse control, and he would like for you to cut down on how much you're taking them if you could help it.

He has every bit of confidence in you that you wouldn't take more than necessary, but the tired mind is an enemy that which he never likes to take chances with. The last thing he needs is for you to accidentally grab two instead of one and be so jittery that you end up getting them all caught.

Actually, the more likely scenario would probably be you realizing your mistake soon after you've made it, and taking yourself out of the mission, leaving your spot empty as Kaz tries to reconfigure everything on the spot to accommodate for a lost asset. And, on top of that, worry to Fjerda and back about if you'll make it to the Slat safe and with minimal damage.

It's exhausting. He doesn't want to take them away, because today goes to show that they're incredibly helpful if taken properly.

But everytime you do his skin feels like it's on fire and his heart pounds just a little bit harder. It feels like something is trying to claw its way out of his skin, right between his shoulder blades.

A little something clicks in his mind, then.

A gunshot rings out into the night. The group flinches for a moment, and then they're all taking off in a sprint.

"Who's shooting at us?!" Jesper calls out.

"No idea and I don't want to find out!" You yell, overtaking nearly everyone just behind Jesper.

The both of you split into separate alleys, everyone else scattering as well given Kaz's signal. He follows behind you, intending on splitting up even further up the passageway, but doesn't get to when it comes to his attention the route he was going to take has since been blocked up.

He needs to get newer intel, very, very quick when he gets back to the Slat.

"Do not shoot to kill!" A member of the Stadwatch comes into sight on the opposite end of the alley. "We need information!"

Apparently they needed intel as well.

"Up!" Kaz hooks his cane to your pants, yanking you back and around the back of a house with a very thin walk space between its walls and the canal.

Steel bars jut out of the back, leading up to a balcony. You climb first, nearly slipping a few times in your haste to get up. Dirt falls into his eyes, but he blinks them away as he climbs just behind you, his cane now clipped to his belt.

You waste no time picking a direction and run, leaping over wobbly shingles and skating around metal smoke shafts in a movement that Kaz can only call dancing.

Kaz damn near falls in love all over again, and actually does so when he hears your delighted giggles under the shine of the moonlight. He's right behind you, just barely keeping up with his bad leg, and the sound makes his chest... /bubble/.

Several other gunshots ring out, the sound of bullets hitting metal like notes on a piano.

Kaz moves to the far side of the house, away from the sight of the Stadwatch and leaps to another building, his good leg coming in contact with the slick roof. His boot squeaks as it slips off, his leather gloves grabbing desperately at the shingles.

"Let go!" He heard from below.

Without a second thought, he went limp.

A gust of wind hit his back, knocking the air out of his lungs for a moment. And just as quickly he was on the ground, your face staring over him.

You chuckled. "Rather fucked up trust fall, I'd say."

"I trust no one." He spits without venom, hauling himself up. He unclips his cane, leaning on it.

"Okay Kaz." He can hear the sarcasm in your voice, but he diverts his attention in favor to the gunshot wound that splits through the meat of his arm.

You jolt too, yelling in pain. In a fit of anger, you slam the Stadwatch into the wall with your wind, the air pressure shifting and making his ears pop.

He doesn't bother to check if they're still moving, running unevenly to the nearest crow owned business and slipping inside and through to the backdoor.

He has to get you back. Who knows what kind of bullets they were using or what kind of damage it did. Healing isn't Nina's strong suit, so the least amount of damage and less time wasted the better.

The moment Kaz is in the Slat he's ushering you into the medical room, cursing you for your stunned state. He only had so much ability to maneuver you lacking an arm and using a glorified stick.

"We need to wait until Nina gets here." He hissed as he closed the door behind him, shucking off his coat and placing it on the chair next to the table.

"Kaz." You say, voice small.

He quickly whipped his head around, mind going through every possibility.

Too much blood has drained from your body. You're too weak to hold yourself up. Your body functions were shutting down one by one in favor of your heart and brain.

Before his mind could launch into a plan of how to keep you alive, tourniquet above the wound perhaps, he saw you weren't in any pain at all.

Not even a speck of blood on your shoulder.

He limped over to you, wondering if he was beginning to hallucinate an oddly terrifying yet comforting fantasy where you were fine. Maybe he was the one dying. But the throbbing pain in his shoulder and the pounding of his heart told him that he probably wasn't.

"You're fine." It was meant as a question but came out as a statement.

"I'm fine." You whispered in the same stunned silence. "Although I am a bit sore."

It's you. It's you it's you it's /you/.

The door bursts open, making you jump back. Nina begins to rustle around the room, instructing Kaz onto the table, but he just cannot look anywhere but you.

How fucking insane is that?

Out of the potentially millions of people that exist just within the distance between the southern colonies and Fjerda, you're here.

He didn't stop looking at you, because you're fucking /here/, even as you left out the door, tripping on your way out.

He needed to talk to you.

Soon.

Now.

The moment Nina began to give him the go ahead he was hopping off the table and into the crowd of the Slat, doorknob hitting the wall.

Where were you?

He brought his hand up to his mouth, pinching his skin between his teeth just below his glove. A stunned yelp sounded over the crowd, heads turning up the stairs. Kaz felt his entire stomach tumble.

The steps groaned beneath his steps as he walked up them, doing his best to keep them even with some semblance of normal despite normal being thrown out minutes ago.

He was trudging through the Slat without his coat or cane, shirt torn at the shoulder, and a throbbing wrist that he just bit with little to no care about who seen or felt it besides you, and everyone found it weird.

But this entire situation was weird.

His arm ached as he pulled himself up the last few stairs by the railing, limping to the next set of stairs to his attic office.

And there you were, rubbing the inside of your wrist with your eyebrows knit, looking every bit as stunned as you were when you came face to face with reality.

"You bit me." You whined.

He took a moment to get his breath back into his weeping lungs. "I didnt bite you. I bit myself."

"But you may as well have bit me." You stood up, moving to the side.

And there really wasn't any arguing with that logic was there? You felt it just the same as he did.

Fuck.

/Fuck./

His heart continued to pound and pound on his chest as he, much slower this time, walked up the stairs, keeping tabs on his leg as he did so. There was no complaint from you as you followed close behind.

The door was unlocked when he got to it.

He turned to you, raising a brow.

The floorboards creaked as you rocked on your heels, looking away from his prying eyes. "I thought better of it only after I unlocked it."

"Usually makes no difference to you whether it's locked or not." He swung the door open, heading for his desk chair. "You walk in and sleep in my chair as much as you please."

It took you a moment to respond, the door clicking quietly. "It didn't feel right this time."

Ironic, considering you're literally destined to be with him if the universe has any say.

He stood beside his chair, remembering the last time he caught you fast asleep in it, legs dangling off the arm. Did you not want that ease with him?

It isn't unheard of for a person to reject their soulmate. Usually it's done when they have found a chosen partner rather than a destined one, or when they simply don't believe in that way of life.

Maybe that's why you don't say anything when the topic comes up.

His body feels heavy, utterly exhausted at the thought. The thought to beg comes to mind briefly before he puts it back on its leash and ties it to a pole.

Perhaps you don't want him, even if the universe or whatever it is dictates that you do.

"I can see that mind of yours working," you say, "and it's not what you think."

He grinds his teeth for a moment. "It would help rule some stuff out if you'd have been more open about the topic in the past."

Fuck the universe, he's allowed to be petty.

Your voice is tired and almost disappointed when you say his name next, and it makes him completely regret his words.

You sit on his desk, body angled towards the open window he loves and hates so much.

It's too drafty. Reflects too much light. Opens awkwardly. But it's warm and coats your skin like honey in the evening and tickles your face with your baby hairs in the early morning. It let's you slip in at the most awkward times when he's changing but also let's you in when he needs you most, even if you don't know it.

The window is always locked.

He taught you how to pick it.

"My parents are soulmates." You begin, Kaz lowering himself into his chair. "But they don't like eachother."

That does well to get his attention.

"Everytime the tie between them was activated, it was always on purpose to hurt the other." Your temple moved, teeth grinding. "When one would threaten to leave, the other would beat themself senseless. And when they really got angry at eachother, they'd almost kill themselves and then turn on eachother with knives and bottles.

I've heard stories of how it is to lose your soulmate back where I grew up. It's described as a nothingness. What was once there when the connection was really, really made disappears like it was never there, and leaves a dark, heavy feeling in its place."

You sighed, hand rubbing your chest. "I think that's the only reason they never actually killed eachother. They didn't want whatever they had, no matter how fucked up it was, to disappear."

He thought for a moment.

"You never spoke about it because you don't want to end up like them."

Your eyes squinted, lips pursing. "Yes and no." A rhythm came to life from your boot, legs swaying and hitting his desk. "You're right, but I also don't want to feel that feeling, that nothing. I don't know if it's true, if the grief takes that much of a hold on you, but I don't want to find out. Not now. Not ever." You looked at him then, eyes like glass and tears barely pooling on your lower lashes. "Not if it's you."

It hits him all at once.

The obvious realization that is that you /want/ him.

And the even more breathtaking realization that you really, really love him, and have loved him long before you knew.

Isn't that perfect?

You looked back to the window, and everywhere else, hand swiping underneath your eyes.

He tapped the table next to you, gathering your attention.

"I don't..." He licked his lips. "I don't want that either... if it's you."

He fucking hopes you get it. That he has loved you too. Before now. Before the lockpicking. Before the chair. Before the window. Before the bullet. Before the biting. Before. And has for a long time since.

Your mouth hangs open, lips shuttering just a little before you close it, biting the pink skin. "Okay." You whisper, head bobbing up and down. "Okay."

"One question, though."

"Um..." You clear your throat. "Shoot."

"How did you manage to go this long without knowing it was me considering my one true constant of pain?" He props his bad leg out, wiggling his foot a bit.

You laugh, a stark contrast from the pervious mood. "If you want me to be honest, I... completely forgot what leg is your bad leg?"

It's the truth, he can tell, yet the fact that it sounds more like a question gets a half chuckle out of him. "I assume you don't know how a cane works?"

"Well I wouldn't say /that/." You try to defend yourself. "I know it helps you walk I just... never knew what side it was supposed to go on."

He can't stop himself from smiling, then. Small and private. "Cane goes on the stronger side to aid the injured side when you step with it. It becomes a third leg."

You snort immediately, and he sighs. "Childish."

"Oh come on! You did that to yourself!"

"Y/n." He said.

"Yes?"

"You're insufferable."

You hopped off the desk, slipping the diamond necklace from your pouch and around his neck. "At yet you're stuck with me."

He touched one of the diamonds, watching you fall into the chair in front of his desk. "Not as much of a problem as you hope it is."

All tears gone, you get settled into the chair, perfectly warm and content in his company.

He loves that he feels the same.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows x y/n #six of crows x you #six of crows fanfic #fanfic #blood tw #gun tw #sh tw #drugs tw #alcohol tw

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jackwolfes · 1 year ago

Note

I would love to start writing grishaverse fics but I'm worried about not getting the characterisation correct. I've started with a modern au, which was maybe not the best plan considering it's probably harder to keep the dialogue in character when they're not in their normal setting. Any words of wisdom? Since you seem to be so inherently good at nailing all of the crows 😅

your point on AUs is interesting because 1) i am a big big AU writer and 2) i know some people insist that AUs are always automatically less in character which is just emphatically not true and is often times good old fashioned pretentiousness

but i would say that the key thing to AU writing is understanding the characters in their entirety, as well as how their character changes depending on the situations they're in, and adjusting accordingly. i run into this problem all the time with wylan! so in AUs where his entry into the barrel is entirely different i have to reevaluate how like, scared for his life he'd be basically, and how that changes how he relates to other people

for another example - the way matthias changes as a character in SOC is tied to how far away he is from his (for lack of a better term) cult, paired with the love he is met with from nina and the evidence of "goodness" from grisha (jesper & kuwei). so then that becomes: what is the au equiavalent of the druskelle? how long has it been since he's left them? how long has he known nina, has he met jesper/kuwei, has he had closure yet against brum?

i also think it's suuuuper important with AUs to remember that in the books they are all teenagers and all act like teenagers. if you're writing aged up AUs, certain ways they act will necessarily be different - ie all of them, at one point or another, think way too highly of themselves and/or act like immature gits that don't know how feelings work: if you're aging them up you'll have leeway to temper them a bit. interestingly i think the netflix show does this really well, with wesper especially - wylan isn't flushing constantly when jesper flirts with him because he's already a sexually active adult, etc. it's an interesting case study wrt how to age characters up and keep the essence of who they are

anyway i have wildly different confidence levels for the different crows so don't like, take this as gospel, but if you're interested i jotted down a few of the key things that i keep in mind about each of them below the cut:

matthias is funnier than anyone gives him credit for. he doesn't always mean to be but comedy + matthias = winner

if you're writing early matthias: he is scared and lost and angry. he is in a new country he does not know the language of, freshly betrayed by someone he was never supposed to trust, and kicking himself for being stupid enough to "fall for her tricks" (while also being so profoundly in love that he is angry all over again that he is still "being tricked")

if you're writing later matthias: he is just. fucking. trying. he can see that there is something hopeful on the horizon and has realised that he wants it and will do what he can to make steps towards it. i really like writing matthias as clueless but well meaning, where he's a bit thick about a lot of things but really wants to do better! like your cishet uncle at christmas who is REALLY trying to get your pronouns right because he knows it means something to you but just doesn't have a grasp of how they work, yknow?

his faith is SO important to him, especially as the series goes on and he starts doubting everything. when he's in fjerda he's embedded in it but when he's in kerch, it is the literal only thing he had keeping him going. when he joins the crows, he clings to it as if to prove to himself that not everything he learnt was entirely wrong until he can reconcile religion with loving grisha

wve

if you aren't familiar with the signs of autism, research them. once you have, congratulations! you now have a guide to writing wylan van eck.

wylan is infinitely meaner than anyone gives him credit for. i dont mean snarky, i don't mean bitchy, i mean MEAN. early on, he says some fucking savage things without any real consideration for how jesper feels because he just fundamentally hasn't had real kindness from anyone in so long, which means he doesn't know that he doesn't have to expect cruelty back.

he does not want to be doing anything illegal. he'll do it but won't fucking like it - except he will also at the same time be very prideful about what he's doing. so he'll do it, and won't fucking like it, but by god will he do it well and make sure everyone around him knows how clever he is. he doesn't brag, exactly, but he WILL be smug and will not skimp on theatrics when needed.

the thing that made wylan click for me was someone saying that he is not SHY, but he is RESERVED. at no point is he really actually timid. he gets flustered, and fear/anxiety for his life is fucking rampant, but he is at no point shy with his opinions. he just refuses to show his whole hand and is very much like kaz in this respect.

early wylan is just having the worst fucking week, all the time. like every day is the worst day of his life: he's tired, hungry, scared, anxious, belittled, lonely. a part of him genuinely believes that he'll be able to go home again, which makes him resentful of the how bad his life in the barrel is.

underneath all of this wylan is still a profoundly hopeful character. i think one of the most interesting things about him is that he has an unhindered belief that the world is at it's core good, even though it also has bad things in it, and a fundamental unwillingness to settle for other people's cynicism. he's not stupid, he's not deluded, he's barely even optimistic, but throughout the series he genuinely does seem to believe that there will be a happy ending in some way or another.

if you aren't familiar with the signs of adhd………….

jesper to me is just doing his very best to get through life without feeling any negative emotion ever for any longer than he has to. much like matthias, he is lost and scared and angry - but instead of channeling this into a pseudo-facist military cult he tries to stop feeling the bad feelings as quick as he possibly can. he has learnt that bad feelings = the worst, and the way to deal with that isn't to embrace them to understand them and move on [because he has also learnt that "bad" means "should be hidden"] so he tries to not feel them at all. he does not dwell on his mother's death or his father's insistence that a beautiful part of himself is a curse. he squishes it down and tries to cover it with gambling and flirting and anything else that'll get him through - except those coping mechanisms always make him feel worse, which he tries to bottle up and cover with a joke and a smile…... etc etc etc

to emphasise: when he covers things up, he does so in the biggest, boldest and most public ways as if that'll prove to everyone else, as well as himself, that he's fine. he doesn't shut up, he's a snarky asshole, and his whole thing is that he refuses to stop moving because stopping let's the bad feelings catch up.

he is both incredibly cynical and incredibly optimistic, which is a strange juxtaposition to get your head around but makes him really interesting! he's described as having "reckless optimism" and an insane hope that everything will pull through - but so often when he talks to wylan he is utterly jaded about wylan's way of seeing the world.

jesper doubts himself and his talents fucking massively. whereas a lot of the other crows are almost too confident about their abilities to do things, jesper doesn't really put stock into his talents! and this again comes down to the fact he has fundamentally not taken the time to learn and understand why he has the talents he has, and only gets to that point at the end of CK.

inej to me is just very teenage girl, by which i mean: she is funnier than anyone gives her credit for, she likes to be right, she crushes on idiot boys [and gets annoyed about it] and truly cherishes her friendships. she is a TEENAGE GIRL, not an all-caring insightful mother figure, and when she supports her friends she leans on them in return just as heavily.

related to that she is also infinitely more like… proud than people give her credit for. this is also similar to wylan IMO but inej takes great care in whatever she does, and while doesn't necessarily try to get all eyes on her, she DOES want the people she's manipulating to know that SHE is the one in control of their fates. but for all she holds power over other people and the next steps in her life [which is key re: taking control and autonomy of her life in the aftermath of her assault and displacement] it is always chased with the knowledge that at the end of it, her saints have the final say and final power.

i think it's also really important that she just does not believe herself to be a good person. like she doesn't, but she's making peace with that and spends a lot of time trying to atone for that by making the world better than she found it.

nina is a notoriously hard character to get right [and also i haven't read king of scars so can't comment on anything but how she's written in SOC/CK] but one key thing about nina that i think jumps out is that she is just. tired. she's so tired by the start of soc because she does not like life in the barrel. she doesn't even like ketterdam! she fucking hates it! she's doing what she has to to find matthias but does not WANT a life in the barrel. her key goal and motivation is to fucking skip town as fast as possible.

it's also key IMO that she has had a very similar upbringing to matthias. it's very easy to see his indoctrination, and i wouldn't say that the ravkan's are quite as bad as the fjerdans considering ideologies and tactics, but as the books go on nina very much discovers that the way she was raised [taken from an orphanage without a say, raised to be a soldier, told to never question anything/step out of line/consider an alternate view] was also not great, which is why she decides to leave and make change on a local level

nina doesn't really hold back what she thinks, especially when she's upset with someone: she will just tell kaz someone they're being stupid straight to their face.

related to that, she is just low-level irritated at kaz for every waking moment of the series

he's not mean, but he's a sarcastic fucker and incredibly blunt about the truth of things. he genuinely does not care about hurting other people's feelings [key with wylan tbh but seen with all of the other crows]

he doesn't volunteer information if he can help it: he likes to have the upper-hand and the last word, but will never show all of his cards until he is absolutely 100% without a doubt certain he's won something

he would rather be shot in the head than show true vulnerability [see: the "who is jordie" conversation]

that bitch loves a grand gesture. he doesn't have a love language so much as he only knows how to express his feelings by doing things for people [see: buying his crush a big boat]

#uthers bald head #soc #six of crows #advice #fic advice #asks #long post

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bella-rose29 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 5 - The Coronation

Switching things up for this one and we're going from Zoya's perspective!

Warnings: mentions of past trauma (I think I've put this on every chapter now oh dear)

Word count: 2.3k

Series master list

Tag list: @kentucky-criedfricken, @polli05927, @kateswone, @historianthesecond, @ell0ra-br3kk3r

Zoya just wanted thirty free minutes to have a nice hot bath. She'd been running about like a headless chicken on fire since the king and queen had left for their honeymoon, having to run the country with Genya and David and make the decisions that Nikolai would normally make. She had no idea how he did it on his own, all day, every day.

She had wanted to kill someone within the first five minutes.

Genya had talked her out of it, saying it wouldn't look good if a Kerch merchant visiting Ravka on a diplomatic mission turned up dead in the Grand Palace, but he'd been so slimy and degrading towards Zoya and the rest of the Grisha she'd wanted to punch him in the face. Repeatedly.

Nikolai and Y/N had returned the day before yesterday, and tomorrow was her coronation, making her title as Queen of Ravka official. They seemed... better, with the two of them actually talking and not just exchanging brief sentences. That was good, both because they needed to look like the marriage was going smoothly and because Zoya was fed up of Nikolai looking like he was a kicked puppy. Unfortunately when Y/N wasn't looking at him, he now had the face of a lost puppy instead, which was somehow worse. She was under no illusions that he had actually confessed to his wife about what haunted him at night, but he must have said something to get her talking to him again. The pair of them were infuriating, but she wouldn't divulge the secrets of one to the other to get them properly together because it wasn't her place to share that information.

Zoya had been the one to comfort Y/N after the incident, and while she hadn't enjoyed staying up all night with the girl crying into her robe, she understood that a horrible thing had happened and she needed to be there for her.

She had also been the one helping Nikolai the past few months, going to sleep late after chaining him up and waking early to untie him, and rushing out in the middle of the night to detain the demon when it got free.

Zoya just didn't understand why Nikolai wouldn't tell his wife that he had a twisted form of the nichevo'ya inside him, because surely she would understand and want to help? Having trained next to Y/N for years, Zoya knew that the girl's heart was far too large for this world, and she always cared about others before herself (which Zoya had often berated her for), and it was one of the reasons she knew that Y/N would be a good Queen. She loved people, and would always do whatever she could to help them, so if only Nikolai could see that then maybe their whole issue could be resolved.

She was interrupted from her thoughts by Genya slamming her office door open, piles upon piles of paper in hand, and by the frazzled look on the Tailor's face, Zoya knew she was in for a long conversation. Y/N followed behind, shooting an apologetic grimace towards Zoya before sitting in one of the chairs dotted around the room.

"I'm assuming this is about the coronation?" she asked, receiving confirmation immediately after. She sighed. This was definitely going to last until dinner. Resigning herself to her fate, Zoya got stuck in, finalising plans for tomorrow, and the three women spent the next few hours sorting everything out, from reviewing the seating plans to whether the flowers they had chosen were the right colour.

Everything had to be perfect.

This coronation was monumental, the first time Ravka would see a Grisha on the throne, and Zoya knew that getting this right would make everybody see that Grisha weren't a people to hunt into extinction, they were here to help Ravka. The discrimination that her people faced needed to stop, and Zoya had every faith that Y/N would be able to convince everyone of that. Yes, this coronation had to be perfect, to stop the whispers that all Grisha should be prosecuted, that they were evil, that they were enemies.

By the time the three of them were finished, it was dark outside, so they headed to the kitchens to find leftovers from the dinner that everybody else had eaten earlier. As they sat in front of the kitchen fire, Genya probing Y/N for details about the honeymoon, Zoya felt... happy. She had always seen Y/N as a sister, having had no siblings of her own, but before being assigned part of the Triumvirate, Zoya never would have willingly spent this much time with Genya. The Tailor had grown on her, and while in the beginning Zoya had felt herself superior to her fellow Triumvirate members, she now felt a sense of similarity between the three of them. Maybe less so with David, but certainly the women gathered in the kitchen knew what it was to be favoured by the Darkling, and they had all suffered through the war, so she felt happy knowing she had people who could relate to what she had been through.

When she went to chain Nikolai up that night, she was mostly quiet, basking in the happiness of her evening.

"What did you say to her? I noticed she's talking to you properly again," she asked.

"Not everything. I told her I couldn't do that, but we've come to an understanding. She's got her secrets too, so at the moment we're just trying to get comfortable enough around each other before we start sharing those parts of ourselves." She nodded, satisfied with that, then moved around the bed to chain his other wrist up.

"How did Tolya cope with the incident?"

"I think he was alright. I didn't hurt him, so I'm taking that as a win. It only happened the once as well."

"Did she find out?"

"No."

Zoya left it at that. Her frustration came back, and she had half a mind to yell at him for being so damn stubborn, but she really just wanted to go to sleep, especially since tomorrow would be draining.

Yelling would have to wait.

"Do you know anything? About what happened to her? She told me that... that she'd been left alone at night before, but that was it. I didn't want to pressure her, especially since I still haven't told her about the demon, but you two were close, right?"

His question startled her, and her hands paused on the chains. She hesitated, wondering how to phrase it.

"I do, but... Nikolai, it's not my place to say what happened. You're better off telling her why you left her by the lake, getting her to understand that you didn't do it deliberately. She was... she was really damaged by what happened, and I really think you just need to talk to her. She'll understand, I'm sure."

She departed not long after, leaving Nikolai to contemplate what she'd said before the sedative kicked in. Back in her own rooms, she slipped into dreamless sleep, thankful for the lack of nightmares for the night.

The next morning Zoya was up before the sun, heading over to the King's chambers to unlock said king (who luckily had stayed in bed all night), then immediately got thrown in to coronation work. Most of the decorations were already in place, and chairs were set up. All that was really left was getting Y/N dressed and getting everyone inside without anybody being killed.

She headed to Y/N's rooms, startled to find the girl already awake and struggling to put on her dress.

"Need some help?" Y/N turned around, pleading look on her face.

"Yes. Please. I know I should have had people in to help but it's still too weird for me, and this skirt is so heavy and the buttons won't go in an-"

"Take a breath! You'll destroy your voice before the ceremony if you carry on like that!"

Zoya helped her sort out her dress, then called for Genya to style her hair (if Zoya tried it would look like Y/N had been dragged through a bush backwards).

Before any of them knew it, Y/N had to leave to take her place outside the doors to the hall she had been married in, and Zoya and Genya went and sat in their front row seats. The air was filled with voices, the atmosphere buzzing. Nikolai was already stood up on the platform, off to the side. He looked nervous, although Zoya couldn't figure out why.

Her question was answered when the doors opened and the crowd hushed as Y/N stepped through, and instead of turning to look at her, Zoya kept her eyes on his face, which now had an expression of awe.

Ah.

She already knew that Y/N looked stunning today, having dressed her to perfection, but Nikolai hadn't seen her yet. Now that he had, it was obvious to Zoya that the man was hopeless, already falling in love with his wife. She highly doubted he knew it, given how oblivious he could be to his own feelings, and Y/N was too caught up in all the chaos that came with being introduced to court to have noticed it either. Genya hadn't managed to get much out of her last night, but something had happened on their honeymoon to get Y/N blushing the way she did. Zoya just hoped they wouldn't spend too long pining after each other, or she'd lock them in a cell together until they confessed.

All through the ceremony, Nikolai looked lovesick (which made Zoya feel regularly sick), never once taking his eyes off of his wife. She couldn't really blame him, since her Tidemaker blue dress in the style of a kefta (they had made a lot of clothes for Y/N in this colour, to the point that it looked like the sea was in her wardrobe when you opened the doors) made her look almost other-worldly, her hair done to resemble waves, small blue gems of all shades resting in the strands.

It was going well so far, no mishaps, no mistakes. But maybe she'd thought that too soon, as she heard whispers behind her coming from the row of Ravkan nobles.

"They shouldn't have put one of them on the throne. It's an insult to Ravka! They aren't people, not really, and you can't expect them to know anything about how to rule, it'll be useless!" A few snickers followed, and Zoya had to resist the urge to turn around and slap them, or sent them flying into the walls with a gust of air. She pictured it in her mind instead, hoping that would be enough to stop her.

When Y/N had said her vows, swearing to protect Ravka and her people for as long as she was Queen, the crown was placed on her head. She trembled a little under the weight of it, but kept her head held high as she stood, sceptre and orb held in each hand as she faced the crowd. When everybody stood and clapped, Zoya did so until her palms were read and her cheeks hurt from smiling.

Things will get better. They will.

She knew it would take a long time, but with a Grisha on the throne, one who had only ever helped the people of Ravka and hadn't sided with the Darkling in the war, things would get better.

When she walked into the room where Y/N was stood, waiting for the Triumvirate to turn up, she felt as though she was intruding on something. Nikolai was already there, gently removing the crown from Y/N's head, trying to avoid pulling on her hair. Zoya went to turn around, but too late, as Y/N had seen her over his shoulder and called out to her just as Nikolai pulled the crown free.

"Did I do okay? I felt like I was going to either throw up on someone or forget what I was meant to do!"

"You were perfect. And please tell me that you would have thrown up on your husband, because that would've made my day," she replied, laughing at Nikolai's offended expression.

"And risk Genya's wrath? No thank you! Although... maybe I could have gotten a little bit on his shoes," she fake-pondered the last part, tapping a finger against her chin in mock consideration, laughing at the horrified face Nikolai pulled.

"Not the shoes, please, anything but the shoes!"

All three of them laughed, just in time for Genya, David and the twins to turn up, questions evidently at the ready at the sight of the stoic General cracking up.

"Do we want to know?" That was Tamar, eyebrow raised. "Or are we going to get you ready for the tour?"

The tour. Nikolai had done a similar thing with Alina, travelling around Ravka as a show of strength, stopping in towns and villages to present the Sun Saint. They would be sending Nikolai on another one, this time with Y/N as a way of introducing Queen to country. Most preparations had been made, and they were leaving in two weeks' time, giving them time to recover from the travelling and chaos of the last month or so. There were still some things to sort out, one of which would be discussed when Y/N wasn't present. Zoya had been puzzling over the rooming arrangements, since they couldn't exactly endanger the Queen by letting her sleep in a bed with a demonic King when he hadn't even told her that was what he was. She also wasn't entirely sure they had actually slept in the same bed yet, and she didn't think Y/N would want that first experience to be accompanied by chains and the threat of being eaten alive.

When everybody headed off to bed Zoya was glad for the sleep, since she felt as though she'd done nothing but plan things the past few weeks.

Tomorrow would be better, she was sure of it. Tomorrow would be better.

Chapter 6

#grishaverse #netflix shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x y/n #king of scars

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sprnklersplashes · 5 months ago

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snowflakes, sunshine and chance encounters (2/4) ao3

fanfic fundraiser

As they get ready for dinner, Wylan almost feels optimistic about this trip.

His father doesn’t share his sentiment.

“I would’ve thought you’d grown out of fairytales by now.”

“It’s not really fairytales,” Wylan replies carefully. He does up his tie, the knot tight against his collar. “It’s faith isn’t it? The same faith you and I have in Ghezen, they have in Alina Starkhov.”

And he doesn’t know why he said it, perhaps the day has made him a little bit too bold, but the way his father jerks tells him all he needs to know.

“Ghezen couldn’t be more different from this girl,” he says. His voice is taunt, a violin string tightened one too many times. Darkness rolls in his eyes like thunderclouds, and Wylan stiffens. He looks Wylan up and down, lip curled. “Ghezen seeks out and rewards prosperity, ingenuity. That is why my family has the fortunes it does. Miss Starkhov is a peasant girl who can put on a light show.” He turns back to the mirror and fixes his jacket. In the glass, his eyes grow even colder. “Don’t be so blasphemous as to mistake her for Ghezen, or even close to him.”

“Perhaps Ghezen blessed her the way he blessed us,” Wylan suggests. “Perhaps he just does it differently.”

Silence descends on the room then, and Wylan can feel it. He’s taken the little luck he’s enjoyed and pushed it just too far. Because that’s what he does. He doesn’t know when to stop.

His father turns. Wylan tries to breathe, but he can’t get anything in or out. In the absolute quiet, his father’s steps ricochet like gunfire, time with Wylan’s pounding heart. He stops just a fraction of an inch from him, so that even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to look away from him.

“I’m not surprised that you fall for such fanciful tales, Wylan,” he says eventually. His hand presses on Wylan’s shoulder,not quite hard enough to bruise. He looks Wylan up and down, and gives a short sigh. “I am, however, deeply disappointed.”

With that, his father lets go, grabs his jacket and motions for Wylan to join him. As he does, Wylan can’t muster any anger or even resentment at him. Why would he? Wylan was the one who opened his mouth and ruined such a good day.

It’s always your fault Wylan, isn’t it, a voice whispers, and Wylan isn’t sure if it's his father’s or his own.

As they descend the sweeping staircase down to the ballroom, Wylan and his father bury what happened and present the united front they came with; the prosperous and brilliant head of the Van Eck fortune and his equally-brilliant son and heir. A unit, a team, partners carrying their shared legacy.

Wylan can only hope that he comes off as dignified as his father.

He breathes out slowly as they enter the ballroom. It’s a much bigger room than where they met the General-maybe the biggest Wylan has ever been in-and it is completely, utterly swarmed. He tries to take stock of the room’s details-his most reliable trick-and it works until he realises just how many people are pressing around him. They roll around like waves, knock into him. So many sounds, so many people, that he’s left feeling quite ill.

Someone appears in front of them with glasses of champagne and despite the unease in his stomach, he takes it, smiles politely, takes a sip all in the same breath. Come on, Wylan. You know how to do this.

He tries to cast his mind back, to remember conversing with those East Ravkan delegates. Ghezen, it feels like a lifetime ago. What had they called him? Articulate, accomplished, witty. If he could just remember what he did then, he can replicate it now, once the buzzing in his head stops and whoever is banging that door stops.

Breathe, he reminds himself. He blinks and then he sees his father, engrossed in conversation with some other Kerch delegates. He isn’t technically looking at him but he is in the way that matters. Even with his eyes elsewhere, his gaze remains firmly on him.

With a steady inhale, Wylan straightens his shoulders. Showtime.

In one fluid step, Wylan slides into the gap beside his father, careful to remain a half-step behind him. Confident but not imposing.

“Ah, Van Eck the younger,” one delegate says as he approaches. “Come, we would love to hear your thoughts on this matter.”

“Now, Drysen,” his father chides. “Don’t bore the boy with politics. Not when there are so many beautiful girls here to take his fancy.”

The circle of merchants chuckle, Wylan laughs along with them, as much as he can when his chest is this tight.

“So eager to put him on the marriage market already Jan?” Drysen teases. Wylan stiffens, a split-second glance at his father. “Now, Wylan, we have all noticed that a certain West Ravkan general remains conspicuously absent.”

“Indeed?” Wylan agrees. He takes another sip.

“It appears so,” he says. He leans forward then, eyebrows raised. The circle of men becomes tighter. Wylan fights the urge to step backwards. “Of course, this would fuel the rumours of the West’s succession, would it not?”

“It would.” He drops his shoulders. He’s studied West Ravkan politics, even listened outside the door as Councilmen debated it. This is something he can do. “The question is though, would West Ravka have the power to sustain its economy without the monarchy?”

“That rather depends on us, doesn’t it?” another merchant adds. “The Merchant Council has been debating where our support should lie. Of course, the Fold has been a nuisance when it comes to trade. Many ports are becoming far more hassle than they’re worth.” He glances cooly around the room, lip curled. Wylan recognises that contempt; he’s seen it on his father’s face almost every day. “Were it not for the Sun Summoner, we would be on our way to cutting ties with East Ravka entirely. And now, it seems to be the other way around.”

“What would happen to the West then?” he asks. “Last I heard, Kerch remained West Ravka’s most important trading partner. Severing our ties with them would leave them helpless, both economically and militarily. Not to mention losing the aid we are providing.” He hears the words tumble haphazardly out of his mouth, cringed at how his inexperience is laced into each syllable. He takes another hurried sip of his wine. “I-I only mean to say I was under the impression that we were behind Ravkan reunification, it being in the best interest of the Ravkan people. Surely an end to the civil war must be the priority for all.”

“I thought you said the boy has no interest in politics, Jan,” one says with a nod. “It seems to me he knows his stuff.”

“Indeed,” his father grimaces. “His tutors have praised his dedication to learning the history, although he is often led by his heart. Prefers to focus on the emotional side, rather than practical matters.”

Wylan’s gut twists. The hand around the glass tightens. Sweat trickles down his back, a thin, slow stream.

“That isn’t to say the West won’t still be useful,” one delegate says in a low voice. “Indeed, a split from the Lantsovs would give Kerch the chance to strengthen our trade agreements with them.”

“And with it, your influence,” Wylan mumbles. Cold sweat breaks out on his back. The delegate grins and toasts him as if he’s said something clever. Wylan can’t feel pride for it though.

“Up until now, we thought both sides were for reunification, and we had no choice but to follow this. West Ravka’s succession had opened significant new opportunities and we were ready and willing to support them. Until the Sun Summoner made her appearance. Then she may be quite the investment.”

“She’s a person.” The words shoot out like bullets, scorched trails in their wakes. “And if you say you mean to invest in furthering the Ravkan civil war playing only on the winning side-”

“Wylan.” He feels a sharp pinch against his spine, there and gone like a lightning flash. His father closes in on him, somehow pressing in without even touching him. There’s a smile on his face, but when Wylan meets his gaze, the glass almost falls through his fingers. The spot in his spine burns. “Forgive me, gentlemen. Seems those debate lessons are finally paying off.”

The men chuckle, a stiff and halting chorus that digs beneath Wylan’s skin. While the rest chatter, his father’s hand closes around his upper arm. Wylan is pulled backwards a half-step and his father’s face flashes in his periphery. Blue eyes narrow, grey hair flashing like steel.

“You’ve embarrassed us enough for one night,” he whispers. “Take a turn about the room and for all our sakes’, don’t talk to anyone.”

He manages a minute nod, then his father lets him go.

Though his father would shake his head at him for it, he thinks that the fact he doesn’t collapse there and then has to be a miracle.

After half a turn around the room, he decides enough is enough.

To hell with the Sun Summoner and the Palace and every damned thing- if he stays here one minute longer he will explode. He melts into the crowd with ease and weaves in and out of guests, half-formed conversations come and go. He dodges round another clump of people, suppressing a shudder as he does so. There’s just so many people, all around, all the time. He stumbles through the double doors with barely a glance backward and finds himself in front of two servants, gawking at him with wide eyes. They don’t say anything. They don’t need to; Wylan can hear it clear enough.

Weird. Strange. Freak. Isn’t that the Van Eck heir? Why is he looking at us like that?

They're all thinking it, no doubt. He feels it in his thumping heart, in the prickle at the back of his eyes. They’re all laughing behind their champagne flutes, and that thought pushes Wylan across the hall and through the main doors. Even when a gust of night air rushes to his face, he doesn’t stop, he keeps tearing across the courtyard where the fete had been. He trips up on stones and tumbles over grass, his chest growing tighter with each slip. He is aware, vaguely, that if he keeps going his heart may burst and maybe that’s why he’s doing it.

With huge, heaving breaths, Wylan pushes open a wooden door and throws himself through it, letting it creak closed behind him. The last of Wylan’s strength leaves him and he sinks down onto the ground. It’s coarse beneath his legs, something rough presses against his back. He tilts his head back, takes deep breath after deep breath. The air is musty and warm, an unplaceable scent lingers there, but he keeps on breathing. His fingers find something in his pocket, soft and silken. It’s the emblem of the Sun Summoner, the one from the fete this morning. Tentatively, Wylan rubs it against his face, soft fabric caressing his skin.

When he was younger, he used to bury himself in his mother’s skirts when he became too overwhelmed. The memory comes to him unbidden, as sudden as a slamming door. His father had tutted and rolled his eyes in those moments, but his mother just stroked his hair until he felt himself again.

Wylan leans into it now. With slow deep breaths, he lets the heat in his chest dissipate, until all that’s left is dried tear tracks on his cheeks. He breathes in the musty smell, leans his head against the rough wood behind him.

He’s really done it this time.

He’s been given warnings before, dark glares and concealed pinches on the back of his hand. Sit down, shut up before you embarrass me. And every time he’s taken it but no, not anymore.

The worst part is; he doesn’t regret it. Oh, his father will beat him black and blue and he is terrified. But he’s not ashamed of what he said. Someone needed to tell the Council no, even if they’ll brush him off moments later. And apparently, that someone was him.

“Are you all right?”

Wylan jumps, shock reverberating through his body. His head snaps to the side, cheeks already flooded crimson as he braces himself to be made to leave.

As he stands, he doesn’t see a palace guard or, Ghezen forbid, his father. It takes a moment to register, but then he recognises the windswept curls and tall frame. By some miracle, it’s the boy from the fete earlier, now clad in a red velvet jacket giving his status as a footman.

Something about it doesn’t sit quite right with Wylan, but he doesn’t ponder on it. Primarily because he can’t seem to focus on anything.

Slowly, the boy steps toward him. Where his eyes had been twinkling earlier, they now crease with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks again. Wylan nods.

“F-fine,” he mumbles. He straightens up, hides the fabric in his hands. “Thank you.”

“It’s all right,” he says, and then he smiles. “Party not up to much then?” Wylan huffs, runs his hand through his hair. Etiquette says he should say no and make a polite exit but… he’s been holding the mask up for two days. He’s tired.

“If I’m honest it’s a bit too much,” he mumbles. He waits, expects the boy to frown or sneer at him, but he doesn’t. He smiles, and it’s like a first cup of tea on a rainy evening.

“So you snuck away to the stables.”

“Don’t tell anyone you saw me here,” he asks. “Please. If-if my father knew I ran here he would-”

“You don’t need to worry,” he tells him. There’s a kind of confidence to his words that almost puts Wylan at ease. As though he could simply say his father won’t hate him and make it so.

“It was Jesper, wasn’t it?” he asks. Jesper nods, accompanied by a small bow that makes him chuckle. Wylan gestures to his clothes. “Are you with one of the delegates?”

“Novyi Zem,” he replies. “Though calling me a delegate is generous; I’m just here to fetch the ambassador’s horses.”

Wylan feels foolish; the dark skin and impressive height should’ve been a giveaway. He’d met the Zemeni ambassador briefly on this trip, and once before on a state visit to the capital. He remembers the endless blue skies, golden fields that stretched on for miles. Were it not for his father, he would have sat in those fields for the entire trip and he would’ve been more than content. When they returned, it had been raining, and the grey cobblestones had never felt so lifeless.

“Novyi Zem?” he echoes. He turns the fabric over in his head, his heart fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “Do you like it there?”

Jesper leans against one of the horse’s pens, wringing his gloves in his hands. His pose is nonchalant, but then Wylan sees the melancholy in his eyes, so profound that it almost ages him. Despite this though, there’s a small smile on his face, the kind that denotes a fond memory from a time long past.

“Sort of,” he replies. Now it’s Wylan who steps forward, pulled over by some unseen force. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but he feels something between them. Those words, ‘sort of’-he could find his own experience there.

“Sort of?” he echoes. Jesper blinks, snapping out of wherever he’d taken himself. The sadness is gone, thrown away like a rushed first draft.

“It has its pros and cons,” he says dismissively. Wylan doesn’t believe it, but for now the itch remains unscratched. Especially when Jesper narrows his dark eyes. He moves in one smooth motion and steps into Wylan’s orbit. At this distance, Wylan can make out the laughlines around his eyes, the delicate curls in his hair, the frankly exquisite curve of his lips. It’s not some boyish fantasy; he’s studied mathmatics enough to know a perfect curve when he sees one. But then his hand jerks, powered by a deep, wild urge to trace the outline of Jesper’s cheekbones, and he is forced to confront the reality. Jesper’s lips part just slightly, restless fingers dance at his side. “But the more I travel… the more I learn that where you are isn’t nearly as important as who you’re with.

Wylan bursts out laughing.

“How many times has that line worked for you?”

“It’s not a line!”

“Mm, of course it isn’t.” He slides into an empty pen, rests his chin on the fence. Ghezen knows where this new boldness has come from but for once, no-one is telling him to stop. Not his father, not even himself. So, he leans forward, raises his eyebrows. “I almost believe that wasn’t rehearsed.”

“You think I practise my lines in the mirror?” he teases. “Just in case I run into pretty delegates in need of rescuing?”

“So this is a rescue then?” he laughs. “Are you going to spirit me away from here and off to a life of freedom and love in Novyi Zem with you?” He laughs again, but it feels different this time. This time, the only joke he’s laughing at is his own.

How many times has he fallen into daydreams just like that? Where a tall dark stranger takes his hand and whisks him away from his father’s house?

With a shake of his head, Jesper strides over to the fence and stands on the other side. This close, Wylan can see the freckles that dance across his brown skin. Without looking away from Wylan, Jesper’s hands come up and slide over his. Usually Wylan would flinch at such contact, but now he’s so still he wonders if he’s still alive. Jesper’s hands are warm and calloused, his fingers refuse to sit still. They slot into the grooves between Wylan’s knuckles.

“I know it’s hardly my place to ask,” he begins. “But… is everything okay?”

Wylan opens his mouth, then closes it. The answers flounders and struggles because no, everything is not okay. He’s travelled across the sea to witness history, only to hide in a stable. The Merchant Council plan to prolong the civil war until the Lantsov’s coffers are bled dry. He just embarrassed himself and his father in front of the Kerch delegation and when they get home, Wylan will have hell to pay. The only reason he isn’t on the floor screaming right now is because Jesper is rounding the corner to his side of the fence, his hand on top of his.

“Hey?” he says softly. He rubs his thumb against Wylan’s hand, looks at him through a tangle of black curls. And Wylan just sighs. His pulse is drumming, pounding against his wrist, as if it’s trying to escape him.

“Oh to hell with it,” he murmurs.

He grabs Jesper by the collar and kisses him.

After a startled squeak, Jesper kisses him back, his lips hot and so, so willing. Jesper gasps. Then he pulls at his collar, and Wylan is gone.

#six of crows fanfic #six of crows #wesper #wesper fanfiction #wesper fic #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic

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