#aleksander x ivan

[starlessmistake]

The General and his Heartrender

[simp2537]

You don’t have request for the Darkling? Let me fix that (:

Someone wants to hurt Alek by kidnaping the reader so, Alek saves her and he’s mad AF

Touch her and die

a/n: I love writing over protective partners and stuff so I loved this. Also reader is a bit chaotic cause why not. Also made reader a Tidemaker.

Warning: kidnapping, language, blood, grisha hate, kinda bratty reader? Aleks goes psycho mode, injuries, drüskelle, mentions of Aleks and readers age gap

Aleksander Morozova x fem! Reader

It was an unspoken rule for all grisha, for all ravka, for everyone to not hurt his lover. It was no great secret that the Darkling, the Black general himself was absolutely smitten by his favorite Tidemaker. With her pretty e/c eyes and a pout on her rose colored lips she could get anything she wanted from her general.

His Tidemaker had grown up in a village boardering Fjerda, so grisha testers weren’t common to go there. In secret her older brother, also a Tidemaker taught her the ways of the grisha. Unfortunately a little ways after her nineteenth birthday drüskelle invaded her village and he brother died saving her life.

She ran through the thick forests of ravka with no idea where to go as they chased her when he appeared. His shadows cut through the drüskelle and not long after that the darkling infatuation with his Tidemaker became apparent.

Now his Tidemaker strut into the meeting he conducted, she was late. She walked right up to his side with a smile and adjusted some of the toy soldiers as he spoke. Then she walked right over to Zoya, who shock her head at her friend’s brazenness.

“You’re late, L/n.” Zoya muttered as she drew over the Ravkan maps. Y/n giggled softly as he began to help Zoya. Aleksander would glance back over at the pair every so offten. His Tidemaker clad in a black kefta with teal embroidery. He loved that she so proudly wore his color.

Her and Zoya began to giggle about something, probably a comment she’d made when one of the king advisors cleared his throat.

“Miss L/n have you something to add?” He asked cutting off the girls chatter. The room went quiet as she went stiff. Ivan and Fedyor shared a quick look as their generals eyes darkened. His tone was snobbish and rather rude.

He spoke as if he was better than she was, and it made her almost want to laugh as she turned. Slowly she made it back to the main table with the toy soldiers, this was a different plan than the one she’d just arranged. It was horrible and would lead to the deaths of many grisha.

Y/n would not sacrifice her soldiers when she could do better. Quickly she fixed up the arrangement with an empty look, Aleksander watched her in awe. As she finished she turned to the advisor with the same snobbish looked he’d given her.

“It seems you needed some assistance, don’t worry sir for I will always be there to fix the mistakes.” Y/n mocked as she bowed her head slightly. Aleksander chuckled slightly and moved a stray hair behind her ear. Such an open act of affection for his Tidemaker was nothing new, but for him to do it after she’d humiliated one of the king’s advisor was a risky move.

“Although Miss L/n was late she has fixed this plan to ensure the safety of all the grisha going into this battle. For that I am most grateful.” He amused as he stared at her. She smiled cheekily as she returned to Zoya’s side, a confident sway to her hips.

This was the last time Aleksander had seen her that day.

……………………

It was no secret that the darkling had a great many enemies, but as the fist collided with her face for the hundredth time, Y/n was growing tired. The kings advisor, whatever his name was had hired drüskelle of all people to kidnap her.

Of course her hands were bound apart and she was tied to the chair. She was surprised they hadn’t just killed her but she didn’t care. She was growing bored of all the punches. Her face was bruised, the right side more then the left, her lip busted, and she was sure at least one of her ribs were broken.

“It’s not to late to get me go you know.” She mumbled as she dropped her head back. Her hands quietly attempting to undo her cuffs.

“Drüsje your pleading for your life will not work.” The tallest announced. She sighed softly, he would come for her. If she was dead by the time he found her she knew all of Fjerda would pay.

“It would just be in your best interest.”

They all laughed and she joined in. Let them laugh, it’ll probably be the last time they do. She though softly.

“We will end you, and then we will break the darkling.” Y/n nodded softly at there words as they smashed their fist into her side. She groaned as she felt a rib snap.

“Then kill me, what is it you are afraid of?” Y/n taunted. They all froze, one of them brought there axe dangerously close to her neck.

“Will you not beg for your life?”

“Take it if it pleases you. It is not me who suffers when I’m gone.” They didn’t know what to say to that. They had heard the talks of the darkling whore. How she could boil the blood, pull the water from your body, freeze your nerves. But the women in front of them didn’t look the dangerous type.

“You aren’t the confident whore of the darkling we’ve heard tales of. You are just his pet he plays with from time to time.” Her face hardened at those words. She was not dressed in his color to be watered down to a simple whore. She smiled charming as she began to un click the cuffs.

“Most women aren’t as crude as you, they are modest.” Y/n giggled softly. She saw the shadows begin to move.

“Unfortunately for everyone I will keep doing whatever the fuck I want.”

Y/n snapped her cuffs and rolled her chair causing it to hut the ground. The shadows form into the cut and swore through the air above her. The shadows surrounded her till the familiar frame of her Sasha towered over her.

“Would mind untying these ropes?” Y/n uttered softly slumping against the grounds, her confident persona gone. The ropes were off and Aleksander pulled his Tidemaker to her feet. His hand clutched her face as he brought her in for a messy and passionate kiss.

She moaned softly into the kiss as he held her face. His hands slowly began to trail down and she pulled away with a wince.

“What is it?” Aleksander whispered as she clung to him.

“I think they broke a few ribs.” She whined as she lean into his frame for support. From the outside of the cabin she heard a few grunts, a scream or two and then silence. Aleksander placed his cloak around her shoulder in hopes of warming her.

“My healers will attend to you when we get back.” He placed a kiss to her head and began to pepper her hairline with kisses. The fear was evident in his eyes at her body. His eyes scanned her bruised face and body, her busted lip, the blood dripping down the side of her arm.

He hated that she’d gotten hurt so badly before he could save her. By the looks of her cuffs she was half way there in her own. With a slight waddle she made it to the door, with protest from her lover she pushed them opens, her jaw hit the ground.

Blood and carnage surround the cabin where she was kept. She limped her way through the bodies as Aleksander trailed behind her. Ivan, Fedyor, Zoya, and the twins were there.

“What happened out here?”

No one answered as Zoya hugged Y/n, attempting and failing to be cautious of her ribs. Aleksander pulled Y/n away after allowing Zoya to hug her, he didn’t want her to far.

“I thought they’d killed you… I lost my temper.” Aleksander admitted as he picked Y/n into his arms. Y/n stared at him for a moment.

“If this is what you do when you’re out of control, I’d hate to see what you do when you are.” Fedyor laughed softly as Ivan swatted at his husband. Y/n’s words were true. There wasn’t a thing in the world there general wouldn’t do for his precious Tidemaker.

[writerslittlelibrary]

"What, are you?"

masterlist

summary: when your abilities show themselves during a viscous Drüskelle attack, General Kirigan has you immediately transferred to the Little Palace for protection

pairing: Aleksander Kirigan x sun summoner reader

warnings: canon level violence, mention of blood

genre: angst, fluff

words: 2683

a/n: I watched the show Shadow & Bone a few years age, and I was absolutely obsessed. recently I picked up the books, and I cannot express how upset I am that they’ve cancelled the series. It literally had so much potential :(

also, I apologise for literally falling off of the face of the earth these past two months. I was depressed at first, and when I felt a little better me and my mom went on a two week vacation to Ireland, and this week I was at a figure skating camp, so I didn’t really get to writing lol. anyhow, I’m feeling better, and I am planning on writing more fics and hopefully do a flufftober week or something :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |—————————— ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ——————————|

The war in Ravka had been raging on for as long as you could remember. It had taken your parent’s lives, and very likely their parent’s lives as well. Now it was your turn to take your place in the army and fight in the war. 

You had never possessed much physical strength. Ever since you were a child, you were weak and fragile. It had pushed the caretakers at the orphanage to give you other tasks. 

They wanted you to posses as many skills as possible, to ensure you would have a future, even if you wouldn’t be able to fight in the war. As you got older, you seemed to develop a true talent in drawing. Your drawings were detailed and realistic, and so the caretakers pressed to ensure you would continue developing that talent. 

When you became of age, you were send to join the first army as a mapmaker. 

Currently you were stationed at a camp just next to the fold. There were several skiffs being readied to enter the fold, but after running a little detour, you found out you were not scheduled to go on any of them. 

At the moment, you were sitting with a Squaller. You had met her years ago, when both of you were just little girls. A boy had been bullying you, and she had thrown him across the field. Ever since, you had been friends. When she would return to the Little Palace, you would write to her, and when you were stationed at an encampment, she would request to be sent to the same place.

As you were laughing at something Zoya had said, you heard yelling coming from a few tents away from you. You figured it was just another soldier fight, but Zoya knew better as she stood, pulling you up with her when she seemingly spotted something that frightened her.

She pushed you behind her, grabbing your hand and she made a run to the edge of the encampment, towards the forest.

You could hear shouting behind you, and the noises of a fight reached your ears. This was not a friendly soldier fight. Too many people had been involved for that. Before you could reach the forest, you could feel two arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you away from Zoya. 

She screamed, reaching out for you before someone took her out from behind. 

The language the man spoke was foreign, and it didn’t take you long to realise they were Fjerdans. They must’ve dressed up as soldiers so they could infiltrate the tents and eliminate the Grisha. 

You fought against the man holding you down, kicking him in the stomach and managing to punch him in the face. 

He struggled, falling backwards. You didn’t hesitate to run away from him, spotting Zoya on the ground, the Drüskelle on top of her. He had a knife in his hand, undoubtedly planning on slicing Zoya’s throat. 

You ran over quickly, jumping on the man’s back in order to get him off of her. Zoya struggled for a bit, surprised by your return before regaining her composure, raising her arms to blast the man backwards. She made her way over to you, grabbing you hand once more before she was pierced by an arrow. A Drüskelle stood behind her, a few feet away, holding a bow. 

Zoya fell to the ground, and the Fjerdan you had managed to push to the ground was now behind you again, restraining you as the other one walked over to Zoya.

He grabbed her hair, pulling her to her knees, with her head pulled backwards. He mumbled a few words in Fjerdan, something about salvation of the witches before he pressed his knife to her throat. 

You screamed, fighting against the Drüskelle holding you as they prepared to slit Zoya’s throat. 

The moment the Drüskelle drew blood, you screamed. An anger releasing inside you that you didn’t know you were holding. Your view went black, a bright light shining through the blackness before you felt your body giving out. You could faintly hear screaming, and you could make out Zoya’s voice as she held you head in her lap. 

After that, everything went black. 

-------------------------------------------------------------

When your vision returned, you could make out you were in a tent. You saw Zoya’s face first, looking concerned as she wiped a wet cloth over your forehead. It appeared you were burning up, yet the cool cloth felt as though it had burned you.

You groaned, moving away from her touch and shielding your eyes. The light was too bright, even though the tent was fairly dark. 

“She’s awake,” you heard Zoya say to another person in the room, who hummed thoughtfully before dismissing her.

“Thank you, Zoya. You may leave,” you heard a male voice command. 

You saw Zoya shaking her head, holding one hand on your arm as her head was turned to the other presence. 

“Please, General. She’s confused and scared as is. Allow me stay, please,” Zoya said, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard her use the word ‘please’, let alone use it multiple times in the same sentence.

“Very well,” the male voice commanded, and you could hear large footsteps cross the tent towards where you were lying down.

You groaned, grabbing onto Zoya as you pulled yourself into a sitting position, noticing you were indeed in the tent of the Black General. You breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, and your eyes fell to two Heartrenders standing guard at the entrance of the tent.

“You’ve made quite the show, miss…?” the General trailed off, looking at you expectedly. 

“y/l/n, y/n y/l/n,” you said quietly, turning your gaze to fall on Zoya, who had moved to sit next to you on the cot you were previously laying on. 

Your head felt heavy, and your hands felt clammy. 

“Miss y/l/n, tell me, what are you?” the General asked, leaning against a desk placed in the tent. 

You looked at him confused, thinking about what he could possibly mean. 

“A mapmaker, sir,” you told him, turning to look at Zoya. You couldn’t read her expression, so you turned back to the General, who looked slightly offended. 

“Don’t fool me,” he started. “What are you,” he stated firmly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you admitted honestly, not wanting to upset him.

He looked at you for a moment, determining whether you were lying before speaking again.

“Were you tested as a child?” he asked, to which you nodded. 

“What was the result?” 

“I wasn’t Grisha,” you said, a hint of pain in your voice. You had always wanted to be Grisha. To be in a place where you belong, amongst people who were like you. Instead, you were just normal, with no place where you belonged.

“Your little display of power this morning suggests otherwise, miss y/l/n,” the General spoke.

You looked at him confused. 

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you told him honestly.

“You singhandly managed to scare all of the Drüskelle away, yet you claim to have no knowledge of what you were doing?” 

“I’m sorry, sir, I truly don’t,” you replied, flinching slightly when the General pushed himself off the desk, closing the distance between you. 

“Hold out your arm,” he stated. 

You did as he said, extending your arm towards him while pulling up your sleeve, knowing what he wanted. 

“You say you were tested as a child?” the General asked in confirmation, noting the way you nodded, almost disappointed. “Were you injured during the testing?” he asked you, seeing your face contort in confusion. 

“I don’t recall… does that matter?” you asked, looking up at him as he stood before you. 

“It is the whole point of the test,” he said, taking ahold of your arm and bringing his sharp ring towards it. Gently, he pressed the talon in your arm, and you gasped at the slight sting before a warm beam of light shot from your arm.

You eyes widened, and the moment he let your arm fall back you grasped it, looking at the cut in disbelief. 

“You are very much Grisha, miss y/l/n,” the General said, motioning towards the Heartrenders at the entrance of the tent. 

You couldn’t find any words, turning to Zoya who just looked as bewildered as you. 

“I’m Grisha…” you whispered quietly, looking at Zoya. 

Before she could say anything, the General had returned to your side, gently grasping your upper arm and pulling you up. 

“We’ll have to work quickly. The Drüskelle are already on alert after the attack, and word of your discovery will spread fast,” the General said, handing you a red Kefta, urging you to put it on. “You’ll travel in my coach,” he spoke, before handing you to the two Heartrenders. 

You looked towards Zoya, who stood and asked the General if she could accompany you. 

He shook his head, insisting that she was still needed at the camp. 

Before you knew it, you were being dragged outside and towards the Darkling’s coach. Two Oprichniki stand at the doors, opening them upon seeing your arrival. You didn’t resist, taking the hand one of the Oprichniki offered to help you step inside. 

Once you settled into the coach, the two Heartrenders followed, sitting across from you. The doors were closed, and the two Oprichniki moved to the front, no doubt riding on horses beside the coach. 

You were silent for the first part of the journey, admiring the detailed embroidery on the red Kefta adorning your body. 

“It’s bulletproof,” said the man across from you suddenly. You looked up, meeting his kind smile and realising they had been watching you. “It is why the General wanted you to wear it,” he finished.

You nodded, allowing your hand to fall to your lap. 

“I’m Feydor, and this is Ivan,” the Heartrender introduced himself, motioning towards his partner beside him. He carried a stern look on his face, turning to look outside instead. 

You nodded in reply, turning to look outside in thought. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, turning back to Feydor. He smiled.

“The Little Palace, of course,” he said. 

You nodded once more, settling your gaze outside again. “Why the hurry?” 

“By now, every Drüskelle and Shu assassin will have heard what happened at the camp. What you did. We need to make sure you are behind safe walls when they come for you,” Feydor explained, and you nodded once more.

“I don’t even know what I did,” you then said, earning the look of both Feydor and Ivan. 

“You saved us,” Feydor started. “Your light killed two Drüskelle, and scared the rest away. The disguised themselves as First army to kill Grisha. Without you, they would have succeeded.” 

You looked at him surprised, not expecting that reply to come from his mouth. You could not remember a single thing that happened at the camp, let alone the Drüskelle attack. 

After the conversation died down, you turned to look outside once more. You felt your eyes drooping, exhausting settling into your bones as the world outside passed you in a blur.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped, and an Oprichniki opened the coach door. 

“There’s a fallen tree on the road, we’re moving it now,” he stated, closing the door again. Ivan looked uneasy, glancing out the little window. Feydor did the same, studying the other window until there was shouting. 

Immediately, Ivan and Feydor got up, both heading out the doors.

“Stay here, get down, and don’t move,” Feydor said, pushing a blade of Grisha steel into your hands before abandoning the coach. 

You did as he said, crouching down onto the floor of the coach, pressing your knees against your chest. You could hear screaming outside and multiple guns firing. When it stilled for a moment, you thought it was over, until the glass of the coach broke and a smoke bomb was thrown inside.

You coughed, pushing the door of the coach open and stumbling outside, falling to your knees as you tried to catch your breath. 

You heaved, clutching the Girsha steel knife in your hand when you looked up, barely registering the boots of a figure marching towards you, grabbing your hair and dragging you away. 

You fought, struggling against his hold as he pressed his knife to your throat, pressing harshly. You felt a trickle of blood stream down you neck, and you grabbed the knife in you hand as tightly as you could before stabbing it backwards, hitting the person in the stomach. 

His hold on you faltered enough for you to push him away, running away from him, into the forest. 

You ran for as long as your feet could take you, registering the fighting still happening behind you. When you stopped for only a second to catch your breath, you were tackled to the ground, a figure laying on top of you.

His held his knife high above his head, muttering a prayer of kinds before preparing to bring it down.

You could faintly hear a horse in the background, and you closed your eyes tightly, figuring this was it. You heard a yell, but you didn’t feel the sharp pain of a knife digging into your skin. Instead, when you opened your eyes. You could see the man on top of you, slowly falling in two. 

You turn your head, seeing the Darkling standing there beside a group of other Oprichniki. You realised he had cut the man on top of you in half. 

When he fell, you pushed him off of you, moving away from the body, and catching your breath. 

The General walked over to you, extending his arm, which you gratefully took as he helped you up. He studied the cut on your throat.

“Are you alright?” he questioned. 

You nodded, moving your hand to rub the sore spot on your throat. 

“You’ll ride with me,” he stated, walking over to his horse, leaving no room for argument. 

You followed him, standing beside him as he mounted his horse, extending his hand to help pull you up. You allowed him, settling in the saddle as he took off in a gallop. 

He held onto you firmly, ensuring you wouldn’t fall at the movement of the horse. 

With you were riding multiple Oprichniki guards, and you spotted Ivan and Feydor both riding on a horse themselves. They must’ve won the fight in the woods. 

After riding for nearly half a day, the group stopped at an abandoned barn. The Oprichniki secured it, while the General dismounted the horse, extending his arm to help you off as well. When the Oprichniki secured the barn, the group moved inside. 

The horses were giving water and something to eat, while a small group of Oprichniki went outside to hunt for dinner. 

You settled on the ground, close by the fire that Ivan had made. Once the sun had set, the temperature had dropped significantly, and you could say with certainty you were freezing.

You pulled the dirty Kefta around you a little tighter, hoping to conserve some warmth. The General seated himself beside you, reaching out a gentle hand to touch the cut on your neck. You winced slightly at the sting, and General Kirigan retreated his hand to retrieve a small, black cloth from his pocket. 

Gently, he wiped the blood away from you neck and face, making sure to avoid pressing to harshly. 

Once he retreated his hand, you gave him a small smile. 

“Thank you,” you said in a quiet voice, and he nodded. 

“Once you’re in the palace you’ll be able to clean up properly. The cut isn’t too deep, but in your weakened state it is enough to stir some worry,” he explained, tucking the small cloth back into his pocket. 

You nodded once again, moving to lay down, using you arm to support your head. The palace. That is where you were headed, after all…

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @daddipantherr @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st @superlegend216 @ravensinthedaylight

[kasagia]

❄️️Warm my heart pt. 1❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: December. Everyone in the Little and Grand Palaces is excited about the upcoming holidays. Only the Black General seems rather... depressed. Like every year when these holidays are coming closer. Maybe this year, since you've been promoted to his second-in-command, you can make the general's holidays a little more enjoyable? And you're not doing it because you're in love with him and you want to see him finally careless happy... not even a little bit. Nonsense from me: A spontaneous Christmas mini-series. We'll see how it develops... I hope you will like it 🩵🖤 P.S. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I don't know if there's any equivalent to our Christmas… let's just say there is and I'll try to find out to be sure😅 Word Count: 3k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Oh saints, I'm freezing here." Fedyor complains as he walks next to you through the snowdrifts.

"Don't be such a grump." you say, adjusting your black fur coat that protects your neck from the cold wind. You look at the sky. The clouds were swirling above you, and the snow was still falling. In moments like these, you kind of wish you were Inferni.

"Grumpy? We had been walking around, searching for this stag, the whole day. I start to doubt if that tracker can find it."

"That tracker had seen it." Mal's voice is coming behind you. You turn to see him helping Alina walk through the snow. "It had to go somewhere to await the snowstorm."

"We should do the same." you tremble as you hear General's right behind you. You feel his warm body and beating heart before he stands next to you. "It's getting worse with each hour. We should go back to camp." he says, looking at Ivan.

"Yes, sir." Ivan who came with him nods to him and looks at the rest.

All of you are following him. You see Zoya and the general talking to him about something in the front. Mal and Alina whisper something quietly to each other. The tracker looks distrustfully at the three Grishas in front of him. You decide to stay with Fedyor a little after them.

"Lovers' quarrel?" you ask him as you see him trying to stay as far away from Ivan as he can. He also has not looked at him even once since you all got together after hours of searching Morozova's stag.

"You can say that. I want to go on holiday with my family and take him with me. He refused... well, it's putting it mildly."

"He needs time. I'm sure he will gladly come with you to meet your cousins and siblings." you defend him.

You know very well that Ivan wasn't necessarily eager to leave the Little Palace. He rarely saw his family. Like you, he didn't have many... people in his family who accepted him as Grisha. Fedyor was lucky to have someone to write letters to and visit during the holidays. Ivan was also more conservative; he did not engage in closer relationships with people, except for his fiancé.

Just like someone else you know...—you think, staring at the back of the general's head.

Snowflakes fall on his black kefta, making it even harder for you to take your eyes off him. You stopped counting the number of times you just wanted to go up to him, run your hand through his hair, hug him while simultaneously hiding in his black kefta, or kiss those temptingly soft lips that gave orders to thousands of soldiers.

The beating of his heart has become wonderful music for you to work with since you somehow became his second-in-command and started to spend more time with him in the war room.

It also worsened your crush on him… but it was a sacrifice you could bear for the sake of Ravek and Grishas.

"I hope so. I haven't seen them for a year. I wanted to finally introduce Ivan to them. Especially after our engagement." he sighs sadly, staring blankly at the footprints in front of you. You look at him sympathetically. As you notice snowflakes gathering on his shoulder, you think of an idea to make him laugh and maybe feel a little better.

You stand for a moment and bend down to your shoe, pretending to try to tie it. Fedyor stops and waits for you, his eyes patrolling the area and the forest surrounding you. You weren't that far from the capital, but some of Drüskelle's unit could always show up. You take advantage of his moment of inattention, form a snowball, and throw it at him.

You laugh quietly as the snowball hits his back. Fedyor gives you a surprised look before smirking and accepting the challenge. You silently throw snowballs at each other from behind, trying to stay silent enough so that no one notices what you two are doing.

At one point, you dodge a snowball thrown by Fedyor, causing it to hit Alina. The Sun Summoner turns towards you and lets out a small huff of laughter as he sees the two of you covered in snow. He nudges Mal with his elbow, and soon the four of you are left far behind the others, throwing snowballs at each other.

You laugh as you form teams against each other. You and Fedyor do quite well against them... at least until, instead of throwing a snowball at Mal's face, you manage to hit General Kirigan, who seems to have noticed your absence and come back to find you.

You all freeze, watching the snow fall from his face onto the kefta. Beside him, Zoya tries her best not to burst out laughing. Ivan, on the other hand, gives the four of you an irritated, disbelieving look.

"Ten minutes… we can't let you out of our sight for ten minutes," Kirigan says, wiping his face with a handkerchief and brushing away the remaining snow from his face.

"Our apologies, General." Fedyor says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his face straight.

"Whose genius idea was it?" he asks, hiding his handkerchief and brushing off the excess snow from his black coat. To no avail, judging by the snow still falling on you. But that didn't change the fact that he was as intimidating as he was in any setting.

You see Alina take a breath to take the blame, but you cut her off before she could. "My, sir. I wanted to lighten the mood. I apologise; it won't happen again. We won't delay our return."

Your remorseful look and tone of voice make him relax. His stern gaze softens, and you can practically hear Fedyor teasing you about it.

"Just don't get left behind." he says and turns on his heel, leading you all again back to the camp.

Zoya stares at you, surprised at how smoothly you managed to pull off something like insulting the general of the Second Army by throwing a snowball at his face. However, she quickly comes back to her senses and tries to catch up with the general to talk to him about something. Ivan, on the other hand, just shakes his head and wordlessly follows the Black General like his shadow.

"Seriously? If it were me, he'd tear me apart just by looking at me," Mal grumbles to himself.

"Don't worry so much. He would do it to anyone. He has a soft spot only for Y/N. Well, and maybe Alina, since she is one-of-a-kind." Fedyor says quietly and pats him on the back. Alina snickers and takes Mal's arm as they both follow the trail of the three Grishas. You roll your eyes at your dear friend's words.

"Stop it. It's ridiculous. Don't even insinuate something like that. With Zoya and Alina in the picture, I mean nothing more to him than a soldier, his second-in-command. At best, a friend."

"Sure. The beating of his heart every time you look at him is an obvious clue that this is the case. Besides, you've seen yourslef. You are the only one who can hit him with a snowball and stay safe and sound. He didn't even raise his voice at you. The two of you are so damn obvious and so damn stubborn that even if you ended up in bed together, you both would consider it an accident."

"Oh, shut up." he laughs, hitting me on the arm with his.

"What? Why do you think he made you stop your training as a healer and decide for you to be a heartrender instead of making you a main healer? You would have stuck in an infirmary far away from him. That way, he sees you often, plus you have black embroidery on your kefta." he says and winks suggestively. You huff in amusement, shaking your head.

"You are ridiculous. We work together. That's all. There's nothing more between us. At best, it's camaraderie. Besides, he can have anyone."

"But he wants you. Do you think he gives flowers to everyone on Women's Day? Or does he buy birthday gifts? Does he even remember about someone's birthday?" you blush, you feel your cheeks turn the bloody color of your kefta and it's not because of the cold.

"I remember him wishing Ivan a happy birthday." you mutter under your breath.

"Because he was standing next to us when I gave this idiot a gift." he says, obviously still angry at his fiancé.

"Give it up. Him and I—it's not going to happen. He's a womanizer. Zoya is not his first mistress. And I am definitely not his type or league."

"Well, now that you've brought it up... little birdie told me that he cut off all non-Army relations with her. And guess when? When you became his second-in-command. And guess who he pushes away, despite the fact that she's desperately trying to get back into his bed?"

"It does not matter. He probably has his eyes on Alina and wants to make a good impression."

Fedyor groans in annoyance at your response. Before you know it, you're back at camp, with no trace of the rest of your companions. The man next to you sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair.

"If you keep fighting it for so long and denying it, which makes no sense by the way, then yes. He'll find someone else. Take the opportunity before you regret it. Christmas is coming! Maybe some miracle will happen that will make you both see that you have to end together, because only saints can make the two of you see things together, you stubborn donkeys." he says and leaves you alone, going saints know where.

You sigh, walking back to your tent. However, before you strip off the layers of clothes that protect you from heat loss, you notice that you have no firewood. You go back to the forest and collect twigs and small logs of wood that you can use to light a fire at night.

You go back to camp, dragging a small wood sled behind you. You think about Fedyor's words and whether they might actually turn out to be true. You blush as you remember the countless late nights spent in the war room talking to the general about plans, reports, new recruits, or just drinking his kvass with him and talking about anything and everything. It's true, you were close... but would you be willing to jump in and risk everything—your entire career and the life you created in the Little Palace—to try to be more to him than just one of his soldiers? Especially when he could have had a Sun Summoner?

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice familiar, dark shadows starting to swirl behind you. You scream in shock, both from the feeling of someone suddenly pulling you into his chest and from the fact that the skin on your neck and face meets the icy snow.

General Kirigan's laughter, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the warmth emanating from him calm you enough to realise that you are not in the arms of anyone dangerous. Well... if a shadow summoner could be considered such. But the coolness of the snow he rubs into your face and neck effectively shakes you from thoughts of him as you try to fight back.

He chuckles and holds you tighter with one hand as you kick and struggle in his arms.

“A good soldier knows when to surrender, Y/N.” he whispers into your ear, clearly amused. His silky tone of voice was as mischievous as it was slightly defiant and dangerous. "Shouldn't you have enough honour to obediently endure the punishment of your general?"

"Punishment? What for?" you ask as you manage to wipe the snow off your face enough to keep it from sticking in your mouth as you speak.

"Do you think I would let your little stunt get away with it? I wonder if you can still throw so accurately with snow in your kefta…" he says, slowly scooping up more snow and guiding his hand with it under your coat.

"NO!" you scream, amused and scared at the same time.

You use your powers to stun him for a moment and pull yourself out of his arms. You don't get very far, though. His shadows chase after you, and he keeps you tightly against his chest again. You struggle with him so much that you both fall screaming into a large snowdrift.

You land on top of him, blushing furiously as you realise this. The snow around you cools you a little, and you start to feel the cold seep into your bones despite everything.

"Armistice?" you ask him, your hand full of snow ready to attack.

He chuckles, amused, which only makes your smile widen. You had rarely seen him so… carefree. Especially now that he was so focused on finding Morozova's stag.

"For now. I will still look for my revenge." you whine, dissatisfied.

"It was only one snowball, Aleksander. I wasn't even aiming at you!" you protest. You squeak, surprised, as he switches, so now he is on top of you. A dangerous smile played on his face as he looked at you with a mischievous spark in his dark eyes.

"You think so?" he asks with a cheeky smirk, the hand holding the snow coming dangerously close to the buttoms of your kefta under your coat.

"All right, you won! Please don't. I'm freezing."

He frowns when he hears that you are cold. He lets go of the snow and wipes his hand on his coat before touching your cheek. He sighs, feeling how cold you are. He stands up first and helps you up, still watching you carefully.

"Let's go back to the camp. I wouldn't want my second-in-command to get sick because she decided to play in the snow" he says, and you blush slightly.

He only makes you redder by taking your hands in his and breathing warm air on them. You see the nostalgia in his eyes, and you can't help but ask him a question.

"What is it?"

"It's just... it's been so long since I did it. The last person I threw snowballs with was my sister. It feels like... centuries ago." he whispers thoughtfully, not letting go of your hands.

Unconsciously, he starts drawing patterns on your hands with his thumbs. You see him going back to his memories. How his eyes darken with sadness, even hurt. You don't know what must have happened to make him so depressed, but you feel the inner need to fight off all his worries just to see his smile again—the gleam of joy in those dark, hypnotising eyes.

"Well… maybe you can do it again? After all, the holidays are coming. You'll definitely want to visit her. Or she you." you say, choosing your words carefully. He didn't talk much about his family. Even his name was a big secret. And from your information, as long as it was good, you were the only one who knew it.

"It's a little more complicated." he says it gruffly and pulls away from you. You curse yourself in your mind, not even knowing what you did wrong. "Neither of us sees anything... special about it."

"You don't have a family meeting? Never?"

"We're not close. I don't remember when was the last time we got together. Not to mention something as insignificant and trivial as all this exchange of gifts, celebrations and prayers to the saints." he replies, pulling your sled of wood as you both walk back to camp.

You can tell by the tone of his voice that he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so you change the subject and ask about the next steps in his plan to capture the deer, and he perks up a little more.

Little does General Kirigan know that you're half-listening to him, thinking about something entirely else. The distant look in his dark eyes when he talks about his family—that hidden longing for something he pretends not to want—tells you one thing.

You will make sure he feels different this year. You will do everything to replace his clearly unpleasant memories with harshness from his loved ones, memories he doesn't want to share with something better.

"We'll discuss the details in my tent tonight. I hope you don't get sick. We don't have time for any delays. We have to finally catch that damn stag by the end of the year at the latest. Although our only tracker who saw it will keep hanging around the Summoner Sun instead of tracking, I don't see it well." he says, and anyone else would find his words harsh and irritated, but you've long since learned that his eyes are the true reflection of his feelings and emotions.

The one thing he couldn't control. He gives you the rope of the sled, and before he leaves you, he ties his scarf around your neck, mumbling something about how you don't know how to pack the most necessary things for the mission.

You go back to your tent and light a fire. After a while, a fabricator comes in and hands you black leather gloves without saying a word. He's gone before he can see you smiling and blushing, realising WHO told him to make them for you.

You shake your head, trying to get past Fedyor's teasing words from the hours ago. It's just a friendly gesture. Nothing more.

But this is the moment when you make your final decision.

You will see the general again, as happy and carefree as he was a few moments ago. So relaxed and calm as he deserves to be, at least in this time of year...

Even if, along the way, your stupid heart had to completely and hopelessly fail for a man you could never have.

Thank you! 🩵🖤🩵🖤

~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

[carnationworld-writings]

I'm just a jealous guy (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Aleksander Morozova x Grisha!reader

Universe: The Grishavers /Shadow and bone 

Word Count: 1221

Requested: Yes, by my sweet annon.

Warnings: mention of jealousy, shouting someone out, mention death (Luda), making out, a quick mention of sexual activity - it ends before something happened.

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!

Summary: The one where he is jealous. 

Aleksander walked through the corridors of Little Palace, trying to find one of his most trusted Grisha, who was also the person who made his heart beat a little faster. He lived for centuries, hiding his identity from people, always hiding his emotions, and always striving to achieve his goals. But then they showed on his path - a person with great power and strong will. A person who always cared for the people they loved and who found a way to parts of his heart that he’d forgotten. Somehow, they’d ended up sitting together into late nights, talking about everything but plans for Grishas’ training or plans for the army. He allowed himself to open up for the first time since he lost Luda, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel again. He was afraid to call it as it was, but the truth was that he loved them. And they loved him. 

The Darkling walked to the training yard, not minding Grishas, who welcomed him. He quickly knew he was in the right place and finally found them. He first heard their soft laugh and then saw them in the middle of the training yard with Fedyor, surrounded by younger Grishas. He knew that they loved to teach them, and they only showed these kids how to defend themself. But something deep in his mind made him angry at the sight of Fedyor’s hand around them. He watched how he moved his hands to their sides and started to tickle them. They squealed at the feeling and tried to escape from him, laughing loudly. The Darkling watched how close they were and how fondly they looked at each other. The betrayal blossomed in his chest. They gently tapped the Heartrender’s chest, smiling widely. Kirigan couldn’t watch it anymore and turned on his heel, quickly going to his chambers. What he didn’t know, they saw him at the last moment, and they started worrying about his hurried departure. They ended her part of the lesson and asked Fedyor to watch their training when they went after their General. After a few moments, they knocked on the doors of his cabinet. They smiled at the sound of this deep voice telling anyone behind them that he was busy. They dared to open them and snicked in, biting their lower lip. 

“Maybe you’ll find a second for me, General?” They leaned against the door, watching him. They knew that even if he didn’t raise his head from maps, he knew it was them. They smiled at how his black kefta perfectly wrapped his tall body. 

“Make it quick. I have a war to win.” They sighed and came closer to him, gently touching his elbow. When he didn’t change his position, they dared to lean against him, resting their cheek on his arm. They could tell that he was tense, and they hated it.

“I know, handsome, and you’re doing an amazing job. But even you, great General Kirigan, need some rest. And I saw you at the training yard.”

“You saw me?” He said mockingly. “You seemed busy with this Heartrender.” He moved away, taking his arm from their grip, and they looked at him surprised. They laughed breathlessly, standing in front of him.

“With Fedyor? He is only my friend. A very close friend, who was the first one to welcome me here with open arms and who made me feel at home here.” They said with a small smile, which faded when he constantly pretended they were not there. “If you want to accuse me of something, say it aloud rather than shutting me out.” When he heard the sadness in their voice, he stopped moving, and his eyes landed on the war figures in front of him. After a few seconds, he breathed deeply.

“Are they really ‘just a friend’?” He murmured without raising his head. 

“Of course, they are just a friend. If you want to know, Fedyor lately was on a few dates with a person you know very well.”

“With who?” Alexander knew about their love for gossip. With time he discovered that it brought both of them joy, so he started encouraging them to spill a bean about it. He also wanted to be wholly sure that they were only his and that there wasn’t anybody else in their life.

“With your own personal Corporalki.” They couldn’t stop a big smile when he looked at them stunned. 

“With Ivan?” They nodded, carefully watching his face. He started thinking about the latest behaviour of this man. “He was a little strange lately, in fact. Like… Happier.” They couldn’t stop the smile rising on their face, and once again, they tried to slowly touch his forearm. They breathed with relief when he didn’t move away this time. 

“Because they are, both of them. Like I am happy when you are next to me because only our loved one can pull some of the strings in our hearts and make it beat faster in that specific way. So I will say it once again. They are only my friend. It’s YOU who has my heart.” They gently squeezed his arm, and finally, he moved closer to them with a look on his face reserved only for time when they were alone. His hands mindlessly moved to their hips, and in a quick move, he made them sit on the table behind them. They let the squeak leave their throat, making him smile widely at what they started laughing. Their hands slowly moved to rest on his shoulders, and one of them mindlessly started fidgeting with the ends of the hair on his neck. 

“You… You made me happy, you know?” He whispered sheepishly, and they could only smile wider.

“I know. Were you jealous?” They bit her lips to stop grinning, especially when they saw a flush coming into his cheeks. He looked above them, trying to compose himself. Before he could answer, they leaned down and softly kissed his bearded cheek. “Please, don’t deny it. It actually… flatters me, you know? I… I always dreamed of having a person who would care for me enough to do it. Even if there isn’t any reason for that.” 

The Darkling gently squeezed their hips, standing between their legs. His hand moved to their thigh, caressing it gently.

“I do care. Every single look from other men or women is enough to feel jealousy in me. To want to show all of them that you are mine.”

“And I always will be.” They whispered, and General immediately leaned down, kissing them deeply. One of his hands moved to the back of their head, gently moving it to allow him better access while the other kept them close. They moaned into his lips, wrapping one leg around him, wanting to feel every centimetre of his body. They were so lost in each other that they didn’t hear the knock on the door or that somebody had walked in. They were too busy unfastening his kefta to care about anything. Poor Ivan closed the door quicker than he ever opened them. After a moment of shock, Corporalki felt happiness for his General and his friend - even a dark soul like him deserved some light and love in the arms of a trusted person.

Author’s note: Thank you  so much for reading! If it’s not too much trouble, I would love to hear your thoughts about it. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and motivate me to work.

I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.

Klaudia  💜

Taglists are always open! If you want to be added fill this up or send me an ask!

[jomiddlemarch]

what it is to be a thin crescent moon

Chapter 31

On the first day of December, according to the moldering old book Ana Kuya kept in her private sitting room, its scuffed leather binding secured with two cords that the orphans averred on the safety of their immortal souls resembled nothing more than pair of knotted rat’s tails, Alina and Mal came of age. They had arrived the same day, memorable only for their silence amidst the squalling and shrieking of the other children, and so Ana Kuya had given them the same name-day, though Alina had even then been slight enough to be deemed a year or two younger. What Ana Kuya decided was as irrefutable a decree as anything the Tsar might announce, at least when it came to the denizens of the orphanage, and there was no one to argue with her, even if someone might have been so inclined; the only nurserymaid had just run off with a shepherd or a soldier in the First Army, no one was ever quite sure, so Ana Kuya was short-handed and had jotted down Alina and Mal’s names in her census without the usual degree of solemnity or ceremony, her frown at their sallow Shu coloring overlaid with a general harried expression. It was a year she would recall as overly burdened with an influx of orphans, inadequately sustained by cabbages and the puniest of potatoes, punctuated by wheezing with an especially bad season of the winter catarrh. She had not honestly thought Alina would survive and had not shed a tear over the prospect of her death, though later, much later, she would say that she wore out two well-made chotki, praying through the long winter nights that Alina would wake each morning to greet the dawn with her answering light.

If the Saints had cared much for candor, she would have been struck down for her impiety.

Mal had been her favorite and everyone had known it.

Alina had known it and had been in whole-hearted agreed. Mal was hale and hearty, with a good color in his cheeks and a shine to his dark hair that the homemade soft soap could not dull. He grew broad shouldered and tall on the orphanage’s plain fare and no one begrudged him an extra helping, even though it was common knowledge Alina gave him most of her portion at every meal. It had been nothing to her to wound her hand so they might escape the Grisha assessors and she had been glad to carry the small scar on her palm as his talisman. 

Mal was cheerful and as fond of jokes as footraces, excelling in both, and by the time he’d reached his majority, there were any number of girls at Keramzin who’d have happily given him a kiss without requiring him to steal one. There were a number of girls who’d happily have given him more than a kiss behind the barns if they thought they could escape Ana Kuya’s searching gaze and almost certainly one or two who did, their eyes turning dreamy and abstracted when they were asked, stroking the ends of their braids between two fingers or touching their upper lips very gently in what might have been fantasy but was assumed, widely and with reason, to be memory. 

Mal enlisted in the First Army a man in all the ways the orphans of Keramzin believed counted. 

He gave Alina a brotherly peck on her pale cheek and told her he’d write if he had the chance. 

She knew that meant she’d likely never hear from him again.

She wrote him every week, laboring over the letters, understanding he either glanced at them briefly or tossed them away without opening them. It gave her something to do that did not involve wiping up dirt and snot and shit from the orphans left in her care. Writing him reminded her she had been a person, Alina, before she was Miss, before she tied the voluminous pinafore around her drab blouse and skirt, her lank hair bundled back beneath a kerchief.

The nurserymaid.

She had tried to enlist along with Mal, albeit as the most junior of map-makers instead of a tracker as he had done, but the officer had taken one look at her narrow shoulders and short stature and told her that the Tsar appreciated her willingness to serve, but she was not suited to First Army life and would do best to stay where she was, repaying the Duke whose generosity had kept her alive. He’d spoken in the dialect used in Keramzin and hadn’t expected her to understand the remark he made to his fellow officer in proper Ravkan, that the Duke hadn’t been generous enough, the girl was as scrawny as a plucked pullet, twice as pale as a boiled parsnip, which was evidently all she’d ever been given to eat.

Alina, who had spent her every spare minute in the Duke’s dusty library, had understood him perfectly and had held her tongue, though she longed to make a retort in Suli blank verse or Skritje shastra to wipe the pitying half-smile off his face. He would never have understood her but word might get back to Ana Kuya that Alina had been disrespectful or over-bold and she’d give up her precious free hours to mending the endless pile of shirts or scrubbing out the chamber pots the children used at night. She nodded and walked back to the field where the youngest children were been barely minded by the ones old enough to feed and dress themselves. The sun was bright and she had a sudden, blinding headache which coincided with her realization that if she didn’t do something about it, she had seen the breadth and depth of her entire life and it was bounded by a clothesline filled with small, stained fraying breeches and vests which would never be quite clean no matter how vigorously Alina scrubbed them or how hot the water in the laundering vat was. Small, stained, fraying, that would be Alina herself until she died, worn out like a rag, tossed aside in a grave no one bothered to lay a flower at, Miss in fading memories and then nothing at all.

She had to do something, but her first attempt, the First Army, the maps she would have traced in properly prepared ink, not the walnut gall concoction Ana Kuya brewed, had failed and she’d been sent back. Back and not home. For Keramzin had never felt like home—that had been Mal, before he’d left, and sometimes, the sunny patch beneath the oak at the far corner of the property. She’d lie flat on her back, ignoring the roots and stones beneath her spine and hips, and feel something in her answer the sunlight’s strength before a cloud passed or a child cried out, loud enough she could not dismiss it. Alina was determined she’d find some way out or forward, but after being dismissed by the recruitment officer, she had no idea what her salvation might be.

In the meantime, there were children who needed her, all day, all night. She was not as brusque as Ana Kuya, not inclined to cuff someone who was slow to finish a task, and she didn’t shame anyone who wet the bed. She was not old enough to seem like a mother, nor did her frail frame suggest the generally agreed upon wide-hipped and buxom figure of a Ravkan matron, but as Miss, she received the love of an elder sister or spinster aunt, and as she had not been given leave to punish the orphans for any transgression, she was regarded as a protector if not a partner-in-crime. The general mild affection she was able to evoke was largely responsible for what happened during what was later referred to as the Terrible Winter, a season that began early with torrential rains that ruined half the harvest before changing to a never-ending mix of sleet and snow which kept the children indoors and the rooms dank with the scent of damp wool and the thin millet pottage they had to subsist on.

Alina, too exhausted to actually muster a sense of desperation at the children’s fractious boredom, found three Shatranj sets in the Duke’s library. They were old and worn, the pieces rudely carved, though handled long enough there would be no splinters. She and Mal had played with the good set that was laid out on a table before a window, the pieces ivory and jet, but she would not risk the punishment that would surely come if she removed it to the orphanage. The boards she’d found no one would miss. She told herself that and even when Ana Kuya finally noticed, the mistress did not scold overmuch, the tattered equipment incongruent with the Duke’s eminence. She’d said it so and Alina had not rolled her eyes. It meant she was getting accustomed to Ana Kuya and that was too fearful to contemplate.

She turned her attention to teaching the orphans the rules of the game.

If they had been better fed, they might have learned more readily, but then the machinations and stratagems required to survive Keramzin lent themselves to the comprehension of gambits and unlike in real life, someone was guaranteed a victory; they were too young and inexperienced for the outcome to ever be a draw. If the weather had improved or the snow had turned that that variety best suited to sledding and snowball fights, they might never had gotten good enough for the idea to cross Alina’s mind, but there was nothing else to occupy Bisera and Dako, Nazar and ´Zeli and from that quartet, the team was created, Alina serving as coach and opponent, Grozim willing to play whoever had lost worst, in hopes of ever getting good enough to win.

Alina had filched the few books on shatranj from the Duke’s library but soon enough, they were creating their own gambits. Or rather, she was and occasionally Bisera had an idea good enough to incorporate. The Boiled Frog was one and the Ketterdam Market, Summer Crossing helpful when the pawns were plentiful, Sankta Milena’s Blessing almost unbeatable unless countered with the Summoner’s Arm. Alina, who admitted she had too much concern for the state of the advisor’s piece, would force herself not to open every game with Hivekeeper’s Disgrace, but she could not help from smiling to herself when the victory was achieved with Midnight Sun and frowning at Zygitai’s Tears. They played match after match, using an old hourglass to time the games, the early prizes of an extra ladleful of porridge soon superseded by the win itself. The stimulation and entertainment would have been enough for them all, except that a peddler came by with his wagon of needles and jars of dried beans and figs and saw them playing, remarked they might hold their own at the regional tournament and perhaps even be asked to go to Os Alta, for the country’s grand competition, where the Grisha played on behalf of the Tsar himself.

It took far less pleading to convince Ana Kuya to allow the children to try than Alina had expected.

“The failure will be good for them,” she’d said. “They must learn their place, how to be contented here.”

Alina was not very surprised by Ana Kuya’s assumption of their imminent and conclusive failure. It didn’t even merit a shrug in response. She asked only to be allowed to find the least poorly darned cloaks and sweaters for the children to wear to the competition. As their appearance would reflect on the Duke, it was not hard to get Ana Kuya to agree.

The first round of the tournament was a rout.

Alina’s team arrived, squinted at the boards, and demolished their opponents.

The other teams were so taken aback by their defeats that they offered to pay for the evening meal for the Keramzin orphans, the rich food and local milk punch almost as wonderful as the trophy they were awarded with a small stipend to allow them to attend the next level of the competition.

Alina, who had no taste for the carved meats, honey-soaked pastries and heavily spiced drink, was gladdened most by the money and what it represented. A chance to go farther, to get out.

To leave Keramzin behind.

The second round was a bloodbath. For their challengers, who’d strutted into the hall that had been provided and took their seats as if they were Lantsovs upon their thrones, who could not imagine an arguably rag-tag assortment of orphans, however thoroughly scrubbed they were, could ever prove an obstacle in their path to victory.

There was not one draw. A slender blonde girl who wore a finely embroidered tunic and had bright silk ribbons woven through her braids, dangling over her shoulders so she might fidget with them while she contemplated her next move actually upended the board as she flounced away from the table when ´Zeli murmured Checkmate. A stolid black-haired boy who had clearly never missed a meal in his entire life kept gazing the pieces left after his defeat, his brow furrowed and something like respect evident in the way he pressed his lips together and made his left hand into a fist.

None of the other players offered to stand them dinner, but the cook in the tavern they’d lodged in put together a plentiful repast of lentil stew and fresh rye bread, some flagons of kvas, and three dishes of jam, which Nazar ate spoonfuls of without the interruption of a slice of bread or any pretense to manners.

It was after their resounding success in the third round that Alina began to believe they might actually go to the final championship in Os Alta, where the Tsar’s own team, made up of the best Grisha students of shatranj and any nobles’ heirs who could keep up would be playing. It was said the Tsar and his courtiers came to watch the play and placed bets, as if any loss could touch their coffers. It was whispered that the General of the Second Army, Kirigan himself, might be seen to observe.

Alina, who knew herself for a naïve rustic at best, did not believe for one second General Kirigan would attend the national shatranj competition. Sooner would a stone recite the evening prayer, as the saying went in Keramzin. She was so certain she didn’t bother to worry about being wrong and the night before the final round, she slept more deeply than she had for years.

In the morning, she woke as close to refreshed as she could recall being and almost had an appetite for the curd cakes and sausage that was offered to all the players in a dining room adjacent to the great hall where the matches would be played. She managed a few bites and most of a mug of strong tea she sweetened with one small spoonful of honey. She saw that her team was as neat and tidy as possible, their best clothes fit for the ragbag in the Little Palace, based on the glimpses she’d had of the Grisha players in their finely embroidered jackets, and ensured that the Keramzin orphans were all standing behind their assigned chairs in a nearly military stance, hands held clasped behind their backs, chins up. She herself stood apart where the other advisors milled about, none of them taking much notice of her which didn’t displease her. Her own appearance was at best unprepossessing, and her tension only made her sallow cheeks more pale, her lips chapped, nails bitten to the quick. 

The play was swift at first and then slowed, as the weaker teams were defeated, the losing players walking away from the tables where the boards were placed in a variety of manners—some defiant, some dejected, a few shaking their heads as if they could not believe what had just happened.

No member of the Keramzin team rose and walked away.

The play became more intense. More members of the Imperial court drifted into the room to watch and such was the reverence in which the Tsar held shatranj that only whispers and the softest muttering were heard as moves and gambits were assessed and debated.

The field narrowed. First Grozim was knocked out and then Bisera. Nazar, grinning as if he’d won. Dako, his eyes filled with tears, who bowed to Alina very formally, as if she were his patroness, as elevated as the Tsarina.

´Zeli was left, playing against the last of the opponents, a Grisha named Artem with peach fuzz on his cheeks, wearing a coat the color of a violet. He did not always use his hands to move the pieces, a bit of showman’s-ship Alina chalked up to his less effective use of gambits, an attempt to unsettle ´Zeli into an error.

For an instant, during which Alina felt as hot as if the sun had taken up residence in her chest and was burning her from the inside out, it seemed he might succeed. And then ´Zeli used the first gambit Alina had invented herself, Sashenka’s Sunbeam, and in an utterly graceful, unbroken gesture, delivered the final blow.

“Checkmate.”

There was a moment of complete silence and then a roar for which Alina had no comparison. She had never heard a tidal wave crash upon the shore nor the tumult of the cavalry overtaking an enemy. There was only the sound of her own heart, beating terribly hard, and then a sudden dizziness, as if she might faint. She felt a hand at her elbow, steadying her, a man’s low voice murmuring Have a care before she could turn to face him.

There was no one next to her and then, the orphans for Keramzin swarmed her, their joy animate, as potent as the powers the Grisha wielded. They laughed and shouted, talking over each other, recounting their victories and losses with equal glad abandon and Alina could not deny that it was a relief when one of the Grisha, a tall, hatchet-faced man in a crimson coat which somehow looked finer than any of the others she’d seen, approached her and without introducing himself, announced that the General wished to meet with her, as she had done the impossible, defeating his star Grisha player.

Alina nodded and quickly told her team to go to the dining room for the victory feast and not to shame her or despite their achievement, she would write to Ana Kuya that very night to have them all sent home on the next available Crossing. She then followed the laconic Grisha who could only be the attaché to General Kirigan to a private room whose door she would never have noticed.

The General, whom she could never imagine referring to as simply Kirigan, was sitting on the far side of a table with a shatranj board on it, each square enameled and all the pieces exquisitely carved from jet and a cloudy white stone she had no name for. He rose as she entered the room, following the old ways, at least according to what Ana Kuya had told them. He wore a jacket of a black silk dark as a moonless night, the same hue as his hair and when she dared to look at him directly, craning her neck a bit, his eyes. He appeared serious rather than punitive and then his lips curved slightly, in what must be a smile.

“I would ask you for a match, if you are not still overset,” he said, his voice one she recognized, the man who’d kept her from stumbling. “I am Kirigan. General of the Second Army.”

“I know who you are,” she said. He waited and she realized she hadn’t agreed to play. She sat down, studying the board. He’d offered her the white pieces, had placed himself behind the jet.

“I’m Alina Starkov. Of Keramzin,” she said.

“I didn’t know the Duke had a daughter. Or a niece,” he said.

“I don’t think he does,” Alina replied. She moved a piece forward, not yet having decided which gambit to open with, choosing a piece that gave her the time to evaluate the General’s style. “I’m one of the orphans his estate supports. No one special.”

“You created the majority of the strategies your players employed I think. I haven’t seen them before and I’ve played since I was a boy,” he said. He moved a piece with the sort of confidence that suggested he’d rarely been bested. “It’s special, to have a mind constructed to see such…possibilities. To engineer their execution.”

She reached out to move the next piece, a tower, and her sleeve fell back, revealing her wrist.

“The Duke ought to support you more generously. You’re skin and bones,” he said, glancing up at her face and examining her intently. “You’ve gone hungry—have you been ill?”

“There’s plenty to eat, even if it’s a bit dull. I’ve never had much appetite,” she said.

“You can’t be more than twenty. If you haven’t had an appetite, you’ve been ill, perhaps so long you can’t remember being well,” he said. He moved another piece, the shape of his attack becoming perceptible, the way a creature might come forth from the shadows.

“Perhaps,” she said. She looked at the board and decided she would employ Stag’s Wisdom, moving her rider definitively, then letting her hand hover above the piece for the heartbeat.

That was when General Kirigan grasped her wrist, his lips parted in the beginning of a remark, shock evident in his silence, the sudden blankness in his dark eyes.

“Who are you?” he said, very softly, after regaining something like composure.

Alina had lost hers, but knew better than to let it show, assuming she had any ability to fool the General.

“I told you, I’m Alina Starkov, I’m an orphan. I’m nobody,” she said.

“You are either lying or you have been deceived yourself,” he said. He slid a heavy silver ring from his smallest finger, placing upon his thumb. She saw it was crafted as a talon, the tip sharp enough to draw blood. “I would know the truth,” he said, the talon poised a hairbreadth from her skin, waiting for her to respond.

He wanted her consent.

She thought of the pain that led to the scar on her palm, the way she’d drawn the shard across her hand, that bright instant of agony. She thought of how the scar felt now, like nothing at all.

She nodded.

The claw tore.

The room was flooded with light, the brilliance of high noon at the summer solstice. She would have closed her eyes but she couldn’t. She could only choke back the cry she’d almost uttered, in her mouth the taste of honey, the giddy intoxication of medovukha that she’d once sipped at a feast-day.

“You are Grisha. The Sun Summoner,” General Kirigan said. He sounded astonished, exalted. He looked at her as if she were precious. “I’ve waited so long—"

“General—”

“Aleksander,” he interrupted. “Call me Aleksander.”

“I feel odd. Ill,” Alina said. He fumbled the heavy ring off his thumb, let it sit on the board like another piece, and traced his forefinger along the bloodless wound. He closed his eyes and hummed, some fragment of melody she could not place. She felt a soothing warmth where he touched her and then surging through her.

“You’re very ill. It’s a miracle you’re alive,” he said. His eyes gleamed and she realized they’d filled with tears, though she wasn’t sure of the emotion behind them. “You were not tested as a child?”

“The Grisha came to Keramzin. I—we hid. When they came to test us. I cut my hand so they couldn’t tell when they found me. I was afraid,” she said. “I didn’t want to be left behind. Or taken.”

“You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone,” he said. He turned his head, barked out a demand, “Ivan! To me, now!” his voice that of the battlefield commander. He let go of her wrist and put the ring back on. Alina felt cold, too cold to even shiver, the chill of the stone that froze, not the snow that fell.

She guessed Ivan had not been that far away, given how swiftly he arrived. 

“Fetch Liucija and Svilen, tell them it is urgent. Tell them it is the worst case of wasting sickness I have ever seen, tell them to send a stretcher and a Heartrender with a gentle touch, she won’t tolerate much—"

“Moi soverenyi?”

Alina would have laughed at how confused Ivan sounded, despite his effort at formal obedience, if her head had not begun to ache horribly and the small of her back, her hips. Her knees. Every joint in her hand ready to break.

“Miss Starkov is Grisha. She is the Sun Summoner,” General Kirigan said. She could not call him Aleksander, not even to herself. Not yet. “I will not lose her—”

“Of course, moi soverenyi. I’ll send Fedyor, he’s in the great hall,” Ivan said and moved so quickly it seemed he did something other than running.

Alina took a deep breath. It felt like a blow and her hand, resting on the shatranj board, trembled, knocking over the queen. General Kirigan got up from his chair and came beside her, crouching over her. He was so tall he still loomed above her or that was how it seemed to her.

“It won’t be long,” he said.

“No. I don’t think—I’m so tired and my head hurts, it hurts—” she broke off, her vision dimming.

“Blessed Mokosh have mercy,” he ground out, but though the words suggested supplication, his tone was that of a man cursing in desperation. She felt his hand at her cheek and then at her throat, light, with a tenderness she’d never experienced before. “There’s not enough time—”

He leaned over and picked her up in his arms, adjusting her so her face as nestled against his breast, the steady beat of his heart like a tether. 

“I’ve got you, moya golubka, stay with me now,” he said, holding her very close. She felt a delicate warmth and it eased the pain a little. “Rest a while, I’ll be there when you wake.”

*

Alina woke up, her cheek pillowed on her forearm, shadows beginning to collect in the corners of the room. She expected her head to throb but realized that other than the crook of her elbow, nothing about her body hurt. In fact, she felt quite well, refreshed to a degree she couldn’t recall.

There was, however, some drool drying at the corner of her mouth.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice said. “All this time and I haven’t devised a way to prevent some mildly embarrassing consequences.”

“I don’t understand,” Alina said, sitting up and blinking. She cleared her throat. She’d sounded like a frog croaking and what would General Kirigan think—

Not General Kirigan. Aleksander. 

What would Aleksander think? Where was he, where was Liucija and the whitewashed hospital wing…

“I’m in the Library,” Alina said, the warm hue of the leather-bound books on the walnut shelves resolving into detail. Togtuun, as was their wont, was not seated directly across from Alina but remained at an oblique angle, leaning back against their massive desk whose wood was the same color as Togtuun’s kefta. “I was reviewing that manuscript from Fjerda, I fell asleep.”

“You dreamed,” Togtuun said. It was uttered as a correction, not hazarded as a guess. 

“You made me dream,” Alina said, unsure if it was a question she was asking. If she truly wanted an answer.

“It was necessary,” Togtuun said. “Those are the only dreams I can call forth in the dreamer, the ones they need to dream. To reflect upon—”

“You made me fall asleep. You entered my mind and, and…mucked about,” Alina said.

“Mucked about? Your mind is a stall in the stable? Really, Alina, there was nothing clumsy about it,” Togtuun replied with what was possibly pique, an emotion Alina would not have imagined Togtuun feeling. “And I believe you might be called to account for how you behaved with Aleksander, if you will take umbrage at my intervention. You might have awoken at any time you chose. You dreamt as long as you wished.”

“How can I argue with you? You have powers I don’t understand to any degree and you’ve lived far longer than I have.”

“Just so,” Togtuun said. “Was it so terrible a dream?”

“Don’t you know?”

“You’re deflecting,” Togtuun said.

“Perhaps I’m trying to grasp how present you were, are, within my mind. Perhaps I want to know if you saw everything, if you controlled everything,” Alina said.

“If I controlled everything, how much simpler would life be! And how much greater would the funding for the Library be as a percentage of the total Little Palace budget, though not at the cost of yet more herring on the menu for the younglings. I should have that collection from Samarkkant for the third archive and David might have completed that project for the portable heating device, so that I could have hot tea whenever I liked,” Togtuun said.

“What was I supposed to learn then?”

Togtuun smiled.

“You know that is not something I can answer,” they said.

“How about this then. Does Aleksander know what you can do?” Alina asked.

“He knows as much as he may,” Togtuun said.

Alina made a sort-of harrumphing sound of irritation.

“You want guidance. Keep a dream journal. Begin with this experience. Start now. Don’t edit,” Togtuun said and walked away into the stacks. Alina harrumphed again, because it was beyond irritating how silently the Librarian could walk and disappear.

“Fine,” she said to the receding back of Togtuun, “Fine,” she muttered to herself, opening the new folio embossed with her initials that had been placed right next to the elbow she’d been sleeping on. Togtuun didn’t miss a trick. She went to untie the leather cords keeping it closed and something caught her eye.

At her wrist, a scar, slightly raised, faintly golden, the color her skin turned when she’d been out in the sun all day. Where dream-Kirigan had cut her, where he’d healed her. 

The only thing keeping Alina from screaming in terror was the vivid memory of how good it had felt when he had used his power to mend the wound.

She did yelp a bit.

And then she started writing. It was the first day of December…

[naddybln]

Headcanons Grishaverse x reader

- the darkling took you from your parents when you were just about a year old

- you showed your powers early and your parents were afraid of you, just like the rest of your hometown

- growing up in the little palace was fun, everybody loves you

- having lessons with Bagrah were hard but effective

- Bagrah and Aleksander proteticing you at all costs

- Ivan and Fedyor are your male best friends, you are close to them and train with them

- Ivan cracking a smile around you

- Zoya is a little jealous because of your relationship with the Darkling

- she likes you nevertheless

- Genya and you are really close, wanting to spend time with her as often as possible

- trying to encourage her about David

- you offered her to kill the king, she denied it cuz you would get into a lot of trouble

- you visit David from time to time

- him explaining his new inventions

- you got hurt during training once and Aleksander went furious

- threatening everyone around him

- you needing to calm him down and ensure him it was an accident

- him not leaving your side for the first few days

- Genya taking care of you if she has the time

- Zoya might have thought the other Grisha who hurt you a lesson

- Ivan and Fedyor checking in on you multiple times a day and bringing you sweets

- Once you're healthy again you continue your training but this time everyone around you is carful not to hurt you (more like afraid of Zoya and Aleksander)

[rose-sophia-isabella-rogers]

A Tide That Turned Everything: Chapter VII - I Loved, Love and Will Love You Forever

Chapter Summary: Ilya Morozova saves Aleksander and gives you a way to be with your lover maybe even forever. Your loyalty to General Kirigan forces you once again to make a life-changing choice. But not only you. Aleksander has to choose as well. Power… or you. Is he ready to throw all he's built for a Tidemaker that was once a serving girl?

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Alina Starkov/Mal Oretsev, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, Fedyor Kaminsky, Ivan, Mal Oretsev, Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolay Lantsov, Ilya Morozova, Genya Safin, David Kostyk, Baghra, Tamar Kir-Bataar, Tolya Yul-Bataar

Word Count: 4284

A/N: Smut alert (a really short). If you don't like it or are underage, don't read from: "You quickly undress each other." to: "He falls on the blanket next to you and pulls you to himself.". Enjoy! Inspired by prompts: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089554941/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559859/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

'He'll live,' the man (Morozova?) says, leaving his hut. You, Fedyor and Ivan jump, startled. You look at him with wide eyes.

'How did you do that?' Ivan asks with disbelief.

'I think the reason why we were waiting here is because he doesn't want us to know,' Fedyor points out. Ivan glares at him.

'Can I see him?' you ask the man.

'He's asleep, but sure,' he answers and leads you inside. You follow him into the sleeping area. Aleksander is sleeping peacefully. You're not sure, but you think his scars are a bit less visible.

'Thank you,' you say, sitting by his side.

'You're not even sure if whatever I did worked,' the man scoffs. You smile slightly.

'You're Ilya Morozova, aren't you?' you ask. You're met with silence. You turn your head and see the man looking at you with shock.

'How?' he asks, his voice a whisper.

'I saw a glimpse of your handwriting in one of your notebooks,' you explain. 'And for the past weeks I've been studying your diaries in hopes of finding a cure for him. And… there was something familiar in you. I couldn't put a finger to it but now I know. Your eyes. He has the same eyes as you.'

Morozova looks at you in silence. You're wondering whether he considers killing you for discovering his secret. You wait patiently for his decision.

'How's Baghra?' he asks instead. This throws you off.

'She was fine last time I saw her,' you answer. 'She asked me to save her son. But I'm not sure if she survived the battle.'

'Oh, she did,' Morozova huffs. 'She's always been tough. She raised him to be the same. She made some mistakes. But so did I. And so did he. But you know what always brings members of our family back on track?'

You shake your head. Morozova steps closer to you and touches with his finger your chest on the left side.

'People important to us,' he explains. 'I saw how that boy looked at you. My daughter was right to ask you to save him. You're the only one who can do it.'

'You're the one who did,' you say, confused.

'I saved his body,' he agrees. 'But you're the only one who can save his soul. It's not too late for him. When he wakes up, tell him he either stops… or he will lose you. One way or another.'

'I can't leave him,' you say after a beat. Morozova smiles wryly and exits the room. You turn back to Aleksander. You watch him, pondering about his grandfather's words. Suddenly, Morozova returns.

'Come with me,' he says. Curious, you follow him. He takes you to the back of his house. You walk to one of the trees on the edge of the forest.

'Look up,' he says. You do as he says and are stunned.

'That's…' you say.

'Dying,' Morozova ends for you and you look at him with wide eyes. 'This firebird has days at most. I resurrected it years ago but now its time is truly done.'

'Resurrected?' you repeat slowly. Morozova looks at you.

'That's the fourth amplifier,' he says. 'And it can be yours.'

'I beg your pardon?' you say in a weak voice. 'I can't-'

'You won't be murdering it,' Morozova huffs. 'Look at it. It's dying already.'

He grabs your shoulders. You're now actually frightened.

'You followed my grandson to hell and back,' Morozova says. 'And you'd probably do it again. You proved you're willing to die for him. But are you ready to live for him?'

You stare at him. Your lower lip trembles.

'You're a very powerful Grisha,' Morozova says and you frown. 'I can feel it. In your bones and blood. You're destined for a long life. If you can make it. But with that amplifier? You can be by his side forever. I know he would want that.'

You freeze. Would he really?

'You don't have to kill it now,' Morozova says after a moment.

'Oh, thank Saints,' you say, relieved.

'Talk to him first,' Morozova goes one. 'Tell him he can have it. Do it for him. If he agrees to stop pursing his noble but mad goals. They only bring destruction… and can cause him death of his loved ones.'

You're stunned to see tears in his eyes. Your look softens. You touch his cheek. He winces but doesn't pull away.

'Thank you,' you say.

'Will you do it?' Morozova asks. You shrug.

'I don't know,' you answer honestly. 'But thanks to you, I have a new option now. A chance to be by his side.'

'Living forever is not easy,' Morozova warns you.

'It's better if you share it with someone you love,' you counter. He sighs and nods.

'Whatever you two will decide,' Morozova says, 'your love will prevail everything.'

'I know,' you say with a smile and look behind your shoulder at the hut. 'But are we both going to agree what's the best way to make sure of it?'

*

You're sitting by Aleksander's side, watching the sun setting outside of the window. Morozova's words play in your head. All this time you've tried not to think about the moment when your time would come. You've tried to focus on the present, on making sure Aleksander survives. He will, you know that, even his scars are almost gone. So… what now?

'You're really set on changing our tradition,' a familiar voice says. You flinch and look down. Aleksander is smiling at you.

'Our places switched,' he says. Your lips twitch upward.

'Looks like it,' you say. You reach for a glass of water. He sits down and you help him drink it.

'How are you feeling?' you ask when he's done.

'Better than I have had in weeks,' Aleksander answers and looks at you softly. 'Thank you. You saved me.'

'Seemed fair to return the favour,' you say. 'You do it all the time. And I love you, there's that as well. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you.'

'Your loyalty is truly extraordinary,' Aleksander says after a beat, looking on your hand that is resting on his. 'I'm grateful for it. But I hate myself how much it all have cost you.'

He looks away. You think carefully on your next words.

'Aleksander,' you finally say softly. 'Look at me.'

Kirigan turns his head. There's sadness and something else you can't quite place in his eyes.

'I will never regret loving you,' you say and he raises his eyebrows at you. 'Truly. You gave me something amazing. All the moments with you were beautiful. True, I've lost something and I was hurt many times. But it was all worth it. You were worth it.'

Aleksander smiles at you. He takes your hand in his and squeezes it. You squeeze back.

'Which is why I don't think we should return,' you say and feel Aleksander stiffen under your touch. 'I don't want them to kill you.'

'Every great thing demands taking a risk and sometimes even a sacrifice,' Kirigan says. 'But, I'm stronger now. They won't win this easily next time.'

'What if I'm the sacrifice?' you ask and Aleksander looks at you with a sharp look but you don't let him speak. 'I'm not immortal. I'm powerful and my life will be longer than most Grisha, but I'm not immortal. One day I will die. If we continue with fighting with them, it can be even shorter. And even if not, this war may never end and we'll spend our whole time together fighting. Do you really want that?'

Aleksander doesn't answer. He looks away. You can see the battle in his eyes. You let go of his hand.

'Think about it,' you say and stand up. 'I'll ask Ivan to bring you something to eat. You rest.'

You don't even give him a chance to reply. You leave the room, hoping that this time he'll choose you.

When you see him next time, you're sitting outside the hut, watching the stars. He joins you, apparently feeling much better.

'Nothing hurts,' he says before you can ask him about it. 'Everyone else has gone to sleep. Why didn't you?'

'I have too many thoughts in my head,' you answer. 'But you should rest.'

'I've slept enough,' Aleksander replies. 'Besides, I have too many thoughts in my head as well.'

You hum and nod. You watch the stars in silence for some time.

'What would I do?' Aleksander asks. 'One day I'm going to lose you anyway. If we walk away and have a peaceful life… what would I do when you're gone? Because I think I'd go mad.'

'And what would you do if we continue fighting and my time comes?' you ask quietly.

'I'd either continue to fight or try to preserve what we achieved,' Aleksander answers. 'Killing my enemies would definitely help me with my heartache. I don't know what could possibly help it if we choose a different path.'

'What if we had forever?' you ask hesitantly. 'If I was like you? Never aging, never dying? Would you choose me, then?'

Aleksander gives you a scolding look. Probably for the way you put it.

'If I could stay by your side forever…' he says, taking your hands in his, '… I'd take you to the far end of the world. To keep you safe from every suspicion and harm. To have a peaceful and happy life you deserve.'

You stare at him in silence. Your heart is beathing fast. Maybe…?

'Come with me,' you say after a moment, standing up and pulling him with you. You take him to the back of the house. You reach the tree line.

'Look up and tell me what you see,' you tell Aleksander. He frowns but does as you say.

'What is that?' he asks when he notices a firebird. 'Some bird?'

'A firebird,' you answer and Aleksander looks at you with wide eyes. 'Your grandfather made another amplifier. But it's dying.'

'If you were to k- let it out of its misery…' Kirigan says, getting excited.

'I could live as long as you,' you agree, nodding. 'At least according do your grandfather.'

Silence falls between you two. Aleksander takes your hand and gently traces line on it.

'I know you have a kind soul and killing such creature is not something you would normally do…' he says slowly, '… but it's going to die anyway, you said so.'

'Say I do it,' you say after a beat. 'What then?'

'We wait for me to get back to my full strength and-' Aleksander says.

'And?' you ask. He caresses your cheek.

'With your power amplified by such creature we would be unstoppable,' he says. 'But you're right. Your loyalty to me cost you already so much. I've lost you, I hurt you and… I want you to be happy.'

He hums, suddenly becoming pensive. You tilt your head, curious.

'Making sure Grisha are safe and have a good life used to be my priority,' he says and cups your face. 'But now… I just want you to keep smiling. Your happiness is my priority.'

You smile at him. He presses his forehead to yours.

'So… just say a word and we will leave,' he says. 'Leave all this mess, Ravka… hoping Alina and others actually can make something of it. And I'll take you to the end of the world, do what you did: throw everything for the one I love.'

You press your lips to his. You share a kiss, then you pull slightly away and whisper:

'Yes…'

*

Alina sighs and looks around the streets of a city of Novyi Zem. She liked this country when she was here with Mal, all those years ago. It still dazzles her. She smiles and turns around.

'Are you coming?' she asks. Her husband huffs but smiles.

'Yes, yes, oh great Ambassador of Ravka,' he says with mock seriousness. Alina rolls her eyes.

'Stop it,' she says. Mal reaches her and takes her hand in his. They start walking together.

'Where are we supposed to meet with the rest?' the tracker asks after a moment.

'The market,' Alina answers. 'We should be the first ones to arrive.'

And so a few or more minutes later, they arrive at the market. They both look around in amazement. Until Alina sees something that causes her to freeze.

'What is it?' Mal asks, noticing his wife's distress. He follows her gaze and is stunned as well.

A few metres from them there are you. You're buying something with a small smile on your face. The vendor is chatting with you with a grin, clearly acquittanced with you.

'Why is she here?' Mal asks quietly.

'And why now?' Alina ponders. She exhales slowly and makes up her mind. When you walk away from the vendor, she walks after you.

'[Y/N],' she calls quietly. You stop and stiffen. Slowly, you turn around with wide eyes.

'Alina,' you say and look behind her. 'Mal. Saints. It's been years.'

'It has,' the tracker says, standing next to Alina. Their fingers entwine. You can't help but smile.

'You're still together,' you say. 'I'm glad. Truly. And that you're well.'

'You seem to be well, too,' Alina says cautiously. You nod.

'I am,' you confirm. 'I've heard Ravka is doing well, too. Thanks to you and Nikolay.'

'We're trying,' Alina says.

'But it hasn't been easy, since we're always worried that the Darkling is going to suddenly show up and try to take it all away again,' Mal adds. His wife huffs and glares at him. You smile slightly.

'He won't,' you assure them. They look at you sceptically.

'[Y/N] [L/N],' you hear behind you. You turn and see Nikolay coming to you with Zoya, Tolya and Tamar. You bow your head to him.

'I'm glad to see you in good health,' he says.

'Thank you, I'm glad you're well, too,' you say. Nikolay nods to you and puts his hands behind his back.

'Are you going to tell me the news I've been waiting to hear for years?' he asks. Alina exhales slowly, trying to calm down. Why does she have to be surrounded by men with no empathy?

'I'm afraid not, Your Highness,' you say with that smile again. They all stiffen.

'He's alive?' Tamar asks gravely.

'How?' Mal asks, astonished. 'He was dying.'

'As if [Y/N] would allow him to just die,' a voice says. Fedyor and Ivan join your group. The latter is glaring at Nikolay and others.

'What, she just willed him to live?' Zoya scoffs.

'No, but she found a way,' Fedyor answers. 'You look lovely as ever, dear Zoya.'

'I know,' the Squaller says. The Heartrender chuckles. You turn to Nikolay.

'You don't have to worry,' you assure him. 'None of us intends to attack your country.'

'Forgive me that I won't take your word for it,' Nikolay says. You smile.

'I understand,' you say. 'I probably wouldn't in your place as well. But we like our quiet life here. He even admits from time to time you're doing a surprisingly good job with uniting Grisha and otkazat'sya. But he complains a lot, too.'

'And you're living happily and peacefully here?' Tamar asks.

'Maybe here, maybe somewhere else,' you say. 'But happily and peacefully, yes.'

'We don't wish you ill,' Ivan speaks up and looks at Alina. 'And you promised to let us go. So if you excuse us…'

'Of course,' Nikolay says. 'You're free to go. Just try not to plan another attack or something. Then our deal would be no longer valid.'

'Naturally,' you say and smile. 'Take care, Nikolay. I think you're doing a really good job. You're far better king than your father was. And your brother ever could be.'

'Thank you,' Nikolay says. 'And I'm sorry for the hurt they caused you.'

'Thank you,' you say quietly. You look at Alina and Mal. Before you can open your mouth, Alina pulls you in for a hug.

'I miss you,' she murmurs. 'But I'm glad you're okay. And happy.'

'I feel exactly the same,' you whisper and pull away. Mal hugs you briefly as well. You nod at others and leave with your Heartrenders.

'Do you think we can trust them?' Tolya asks, watching you.

'Hard to say,' Nikolay sighs. 'Alina?'

The Sun Summoner doesn't answer at once. She watches as you encounter surprised Genya and David. The Tailor quickly hugs all three of you. David is a bit more reserved. You say something to him, looking at him apologetically. He shakes his head and you smile.

'I want to trust her,' Alina finally says. 'But I don't know if-'

She cuts herself off, seeing now Baghra joining you. You smile softly and pull her aside. You talk quietly and she looks at you with shock. Alina can swear she sees tears in the old woman's eyes. She nods and says something to you.

You smile and turn to leave. But then Baghra grabs your left arm and turns it to look at your wrist. She looks you in the eyes, shocked. You calmly return her stare. She lets you go and you leave. A moment later Baghra, Genya and David join their friends.

'Did you see them?' the Tailor asks. Others nod.

'We've talked with them a moment before you,' Tamar answers. 'They claim they don't have any nefarious plans, but we're not sure we can trust them.'

'We can,' Baghra says, surprising everyone.

'How can you be sure?' Nikolay asks. Baghra smiles slightly.

'Because she saved him,' she answers. 'In more ways than you think.'

'What was that you saw on her wrist?' Zoya asks.

'The thing that makes me sure my son will always choose a peaceful way of life,' Baghra answers and walks to their next destination. Others exchange a confused look. Alina shrugs and follows the old woman. The rest does the same, not really having another choice.

*

You, Fedyor and Ivan reach your small hut at the edge of town. Outside Aleksander is sitting on a bench, busy with fixing a chair. He smiles when he notices your arrival.

'You can say it,' Ivan says. You sigh.

'What exactly?' Aleksander asks.

'You know what thing,' Fedyor explains, amused.

'Ah,' Aleksander says, understanding, and chuckles. He looks at you with raised eyebrows. You glare at him.

'I told you so,' he says anyway. You groan.

'Yes, you said we're going to meet with Alina and others since they're here and we did,' you admit, annoyed. 'Happy now?'

'Very,' Aleksander says, standing up to kiss your forehead. 'Did they give you any trouble?'

'No, but we had to tell them you're alive,' you answer. 'They asked about it and the twins were with them, so they would have told if I had lied.'

Aleksander nods, understanding. Ivan and Fedyor walk inside. Kirigan takes your hand in his.

'Your mother was there as well,' you say.

'What did you tell her?' Aleksander asks.

'That her father is still alive,' you answer. 'Well, he was when we met him. I passed her what he had asked me to tell her. That he regrets many things, one of them how things went with them. I also told her she's welcome to live with us if she wants.'

'And what did she say to that?' Aleksander asks, not sure what answer he wants to hear. You smile and peck his cheek.

'That she'll think about it,' you answer and walk inside. 'Oh, she also noticed my amplifier.'

Aleksander follows you inside. You wave your right wrist at him, where Morozova put a bone of the firebird.

'What did she say to that?' Kirigan asks, leaning on the doorframe. You pause.

You saved him…

'That it suits me,' you answer with a smile. You unpack groceries. After a moment you feel arms around your waist. You lean into Aleksander's chest, sighing softly.

'Were they worried?' Aleksander asks. You roll your eyes.

'Obviously,' you answer. 'But I think Baghra will convince them we're really no longer a threat to them. Nikolay also apologised. For what his father and brother did to me.'

'Noble of him,' Kirigan says.

'Actually, that reminded me,' you say. 'The way you told Genya to kill the king… Poison. It was deliberate, wasn't it?'

Aleksander is silent. You look at him. He reaches out and puts a strand of your hair behind your ear.

'He made you drink poison made for me, so I thought he should see what it's like,' he admits. 'Of course, it was a different type of poison, it got to his system by touching Genya, so it wouldn't be too suspicious, but that was enough for me.'

'You also decided on this because he suffered more and longer, right?' you guess.

'Maybe,' Aleksander says, grinning cheekily. You scoff and shake your head, but smile.

'And did it feel good?' Kirigan asks suddenly. 'To see your friends again?'

'Yes,' you confirm. 'I also made peace with Genya and David.'

Silence falls between you. Aleksander sighs.

'Maybe I should do it as well,' he says.

'It is a good opportunity,' you admit. Aleksander hums.

'Maybe tomorrow,' he decides. 'They will be in town for a few days, after all.'

'And what are you planning to do today?' you ask.

'Well, I thought about spending it with my wife,' Aleksander answers playfully. You smile. You think about the moment from few years ago.

You know, there one thing bad about us giving up.

And it is?

I screwed up. I can't marry you now.

Oh? And who said so?

… Will you really? Marry me, I mean?

Yes.

… Ivan! Where's the nearest chapel?!

'Sounds like a plan,' you say and turn around. 'But who will cook dinner?'

'Ivan and Fedyor will manage,' Aleksander answers and takes your hand. 'Now come.'

You chuckle and let him take you outside. He takes you to a meadow full of flowers. You see picnic blanket and basket. You smile.

'That looks nice,' you say.

'Of course, it does, I prepared it,' Aleksander says. You roll your eyes. You sit on a blanket and start your picnic. But you can tell Kirigan's mind is not really there.

'Hey,' you say, touching his hand. 'What's wrong?'

'Are you happy?' Aleksander asks, very serious. You give him a surprised look.

'Yes, very,' you answered. 'What brought this on?'

'I often think that you deserve a better life,' Aleksander admits. 'That you were meant for more. That if you hadn't had followed me, your life would be different. More respectful. I ruined your life.'

He looks at you with pain in his eyes. But he's surprised to see you looking at him calmly. You cup his face.

'And to this day, I feel nothing but love for you,' you say, stunning him. 'Yes, my life could have gone differently. But I don't want anything different. I have you. That's all I ever needed or wanted. No matter how hard it gets, all will be well. Because we're together. I look toward our future with a smile on my face.'

Aleksander chuckles. Pain in his eyes turns to relief.

'I feel exactly the same,' he says and touches your forehead with his. 'I'm happy. I really am. I can't remember the last time I was this happy before I met you.'

You smile at each other. You kiss. It becomes more heated.

'Tell me… have you ever had sex outdoors?' Aleksander murmurs. Your eyes light up.

'I can't tell I have,' you answer. Kirigan smirks at you and starts kissing your neck. Slowly, his kisses go lower and lower. You quickly undress each other. Aleksander lays you down on the blanket.

'Tell me what you want,' he says, his voice husky. You lift your head and join your lips.

'I want you,' you whisper. 'Only you.'

Aleksander smiles and touches your womanhood. You sigh softly when he starts touching it.

'You make such pretty noises for me,' he murmurs, putting a finger inside you. You want to retort but he finds just the spot to cause you to moan. He gives it more attention, but doesn't forget about your clit.

'Please,' you whisper. Aleksander massages and fingers you for a moment longer. Then, he kisses you. You sigh in his lips and moan when he enters you. Kirigan groans and starts moving in you.

'You always feel so good, [Y/N],' he says and speeds up. He presses kisses to your breasts. You gasp.

'More,' you moan. 'Please, Aleksander, more! Harder!'

'Your wish is my command, lapushka,' Aleksander says and kisses you. He hits you at the right spots with a perfect force.

'Aleksander!' you gasp. 'Aleksander!'

'[Y/N]…' Kirigan groans. 'My [Y/N]…'

'Yours…' you confirm, cupping his face and pressing kisses to it. 'Only yours.'

'And I'm yours,' Aleksander says, looking at you with love, lust and adoration. 'My little tide.'

You smile and then gasp when Kirigan speeds up even more. You both moan and groan for the next few minutes. Finally, he spills inside you and you come around him as well, both of you screaming each other's names. He falls on the blanket next to you and pulls you to himself.

'I love you, [Y/N],' Aleksander says. 'My heart beats for you.'

You smile and snuggle into him. He holds you tighter.

'And I love you, Aleksander,' you murmur. 'So much, my pretty boy.'

Kirigan grins. He kisses the top of your head.

'We're gonna be together forever, right?' you ask.

'Forever,' Aleksander confirms. 'And one day more.'

A/N: Thank you so much for giving this story a chance and reading it! It's the end of the story of General and his Tidemaker. I hope you liked it. Please, let me know what you think with comments, reblogs and likes. As to what's next, I have some ideas, but I'm not sure when I will post something new with this pair. But let me know if you prefer fics with more chapters, like "A Tale of Stolen Hearts" or fics with less chapters joined in a series, like this one. That's it from me! Take care and see you in the next fic!

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49965037/chapters/126897283

[keira63fic]

Decisive Acts (1/1)

Ivan travels back in time and acts decisively to ensure his General gets everything he wants.

For Darklina Week 2024 Day 3 Outsider POV

[little-cereal-draws]

Have a shitty meme based off my new fivan fic, Heaven is Not Fit to House a Love Like Ours! It tells the story of how fivan got together

[egret-orchids]

modern au grishaverse | a museum of hidden truths | alinas pov | 1/?

Mal shrugs. "Wait, where'd Ivan and Fedyor go? I swear they were right behind us."

I roll my eyes. "They're still in the café. I think Fedyor wanted Ivan to try some fancy coffee."

Aleksander rolls his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'll go and get the lovebirds, then." he grumbles, before turning on his heel and heading off back in the direction of the cafeteria.

I glance at Genya, who smirks slightly. "Honeymoon phase?" I joke.

"Honeymoon phase." Genya replies.

[simp2537]

Moon Helios

a/n there isn’t much triggers in this chapter but a slight panic attack. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK and enjoy

Word count : 2.1k plus

Series trigger warnings: Child abuse, anxiety, religious trauma, racism, manipulation, division of canon, Alina hate?, trauma, ptsd, bullying, insomnia, self-neglect, mental health issues, guilt tripping, cult theme, blood consumption, cannibalism?? Lost of murder, talks of SA in other characters, Sexual acts, future smut, predatory behavior(not from Aleks) and all other shadow and bone stuff

Act I : Necklace for a Lifetime

Chapter Four

The trainees stood in the forge covered in soot and dust. Another year had passed in there training, and now it was time for them to truly demonstrate their loyalty to the Sol Saint.

Y/n stood with Isla in front of her and Niko as her side. Y/n had woken up early to fix up Isla’s hair. The curls were twisted and carefully down up in a ponytail so the hair was out of her face. Niko was still learning how to help up with Isla so Y/n had extra work.

Niko was now learning how to remember what all the clicks from Isla’s clicker meant, along with all the taps she’d give. Though Niko was a bit behind, he was learning quickly. Y/n rubbed her eyes and bite back a yaw. 

Y/n had a restless sleep. Every night since she had that episode in the arena she’d dream of that man, and his dark eyes. Sometimes Y/n would find a strange comfort in his eyes, sometimes she’d feel almost at peace.

Now that they were old enough, they could send letters home if they wanted. Y/n had wasted no time in sending multiple letters to Alina and Mal.

It only be a matter of time before she got a reply. Niko’s family already replied to him with great happiness that their son was still alive. Isla’s family hadn’t responded yet, they were residing in Novyi Zem. Her family was furthest away, but Isla remains positive.

Y/n could only roll her shoulders as Kanos instructed them on how to forge there armor. Kanos walked each child to there own heated furnace and spoke softly with each for a moment before going to the next. Kanos practically ripped Niko away from Isla and Y/n.

Y/n looked over at Isla and froze. There was no way Isla could do this. She would get hurt, surely this would be dangerous. Isla gently grasped Y/n’s hand.

“Your vibration are fuzzy, what’s wrong.” Isla asked. The sound of Isla’s clicker brought Y/n such comfort to hear. Y/n gently rubbed Isla’s arm and held her for a moment. Y/n peered down at her with a slight grin.

“Nothing, just excited for the forging ceremony.” Y/n answered as she felt her palms go a bit clammy. Isla went narrow eyed and raised a brow. Another trainee was taken.

Isla grabbed Y/n’s clammy hands and held them for a moment. Y/n stood upright, tension in her muscles, but head held high. Y/n seemed to master the ability to hide her emotions from almost everyone. Just not her, Isla was too intoned with Y/n’s vibrations.

“Just because my sight hasn’t come in doesn’t mean I can’t feel when something’s wrong.” Isla clicked. Y/n rolls her eyes as she felt Kanos walking toward them. Quickly Y/n pulled Isla into tight embrace. Y/n hooked her arms around Isla’s waist and pushed her head into Isla’s neck.

Isla always smelt of roses and wildflowers. Wildflowers that made Y/n think of home. Isla smelt like home. 

“Be careful when you use the forge.” Y/n muttered against Isla’s softly skin. Her hands trembled slightly, she couldn’t let Isla get hurt. Not again, not after-

“Hey, you with me?” Isla’s gentle tapping against her palm, cut through the thoughts racing in Y/n’s head. The words blurred together in Y/n head as she tried to speak. 

The exhaustion was smacking Y/n in the face all at once. As Kanos grew closer Y/n took it in a big breath and sighed. The pair pressed there heads together and breathed together.

 Isla held Y/n’s hand as the shaking went away. Isla breathed Y/n in, she smelt smoky with a slight lavender touch. Isla could remain in Y/n presence for eternity if she could. Y/n held her like she was the only thing in the world to her. Y/n protected her in a way she’d never been protected before. 

Y/n would give Isla the foods she didn’t want, claiming Isla needed the nutrients. Y/n would tie the blue ribbon every morning, and  untie it every time. Y/n would spar with Isla till her knuckles were bruised so she’d improve. Y/n would push Isla and now Niko behind her whenever she sensed trouble.

Isla gently pulled away as Kanos waited. Normally Kanos would simply pull Isla away but for whatever odd reason he allowed the girl there privacy. 

“Be careful.”

“I always am.”

As Isla walked further and further away Y/n stood alone. Sure there were a few other trainees but Y/n wasn’t too close with them. Sure she’d made friends with Kheli after there fight, and Zan had been suspiciously

nicer to her.

Zan and Adam had been strangely friendly. They’d hang out with them sometimes and seemed to like them. Y/n couldn’t tell whether or not she really liked them. They seemed fine, they made jokes with Isla form time to time. There was just a sense of unease that surrounded them.

“Starkov, you’re up.” Kanos’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. She followed behind him through the forge, sparks flying off the metal the other younglings molded. Y/n was brought to the very back of the forge, her hearth ragged on with a blue flame. Y/n eyes widened a little, the other fires were normal. Why was hers blue. 

“Helios Kanos…? Why is mine blue?” Y/n’s question caused him to roll his eyes.

“Egon is Lord Helios, his younglings are made to use different fires. I lead Isla to the one by Niko.” 

With that he was gone. Y/n groan a bit frustrated as she grabbed the gloves. She looked over all the metals for a moment, there were so many. Out of all the Helios’s that still had there durast abilities they always stocked up for the younglings.

There was Sunstell name after it’s brightest before and after melting. Though very strong, if laced with coiluseium could pierce it easily. Also there was Solodium, durable and easy to find. Only issue with it being so easy to find was that lots of people used it. Then there was Qixianium, qixian meaning golden immortal after the Sol Saint. Qixianium was practically indestructible but was very difficult for none Helios’s to find. 

Y/n grabbed a mix of all these metals. Then she looked over the stones. Each gave different uses. There was Brixam, Aglaeum, Ziqen, Ruxiaem, and so many more. 

Each Helios armor was supposed to be different. Special to there wearer. Y/n bit her lip softly as she saw everything over. All of these stones were hard to find, but each could be melted. 

Who’s gonna know

Without another though Y/n grabbed three stones. She grabbed Brixam, it would increase physical strength and would make her armor harder then it already was. She grabbed Aglaeum, it would amplify her mental and her ability to fight off Corporalki (mainly heartrender from messing with her body). Finally Ruxiaem, it would help her sense people’s vibrations at a better level in her armor.

With all her materials she began. She melted all her metals together in the blue fire. She smiled softly as she listened to the metals bubble. She grabbed a hammer and smashed each stone into dust. She stirred the metal and pour it into a mold Egon had made for her.

Each master would make there younglings mold for there armor. The one Egon had made for Y/n was strange in the best ways. It remind her for the tattoo Egon had on his arm. At least the woven looking collar did.

She pour the mixed metals into the mold and placed the stone dust into the forge. The forge fire lit up in a teal, then white, the a purple light as the dust melted. Y/n cooled the metal necklace the pulled it out of the mold. She pour the now melted stones into a small upside down teardrop shape. 

Hours fades by and one by one each Youngling left wit bright smiles showing off there necklace. Each looked different, some looked better then others. Isla strolled out with Niko the pair show off there armor off. 

Isla’s necklaces was a simple metal band with a diamond on its center. On the center of the diamond was a Ziqen which would increase hearing and would help her find people. Niko’s collar was an intricate golden crown looking necklace. No stone in sight, most like melted into the metal.

Niko looked around, but his sight didn’t show him Y/n anywhere. Finally after a while Y/n emerged holding her collar behind her back. Isla gripped Y/n’s arm with a big smile. Niko looked down at her and raised a brow. His hand found it’s way to Y/n’s shoulder.

Niko hadn’t been very comfortable with touching anyone in a while. Since they had gotten there burn marks Niko couldn’t bear to touch anyone. He’d fear that he accidentally burn someone with his inferni abilities. He would never touch anyone’s skin, but his calloused hand on Y/n’s clothed shirt was enough for him.

Slowly Y/n showed her friend her collar. It was incredible that both gasped. The metals shined in a beautiful sliver shimmer, the metals were woven together crossing ever so often. On one of the crosses a strangling and shining stone was held by the woven pieces. It was a soft clear blue.

“It’s …… amazing.” Niko mumbled as he went to touch it. 

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Isla clicked as her sight allowed her to see it. Y/n turned to Isla with bright eyes. 

“Your sight kicked in?” Y/n marveled. She brought Isla in for a bone crushing hug and jumped slightly. Y/n’s squeal of pride echoed through the forge entrance hall. Isla nodded her head with a rhythmic up and down. Niko smiled at his girls and held his head softly.

“What gem is that?”

Y/n still holding onto Isla turn to Niko. She laughed almost nervously but then cleared her throat. 

“It’s a mixture…”

Niko’s face dropped to the ground. Isla bit back her smirk at Niko’s face. Mixing the stones was unheard of. Practically not allowed. Sure it was never said you couldn’t but it was never said you could. 

“YOU WHAT!”

…………………

Y/n laid in her bunk as she left and heard Isla crawl down from the top. Niko’s snores drowned out anyone else as Isla crawled next to Y/n. Y/n opened her green blanket and Isla jumped into Y/n. Isla nuzzled into Y/n as Y/n held Isla closer. 

Isla listened intently to Y/n’s soft and calm heartbeat. Y/n slowly pet the soft twists of Isla’s hair. Y/n’s free hand drawing soft circles onto Isla’s back. Y/n rested her head on Isla’s as she softly pet her hair. Isla brought her hand onto Y/n’s chest and placed it over Y/n’s heart.

Isla tapped Y/n a bit impatiently, causing Y/n to smile softly. 

“ʜᴜꜱʜ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴇꜱ, ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ

ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪᴇʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ

ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴡᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀɪɴ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴄᴇᴀꜱᴇ”

Y/n’s soft voice rang through the room. Her singing remained Isla of her mom. Y/n’s voice was one of a siren maybe, or of a enchanting creature. Her voice always lulling Isla or anyone for that matter to sleep. 

“ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴅꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟ ꜰᴏʀᴛʜ, 

ᴍʏ ᴛʀᴜᴇꜱᴛ ɴᴏʀᴛʜ, ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀꜱꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ

ʙᴜᴛ ᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ ꜱʜᴀʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ

ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪᴇʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, ᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ”

Niko’s eyes opened for a moment and closed them again as Y/n’s voice entered his ears. There was that small chance that he would stay awake, but Niko didn’t mind. Y/n’s voice caused Niko to adjust his sleeping position and faced the two girls.

“ʜᴜꜱʜ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴇꜱ, ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴇᴇᴘ

ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ꜰᴏɴᴅʟʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇᴀᴅᴏᴡ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴜꜱ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ

ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ ᴜꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛꜱ ꜱʜɪɴᴇ”

With the final verse of the lullaby Niko and Isla drifted into sleep. The window above Y/n’s bunk shined moonlight onto her skin. It was warm and fuzzy. Her skin felt all tingly and strange. Y/n though to Alina and Mal. 

She wondered if they’d gotten her letters yet. She’d sent four. Two of Mal, two for Alina. Niko’s family had answered, and the lived further away then Keramzin. Maybe they just gotten lost. Maybe Alina and Mal were angry that she hadn’t written earlier. Maybe they though she was dead.

Y/n’s thoughts wondered away from her sister and friend, back to those brown eyes, his dark hair, his handsome face. Y/n still want quite sure who he was. He was always in black clothes. In her dreams he always had a hardened look on his face till Y/n got closer. 

His face seemed to light up then, his eyes would brighten. His eyes were such a strange thing. They held so many emotions, such intensity. When Y/n closed her eyes she knew she’d see him again. With a tiny smile she did just that.

[darklinaforever]

Me, thinking if in my version of the grisha trilogy, someone is going to die...

I mean, of course the Tsar is going to die. Also Vasily. The apparat will pass just as much. But they are the antagonists. So logical.

As for Baghra, I'm still hesitant to either kill her or give her a life that will piss her off as punishment.

I just wonder if I will kill among Ivan, Fedyor, Nikolai, Zoya, Genya, David, Mal, Tolya and Tamar...

Already, Genya will not have his scars and will not lose David. She deserved a happy ending and revenge on that rotten king.

I still regret Ivan's death, so he will stay alive.

Mal... I don't know. In the trilogy as it original I would have liked him to die. But with the treatment I'm going to give to Mal in my version, I don't think his death is useful.

I think one (maybe the two ?) of the Shu twins will most likely die. (Seriously, their fanaticism has always scared me. Book or Show. Take it as personal revenge)

But apart from that, I don't think I kill among the other characters. Not even Fedyor. I love him too much with Ivan for that !

[cozy-possum]

"Grisha who control the elements are controlled natural disasters waiting to be pointed to the target" IM FERAL OVER THIS DESCRIPTION its so *chefs kiss*, I'm absolutely obsessed.

Personally, I'd be throwing hands with any Inferni making everything all muggy and humid; I live in New Zealand, so I live in 80%+ humidity every day and its the worst 😭😭 i LOVE the concept of the Tidemakers essentially being able to become puppeteers, though – how terrifying would it be to be forced to move against your will, especially in a battle situation??

I know you've mentioned before how Tidemakers could feel "clammy" or Inferni having burnt hands or how Sun Summoners don't have a shadow; how else do you think this body horror take on Grisha talents could impact them physically? I think the physical implications are just SO interesting and really add to the perspectives of other nations (and maybe even non-Grisha Ravkans) to be looking at Grisha as dangerous, abominations, something to be fearful of.

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I'm glad you like it! I was particularly proud of it haha

Oh man I've escaped previous heat/humidity and do not want to go back lol

Yes, being moved against your will, or being unable to move when you hit a certain range that the tidemaker can control! That would be terrifying!!! Thinking you're on a scouting mission and suddenly you think you can hear voices, so you rush forward, and there's a group, the lost patrol, but they're froze to the spot, screaming for you to run back, instead you find yourself walking towards them, a strange sound of waves in your ears. You don't cry, no matter how much you want to, they don't want to waste the water for tears.

I think it would be really interesting if what they controlled didn't effect them or hinder them, that their science automatically compensated for it. And going of the fact Grisha are supposed to be 'rare' it would be a cool like 'natural protection' for them, and possibly another tool for people to find them before their powers develop, a way to hunt them if you go darker. The closer it gets to their powers showing, the more automatic processes their body does.

Also the more they use their powers the more visual it becomes. Shadow summoners who's limbs blacken, and seem to vanish into smoke in certain light. Sun Summoners who slowly go blind from their own light, burning from the inside out and collapsing like a dying star. Tidemakers who slowly drown themselves, every manipulation of water fills there lungs drop by drop, or the opposite, they pull water from their very being. Squallers who pull air from themselves, slowly suffocating, or they fill themselves up with so much they combust, they dissolve into the air itself. Inferni who have burns creeping up their hands, who cough and breathe out ash and smoke, their bodies being burned from the inside out, after all that's all oxygenation is

Tidemakers who never get wet or damp, even in the rain, not because they're moving it, but because the water knows not to effect them. Like how some birds have oil in thier feathers that makes them hydrophobic. They can hold their breathe for too long, the water dividing itself into oxygen for them to breathe. One of the ways to check if a child might be a squaller is to hold them underwater, of course, not many abide this old superstition. The can handle slightly hotter or colder temperatures as the water in their bodies adjusts. Tidemakers that can direct small bits of water, when it's raining the runoff never seems to dampen their feet or the area they stand.

Inferni that are never uncomfortable in any temperature their body naturally adjusting, they're immune to certain chemicals/combinations because of the combustion particles. They can gain bursts of strength, their bodies manipulating them as they would flame from the world around them. Depending on what specific particles it is they can manipulate (Would other Inferni be better at different particles/combinations?? That would be very interesting) they can breathe in highly toxic areas like nothing is wrong. They can track or recognize places and soldiers by particles, they can tell where things have come from if they've been exposed to certain particles from certain areas. They can effect the temperature of those around them, especially with strong emotions. Those that make an Inferni anger or someone that causes lust/ a crush are often the source of a sweltering gaze and prickling heat, sometimes when their gaze is averted, something close by will combust/light on fire/heat up. Inferni who give off steam when they become emotional.

Squallers that never seem to slow in movements, the wind pulling and pushing their bodies for them, keeping them moving, keeping them out of danger even if their body can't or shouldn't be moving. Like when a strong gust of wind moves you. They can handle low oxygen environments like mountains or caves easier than most. They can alter air pressure around objects to make them heavier or lighter to an extent. The wind seems to influence their emotions, or the other way around, most aren't sure and no one want to anger a Squaller enough to find out.

Sun Summoners who move faster, are stronger in the sunlight, seemingly full of energy when in the lights path. They can see in the dark because they produce a natural light that encompasses themselves, the more power they have the more others can see it. When they become angry or too excited, or just too many strong emotions it will blind others from their reactions. They never seem to get sunburned, or sun stroke. They become effected by the season more easily, the lack of sunlight causing them distress if they're lacking in a strong family

Shadow Summoners who can see in the dark, who don't recognise that there isn't a light source. They can move the shadows to hide them. They often move silently when in darkness. The changes in season are usually when they're stronger, they don't seem effected by the shorter days or longer nights. They can travel better and night, they can stay in darkness for days at a time, so different methods of torture must be used for them. They suffer from light sensitivity often struggling to be out during the highest points of the day or they hide from flames and other light sources.

Support My Writing?

[clara-oswinoswald]

In Siege and Storm Ivan sides with the Darkling and Fedyor sides with Alina.

In the show it seems as though Ivan and Fedyor are a couple. So, maybe they will have their lovers to enemies story as well with both of them on a different side... A similar arc to darklina...

[jomiddlemarch]

Alina and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day 

Alina was fairly certain that kindergarten pickup was actually a level of Hell. One of the deeper ones, though she had to admit that waiting for the divorce to be finalized and the week in February that Mal had been away at a conference in Hawaii when Eli got the stomach bug and she’d run out of orange Pedialyte, Clorox, and episodes of Elmo’s World just as she’d succumbed were both worse. She’d gotten a tee-shirt out of the conference and not herpes, so it was slightly ahead, which was the kind of thing she’d say that would make Gen tell her she really had to stay in the here and now and focus on herself and Eli; the fact that focusing in herself to Gen always meant some form of hot/stone/the feminine Divine yoga plus or minus a green smoothie was something Alina figured she just had to suck up as part of the best friend code. Especially if she wanted (needed) Gen to remain on Eli’s emergency contact list and deal with kindergarten pickup if Alina had a deadline or her car decided to call her bluff on her perpetually overdue oil changes.

She’d actually finished the article on affordable housing while sitting at the oil change place, wondering from time to time how oil change places still existed and why they still had a TV mounted on the wall when everyone was on their phone, earbuds in, podcasts and memes washing over them as digital sedatives. When she’d said anything like that at home, Mal would accuse her of being a Luddite, while continuing to shoot some monster on his gaming PC, and she’d launch into an explanation of why the Luddites got a bad rap and remembering it, she once again rejoiced in the finalization of the divorce, despite everything else it had cost her, starting with her rosy ideals about happily-ever-afters. In the timeless, nameless oil change place, happily-ever-after seemed like something that wouldn’t even appear on the TV as an infomercial. On the flip side, she wasn’t worried her car would die in kindergarten pickup.

Instead, she wished for death. Or something that would free her from her misery, besides the over-priced pistachio latte that she promptly spilled as soon as she got out of her car, half of it landing on her already dingy sneakers. She was surrounded by totally put-together, mani-pedi-ed moms in Lululemon or power suits or hand-knit sweaters and $300 jeans, with younger siblings in the latest paisley slings, Labradoodles with monogrammed collars off-leash and milling about, the same women who’d post their freshly washed and fashionably dressed kid holding a “First Day of X Grade” chalked on adorable chalkboard pics on social media. She’d waffled for a good ten minutes over the latte, since it really wasn’t in her budget and almost certainly was contributing to climate change and her chances of developing Type II diabetes, and all for what? Turning her greyish sneakers a bilious shade she associated with Dickensian misers with gout and getting her hands sticky.

“One of those days,” she heard, a man’s voice drifting down from behind her left shoulder. Before Alina could twist around or even cant her neck upward to see who was talking to her, he’d offered her an unopened pack of travel wet-wipes.

“Uh, thanks,” she said, peeling back the sticker closing the wipes and dabbing at her cuff of her cardigan. 

“Sorry about your coffee,” the man said. He’d moved into view, tall and dark-haired with a neatly trimmed beard, a sporty fleece vest layered over what he had to have worn to work, suit pants and a dress shirt still wrinkle-free. “I could easily spare a juice-box—apple-carrot ended up being a bust.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Alina remarked. “Plus, juice isn’t supposed to be good for kids.”

“No?”

Alina shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like you’re giving them absinthe. Or liquid plutonium. But yeah, whole fruit is better. And they can just drink water.”

“You’re the first mom to talk to me at pickup,” he said. “I’m Alex, by the way. Cosima’s dad.”

“Probably because you’re like the only dad to show up,” Alina replied. She didn’t say “and you look like you’re on the cover of Vogue except for the navy fleece” but she thought it. Loudly.

“Their loss. Cosima always has so much to say as soon as she leaves the building, I get a play-by-play,” he said. “I’m out of town enough I don’t like to ask her nanny to get her if I can do it.”

Alina knew she should not say it. It was clear as day, as a bell, as crystal. Hell, she only had to make a leading remark and he’d probably volunteer the info, if his unprompted remarks about being Cosima’s dad and having a nanny were anything to go by. She had, however, been known to make bad decisions. See: Mal, though Eli was the most silvery of silver linings.

“Her mom can’t pick her up?”

Alex, who had every right to freeze up or withdraw or otherwise let her know she had far overstepped in her latte-stained sneakers, shrugged.

“She left me to go find herself. That doesn’t make her terribly available for kindergarten pickup. Or bath-time, beginning ballet, or urgent care visits for ear infections,” he said, not as bitterly as he could have but not as Zen as he’d likely intended. There was a look in his eyes that only another divorced, custodial parent could recognize, a pain made of equal parts anger and humiliation, the need to conceal it from the child who shouldn’t see their other parent as a villain. The fatigue from being the one who was there, who couldn’t think about a weekend away or a night out without worrying about whether there’d be a call from the sitter, a fever, a crying jag over the fear of abandonment and the finite quantity of chicken nuggets allotted to a meal.

“I really thought you were going to end on bake sales,” Alina said. 

“I always get a pass from the class moms on those,” Alex said. “They don’t expect a dad to bake, so if I do, I’m basically a superhero and if I can’t manage to send in homemade banana chocolate chip muffins and send her in with a box of cupcakes from Kaminsky’s, I’m still in their good graces. It’s completely unfair.”

“It is,” Alina said. She couldn’t be that annoyed because he knew it. “I wish I could get away with banana bread muffins. I sent Eli with red velvet cupcakes once and I didn’t use organic red food coloring or organic, locally sourced cream cheese for the frosting and I got the smoky cat-wing stink-eye for the next month. I should have risen above it, but honestly, it sucked.”

Alex laughed. He had a nice laugh, a nice voice, and seemed like a nice man who was a good dad. With her luck, that meant that he was either secretly an immensely powerful, evil mastermind intent on world domination or that she’d never see him again.

“You’re Eli’s mom? Cosima says he’s very smart and good at sharing and he makes the best dinosaur sounds. Somewhere between a growl and a yodel, I gathered after she gave up trying to describe it and demonstrated her impression,” Alex said. “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous, but would you consider a playdate for them? It’s been rough, these past few months, and I’m trying to make sure she still has a normal childhood, whatever that means these days. My mother thinks I spoil her, but she’s very old-fashioned. My mother, not Cosima.”

“My schedule is a little tricky,” Alina said carefully. She would have been more wary if it had been one of the exquisitely put-together mothers asking, more relaxed if one of the nannies had made the proposal. She wasn’t sure what to make of Alex’s offer, except that she’d wanted to say yes right away and that meant she needed to watch herself. The opportunity to even subtly trash-talk her ex was irresistible, however. “Eli’s father is around, but never when I need to organize anything.” 

“We could meet at the park. I can bring enough snacks to last the afternoon, you could come when you’re free,” Alex suggested. He said when and not if, enough hope in his voice and those dark eyes that it sounded like an appeal and not an attempt to control her.

“I wouldn’t want you to go to too much trouble,” she said. She had thought arranging playdates would be easier than actual adult dating, but thus far, she’d been wrong.

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll go to Kaminsky’s and stock up. I’m friends with the owners,” he said. “I should say, I’m friends with Theo and Ivan doesn’t outright loathe me and allows me to eat his pastry. If you are not Theo, that is about as close to friends as you can get with him.”

“Sounds like my friend Gen’s boyfriend David, except substitute updating all my devices so I don’t get hacked or locked out of my bank account for petit fours and apple turnovers,” Alina said.

“That’s what you’d like, apple turnovers?” Alex asked, looking at her with a degree of focus that started out as unnerving and then suddenly felt warmer than appraisal, too thoughtful to be mere flirtation.

“You don’t have to—” Alina began, cut off when the kids were released, much like a swarm of infuriated bees or the Charge of the Light Brigade, Eli running a credible Olympic qualifying sprint with her latte-splattered knees as the finish line, a dark-haired little girl with neatly braided hair arriving slightly more decorously in Alex’s embrace; he’d instantly dropped into an unfairly elegant crouch to receive his daughter, while Alina planted her feet to take on the onslaught of Hurricane Eli. 

“Papa, you have to tell Baba not to eat snails anymore because Ms. Costas got one and it’s got a name and snails are people too,” Cosima announced, small hands planted on her father’s shoulders.

“Its name is Greg,” Eli said, as if the four of them were having a conversation, which Alina now supposed was the actual truth. 

“So, a boy snail,” Alex said.

“No,” Cosima said. “Just Greg.”

“Can we go to the park, Mommy? You said we could. Can we bring meatballs?” Eli asked.

“Not today, buddy,” Alina said, bracing herself for a tantrum or a closing argument worthy of Clarence Darrow or Judge Judy. 

“You said—”

“Your mom said we could have a playdate on Saturday and that is in two days,” Alex interjected. “Cosima and I are going to bring a blanket and some treats. We could include meatballs too.”

“Don’t,” Alina said. Alex’s expression went blank but Cosima and Eli’s both looked mutinous and on the verge of tears. It was amazing Ms. Costas could stand firm regarding quiet time in the face of such unified disapproval. “I just meant, don’t worry about meatballs. Meatballs is Mr. Lanstov’s cat. He’s our neighbor, we help out a little—”

“Yeah, because Mr. Lantsov is a million years old,” Eli said. “He said to call him Niko, but Mommy says that’s not polite because he’s so old.”

“We could bring apple turnovers then,” Alex said. “And maybe some catnip for Meatballs. It would be nice to make everyone happy.”

For @vesperass-anuna and @aloveforjaneausten who were wanting a modern AU for Darklina where our two unhappy characters meet at school picking up their kiddos.