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thearchvillain · 3 years ago

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of horsefairs and maidens. part 2

nikolai lantsov x reader

link to part 1

summary: The moonless, warm summer night has stretched itself across Caryeva and the duke’s estate where a grand dinner is held in the gardens, in honour of both the horse fair and the princes’ visitation. Nikolai has found himself sat across the table from his brother and both the girl with the broken horse and her father, restrained to only occasional glances and the agitation that simmers beneath his skin, amplifying every time he catches her eyes. It’s all he can do to remain in his seat, even as they leave for the evening at Razumov’s, even as the night drags on - at least until the late hours of the night, too late for sensible decisions.

Nikolai smirked at her, as if to alleviate the seriousness of her warning, "Do you take me for anything less than a gentleman? And here I was thinking I had you charmed Irina, you break my heart. We were just talking."

But Irina didn't look concerned, only amusement lined her features as she sipped her drink, and a bit of motherly sympathy, "Oh my dear prince, you have us all smitten, but it's not her I'm worried about.", she twisted in her seat, to call for a waiter, and said over her shoulder, "And hasn't your mother taught you - nothing's quite as dangerous as talking to a girl like her."

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of alcohol

A/N: well, apparently, this will not be a two parter... i’d claim i was shocked if i wasn’t used to myself going overboard the moment i get hooked on writing the characters ._. i’ve got part 3 down on the paper already (or a word document, but paper sounds more romantic) and it’s 100% focused on their interaction. in this one i really wanted to focus on building up the tension so there’s a lot of Nikolai’s thoughts and frustrations in here, glances cast and warnings given, the whole shebang i really hope you like it, even if it’s kinda lacking in direct interaction for the sake of angst, and once again i want to thank everyone who commented and was so sweet and kind i had no other choice than to rush back excitedly and write my heart out <3 you’re the best!

The dinner was an intricate display of wealth, as grand and carefully arranged as the jewels of a vain woman. One without an ounce of style anyway. The long tables were laden with complicated food, even the ones away from the main table that was orbited by the wealthy, to show off the generosity of the host. He'd even heard his brother say, as a compliment no less, that it seemed even the dogs here ate well. Clearly, he'd wanted to say, since you're here with your plate filled to the brim, brother.

Now the porcelain plate sat before him, the food half-eaten and the glass of finest red wine all finished, as he listened to the war stories offered up to him by an old man with a hefty silver-streaked beard and heftier rosy cheeks, coloured by what must have been a fourth glass of wine. Nikolai would pop into the conversation here and there, if only to show he was paying attention, though he knew well enough that people never really wanted to listen, only to be heard.

"Tell me about your daughter - Alyona, is it?"

The man reeled for a moment, his moustache shifting as he tried to remain dignified while choking on a sip of wine, as dignified as a startled walrus anyway. "You know of my daughter, your highness? Irina--", he turned to his wife at this, near breathless, "Did you hear that? He asked about Alyona!"

The old lady had the common sense not to egg him on too much, only smile and nod as if she knew matching his excitement would mean a definitive death by boredom for Nikolai. And he was thankful for that.

But to be fair, Nikolai hadn't really known of Alyona, only heard her name from the girl with the broken horse when she passed by him in between meal courses, stopping only to cast a glance towards the old general and say, "Ask him about his daughter, Alyona - Saints forbid you ever require it, but he'll raise an entire army for you just for that little bit of kindness. He's very fond of her."

"Is she pretty?", he didn't want to seem like a liar if that was what he complimented the daughter on instead of her smarts, or talent for music.

The girl had raised an eyebrow, then looked back at him, "Does it matter? Fathers like him always think their girls are the prettiest. They're not wrong."

He'd wanted to stop her then, to ask her about the general's wife, or his dog, or anything really - and it would've been as easy as reaching out to take her wrist in his hand, had she not slipped back into the crowd and disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared by his side.

Now he took his glass of wine, filled once again by one of the waiters, and held that instead, his eyes wandering across the table to where his brother sat, red-cheeked and rowdy. She was sat next to him, straight-backed and so still Nikolai thought she might have been a vision or a sculpture wrought in alabaster had the light evening wind not stirred the sheer silk of her gown and made it all come alive. It fell in rich waves off her shoulders, plentiful, but not plentiful enough to hide the gentle slope of her neck where it dipped to her chest, interrupted only by a fine necklace of tiny emeralds, or the wrists that glided through the motions as she picked at the food.

The wine had made him too unwilling to look away, and he'd nearly caught his brother's eyes over the rim of his glass, so now he had to drag his gaze back to the general, who was near breathless talking about Alyona's adventures with the pony he bought for her.

"...and I told Irina, no man of sound mind would let his little girl on that beast."

The beast being a pony, Nikolai supposed.

"Did you think she would just pet it? It's not a cat.", this was the wife, sounding tired in a way only a woman who'd heard this story a million times and still thought it stupid, could.

"You should've at least let me call Orlov's girl, I swear that creature was born on the damn horse! That form! We could've used her in the cavalry!"

"That poor thing's got enough on her mind with a father like that, and for Saint's sake stop recruiting people at dinner parties."

This time Nikolai interrupted, however riveting this exchange was, "The Orlov's girl?"

Irina cast him a surprised glance, "Yes, that pretty thing with your highness' brother? I thought you met her."

Now Nikolai had an actual excuse to look her away, and he wasn't about to throw it away. This time, she had her hands folded in her lap and Vasily at her ear speaking something delightfully stupid, no doubt. Nikolai watched her drag her teeth across her lower lip, still so mesmerized by the way it popped back into place that he was near startled when her eyes slipped straight to him.

She did not smile. But maybe that was for the better because even from across the table he could see the muscles in her cheek twitch, as if she was dragging the corners of her lips down with the sheer force of will, not quite as restrained as she'd hoped to be. He realised she was trying not to smile, and somehow that made his mind reel more than any unbridled grin a girl at this table could've offered him. She downcast her eyes, lashes brushing against her cheek as she busied herself with the bracelet on her wrist, and Nikolai sipped his wine to drive away the urge to keep staring, to keep trying to provoke her until she could not hold that smirk back.

But then Vasily brushed the stray lock of her hair back and her features stilled as if all that pertness had been drained from them instantly, a muscle played in her jaw before she lifted her eyes and smiled prettily. Not at Nikolai, though. He saw an older man sitting to her left tap her hand like one would when a dog's performed a trick well, and Nikolai felt his muscles tense. Vasily beamed, Nikolai gripped his glass, her father looked at her like she was his golden ticket.

"A vile man.", Irina said over her glass.

Nikolai hadn't noticed, but the general was now busy entertaining the waiter with questions about the wine, and only his wife was fully present, the lines of her face arranged into a look of dignified distaste. She was speaking to Nikolai.

"Count Orlov?"

"He treats that poor girl like property.", her upper lip curled, "And unfortunately the Saints haven't given her a bad temper, so she listens."

Nikolai leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine as he followed Irina's gaze to his brother, drunk on wine and forced smiles from a pretty girl, "I don't think she's as helpless as you paint it."

"Oh, she's not. She's playing them both like a fiddle. I'm just saying, at her age, I would've wreaked havoc by that point.", she shrugged, "I'm not a subtle woman, you see."

"Ha!", the general was joining the conversation once again, now that he'd gotten his wine, "Listen to what she tells you! She's a wild animal, that one!"

"Darling. Not in front of a prince."

"What?", to his credit, he did look genuinely confused, "His highness doesn't mind, do you? I'm just saying my wife's always been a force of nature, no shame in that! She's a scary woman, it's a good thing to have by your side."

Nikolai did not, indeed, mind at all. He was just trying not to choke on the wine as laughter bubbled up from his chest, especially when Irina raised an eyebrow at her husband, and he could see her attempting not to grin at that strange assemble of compliments. Their bickering was felt like a light summer breeze, a welcome reprieve from the tension he could feel simmering in the air, across the table.

"It's the wine.", she turned her gaze to Nikolai, still smirking, "Don't mind him."

"Ha! And what explanation do you have for that sharp tongue?"

"I married an idiot and was forced to evolve because of it."

"Please, when I first mustered up the courage to ask her for a dance--", this was directed at Nikolai as the large man shifted in his seat, "And mind you, I've been less afraid for my life on the battlefield than in front of that woman! You know what she told me? She told me to break a leg and see if that helps with my coordination.", he leaned to the side to cast his wife a look over Nikolai, "You've always had that sharp tongue on you, my love."

Nikolai raised an eyebrow at her, "Was he that bad?"

Beaming because he didn't immediately sympathise with her husband, Irina shrugged in feigned disdain, "No, he was quite handsome and good on the floor, still is. You just can't let them forget how lucky they are to even have you looking in their direction."

"What can I say, my girl knows her business! I fell for it, hook, line and sinker."

Nikolai was the one charmed, for once, but his eyes still strayed to the other side of the table, even as the old couple continued lovingly bickering beside him. Vasily was up and about, and the girl and her father were following close behind, the valet running around guiding them towards a carriage that was waiting on the other side of the fence.

"Where are they going?", he schooled his voice into one of mild disinterest, fit of a prince not particularly invested in his brother's dalliances. Beneath it all though, he felt dangerous, like he was being suspended on the edge of getting up and following - his brother was a nasty, distasteful creature on good days, and this wasn't even one of those.

"Mister Razumov's.", Irina answered, because the general was now waving wildly demanding another piece of those little lemon cakes, "New money. Wild parties. Wilder vices. Gambling and alcohol are galore. They'll come to invite you too."

He did not doubt that - even his brother's title had nothing on Nikolai's charm or the exclusivity of having him there on the rare occasion that he was home instead of on the front. It still did little to placate him as he watched them climb into the carriage, his brother's slimy hand holding hers as he helped up the steps, her hair tossed wildly across her bare back as she turned one last time to cast a glance Nikolai's way. He held her eyes for a moment, both their faces still as stone, then watched her disappear behind carriage's curtains as he sipped his wine, wondering wildly if he should even go.

What good would it do? Her father would be there, watching, and there was no money to be made with a prince that had an interest only in books and weapons, no matter how charming he was. He cleared his throat and finished the glass. He'd just get her in trouble - it wasn't like Nikolai himself was particularly known as a voice of reason, he preferred to stick to an assemble of charming qualities, like ill-advised impulses and regret.

"You could stay, you know?", this was Irina again, sounding less like a wild animal her husband had described, and more like a mother. At least what Nikolai imagined mothers sounded like. Sympathetic.

"Sorry?"

"Do you think I'll get this big boulder to move and go home anytime soon?", she nodded towards her husband, then smiled, "Some of us stay here instead of going to Razumov's, there's music and food and wine, good company too. If your highness hasn't been scared away by our marital displays."

"Please, call me Nikolai.", his usual glib smirk had slipped back onto his lips, as easy as a mask, "And no, I must admit, I'm quite charmed by the displays. Tell me, Irina, where does one get one of those?"

She didn't look quite convinced, but she smiled still, "You stumble upon it, by Saint's will, and then you can't look away. The lucky ones, anyway.", she cleared her throat, "Stay, it would be quite the honour."

"All mine. Your husband's a great general. And the royalty never gets enough servings from sharp tongues anyway."

"My husband's a fool.”, she shrugged lightly, “But I make up for it in the charms department."

"I heard that woman!", there was no ire in general’s voice, and it was merely a passing comment as he waved at the poor waiter again, "Would one of you penguins like to explain why the prince's glass is empty?"

Nikolai hadn't wondered about that, but now that it was brought up he felt like another glass and a distinct lack of his brother might be of help, "Why do you assume I won't go?"

"Because you've been staring at that girl all night."

Nikolai's head snapped from the waiter back to Irina, and he caught the traces of a grin in the corners of her lips as she sipped her wine. Had he been that obvious? He didn't think so, but the wine and conversation might have made him sloppy - it was one thing to avoid provoking Vasily into being even creepier due to jealousy, another to avoid someone like Irina.

"Don't be so shocked young prince, that big buffoon used to look at me like that, once. I'd spot it anywhere, like a good game in the forest. She could barely stop smirking. It's quite painful, you know, not to smile when you catch someone looking at you like that. I must admit, she’s quite adept."

Nikolai considered telling her that big buffoon certainly still did look at her like that, but he was assuming she already knew that. She didn't look like a woman who'd settle for anything less. "Well, to be fair, I've been told I am quite dashing. She can't really be blamed."

This made her laugh, in the way experienced older people do when they're charmed by some youngling's naivete, "Tell her that and see what comes back at you."

"I've already tried, it wasn't pretty."

Irina leaned in, conspirational, "That's why it's fun. My husband told you already. Hook, line and sinker. The girl knows how it's done.", then she leaned back, more serious, "It's why I'd stay away if I were you. We have plenty of food, wine and girls for you here. You're all the rage."

***

The night dragged on, or perhaps dragged wasn't exactly the right word. The general had a way of livening up the place even as the people cleared, some to go to Razumov's, others to go to sleep in their beds. The brave ones that stayed - and there were quite a few after he did some rounds about the tables - were unable to leave because he'd managed to somehow get more food, more alcohol and more musicians, and no one of sound mind would leave this wild story he'd spun around them. They laughed and spoke of war and danced under the clear night sky, the air tinted with the scent of burning wood and meat and laughter.

Nikolai had nearly forgotten, how much heart there was in nights like these, how much he loved the people and the songs and this country. He himself had danced and laughed and drank, and was now sitting on a chair rocking himself precariously on two of its legs, wrapped in that safety blanket of stupor that came with late hours of the night, or early hours of the morning, watching the general and his wife swirl in front of the musicians.

He wondered how they were still up and going, much less dancing, though he could guess that alcohol, and a lot of it, had something to do with it. And alcohol, and a lot of it, had something to do with no one noticing a figure sitting upright on a horse somewhere out behind the fence, in the deep darkness of a moonless night. The silks shifted around the figure, carried by the breeze, like something out of Tolya's stories of spectres and hallucinations haunting the fallen battlefields. Nikolai thought wildly that there must be one about a ghost-girl on a horse, haunting the minds of men in moonless nights, with silks made out of moonlight and cruel elegance draped across her shoulders. Or something like that.

Nikolai let his chair hit the ground and was up before the girl who'd been talking to him had even managed to look confused by his sudden change in mien. He drained his glass before putting it down on the table with a bit too much force and slid through the crowd that had gathered by the band.

Tolya’s story would have probably been meant as a warning to young men not to head towards those strange apparitions, or something equally ominous, but Nikolai never put much stock in the stories anyway, especially not ones made up by his drunken mind as he followed after her into the darkness. She looked improbable, sitting tall on that horse waiting for him, but not impossible. And that was good enough for him.

tags: @mentally-in-northern-italy

please feel free to comment or hit me up in the DMs (even if you just want to talk because honey i’m THERE for it) if you’d like to be tagged when the next part comes out!

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #grishaverse #shadow and bone #not me already jumping onto editing part 3 #tbh nikolai drives me insane every time i write him

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thebadgerclan · 3 years ago

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The Dynasty’s Heir: Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: A celebration is in order...

2 chapters in one day bc I can't stop myself 😂

In a matter of two days, Zoya’s nobles, along with Nikolai and Genya, had put together an amazing celebration for her and her child. The ballroom was draped in Ravkan blue and gold, food and drink enough for the entire court twice over. The only catch was that her courtiers had no idea why this party was being thrown, only that “Her Most Royal Majesty, Queen Zoya Nazyalensky and His Most Royal Highness, Prince Consort Nikolai Lantsov request the honor of your presence at a celebration,” as the invitations read.

Messengers had been dispatched two days ago, carrying barrels of kvas, blini, cakes, pies, potato dumplings, venison, and more delicacies, as well as more practical things like grain, flour, rations, and the like. All to celebrate the news of a royal heir. Such messengers would be dispatched upon the birth of the baby as well, Zoya would make sure of that. Anya finished lacing Zoya’s gown, pale pink silk, a ball gown skirt and a swooping neckline, the capped sleeves gracing her shoulders. The bodice was embroidered with gold thread that shimmered in the light. Such gowns would soon be a thing of the past, and Zoya smiled at the notion.

“Look at you,” Nikolai said, taking his wife’s hands in his. “You’re so beautiful, Zoyachka.” “Thank you, Kolya,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush. He helped pin her tiara, shimmering diamonds, into her hair, clasping her necklace around her neck. “Shall we, mother of my child?” Zoya smiled as she took his offered arm, walking down to the ballroom. A guard announced their arrival, and they entered, their court bowing and curtseying before them.

Nikolai helped Zoya onto the dais, and while she didn’t need it yet, he was already feeling very protective over her. She swore her husband hadn’t stopped smiling since she told him. Every night, Nikolai talked to the baby, telling them anything and everything that came to mind. “You know they can’t hear you yet,” Zoya told him, interrupting Nikolai’s story of the time he broke a Fjerdan blockade. “They’re too little.” Nikolai had retorted that he didn’t care. “I’m going to talk to our child every single day, so you’d best get used to it, love.”

The court filled in around the Queen and Prince, and Zoya smiled. “Thank you all for attending tonight,” she said, fighting the urge to cradle her belly until after she announced her pregnancy. “Tonight is a joyous occasion. My husband and I are overjoyed to tell you all that I am pregnant.” Gasps went up, and Zoya went on. “We are expecting a child, and we are positively thrilled. By Healer Alyona’s estimate, the future King or Queen will arrive sometime around the feast of Sankta Anastasia, and I for one, am counting the days until I meet my child.”

Nikolai could no longer hold back, and he wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist, his other hand resting on her stomach. “Our child will continue our legacy and carry Ravka to greatness. So tonight, we celebrate, and I raise a toast to our Prince or Princess, and to Queen Zoya, who never ceases to amaze me.” The court raised their glasses and toasted Zoya’s name as well as their child’s, and Zoya beamed, happily accepting Nikolai’s kisses.

The next hour consisted of nobles and courtiers offering their congratulations and well wishes to their Queen. Everyone was beyond happy for Zoya and Nikolai. Nikolai was entertaining his own group of nobles, and while he thanked them and happily received their advice, his eyes were on his wife; more specifically, her stomach. Eventually, when he could no longer bear it, he joined her, holding her close to his side. “Moya tsaritsa,” Valentina approached, an envelope in hand. “This just arrived for you and His Highness.”

“Thank you, Valentina.” Zoya took the letter and broke the seal, the words on the page bringing tears to her eyes. “What is it?” Nikolai asked, and she handed him the letter. Zoya and Nikolai, it read. Congratulations! We’re so happy for you! Mal and I were making bets as to when you’d decide to have a kid, and now he owes me a month’s worth of back massages. After everything we’ve been through, I’m so glad that you’re happy, and this child will make you happier than you’ve ever imagined. If you ever need a sitter, Mal and I would be more than happy to watch the little Prince or Princess. We’re always here if you need us. Lots of love, -Alina.

“We do not deserve friends like them.” “No, we don’t,” she agreed, wiping a tear from her cheek. Nikolai pocketed the letter and pressed a kiss to her temple. One of Nikolai’s advisors approached and whispered something in his ear that made him smile. “What was that?” Zoya asked, and Nikolai looped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Celebrations are breaking out throughout the country,” he said. “Our people are overjoyed at the news of an heir.”

“Not nearly as overjoyed as we are,” Zoya said, and Nikolai laughed. “I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to be as excited for our child as we are.” “Don’t you mean ‘improbable’?” Nikolai shook his head. “No. This time, and only this time, I mean ‘impossible’.” And Nikolai kissed her, his lips soft and gentle against hers. She didn’t care that her entire court was here, she didn’t care if anyone said anything; tonight, Zoya was happy, and if she wanted to kiss her husband, then she would.

The musicians began playing, and Nikolai broke the kiss. “Might I have this dance, my darling, perfect, beautiful wife?” Zoya smiled as she took his hand. “You may, my handsome, cunning husband.” They took to the floor, their eyes locked on each other’s as they danced. After a while, some courtiers joined in the dance, but Zoya only had eyes for Nikolai, and he only had eyes for her. As they spun about the room, Zoya’s mind was thick with images of their child: swaddled in her arms, being cooed at by her father, learning to walk, learning to summon–if she inherited her mother’s powers–the thoughts brought tears to her eyes and lightness to her heart.

“What’s on your mind, Zoyachka?” Nikolai asked as the dance ended and he led her back to their thrones. “Our child,” she said, resting a hand on her belly. “I love them so much already. I’ve known they’re real for two days, and I would die for them.” “Let’s not go that far just yet, my love,” Nikolai said. “But I understand. I love them more than I ever thought I could love anyone else.” “Even me?” Zoya teased, and Nikolai lifted their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “Let me rephrase, anyone except you, my darling.” “Much better.” The party lasted well into the night, but Zoya and Nikolai retired early for, after reassurances from Healer Alyona that it was indeed safe to do so, a celebration of their own.

Across Ravka, in every town and village, toasts were given and prayers were said, thanking the Saints for the royal heir, for the health and safety of Queen Zoya, and that her child would lead their country, as their parents had, to greatness. Word spread like Inferni fire about the royal baby, and within a week, everyone east of the True Sea knew, with those across finding out soon after. Congratulations from every corner of the world arrived at the Grand Palace, dignitaries expressing their joy at the news. But their joy was miniscule to that of Zoya and Nikolai, who after so much hardship, the future was bright.

#zoyalai #nikolai x zoya #zoya nazyalensky x nikolai lantsov #zoya x nikolai #shadow and bone fanfiction #the dynasty's heir

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