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moonlightgrisha · 2 years ago

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How to lose a secret

Ch. 5 Life as you know is coming to and end, as your secret is dangerously close to be revealed for good. [Masterlist] Previous - Next

As soon as you get off your horse, you know something is wrong.

Guards are waiting for you at the stable, which is definitely odd.

"How can I help you?" you ask politely, forcing yourself to smile.

"You must follow us", they answer. "The King and Queen require your presence at once".

Something is definitely wrong. "Just... let me stop by my rooms. I can't meet the King and Queen in this state".

You're dusty and sweaty for the ride, but the truth is that you are trying to buy some time. While you get cleaned, and the guards are waiting outside your door, you think and think, but your mind seems to have stopped working. You are still overwhelmed with what happened on the hill, but you didn't expect guards to come after you so soon. Also, they are First Army soldiers. Is the Darkling already here? Has he sold you out, yet?

You need to calm down.

So, you dress for battle. You put on your best garment. You braid your hair tightly.

Then you present yourself to the guards, and they lead you to the royal quarters, not so far away from your own. They shove you in, unannounced, and you almost stumble on your way in.

You disguise your loss of balance with a pretty curtsy, just as you should, but when you rise, your see the Darkling looking back at you.

"What is he doing here?" You cannot help yourself. He's right there, next to the King and Queen, in front of you. What you really mean is, "you traitor", but he doesn't even flinch. He just stares at you, emotionless, and that makes you so angry. It almost hurts, a little. But maybe that hard face means that he has nothing to do with all of this.

"You forget your manners", the Queen says. Of course.

"Forgive me, your Majesty". You look down and say nothing more, but you clench your fists, hard.

"The General has been summoned to help with this matter". As King Piotr speaks, you immediately realize that the matter is you.

The Queen continues. "We heard rumors."

You feel your heart missing a beat. "What rumors, your Majesty?"

"About you, cousin. Stories were collected from that village in the moorland, where your mother insists on living".

"You... investigated on me?"

"Just a precaution. You lived quite a retired life, cousin. I needed to know something more about you, before making any matches"

You know what's coming, but you can't stop it, and you wait there, listening. Your eyes shift to the side and you catch a glimpse of the Darkling. He's there, listening, pretending he's not that interested, once more. But he drinks on every word.

"Some people swear you spent almost every night in the woods".

You wonder how you'll get away with it, this time. You feel trapped.

"You don't deny it?". The Queen insists, since you say nothing.

"I'm quite the sleepwalker, moya tsaritsa", you answer. Half a truth, as always, the wisest choice, but maybe not now.

"This is not simple sleepwalking". The King sounds enraged, and you wince. "There are tales of strange things happening in those woods. Flashes. White lights. Some people told they saw your skin glistening."

All those years, you never realized you were spied on, or at least that somebody had seen you. You had been a naive little girl, playing with your secret. Tears are burning in your throat, but you swallow them. You are not giving any of them this satisfaction.

"Were you tested, as a child?" the King asks.

"Like everybody", you whisper, and the royal couple should know well enough what that means. Royal children were rarely tested. It was all a farce. Any Grisha in the royal family would have been quite difficult to handle, if not an embarassment, so their power were suppressed, or kept hidden. And there you were.

You don't know if the Darkling is aware of that, but he places a claw-shaped ring on his right thumb, then takes a steps towards you.

"You arm, please".

You suddenly realize that he's been keeping your secret. He told nothing to the tsar and he's not telling it now. He could easily reveal the truth, it would be a matter of seconds anyway.

But he's not betraying you.

The fact that he places his hand on your sleeve confirms it. He knows what happens, when he touches your skin.

You look at each other in the eye, while he pierces your forearm with his ring, and you don't stop looking, not even when a glistening, ethereal white light emerges from the wound. It's a melancholy light, the one that slips on your bedpost when you lie awake while the whole world drifts away in slumber. There is a long pause before the King asks: "Is that it? Is she the Sun Summoner?"

"No". The Darkling replies. He's still looking at you. He seems he'll never stop looking. "It's not the Sun".

You finally speak. "It's the Moon".

He breaks the spell, lifting the ring from your arm, but he doesn't really let go. Not yet. His hand lingers on you skin for a moment, while he gives you the faintest smile.

You should be desperate, but somehow you feel relieved. There's a freedom that comes with truth, even with the hardest one. Even if it means sacrificing everything that you were before.

The King has no time for sentimentality. "So? Can we use her?"

"Excuse me!?" You cannot believe your ears. The Darkling is still holding you and you abruptly lower your arm, breaking any connection with him that was left. "Use me for what?!"

The King ignores you. "Will she tear down the Fold, or not?"

You are in disbelief. There are a million answers you can think of, and not even a polite one. The Darkling too is about to speak, with a grave look on his face and probably a rehearsed reply. But the Queen precedes both of you.

"Patience, my dear husband" She manages to gracefully smile, somehow. "She is family. This must be handled with... discretion".

"Yes. It is necessary". The King looks at you like a strange creature. "The fact that you hid this power from us, under our own roof, it's more than a lack of respect. This is high treason. It is unacceptable".

You are quite sure they won't execute you, if you are so useful as you seem to be, but still a mixture of fear and rage takes over your mind. It is too late, now, for pleasantries, and you just snap.

"This... power, it is mine to give" you roar. "It is not a weapon, nor a tool, and it is not yours! And if you want it, you could have asked nicely, moy tsar".

"How DARE you-"

Just then the Darkling intervenes.

"She will move to the Little Palace at once. It's the safest place for her, and discretion is guaranteed".

You turn to him, eyes wide. "I'm just over here, thank you for asking".

"Oh, no one is asking you, cousin". The Queen articulates her words like you were a small child. "You kept a dangerous secret, and we are not going to investigate it further, as it turns out to be quite precious to our country. And you want what's best for the country, don't you, dove?"

"Naturally", you reply, grudgingly.

"You will be doing as you're told", the King concludes. "We will ask for weekly reports on this matter". That word, again. That's what you are.

The General bows his head. "That will be done, moy tsar".

The King gives you a last glance, then says: "You are dismissed".

You follow the General outside. There's no one else with you, and you expect him to turn and talk, maybe to gloat for entrapping you at last. Instead he walks in silence.

You break the silence first. "Did you tell them?" You want to hear from him.

"I told them nothing", he replies. "It appears it was just good timing. Or bad timing, as you wish".

"You must be pleased", you mutter.

"And why should I be?" He finally stops and turns to you. "Your own family didn't hesitate to sell you to me. Because that's what we are, to them: weapons. Precious commodities, as long as they have a use for us. I'll never be pleased to witness such trade".

That was unexpected. His words are overwhelming, and tears come back in your throat. By the time you have swallowed them down, he has started walking again.

"I'm not a fighter", you say, following him.

He glances over his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"I'm no soldier and I'll never be".

"You don't need to be a soldier".

He keeps leading the way, but you hate to stay behind. So you speed up, until the two of you walk side by side.

As he turns your head to you, you whisper: "Better get used to it."

You keep your eyes in front of you, and don't see his bright smile.

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amiramorozova · 1 year ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ignyxdaughter · 2 years ago

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𝐗𝐈𝐗 - 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍

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

MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

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

words: 2873

warnings: mentions of witch/grisha hunt

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

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

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

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

"The Supernaturals too."

"Ravka will be no more safe haven."

"No, it won't."

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

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

"I won't repeat myself, Katherine."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So they are willing to fight for change?"

She nods. "With all of their strength."

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

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

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

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

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

"That's impossible."

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

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

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

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

"A spy? Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The spoiled French.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Katherine frowns. "What have I done?"

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

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

"You let yourself be seen by Alina!"

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

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

Shit.

"I... I, ehm—"

"Damn it, Katherine!"

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

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

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

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

"Well, welcome to my life.”

"It sucks."

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

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

"About?"

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

"That is wonderful news!"

"Yeah, but not for you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Michelle, who did you call?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You didn't."

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

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

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

"Oh, Michelle!"

"—Soliel's coming to Ravka."

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

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hottpinkpenguin · 2 years ago

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The Sun Blade - Darkling X OC

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

#darkling #darkling x oc #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x oc #darkling imagine #aleksander morozova imagine #general kirigan #general kirigan x oc #general kirigan imagine #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine #shadow and bone imagine

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myshadowsandmybones · 2 years ago

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I am going to lose it if the writers of the series are going to make the Darkling lose his mind for no reason aka last season Daenerys. He's the villan. Everybody gets that. I see no need in adding even more abusive characteristics to him or to bastardise the original needlessly. The book version does more than enough.

Part of the Darkling's charm is that despite him being the "bad guy", he is still likeable and at rare times relatable. Which, in my opinion, serves to prove the point of him being a manipulative predator even more than any outward expression of the fact (physical violence for example).

#general kirigan #the darkling #alina x darkling #zoya nazyalensky #shadow and bone #alina starkov #mal oretsev #archie renaux #ben barnes #aleksander morozova #jessie mei li #netflix #netflix shadow and bone #darkling x oc #alina starkov x the darkling #darkling shadow and bone #sankta alina

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teaenthusiast65 · 2 years ago

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Shadow and Bone Fanfic Idea

Alright Fam, hear me out.

The Darkling falling in love with a living amplifier...?

Or a fic about Tolya and an original character...?

Or Both.

Let me know via notes/comments/DM

--Tea

P.S Hell, even a Lewis Tan or Ben Barnes fic really!

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone au #fanfiction #fanfic #tolya and tamar #tolya #tolya yul bataar #the darkling #general kirigan #tolya x oc #darkling x oc #ben barnes #lewis tan #real person fanfiction #tolya fanfic #darklina fanfic #lewis tan fanfiction #ben barnes fanfiction

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lostinthemind27 · 2 years ago

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“What are you?”

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Grisha!OC

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

Word Count: 2490

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drüsje,” one of them spits at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old are you?”

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

“That wasn’t an answer.”

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

“Who’s giving the vague answers now?”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Because you are different.”

“I’m really not.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And what will you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

#aleksander morozova x oc #aleksander morovoza #aleksander morozova fanfiction #darkling x oc #darkling #darkling fanfiction #general kirigan x oc #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #grishaverse #ben barnes

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keepsdeathhiscourt · 6 months ago

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Pairing: Aleksander Moroza x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

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

Series Masterlist

Read on A03

Warnings: Violence, Language

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

Chapter 4: The Rock and the Hard Place

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ivan huffed in agreement, the sound low and thoughtful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#darkling x OC #the darkling x ofc #aleksander morozova x oc #aleksander morozova x ofc #grishaverse fic #darkling fic #aleksander morozova fic #general kirigan x oc #general kirigan x ofc

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elizabethblood9 · 21 days ago

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Me with Aleksander's versions of @call-sign-shark and @kasagia 🧎🏻‍♀️

#aleksander kirigan #aleksander morozova x oc #aleksander morozova x y/n #ben barnes #darkling x oc #aleksander morozova x reader #darkling smut #general kirigan #the darkling #the darkling x reader

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call-sign-shark · 3 months ago

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Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: A great healer, a terrifying heartrender, you are both the disease and the cure. With such a reputation, living on the run quickly becomes necessary for survival. When General Kirigan, ruler of the Shadow Fold, sets his eyes on you, he doesn't see just a weapon, but the key to his dark ambitions. And, most importantly, the echo to his shadows.

Words: 2.5k

TW: Mention of prostitution, child SA and murder, reader is physically described.

Part I - Keep Moving, Little Girl

Masterlist || Next

The Little Palace was veiled in an eerie calm, which wasn’t very usual for a place that crowded by both young promising Grishas and renowned, experienced ones. The luxurious wall, bathed in the golden light of dying embers, gave an almost supernatural aesthetic to the place. General Aleksander Kirigan sat at his desk, his fingers steepled and his black eyes fixed on the fragile flicker of a single candle before him. The little flame danced, its body undulating as it struggled to keep the surrounding darkness away from the little bubble of warm light it created. The room was silent, save for the crackle of the hearth a bit further, and yet, despite this silence, the general’s mind was far from quiet.

He had heard the rumors countless times over the past few months – it had started with nothing more than vague accounts of a few people found dead in a mysterious and gruesome way, but the narrative slowly turned into a monstrous witch, her hair as white as frost, leaving death and blood in her wake. At first, he dismissed them. Ravka was rife with tales of rogue Grisha, exaggerated to feed the fears of peasants and nobles alike. A chimera created by children to tell scary stories, or skillfully crafted clichés to create a deep-ingrained fear of Grisha by politics. But the more he ignored them, the more the whispers persisted: they spread like wildfire and grew darker with each retelling. The most recent account had given him a pause though: a Heartrender, they claimed, whose power was unlike anything ever seen. From what has been reported, the creature could control men as if they were marionettes, forcing them to turn on each other in a grotesque display of violence. One so-called survivor claimed that, with only a few movements of her hands, he saw his colleague forced to turn the barrel of his gun to his temples and shoot himself a bullet right through his brain. Aleksander had raised a brow at the statement:

Such abilities should not exist. Not without the cursed used of Jurda Parem.

Aleksander’s jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair. If the rumors were true, this woman was no ordinary Grisha. She was a weapon – an unrefined, dangerous force that needed to be claimed before it destroyed itself or got destroyed. And if she truly possessed the kind of power described, that little white-haired heartrender could be either a great asset to his cause or an uncontrollable threat that needed to be neutralized. Or rather, a problem that needed to be resolved.

The shadows around him stirred, as if sensing his thoughts, their tendrils coiling in anticipation. He, who was often too absorbed by his own plans, surprised himself when he realized that his mind raced through the topic of that wild sorceress, weighing risks and rewards, battling between curiosity and schemes. However, one thing had become certain: he could no longer ignore the whispers. He had to find her. Kirigan rose from his seat, the folds of his pitch black kefta sweeping behind him as he crossed the room with hastened steps. He opened the door to find Ivan, who was waiting just outside, his stoic expression as adamant as ever.

“I need you to gather a small team,” The general said without preamble nor explanation. His voice was long and commanding, but Ivan could sense that he also seemed lost in his thoughts, “We’re leaving at first light.”

The tall Corporalki tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly – the only other expression he had in his palette. “May I ask for what purpose, General?”

“There’s a woman,” Kirigan replied, his tone laced with intrigue but also something darker Ivan couldn’t really pinpoint. “A Heartrender whose power surpasses anything we’ve encountered… At least if the stories told are true.” He paused, his lips curling into a faint and slightly calculating smile, “I must say that these latest accounts intrigued me. If she is what they say she is, she could change everything.”

“And if she’s not?” Ivan asked, his skepticism carefully measured. As much as he trusted General Kirigan, the tall Ravkan man with a stern face couldn’t help doubting. He was a man of facts – not of silly rumors.

Aleksander’s eyes darkened, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting in their dizzying depths. Eyes so black that no one could distinguish the pupil from the iris, “Then we’ll ensure the stories end with us.” He turned back toward his desk without additional explanations, his mind already plotting the route, the approach, and the questions he would ask her. Hair white as the purest snow, eyes as frozen as the deadliest ice desert…There was a part of him that wondered if she even existed, if this was nothing more than another ghost tale spun by frightened villagers. But another part – the darker, sicker and more desperate part – felt the faint pull of something undeniable. He wanted her to be real.

He needed her to be real.

In the back of his mind, General Aleksander Kirigan thought he could almost hear her, like a faint hum carried on the wind. The monster they spoke of wasn’t just some distant threat. She was out there waiting, somewhere in the Ravkan snow, all alone and vulnerable – and she didn’t even know she already belonged to him.

Your shrill scream resounded in the bedroom, bathed in the soft and muted light of Ravkan mornings. Confused, your chest heaved as though you had run for miles even though you had just woken up. Your body was damp, covered in a thin layer of sweat, some locks of hair sticking to your temples.

If there was one thing that plagued your dreams, turning them into terrific nightmares, it was that smell.

The Menagerie smelled of desperation, as Tante Heleen liked to call it. Or rather the awful combination of fun fair treats, sweat, and a dash of discreet, but still noticeable, fragrances of blood. It clung to the air just like the cheap perfume the girls were forced to wear, a sickly-sweet mask that tried hard to hide the rot that lay beneath. One full year had passed since you had escaped from this hellish place and yet, the impression this foul smell was still clinging to your skin and hair, no matter how roughly you washed or how scorching-hot the showers you took were, remained. You had known it your entire life, ever since you were left at its gate as a child. As much as you tried, you couldn’t forget the way your tiny and cold hands tightened their grip around Tante Heleen’s skirt as the woman had dragged you inside, her soft voice cooing false kindness. Like a butcher leading a cattle through the death-smelling corridors of a slaughterhouse.

“You’ll grow into something beautiful,” Heleen had said, glancing at your long white hair while your own eyes surveyed the golden bars at the windows, though you were too young to understand why they were there as well as the malice behind the brothel Madam’s words, “A perfect White Tiger, ma petite chérie.” But the cruel truth was that beauty didn’t save anyone in the Menagerie. It only made you more of a prize to be shown off, sold to the highest bidder and then both used and abused. Beauty was nothing but a poison, a weapon Heleen turned against its bearer in this place made of gilded cages and broken spirits.

By your pre-teens, you had made quite a reputation: despite growing up in this foul nightmare, Tante Heleen never managed to break you entirely. Mastering the art of silence and deadly stares, your unyielding demeanor made you a source of fascination. The bruises on your porcelain skin faded away as quickly as the tears you refused to shed, never succumbing to the horrors clients would make you go through. The same clients who were willing to pay obscene sums not just to touch you but to try and tame you. The men who came for you were often the ones who wanted to conquer that defiance. The ones who wanted to make you scream. Still, you never gave them satisfaction. Worse, they often left more bruised than you because you did fight like a tigress. Even if they ended up overcoming you, your ice-cold eyes would bore into them, frozen and sharp, making even the most depraved feel as though they were the ones who were soiled. No, it wasn’t your beauty alone that drew attention; it was the air around you, heavy with something dangerous.

If being honest with yourself, you had to admit that most of the other girls at the Menagerie didn’t like you. Sometimes, you would catch them whispering about you, sometimes in awe, sometimes in jealousy, but most of the time it was in fear. Why? Because you were eerie. Unsettling, the least. Because you were something else with your pale skin – paler than the Fjerda wolf girl – and long white hair. With the slim hourglass figure and small height, which contrasted far too much with the hatred that burned in your void-like pupils. Besides, you never did much to befriend them: you didn’t weep after being summoned, didn’t cling to anyone for comfort and almost never gave yours to soothe the other poor animals’ pain. The only one you tolerated was the Suli Lynx.

The unsease the others would feel around you only worsened when they discovered that you were a Heartrender. Frightening abilities that manifested themselves one night in an uncontrollable outburst, leading to someone’s brutal death.

The nightmare you had lingered, its remnants jagged and raw. The menagerie’s cages, the laughters, the sensation of hands that burned like brands – they had all dissolved into the room’s silence. “Memories. They are nothing but memories” you told yourself, yet the weight of your not-so-far-away past pressed against your chest like iron shackles.

“Miss, you shall leave the room by eight o’clock.” A voice spoke behind the thick wooden door of the bedroom you rented – a small barren room you had found shelter in for the night. It was no more than a shabby inn, with walls cracked and floorboards uneven. You took off the thin, tattered blanket from you and swung your legs over the side of the bed to sit on the mattress for a moment, your head in your hands. Your fingers trembled slightly, not from the cold but from the residues of the dream.

“Yeah, sure.” You mumbled, staring blankly at your boots sat by the door through your slim fingers, and the satchel rested on the old rocking chair, packed and ready to leave. Never unpacking, that was one of the rules you followed since you fled from the Menagerie. Through the frosted window the snow was falling steadily. Frosty flakes swirled like restless ghosts in the early morning gloom, covering the world outside with a white coat that muffled every little sound. All of them except the relentless thumping of your heart, which threatened to burst your ribcage open.

The floor groaned under your weight as you stood and moved towards the small basin by the windows. Almost mechanically, you splashed your face with icy water, hoping for the chill to chase away the remnants of sleep. When you raised your head to take a look at the cracked mirror, the reflection that stared back at you was a stranger’s — diaphanous, long straight hair as pale as the snow, and eyes frighteningly empty. A doll’s face, your clients said. But no doll could house the kind of fury that simmered in your cursed blood, right?

You turned away, hating what you saw. Minutes later, you were dressed, your boots were laced, and your long dark cloak pulled tightly around you. When you reached for the door, you caught yourself hesitating only briefly… Maybe you could stick around for a while this time… No.

Keep moving.

The cold hit you immediately as you stepped outside. The wind bit you through your cloak like a knife with such virulence that you couldn’t help clenching your jaw. And yet, you welcomed it, let it numb you. Snow crunched beneath the sole of your boots as you walked on a little road, endless and uncertain. With one quick movement, you pulled your hood up and buried your face against the wind, going forward with determined steps. You didn’t know where you were going but you knew one thing for sure: you couldn’t stop moving away from the Menagerie. Not yet. The world might feel vast and empty, but at least there was something usually peaceful in this isolation. Not this morning though.

Even in this desolation, you couldn’t share the unpleasant feeling that you were being watched. It was subtle – a whisper of unease that prickled at the back of your neck, making your hairs rise. As stupid as it sounded, you quickly glanced over your shoulder at the empty snowy forest behind you. Nothing stirred, no sound broke the quiet save for the howl of the wind… And still, the feeling lingered, like a cold thread winding through your thoughts. In a reflex you couldn’t quite control, your hand tightened around your cloak’s collar, not knowing if it was to hide from the cold or from these unseen pair of eyes by shrinking into your coat.

Keep moving.

Above the faraway howl of the wind, a faint whisper seemed to hum at the edges of your senses. It resonated, too soft to be real, but to real to be a hallucination. You frowned as you walked faster, all your senses in alert. It wasn’t words, only a presence, dark and vast, like shadows stretching beyond the horizon. Keep moving! You clenched your fists and tried your best to shove the thought away. It was certainly some kind of paranoia that had gotten into you, fed by lack of sleep, proper food and shelter. A part of you rationalized, telling itself that no one had ever found you yet, and no one would – despite the little… troubles you created on your way. Crystal eyes fixed on the road ahead, your steps quickened as if you could outrun the unease that was gnawing at your mind.

But far away, very far away in the distance, a man dressed in black was studying a map. His gloved finger, covered in the finest leather, hovered over a region marked in red by himself. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if doing so wasn’t common to him.

“She’s close”, he murmured to the shadows with a voice soft and filled with a quiet satisfaction.

“Are you sure?” They whispered back

“I can feel her,” He replied, black eyes riveted onto the horizon.

Soon, he thought,

Very soon.

Please reblog and/or comment if you liked it. 🖤

taglist: @augustwookie

#the darkling x reader #the darkling x you #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #ben barnes x reader #general kirigan #the darkling #aleksander morozova #aleksander kirigan #shadow and bone #darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x y/n #darkling x you #Darkling smut #Darkling x OC #Shadow and bone oc #grishaverse #the grisha series

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moonlightgrisha · 2 years ago

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Make a choice

Ch. 7 You feel like you don't belong anywhere, but the Darkling makes you a proposal which helps you make up your mind . [Masterlist] Previous - Next

You need to make a choice.

The tsaritsa called for a private meeting this morning, which you didn't expect at all, not so soon anyway. You left your chambers in the Little Palace to be escorted to the royal quarters. You had left the Grand Palace only a few days earlier, but it already felt so unfamiliar. It used to be your home, but you have no home, now.

The tsaritsa welcomed you like you just came back from a nice visit to Novyi Zem, and asked her servants for tea and biscuits. Then she managed to compliment you for the dress you chose in the morning. You thanked her, but kept feeling slightly suspicious, waiting for the storm to come. And just as you were taking your first sip of tea, she added: "I see you are not wearing a kefta".

"No, I'm not, moya tsaritsa".

"May I ask why?"

You wished you told her it was none of her business. But somehow you managed to take a small sip of tea and then answer, perfectly calm: "My position at the Little Palace is currently... unclear".

She raised an eyebrow. "How odd. General Kirigan seemed already fond of you. But I guessed not everything is how it seems, as you proved us to be, dear".

There it was, the first blow. You smiled and gulped down your tea, hot as your shame.

Your royal cousin stood silent for a little while, before casually saying: "Maybe we could pretend nothing happened".

"Excuse me?"

She leaned over to you, whispering. "I could arrange for you to leave. Disappear. Wouldn't you like that? Living your life, far away. No more talking of summoning, sorcery or whatever all this matter is about".

"This matter is..." you were hurt, somewhere deep inside, because you had realized that you were no more than dust to be swept under the carpet. "I am Grisha, cousin".

"And royal". She remarked. "There are no Grisha in the royal family".

"I am the first".

"Are you?"

She left you wondering, and doubts and questions fell hard on you, like winter rain. How many more Grisha were born in the royal family, and how many disappeared?

And precisely, how did they disappear?

"I'll think of your generous offer", you smiled, hiding your fear and your rage behind the prettiest of smiles.

But now, you storm through the Little Palace. You are done, being a prisoner or waiting for whatever destiny has in store for you. You don't know if you are supposed to be wondering around, and any Grisha on your path would surely wonder what is this polished girl in otkasat'sya clothes doing around their home, but you don't care anymore at this point.

You need to make a choice. And you need to think.

So you run down the stairs, sneak in the stable and reach for your horse, which you missed terribly. While you proceed to saddle him, you think of some witty explanation for anyone who could surprise you right there.

And just as you're tightening the straps under the saddle, you see the Darkling entering the stable.

You stay completely still, while he pats his horse on the head, taking the reins in his hand. You are considering sneaking out unnoticed, when he turns and sees you.

There is a moment of silence. Then he says: "I'm glad to see you out of your chambers".

"That's it?" you snap. "All you have to say?"

"Is there something else you wished I said?"

Not really, but you are still waiting to figure him out, to figure all of this out. You simply shake your head, and turn to leave.

His voice reaches you at your back. "Please, don't leave".

He sounds earnest, just slightly exasperated. You stop.

"I was just about to head out", he continues. "I know how you like riding".

He can't see you over there, but he can feel the smile in your voice. "We already know who's going to win the chase".

"No chasing this time. We ride together".

Maybe it's the way he says it. Maybe it's the words. Eventually, you take you horse and follow outside.

You've been quite unfair to him. He is an exceptional rider. He's also the only person you know in the Little Palace, except for Genya, and even know you don't trust him yet, it feels good not being alone with your thoughts.

You ride side to side, and only sometimes you talk, but not about moon and darkness, destiny or summoning. You talk about the path you are riding, the blurred horizon and the skeleton trees not ready for spring yet.

You don't ask him once where he's taking you. You like to pretend he's taking you far away, further than what the tsaritsa promised you. A place where you can glow with moonlight without fearing to be thrown on the battlefield.

Then you remind yourself that he's the one who's probably going to throw you on the battlefield, and your heart cracks a little.

You stop by a fountain, to let the horse drink plenty. You notice the carvings on the side: skulls, soldiers and sorcery.

"How charming", you mumble, recognising the Black Heretic's tale in the pictures. "To remind me of my duties".

"And what exactly are your duties?" he asks, and that irritates you more than you care to show.

"You perfectly know that". You gesture to the fountain. "Once upon a time darkness fell on the land. Since then, people have been waiting for someone to get rid of their nightmare. It never occurred them that the chosen one might have her own nightmares".

You are no longer looking at him, but you can feel him frowning. "What do you mean?"

You hesitate, but then you tell him. "I've been dreaming about it for years. Shadows. Monsters. Blood".

He stares at you, and doesn't talk. For a moment he seems terrified. Then he smiles.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I took you here because this is one of my favorite spots, and for no other reason whatsoever?"

"No."

He laughs. It's the first time you hear him laughing. You let a smile escape your lips. His eyes are still laughing when he asks: "I expected you to run away on the first day at the Little Palace. Why did you stay?"

The question leaves you speechless. He's right. Why haven't you? "I guess..." you try to collect your thought. Finally, you find them. "I am tired of hiding".

He nods. You are sitting by the fountain, at this point, and he sits next to you, but not too close.

"I would like you to join me on an expedition", he says.

You flinch. "Where? Why?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow for the Fjerdan border. I would like you to come".

"So you are taking me to the batterfield".

"To the border", he remarks. "See with your eyes what the stakes are. What we are fighting for".

You don't answer, so he stands up and goes to kneel in front of you, just like he did on that first night in the Little Palace. The memory makes you blush, but he speaks before you can stand up and leave.

"We fight so that no Grisha will hide anymore", he says, looking at you in the eye. "No one. Ever".

"And there is a price to pay", you whisper.

"Everything has a price". His voice is heavy and regretful, and you almost feel his pain in his words.

You stand up. You feel like a queen with a postulant knight at your feet, and you'd like to think that you have the upper hand, but you also know it's much more complicated than this.

You are the one to give him your hand to help him up, this time. He accepts it with a cunning smile, and even if your skin fizzles as you touch him, you control your power, so that you only glow a little.

"Fine", you say. "I'll come".

At least, today you have made a choice.

Taglist @mysweetlittledesire@flostvs1508@budugu

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amiramorozova · 1 year ago

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Best Friends to Eternal lovers - Baghra's POV and Alina's POV

Having to fill in for my son to bring forth a girl who could not summon at will was absurd...but it was technically his wedding night since he and his bride chose to go get the girl instead of running off to their wedding night early. So I did as asked and when it was time, brought Alina before the King. The King and I hardly had much interaction to say the least.

"Moi Tsar, this is Alina Starkov. The Sun Summoner." I said as he looked at her, had my son been here there would probably be more finess, he knew how to charm the royals. Something I taught him but then he was my son. "Well let's see what she can do." He said as I nod to a Grisha who helped make the room go dark so the King could not see.

I didn't have a choice but to amplify the girl so she could see for herself that she was sunlight and even the royals were impressed. When it was over, then the King stood up. "Amazing, when can she start?" The King asked as I kept my cool despite my annoyance with being here in my sons place. "That will have to be taken up with General Kirigan, when he returns from his honey moon with his newly wife." I said

The King realized then he had no way of finding out the details he wanted with his General on a honeymoon with being newly wed. It was rare to even see a General get time and to see the two were off, I almost half expected Amira to come back pregnant with his child..the idea of my first grandchild seemed odd.

"Well get her training started, the faster we can become one nation the faster we can end the talk of this united Ravka." The King said as we both bowed. I walked Alina back to her room where she was hugged by the other Grisha and it seemed they all accepted her except one..the one who wanted my son's attention but lost it to his wife. After that we made it ot her room and she seemed to have questions.

"So you are?" Alina asked as I was still annoyed about this entire situation. "Baghra, I train the Grisha. I also help out when he needs it which is rare but then he doesn't get married everyday." I said as she must have picked up the idea that I was annoyed with his choices but it was his choices. "You don't like his wife? She seems nice, she said she's a hundred and eighteen years old.." Alina said as she must have noticed my annoyance.

-Alina's Pov-

Baghra was annoyed, I wondered why but she didn't seem to right out answer. "Yes, they are older than they both appear. The stronger the grisha, the longer the life." Baghra said though I got the feeling there was so much more than she was letting on. Baghra then looked like she wanted to tell me something but then she saw a fabrikator come and they talked over a few things.

"You're going to do practice starting tomorrow and you'll do combat practice. You will come and do lessons with me after that." Baghra said as I nod but had a feeling she would tell me in time.

As I went to my room I laid down, one thing I saw when we were walking was grisha girls upset..I wondered what that was all about but figured that I would find out in time.4

-Baghra pov-

Walking back to my hut I wondered how far this was going to go, who would Aleksander give the stag to if he was truly going after the stag. Though, I knew the truth or I could guess who he would give it to...Amira.

The whole reason I wanted to keep Amira from Aleksander was in case he got power hungry..especially after Merzost but it wasn't working. No matter how much time I kept them apart, they found each other over and over again. Aleksander had become obsessed with his grandfather's study and now he had not one but two Sun Summoners to do his bidding..I could only hope that Amira will make wise choices.

I thought about warning Alina about Aleksander, how he might turn Amira into his own benefit. Warn her that he might try to find a way to split the amplifier between them to trigger both of their power..but it wasn't heard of..

He would never break the laws and try to give the stag to both..would he? The more I thought about it the more I thought he might try to figure out how to do just that. Have both of them bound to his power, but where Amira would be free as his lover..he would turn Alina into a slave. I knew I had to prepare her for whatever would come.

My Son will not win..

//Wedding night on the next chapter//

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

#Grishaverse #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone #fanfic #original story #aleksander morozova #Amira Silina #Amira Silina x Aleksander Morozova #shadow summoner #sunsummoner #tidemaker #dual summoner #darkling #the darkling #Team Darkling #darkling x reader #darkling x oc #Best Friends to Eternal Lovers #ben barnes

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ignyxdaughter · 2 years ago

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𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

word count: 5066

warnings: none

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Katherine lets out a heavy sigh as she finally arrives at her room at Praecantrix. Her head is aching because of the huge quantity of simultaneous thoughts racing in her mind, her body craves for a well-deserved sleep after spending the night in Ravka's freezing weather, and her empty stomach screams for a meal.

"You look like shit."

She jumps in fright when a voice echoes through the room, and automatically places a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her heart. She doesn't need to open her eyes to know who it is. "Levi."

The man is lazily seated on a chair, yet his brown eyes attentively examine every inch of his cousin's appearance. He was starting to consider everything reasonably normal, until spotting the dried tears on her cheeks, now rosy from the cold. Levi opens his mouth to question, but is interrupted by the woman, who, thinking that his gaze was on her bloody hands, thought he had mistaken the dried scarlet liquid as hers.

"Not mine."

"That's weird. I thought your tears were yours."

She immediately opens her eyes to look at him. "I thought you were—"

"It's easy to know this isn't your blood, Kat." He stands up from the chair and heads towards the room's door. "Take a bath and then we'll talk."

Katherine obeys him, gathering a new pair of clothes to wear before going to the washroom. If she wasn't so tired and cold, she would wait for the water to naturally fill the bathtub, but as this wasn't the case, she quickly made a spell to conjure hot water inside the tub. The witch sighs in relief when her skin makes contact with the liquid, finally feeling comfortable and sensing her tense body slowly ease.

She takes her time in the washroom, wanting nothing but to calm her mind and clean herself. The water is almost cold when she decides to go back to her room, only to find Levi laying on the bed with closed eyes.

"I left you a plate." He points at the desk, which now has food and drinks. "You must be starving, so eat."

The shadow singer isn't able to stop the small smile forming on her lips. "You are being too gentle with me. That is unusual."

"I don't want you looking even more like a malnourished person." With a smirk, he opens an eye to see her face hardens. "Better?"

"Come back to your tender version, arsehole."

The man only shrugs and continues to rest as she seats on the chair and begins to eat. The peaceful silence that they stay makes Katherine smile a bit. It has always been like this with Levi: excited when the two seek a distraction, tranquil when one of them goes through something terrible... From the moment they met, as soon as Katheribe entered the Mikaelson residence at eight years old, the two understood each other. Because they were adopted and sometimes felt a little out of place in the world, they were always each other's anchor. Of course, Michelle joined them too, but for her the person who is by her side every time is Agatha.

A sudden wind escapes through the wooden window, making the shadow singer shiver. Without thinking, she grabs the warmest thing in the room and puts it around her shoulders as if it was a blanket.

"This cloak isn't yours."

Her body instantly stiffens with the realization of what clothing she has chosen. "I..."

"It's from Kirigan, isn't it?" She looks down in nervousness, fearing for a moment his words. "I don't share the same thoughts as Hope, Kat. I think he does you good."

"I don't know about that."

There's a creaking noise near her, probably the bed as Levi moved to sit straight. "What do you mean?"

"We fought."

"Why?"

"Because he wants to expand the Fold." Her voice is barely a whisper as she faces her cousin with a clenching heart. "H-He wants power and the safety of Grishas, but is following the wrong path to achieve it."

The man is with a stern expression now, quickly understanding the seriousness of the situation that his cousin put herself in. "If he expands the Fold, there will be an imbalance."

Katherine nods. "I told him that. He will be hated, his people will be hated, our people will be hated."

"You have to stop him, Kat. Those Supernaturals don't have elsewhere to go. They don't deserve to live another hunt."

"I know, and that's why I told him to architect a coup against the Lantsov."

"A coup against the Lants— Are you insane?! This is not our country to mess with!"

"But it's still our people! You said it yourself that those Supernaturals don't deserve another hunt, and there will be one if we don't interfere."

"Katherine—"

She rushes to his side as if he would storm out of the room at any moment. "Please, Levi. We cannot just gather Agatha's memories back and leave as if nothing happened. We made a deal with these people, they are trusting us to help them get a better life. Disappointing them is not an option!"

"I don't want to let them down either, but being part of a coup? Really?"

"You have already been in thousands! Why is this one different? Besides, this plan will prevent a magical imbalance. The Fold will be right where it is without any reduction nor expansion. The hatred towards our people will decrease."

He massages his temples as an attempt to ease the thoughts that are starting to race inside his head. This is one of the times when Levi is sure that Katherine just seems to be the Mikaelson that doesn't get others into trouble. She indeed is the one who had put the family in less problems, however, all of her bad situations are unpredictably worse than all of the others. "I'm still not sure about this."

"You and Michelle have traveled the entire Ravka. You have seen some cities' misery and helplessness against the war, you have witnessed awful life conditions for mortals, Grishas and Supernaturals. There is no way that you haven't concluded that even the mortals aren't satisfied with the Lantsovs reign. If they continue to rule like that, it will only be a matter of time before someone explodes against them."

"It will take centuries for that to happen, Kat."

"That's a blink of an eye for us, so what's the matter in just fastening it a little?"

The man opens his mouth to answer her, but before his voice echoes in the room, he feels Katherine's warm and slender fingers touch his temple. Levi enters in a sudden trance due to having access to his cousin's argument with Kirigan. He sees her crying while revealing intimate secrets and the General's mournful face as he listens to her. Then he calms her down and gives his cloak to her. Finally, the sweet moment transforms into a frustrating one, the woods' darkness increasing as they shout at each other.

After what felt like eternity, though it only lasted a second, the memory transmitter spell vanishes from Levi's mind. The man opens his eyes only to see his cousin looking at him expectantly and, although not knowing if her idea is a good one, he doesn't find in himself the ability to reject her. Because he remembers the countless times when she came back to Praecantrix with a loving smile on her lips or a calmness that implies that she is at peace with herself. Kirigan makes Katherine want to live, and the Ancestors know how she struggles to have the desire to be alive.

The younger Mikaelson glances at the woman for a few more moments before agreeing. "Fine! I'll help you with that fucking plan."

The hug that Katherine gives him warms his heart and, deep down his soul, Levi knows he made the right choice.

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3 days later — Os Alta, Ravka

It's been three days since her fight with Kirigan and he hasn't contacted her yet. Katherine tries to maintain herself occupied to not think about the General, but it's useless. No matter how many meetings she has with Anastasia to tell her what's the current situation in the country, how much discussions she has with Levi about the coup against the Lantsovs or how many hours she passes searching for a memory spell for Agatha, her mind will always find a way to come back to The Darkling. Without noticing, the shadow singer found herself sleeping with his cloak at night, smelling the sandalwood scent in order to obtain comfort.

How is he? Is he as woeful as I am? Has he at least considered giving up his plan? Did he get scared with my sorrowful mind and furious yells? Does he think I rejected him for being the Black Heretic?

Katherine groans and opens her eyes to gaze at the ceiling. For the Ancestors sake, what is happening to her?! Not even in her most especial romances she has been like that, so why is it different with Kirigan?

Anastasia saw her concentration slipping countless times in these days and, whenever they were alone, she would say that this is all due to the strong bond The Handler shares with The Darkling. Of course, she happily ignored the hybrid, not finding sense that just because she is in love she can act like a fool.

"No!" Katherine abruptly sits up, her light green eyes widening at the sudden realization. "I am not falling in love."

You are, miss. Umbra's sweet voice echoes in her ears.

"No, I am not!" She shakes her head in denial. "I can't."

That isn't something you can control. For once, trust your instincts, miss; it's been ages since you have allowed yourself to love again.

"But, like Hope said, he may break my heart—"

He won't.

"—And if he does, I don't know how long it will take me to recover."

You won't have to pass through that again because he won't hurt you.

"How are you so sure about that?"

Because we know him too.

Katherine frowns, confused at the statement. "What do you mean by that?" The shadow doesn't reply to her. "Umbra?" Again, there is no answer, though she can feel a dark figure excitingly approaching her. Taking that as a cue, the witch makes another calling attempt, finally feeling that this time she will be answered. "Umbra!"

No. Cheshire. The creature corrects her.

"Cheshire!" She immediately stands up to properly face the grinning shadow. Oh, she has been so worried about it, thinking something had hurt it and made it unable to come back to her. She has asked her shadows innumerable times about Cheshire, but none of them gave her any concrete response. "What are you doing here? You left for days without any warning and came back as if nothing had happened?"

I was watching over someone.

"A person?! Have them harm you or discover your hideout? If so, I swear that I will hunt and torture them until—"

There is no need to frat, Katherine. I am alright.

The witch lets out a heavy sigh, not taking her eyes away from the dark figure. "Are you sure?"

Yes! Its sharp smile increases as it extends her a small piece of paper. I even have a message for you!

"A message?" The creature nods and she takes the paper from its tail. The air in her lungs instantly stops as she recognizes the neat handwriting. It is identical to the one on the notebooks on the General's office that she read while being disguised as a handmaiden. "You were spying on Kirigan?" Cheshire nods again. "Why?"

Because I needed to warn you in case he wanted to see you again. Now, read the letter.

Katherine glances down at her shaking hands and gulps as she reads the five words written.

I changed my mind. - Kirigan

Her heart skips a beat at the thought of meeting him again, her stomach starts to twist in nervousness of what he will say to her. He changed his mind. Kirigan has given up that insane plan of his and put some sense inside his head. Does that mean that he now agrees with her 'discreet way' of gaining power and, therefore, wants to execute it?

There is only one way to find out. Cheshire's voice interrupts her thoughts.

She bites her lip, uncertain on what to do, but concludes that her talk with The Darkling will be fruitless if she searches for him now. She is with a lot on her head at the moment, and he must be already asleep. Katherine then spends the rest of the night with Nick, Levi and Michelle, seeking after an effective memory spell for Agatha and discussing the possibilities that won't harm her cousin.

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It is afternoon when Kirigan leaves the Grisha training camps to go to his war room. He has spent the morning watching all the practices of the Second Army for at least half an hour, analyzing the soldiers and listening to reports from the regents of each Grisha order. It was tiring, to say the least, but it has restrained him from thinking about a certain witch. He has nothing to do now but believe that Cheshire has delivered her the message and that she is willing to meet him again.

"Moi soverenyi." The General stops on his tracks as he hears Ivan's urgent voice.

He has to hold the urge to roll his eyes at the thought that there has been an emergency and he is now being needed. "Yes?"

"I can hear a heartbeat." The Heartrender approaches him. "There's someone in your chambers."

Katherine.

He takes a deep breath to contain the mix of excitement and nervousness. Only the thought of seeing the woman again makes a shiver run over him. "If it is an intruder, I will take care of them myself."

Without looking back, The Darkling enters the war room only to find it empty. This makes his whole body go into alert, beginning to consider the idea of a real intruder. He looks around in search of the slightest movement that a person can make, attentive to any detail in the room that may imply that someone was — and still is — there. Kirigan stretches his fingers, ready to attack whoever is daring to spy on or harm him, and begins to slowly walk around the chamber to analyze it more clearly.

A sudden wind by his right makes his gaze instantly go in that direction. His hands begin to move in order to summon a shadow, but he stops as he sees a small piece of darkness circling the said members. For a moment, his whole body stiffens. He wasn't the one who conjured it.

Then another tiny shadow circles his hands again and consequently produces a slight wind, the same delicate draft that made him look to his right. There are only two people who can create darkness as him: Baghra and Katherine. He prays that it is the latter, since he cannot even bear the thought of having a conversation with his mother right now.

However, as another innocent shadow circles his hands again, the General just knows that it is Katherine. The memory of him summoning a tiny piece of darkness to put a strand of hair behind her ear, followed by her imitating the action and making a shadow circle his face, makes the corner of his lips lift in a glimpse of a smile. She remembered the gesture and now is repeating it.

Kirigan turns around only to find her in a dark corner of the room, hidden by its obscurity. She takes a step forwards, letting the light illuminate her slander frame. The witch is blushing and her mouth quivers into a small grin as her eyes meet his. As she begins to speak, she tightens the grip around the black cloak on her body, his cloak. "I was starting to get impatient. I waited for you all morning."

To say that his ego didn't float in joy with that statement is a blatant lie. "Did you?" She nods. "Then why didn't you search for me? I am sure you could've managed to find me."

"I wanted to surprise you." Katherine unbuttons the cloak and takes it off of her shoulders. Of course she isn't happy to undo herself from such a warming — and nice-smelling — clothing, but it belongs to Kirigan and he would soon demand it back anyways. "Besides, it would be unwise to walk through the hallways wearing The Darkling's cloak. Rumors about your love life would be made."

He raises his eyebrow, amused. "Rumors about my love life are already made. It wouldn't be unusual for a new one to appear."

"But it would be unusual for a random woman to shamelessly be with your clothes."

The witch's gracious steps echo in the war room as she goes to his desk and, whilst leaving the cloak on his chair, picks up a certain paper. Their contract. Argh, Kirigan has forgotten that he left this there in the early morning. "You know, I wasn't born with the gift of negotiation. My father was the one who had it."

"So why did you learn it, then?"

"Because I wanted to be just like him." Her light green eyes look away from the contract to gaze at him. For an instant, the General is concerned that her sad smile will lead to another breakdown. "He was considered the noble one of my family, always knowing the right words for any situation and the exact moment they were needed. His deals were unpredictable, and his wisdom, along with his patient yet indifferent facade, used to shock everyone."

"He seems to have been a memorable man." The Darkling honestly says, thinking that no one who has crossed Katherine's dad path was able to forget him.

"He certainly was." She looks away, probably having memories about him, but then a sudden chuckle surprises Kirigan. "I remember hearing my uncle Klaus saying that my father was the brother to summon when negotiations were made, whilst he was the one to appear when those ended. These two complemented each other: Elijah was the mind while Klaus was the fists."

"Your family seems united."

"We are."

When Aleksander was young and finally met Ulla, his half-sister that he spent countless days searching for, he used to constantly think about what would have happened if Baghra hadn't given away the girl to the lover who had sired her. These thoughts have tormented his mind for ages, but as time flew and he started to learn to accept his life instead of lamenting it, they began to fade. However, that doesn't stop him from grieving for brief moments about the sister he will never see again or the life that he couldn't have.

"That must be wonderful."

"It is." The shadow singer gives him a sad smile, as if she knew what thoughts were in his mind. "Especially because we are always welcoming with those we love."

Kirigan swears that he felt his heart skipping a beat. He couldn't help but feel proud to see her pale cheeks getting red and her gaze immediately falling back to the contract. "As I said—", she quickly changed the subject "I wanted to be like my father. So I started to go to the meetings he allowed me to witness. I loved every single one. I would sit in a dark corner and observe the behaviors in the room, analyze the reactions as the talk went by and conclude every emotion that each person was feeling. At the end of the day, I would tell him my discoveries and he would listen before complimenting or correcting me. He would even give me books to read and ask me to examine the reasons why the characters acted in some ways during specific situations."

"He taught you how to read people."

She shakes her head in uncertainty. "I was born with that gift. He only... perfected it."

"He surely did an outstanding job. Has he also taught you how to negotiate?"

"Unfortunately, I had to learn that by myself. He only had time to teach me the basics before dying. And although not knowing a thing about making deals, I had two traits in my favor. The first one was my ability to read people."

"And the second one?"

"I was never an easy person to fool." His amused glance makes her release a small chuckle. "I have always helped the Supernaturals in New Orleans and, by doing that, I have seen many mortals seeking witches for a spell. They would appear with a desperate face and give whatever money amount that the witch demanded. When I grew up, I decided that it was this kind of negotiation that I would follow."

The Darkling raises a skeptical eyebrow. "But you aren't paid with money. You require favors in exchange for a spell."

Katherine's red lips quiver in a smirk. "Exactly. I was raised by a wealthy family; I already have my own money and don't need more. Favors, on the other hand, are always precious, especially ones that my client will only find out by the time I need them." Finally, she leaves the contract on the desk and turns to Kirigan. "This type of negotiation though is dangerous, uncertain. I would be persecuted by hunters and acquaintances of my clients if I showed my face. Therefore, I had to find a way to stay safe and guarantee that no one would ever betray me."

"So you began to sign the bargains with blood and cast a spell that prevented them from revealing who you are."

She nods. "Blood magic is unbreakable and trackable. It is the only magic that allows me to locate my clients even after centuries that I accomplished their wishes. The silencing spell, along with my shadows gathering letters addressed to me, ensures that my identity is still a secret and that no one will ever dare to confront me. After all, I just meet people in places that I know with the back of my hand."

Genius. Kirigan thinks, stunned at the woman's declarations.

He looks at her from the top to bottom before asking: "Why the name Handler?"

"I don't know. Why the name Darkling?" Katherine chuckles as he rolls his eyes in annoyance. However, she silently approaches him without breaking eye contact nor making a noise. He discretely takes a deep breath as she takes off the ruby ring on her right ring finger and reveals a tattooed thin black line circling her finger. "Because I am a handler but, mainly, because I have everyone wrapped around my finger. I handle all the wishes and dreams of people, therefore, I have the power to accomplish or crush them." Her light green eyes meet his dark browns in false innocence. "Manipulation is an art, and I am the best artist the world has ever seen."

The smile he gives her is able to hypnotize and lure anyone to do the wishes of the General of the Second Army. But not Katherine. She isn't a fool to believe in sweet lies, and the increasing smirk on her face only comproves that she has understood his little act. The witch ignores all the nervousness growing in her stomach as she touches the man's cheek. "Manipulation suits you."

Kirigan's heart is beating as fast as a drum when he coups her warm — and currently red — face. "I am afraid I'll have to say the same to you, milaya."

Her eyes widen in surprise, the air in her lungs gone from the moment he has called her that. Milaya means 'darling' in russian. Did he actually mean that or was it unintentional? It certainly seems an unusual behavior from the cold Shadow Summoner everyone knows, but to Katherine this feels right, an action she didn't know she was needing.

"Come—", his soothing voice takes the witch away from her reveries "I have to show you something."

She tries not to stutter, but her efforts are useless as her mind is still on the affectionate name. "W-What?"

"You'll see."

He extends a hand to her, which she accepts, and leads her through his private hallways until they get to the Little Palaces stables. She stays hidden in the shadows as Kirigan orders a servant to prepare his black stallion. The waiting is almost nonexistent and soon he is mounting the horse and entering the woods.

Katherine travels through the shadows until the man stops at a place where no one can see them and invites her to be with him. He helps her into the saddle and sits behind her, tightly gripping the animal's rope to ensure that she is between his arms and won't fall. Kirigan lets out a genuine laugh when she startles as the stallion starts to suddenly gallop.

Both of them are so immersed in delight that they don't even notice that they arrived at their destination. After the two get to the snowy floor, the witch observes the place where they are at. She frowns in confusion as soon as her eyes meet the Black Heretic fountain.

"Why here?"

"To seal our deal in the place where it all began." He says while tying his black horse on a tree.

She opens her mouth to question him, but her words vanish as soon as The Darkling begins to summon darkness. Shivers run down her entire body as he expertly expands the shadow and shapes it into the form of a huge sharp blade. Katherine's jaw drops as he releases it towards some trees, slicing them in halves. It made a perfect cut; the dark wisps of smoke fading in the air are the only proof that an ability from small science was what provoked this.

She doesn't know how long she stays still while admiring the sliced wood, but it must have been good minutes because Kirigan is now impatiently staring at her. "Any thoughts to share?"

"It..." She sighs, still taken aback by the technique. "It's beautiful."

That wasn't what he was expecting. Of course, Katherine has already shown signs of excitement towards the Cut, but this still took the man aback. No one has ever told him that. The Cut has always been a way to make people fear him, being used only for attack and self-defense. The blood it sheds easily frightens enemies like the drüskelle or others who dare to cross his path. But the witch in front of him isn't scared. No, she is elated, looking at it as if it was the most mesmerizing thing her eyes have ever witnessed.

"Wonderful!" She excitedly faces him. "Are you sure it isn't magic?"

He couldn't hold back the smile, a reflection of the joy evading his body. Finally he is truly being accepted by someone, not having to pretend to be what he isn't. Even after their fight, Katherine willingly came back to him and waited hours to have the opportunity to talk to him alone. She likes his manipulative nature, his power and its lethality, his greatest creation and his dreams. She sat beside him and listened to him, not judging a single part of his past and the choices he has made because of it. She shares everything with him and, instead of cursing him for having some insane plans, she only scolded him and then suggested a better one, a 'more discreet way' to achieve his wishes without ending previous conquests!

Katherine indeed is his true equal, in mind and power. There's no one else in the world that is better than her.

"I am."

She approaches the trees and carefully admires the cleaness of the sliced halves. "It seems so. It's such a powerful ability!"

"Thank you." I guess.

It took almost an hour for the shadow singer to stop asking questions and making observations about the Cut. When she finally straightened her posture and made her way towards Kirigan, he felt a slight twinge of pain at the thought that their conversation was over and so was their deal. The contract has been accomplished by both parts; Katherine is free to go whenever she wants now. However, for what seemed like the nth time of the day, she managed to shock him again.

Her hand is on his face, light green eyes affectionate looking at his dark brown ones. As if to not startle him, she slowly closes the distance between their bodies, a silent warning of her intentions. Both of their gazes fall to each other's mouths and, at the same time, they seal their warm lips together.

The witch lets out a huffed moan as she feels his tongue entering her mouth, and fiercely returns the kiss. The Darkling is fast to clasp her waist and make their bodies collide even more, whilst her hands grip and pull his black hair. The tiny distance that was separating them is now nonexistent. All the old tension between one another is being expressed without words, the crave for each other finally being satisfied.

When breathing becomes a necessity, they break the kiss, panting. Katherine swears that she is about to faint from happiness; her heart is beating so fast that there is no way this isn't a dream. Almost glowing in joy, she looks at the man only to see him with a genuine shining smile.

"You know—", her voice is husky due to the dryness of her throat "I am still waiting for you to explain how your mind changed, dorogoy."

She can feel Kirigan's hands around her waist going completely still as he hears the affectionate name. Satisfied, she patiently waits for an answer, which is nearly instantly: "That can be arranged, milaya."

However, he doesn't move away to go back to the Little Palace and nor does she. They stay exactly how they are, enjoying each other's company in the peaceful silence. Their foreheads are touching as an assurance for both of them that this is not a dream. This is real, and depending on them, will forever continue to be.

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