#grigor dymov fanfiction

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised- Finale (Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader, Arranged Marriage AU series)

Series Summary: When Emperor Peter's behavior towards your family threatens the alliance between them and Russia, the only way to solve it from breaking is through an arranged marriage with his friend, the handsome but heartbroken Count Grigor Dymov. A man you barely know.

Previous Chapters: One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//Ten//Eleven

Chapter Summary: You and Grigor enjoy a long-denied honeymoon

Content Warnings: Some discussions of sex and cursing and mentions of pregnancy and babies- don't worry, Y/N isn't pregnant. But VERY fluffy!

Word Count: 1584

A/N: Thank you guys so much for supporting this series throughout! Now I thought was the best time to conclude it! When season 3 of The Great comes out and should I get inspired, there might be a season 2 of this fic like what @ladystrallan did with I Really Wish I Hated You (which, btw, highly recommend if you love The Great Fanfics). Who knows?! But I hope all of you loved reading it as much as I loved writing this series!

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Taglist:

General Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen​ @queenlover05​ @seraphicmercury

Promised Taglist: Taglist: @itsametaphorgwil​ @bluesfortheredj​ @grigorlee​ @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joeslee   @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @jamesbuckybarns​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @rhapsodyrecs​ @ladystrallan​​ ​

You and Grigor were planning on returning to court. You both just wanted something denied to you when you were rushed to be married and when there was a coup- a honeymoon. Three whole months of a honeymoon.

The days were never more lovely- lovemaking at night, awakening when one felt like it, the most sumptuous meals, playing cards by the fireside, reading to each other, and you showing off the various songs you knew how to play. You were starting to teach Grigor chords and his clumsy practicing of scales with mutters of “fuck!” at a mistake could be heard. You still kept shooting practice, but you were relaxed, not caring if you missed the odd target.

It was quite warm for Russia the past two weeks. Flowers were deep in their bloom in the gardens, and it was green everywhere. The vineyards seemed to be a far brighter green than you expected. Perhaps springtime was arriving sooner than you expected or maybe it was a warm spot for a few days. You had to wear your lighter silks as opposed to the warm furs to keep one safe from your new home country’s notorious chill.

As you and your husband toured the grounds together that afternoon, there were fruits of light green and dark purple. You would both look at each other, pluck the small fruits, and try bites of them yourself, feeling the juicy sweetness burst on your tongues, as if only briefly. Grigor would wipe the juice off of his sleeve and give you a kiss and you would taste the grape in his breath as if combined with yours you made your own special wine. Grigor was in his favorite deep green. You had insisted he keep a few buttons down so you could see some of his chest hair. You insisted it was absolutely sexy of him when he wore shirts (especially white ones) with a few buttons undone and he took note. Yes, it was the wrong color today, but you didn’t care. Perhaps that could wait for later tonight when you would hop on him like a rabbit until you screamed each other’s names, not caring about disturbing the servants sleeping below. You were in a bright red dress with golden floral patterns all over it and you perfumed yourself with rose water.

You matched and complimented in your dress as had your souls on the inside- each perfect and making only the other look better when beside it.

You emerged from the kiss and wiped your hand on your skirt.

“Could you hold my hand, my dear?” you asked, presenting your hand out.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh abso-fucking-lutely,” he replied, eagerly taking yours.

It was warm and encompassing, the fingers intertwined within each other to feel the pulse of each other. As you both walked back home, the day was fading. The sky turned into a mix of orange and pink and the crispness of evening etched around you. Once you approached back to the manor, the housekeeper greeted you both and assured you that dinner would be ready in one or two hours. Olga, the little servant girl, handed you back your beloved dog and both of you cooed over her.

“Oh and Madame Dymova! Here! Messenger said it’s from Paris! And it’s for you and the master!” she added on, handing over a letter with a familiar wax seal.

Before you could comment on it, Sonya let out a bright bark for want of attention.

“Here Sonya- found this! Here- Good girl!” Grigor offered.

From his pocket, he pulled out a truffle and fed it to the eager and always hungry pup.

“Would you like some wine? There’s a new one they just made here and it’s fucking astounding,” he offered.

“Oh, yes! And ask the kitchen for a plate of bread and cheese and fruit, perhaps?” you asked.

“I don’t see why not!” he replied, giving you a peck on your forehead before going down to the kitchen.

You made your way to the back porch area outside on your white seats and white chairs. You found it had not grown so chilly that you would require heaps of blankets as you have in the past. Sonya lay happily on your lap panting away. Though grown, she still saw herself as a puppy who had to have every last of her needs attended to, or else her mistress would hear her barking and mischief. But you loved her more for it.

You pulled from your reticule an unopened letter from the dress of your pocket. It couldn’t be your family- you heard just yesterday that you were an aunt to a beautiful little niece. Both you and Grigor were already making plans to travel and visit your family and for you to be introduced and be acquainted with his own. So, who could it be? Was it Catherine about her baby or the new education laws? Orlo recommending a new philosophy book to you? Who? You saw the name on it and gasped.

“It’s George! George wrote to us!” you told Sonya, who only tilted her head.

You then ripped it open and smiled, your heart touched by the contents. From the corner, you saw Grigor come out to approach the table. He smiled, holding two glasses of wine, and giving one to you.

“Why thank you, darling!” you chirruped at him.

“No problem at all,” he answered.

A servant immediately arrived behind and held a platter of cheeses, slices of bread, and apples. His blue eyes went to the letter.

“What is that? Who is it?” he asked.

You smiled, handing him the papers.

“Why, it’s George!? Can’t you believe it? She’s in Paris of all places! Oh, that must be wonderful! And here…she said she met someone who she truly loves and who loves her! Oh, I’m so happy for her! We must write back and ask her more about this!” you squealed.

“Why- how good for her! I’m glad!” Grigor wished genuinely with a shrug and a relaxed smile.

Both of you held up your glasses of wine.

“Should we toast to her?” you asked.

Grigor shook his head.

“I have a better one. To what brought us together in the first place. Here, Y/N-to the alliance!”

“To the alliance!” you agreed, daintily clinking your glasses.

Both of you took a first sip.

“It won’t be too long before we return- so much will be different…” Grigor began.

“I’m just glad Marial is in prison…I’ve slept better at night since then…” you sighed.

He did frown briefly. He took a deep drink and set down his glass.

“Well…part of me is eager. Been worried sick over Peter.”

“But you always are, you silly shit!” you teased, setting your own glass down.

He smiled at the words. You thought there was never a more beautiful smile than that of Grigor Dymov when he was well and truly happy. Your heart would always burst with love for him at the sight.

His letters seem fine and happy though…he’s thrilled about the baby. Got a name picked out and everything!”

“What if we have a baby- will we be even ready for that?” you suggested.

So far, your courses were like clockwork and Grigor would spoil you with bedrest and vodka and embraces when the cramps tormented you. But that doesn’t mean the time would never come. In fact, with all the fucking you had been doing it was a pure miracle it hadn’t happened yet!

“I don’t know if we’ll ever be, Y/N…but what about life after the coup? Things will be so…so different. Peter’s not in charge as much. There’s a royal baby on the way. George is in France. Catherine’s changing all the laws to what she wants. Everything is upside down…” he muttered.

“But we can take it…” you assured him.

He clutched his hand onto yours in response and you used your other hand to rest it on his cheek. He relaxed into it, using a hand to touch yours.

“We can take anything as long as we’re together, darling,” he replied.

“Of course, we can, my dear husband…” you cooed.

"Oh, say that again!” he insisted.

You crawled on his lap, kissing his face- his freckles, his forehead, his cheekbones, his chin.

“Dear husband, dear husband, my Grigor, my darling…” you mumbled between the kisses.

“Fuck, you make me hard. Keep it up and I might have to have you on this table before dinner!” he confessed.

“Wait until after dinner!” you insisted with a joking slap on his arm.

“If Countess Dymova requests it, who am I to deny her that!” he gave in.

You giggled and paused. Both of you breathe deeply the warmth of each other and the closeness.

He kissed you with soft lips again, but there was a chasteness- a tenderness to how he cupped your cheek when it happened. You cuddled into his chest as the sun set and he placed an arm around you to draw circles on your back as the dog lay contentedly smiling on the floor with her pink tongue out.

You were happy. After such chaos you had been through- you were completely happy. Dinner was about to be served. You had a home in court and out. You had a precious pup. You had friends. And most of all, you had found a happy, faithful marriage. And a husband who you loved and who loved you.

And this time the wine did in fact not taste like shit.

[ladystrallan]

This Love Chapter 10 posted!

Read chapter 10 (Sparks Fly) here

[thewritetofreespeech]

Grigor x female!reader 

tw: miscarriage, mentions of blood, general angst

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He had been hunting with Peter when an extraordinarily brave footman came out of the clearing to give him the news. His wife had called for the doctor, and he must come back immediately.

Peter was obviously disappoint that his rabbit hunt had been cut short, but Grigor was too concerned for his wife to worry too much about Peter’s dampened feelings this time. His wife needed him. A thousand thoughts came to him as he rushed through the hall towards their apartments. She had been fine this morning. What could possibly be wrong.

As he came to their chambers, he slowed as he saw the familiar red  coif of Elizabeth coming out. “Oh! Hello my darling.”

“Elizabeth? What are you....“I came to see your wife. She is...unwell.”

“Unwell?” Grigor repeated in alarm. “Is she sick? Has she been hurt? What-?” Elizabeth raised her hand to cut him off again. Softly.

“She is alright. What has happened is quite common actually. You see, she has had a miscarriage.”

“A miscarriage?” His words were so quite they barely reached his own ears.

“It’s when the babe inside you dies in the womb and is expelled out. Alarming, more than anything, and as I said quite common in women of the court. But it is...upsetting to most women. The first time.”

Grigor processed what Elizabeth was saying and felt like a stone had been thrown into his stomach. The baby, his child, was gone. Never drawn breath. Never seen it’s mothers face. Never had a chance.

His hands lace behind his head as he began to pace a little, and his chronic dust storm aliment pricking his eyes. “What um....What do I do?”

“You must be patient and loving with her.” Grigor scoffed at that. Not his best strong suits. “She will be sad, and raw. But soon will look to the future of trying again, when she is ready. For now all you must do is be by her side. As I know you can.”

Grigor stopped pacing to look at Elizabeth. “You really think that?”

“Of course. You are a man of honor and sound mind. I have always thought that.”

“You don’t even know me. This is the first conversation we have had at length since I was....15.”

“Yes, well, you are Peter’s best friend. And as you were coming into manhood and more handsome, I harbor dreams of fucking you. Taking you back to my quarters and teaching that nubile body of yours a thing or two about being with a woman. But, you are Peter’s best friend, and that seemed wrong, so distance seemed more appropriate.”

“I uh...thank you...” His mind was in a daze about the news of his wife’s miscarriage, and this new news of his best friend’s aunt wanting to fuck him.

As usual, Elizabeth just smiled and patted him on the shoulder as she walked past. Her easy confidence sort of a salve for the situation. Painful, still, but soothing to a dull ache.

Steeling himself, Grigor opened the door and went inside. He could tell, as he walked further in, that there had been a flurry of movement in the room. Chairs moved. Bedding shuffled. There was blood on some sheets and rags some serf was most likely to take away at some point, but had left them when they left her alone. Probably at her insistence. [Y/N] hated for people to see her cry. Which she was doing silently as he came closer to the bed.

“Is there...anything I can get for you? Anything I can do?” He asked after a long pause. Not sure if this was the right thing or wrong thing to do, but silence didn’t seem the answer either.

“I’m sorry.” Her soft, choked up voice replied, and it broke Grigor’s heart that he just had to scoop her up in his arms. Again, not sure if it was right or wrong, but it was what he wanted to do.

“No, no, no. Don’t say that. You’ve done nothing wrong.” He assured as he held her close. “These things....they happen.” He didn’t mention that Elizabeth had told him it was common. “You haven’t done anything wrong. We’ll try again. Or not. But never be sorry my love.”

They held each other close and cried for a while. She was indeed fragile and raw for a few days, but Grigor tried to be patient with her. He wanted to take her to their country estate, but she refused to ‘run away’ from this. His wife was strong.

Eventually she did recover and start plans for the future. Grigor was in no rush, but was happy to see that she was alright; and willing to look to the future.

[moon-in-daylight]

I think it’s very funny how in Hulu’s The Great they put Nicholas Hoult as a lead role probably expecting everyone in the fandom to go nuts over him but instead when you search fanfiction of the show all you find is Grigor ‘the Emperor fucks my wife and I’m tired of it’ Dymov and Orlo “the ugly virgin who everyone mocks in Court”

[ladystrallan]

New chapter of This Love!

Read chapter 9 (Back to December) here

[ladystrallan]

New chapter of Even If She Falls posted!

Chapter 7: Sometimes

George and Peter play Dare while Grigor is away on a hunting trip

Check it out here

[ladystrallan]

This Love chapter 3 posted!

“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting

I had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting

I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back

I have a lot of regrets about that

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout

Could’ve followed my fears all the way down

And maybe I don't quite know what to say

But I’m here in your doorway

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying”

Read Chapter 3 (this me trying) here

[ladystrallan]

Chapter 2 of This Love Posted!

Two chapters in one day, I’m on a roll!

“It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I’d been betrayed

Your finger on my hair pin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I lost you”

Read Chapter 2 (The Great War) here

[ladystrallan]

I’m starting a new G&G series!

When I finished watching season 3, I knew I had to write this fic! It’s titled This Love, and it follows Grigor and George as they reconnect and try to rebuild their marriage after Peter’s death. This fic is also inspired by and references Taylor Swift’s music! This series will have 18 short(ish) chapters and I will try to update regularly. If you love The Great, G&G, and Taylor Swift, check this fic out on AO3!

Read Chapter 1 (Death By A Thousand Cuts) here

[ladystrallan]

New chapter of Even If She Falls!

Chapter 6: Cacophony

The first time he said ‘I love you’.

Check it out here

[ladystrallan]

IRWIHY Season 2 Chapter 7 posted!

Check it out here

[likesomekindofcheese]

Hi Guys! I am working on the finale chapter of Promised! So stay tuned!!!

[ladystrallan]

This Love chapter 6 posted!

“Hey

It’s all me in my head

I’m the one who burned us down

But it’s not what I meant

Sorry that I hurt you

I don’t wanna do, I don’t wanna do this to you

I don’t wanna lose, I don’t wanna lose this with you

I need to say, hey

It’s all me, just don’t go

Meet me in the afterglow”

Read chapter 6 (Afterglow) here

[ladystrallan]

This Love Chapter 5 Posted!

Probably the most emotional and angsty fic I’ve written yet.

“Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

‘Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

’Til my dying day

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace

And you’re the hero flying around, saving face

And if I’m dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet”

Read chapter 5 (my tears ricochet) here

[ladystrallan]

This Love Chapter 4 posted!

“You told me that you met someone

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

If our love died young, I can’t bear witness

And it’s been so long

But if you ever think you got it wrong

I’m right where you left me

You left me no, oh, you left me no

You left me no choice but to stay here forever”

Read chapter 4 (right where you left me) here

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Two (The Great mini-series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! reader

Word Count: 3475

Summary: from an anon request, the boorish Emporer Peter has ruined your families alliance with Russia. The only way to save your family and your people is to go to the Russian Court to marry his best friend, Count Grigor Dymov.

content warnings: mentions of sex and families and weddings, swearing. Grigor being shyer than in the canon show but this is my fic and I do what I want.

“Countess Y/F/N Dymov does have a nice ring to it,’ your mother said as the carriage rolled on.

Rocking back and forth, her eyebrows went up and she nodded in approval at the thought. Though you stayed silent, watching the Russian forests pass by. Your fur lined coat felt too heavy as did your scarf. You saw your mother lift a hand opposite of the one holding her novel to scratch at her own scarf. But the air was getting colder. You were definitely in Russia by now.

You glanced down at the latest letter from the gangly Russian count:

Dear Y/F/N,

I hope you and your family are doing well. Upon reading your last letter, you said you were worried about children. There are a few children here. Count Arkady has a little army of his own running about the halls. Who knows when it might happen, but I am sure you will be a fine mother. You may even make friends here. We have plenty of ladies here you may talk to.  And we have fine physicians here.

Oh god, that was unconnected somehow? Maybe I should scratch that out.

No, I will keep it. I hope it amuses you. It may make you laugh to see what a silly fool I am. What kind of fool proposes marriage to courtesans? Not you, Georgiana, of course.

But children arriving will be a while from now. I am trying to make everything comfortable for you. It will be hard leaving your family and the pets you mentioned in your last letter. When you and your mother arrive here, you must try some tea. Though you might as well enjoy some vodka as well.

Speaking of vodka, Peter had too much last night and spent the morning chapel services vomiting his stomach out…

A jolt from the carriage made both of you leap in your seats. It was no use re-reading the thing for the tenth time for amusement on a long trip. You put the letter away in your reticule.

Enough time had passed between that fateful dinner. Now here you were, on the road, on your way to the court of Peter.

“Did you hear me? Do you like the sound of Countess Y/F/N Dymov?” she repeated louder, leaning forward.

“Yes,” you agreed obediently.

Your mother bit her lip hesitantly. There was a pause.

“Y/N, you are doing a very brave thing. You’re going to help all of us, and a lot of people…I thank you for it,” she said.

Her eyes blinked and you could see a few tiny tears up there.

“At least I’m not marrying the emperor,” you huffed, “the title alone wouldn’t be worth it.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Your grandmother said if you got the Emperor, it would be a nicer ceremony. It would be a grander ceremony, but a miserable marriage after…though no wedding will be as nice as your brothers,” she recalled.

Both of you smiled at the memory. Your mother even set down the novel in her hands to talk to you more.

“He married someone he loves. Now they’re happy together…” you commented.

The past weeks whirled by without the time to savor your last time at home.

First there was a whole wedding to set and celebrate for your brother, then there was studying all the etiquette, customs, and everything you would need for a life in Russia. As well as planning about your own day. A day crawling up that made you shiver slightly at the thought.

But remembering your brother’s childish grin when his bride walked down to greet meet him at the altar, the shivers ceased. How they seemed to fly when they danced with each other. How even their cake tasted sweeter. The fragrance of their flower crowns was still in your nose.

If only your day could be as nice. No alliance. No pressure to go and bind yourself. Just nice.

“It was a wonderful day. She looked very pretty in your dress…do you think the dress we chose will suit the Russian court?” you asked.

Your mother nodded, eyes sparkling at the thought.

“Oh yes, we had to ask every question, but so help me you would at least have a dress you liked! You looked radiant in it- all of the court will love the look of it!” she added.

“It’s very…very elaborate. And heavy. I bet it’s the reason this carriage is about to trip over,” you jested.

You briefly took off your glove to scratch your own neck from a small itch.

“Well, when in Rome…” she said, shrugging.

Having a ceremony with a special dress was one thing, the groom was something else entire. But what of your future husband, Grigor?

Before you could ask about your mother’s analysis of him, there was a sudden whistle from the driver.

Both of you leaned out and stared at the window. The large grey palace was popping in view, distant, but there. Tall, grey, and grand.

Breath hitched, you tried to stare at another thing, a bird flying by or the dirt on the road. But there it was. And your eyes were fixed, like a martyr’s gaze on the burning stake before sainthood.

The place you had to live, where you had to sacrifice your body, autonomy, and soul to a man you only knew for a few days.

Servants rushed in to carry your luggage. You and your mother glanced at each other. Her eyes turned soft and she took your hand and squeezed it as the guards opened the doors and a footman led you up the grand stairs into the throne room.

One opened a chest and your mother pulled out a green portfolio from it, pressing it to her heart.

There was a long hall leading to a sole chair bedecked in gold. The room was dark but sun filtered through windows on the left. Removing your coat and handing it to a servant, you could feel their eyes. Analyzing you in your deep blue dress with white lace on the front tied in a dark blue bow on the chest.

Before the throne, walking out from their peeping, was a line waiting for you was a group of various men as different as a kaleidoscope. One was shorter, dark haired, and bespectacled. One was a priest with a long beard. But in the center was the Emperor Peter and by his side, Count Grigor Dymov in a grey, curled wig.

Walking slowly, you curtsied and kissed Peter’s hand and your mother copied the movement.

Only said man wanted to jump ahead and show you his apartments.

“Your highness, thank you for letting me arrive here and for inviting my mother as a chaperone,” you greeted politely.

From a green portfolio, your mother pulled out a starched parchment and walked to the priest.

“Here is a signed paper from our physician, proving Y/N’s chastity for the marriage. Additionally, I will chaperone her until the ceremony.” she announced proudly.

He looked down, head tilted, but leaning to read it, nodded his head.

Both of you let out a sigh of relief. As awkward as the examination was, it was still a hundred times better with a family doctor then without warning by a stranger.

“Well, cangratu-fucking-lations Grigor. Here is the lady who’s going to suck you cock for life in a week! Go on, greet her!” he half-yelled.

You could feel your mother tense at the vulgarity and wished to disappear.

The hands in front of Grigor that were folded tightened slightly as you walked up to each other, with a slight bow.

He then took your hand, as you placed yours, you could see your own palm tremble a bit. He leant down to kiss it.

“Miss Y/L/N, did you travel well?” he asked.

“It was long, but nice. Lots of forests.” You answered shyly.

He relaxed a little and gave you a small smile. Though part of you felt angry. What if it was the cock sucking comment he was thinking of?

It dropped at you still being serious.

“Well, that’s done. And I’m bored. I’m hungry and want some oysters, goodbye!” the emperor suddenly said, trailing away with the priest and other men behind him like ducklings.

Grigor offered his arm and you accepted it, breath hitching at how close he felt.

“Count Dymov, thank you for the…the welcome. Though look at this place! It’s magnificent!” you mother praised, looking at the details.

He walked slowly out of the room with your mother by your side, admiring the tall windows, wooden walls, and countless paintings and decorations. Courtiers in wigs and wide skirts floated by you like butterflies.

“I was thinking I would show you both my apartment, since it’s where we’ll be living soon, Lady Y/L/N. The palace is huge enough as it is!” Grigor answered, turning to your mother.

“Unless you want a tour of all that!” he added on, gesturing to the bits of gold that glowed in the sunlight.

“It would be nice to see where she’ll be living,” you mother replied.

“The apartment is fine,” you finalized, looking up at his eyes.

It had been a while but you forgot or perhaps never noticed the color. They were the color of the sea. And quite beautiful.

“Besides, I already have a gift for you and it couldn’t wait for after the wedding!” he announced, with an impish grin.

“A gift?” you gasped.

“I’d like us to at least be friends, Y/n,”

“Of course, Grigor.”

After a ten-minute walk with chit chat mostly between your mother and Grigor, you arrived at the apartment. He paused slightly before the dark doors and knocked a few times, a voice replied from within.

Your heart leaped at all the red- red walls, red chairs, red furniture, a beautiful gold bathtub and a large red bed that made your stomach flip and turn warm.

“In about a week, this will be your home…but, the-ah- the gift!” he said, jumping with his eyebrows near the top of his wigged head.

An old man dressed like a servant walked from a corner. Grigor rushed there, gesturing wildly with his arms for him to walk forward. For a minute, the man was under Grigor’s shadow and his large back blocked your view.

As he turned, in his hands was a tiny Pomeranian puppy with brown fur.

Gasping alongside your mother, you let out squeals of delight on instinct. You fell in love at once. It barked and smiled when it saw you. You cooed and even your mother went over to stroke its fur. Its earthy smell came up to your nose and it licked your fingers. Grigor handed the puppy for you to hold, light and warm and smelling of earth. The puppy smiled and licked your nose in greeting and you giggled.

“Seems like she knows her mistress already!” Grigor commented, with a small laugh in his voice.

“I know they will expect us to, uh, have children someday and we might as well practice caring for a living thing. And I did not want you to be here and feel completely alone. Like you told me.”

The puppy looks up at you and tilts its head. Once you set it down, it happily runs around the apartment, leaping sometimes mid-way and then pausing to sniff every piece of furniture. It looks at you, chippering happily, the stub of a tail wagging wildly.

“Grigor, she, she…” you mumbled, close to tears. “She’s adorable! I’ve never had such a gift before!”

“It will be work, of course. And she’ll get big and eat and tear things. But Arkady knows dogs and is willing to help us.”

“Yes, of course…thank you!”

Overjoyed, you walked over to him, stood on your toes, and kiss his cheek.

It was a little out of decorum. You had hardly seen him. But you were overjoyed, and it was too kind. He blushed bright pink at the feeling of your lips and smiled.

“Y/N…you’re very welcome! Oh! I forgot! I also have…have these now…”

Out of his pocket were two small bands, bronze colored.

“Our engagement rings… until we’re official.”

Breathing in deep, you accepted the ring and slid it onto your finger. It was only a little tight. The puppy in your arms sniffed it and then tried to lightly chew on it.

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The palace tour nearly broke your jaw from how much you dropped it. You kept a leash with the small Pomeranian pup by your side, trotting happily and sniffing everything. If it were not for all the gold and countless portraits, plants, boards, and displays and details in every crack of the wall, your new pet would have distracted you.

How on earth can anyone manage to walk through this? You thought. You had not even reached the gardens yet!

Suddenly, there was a yelp and the thunder of boots.

Peter walked forward with his usual party of men, but by his side was a woman who seemed surprisingly young despite her tall height. She was extremely pale and had light blonde hair up in a bun with a few curls falling out and wore a lovely sky-blue gown.

“Ah, Grigor! Have another meeting, need you there! Now! It’s going to be fucking dull without you!” he ordered.

With a shrug, he bowed and walked away with Peter, but the young woman stayed behind. She waited until he was gone and then turned to you.

“He should have been there an hour ago, people were discussing trade forever and he should have been there to help,” She sighed.

Handing the leash to your mother, both of you dipped in a greeting curtsy.

“Pardon me, but I’m new here. I don’t know what the Emperor’s schedule is like…I don’t know what anything is like,” you confessed.

She raised an eyebrow and blinked a few times. Suddenly a shorter woman with sharp cheekbones and her hair up into a small coif ran up by the blonde woman’s side. A maid.

Looking at you both, the servant seemed to give meaning to the phrase “if looks could kill.”

She scolded, “do you realize who you’re talking to! This is her grace, the Empress! At least be polite!”

Panic flooded your chest and you dipped down to a lower, rushed curtsy.

“Your grace-I’m so sorry! Forgive me! Please!” you blubbered. “I didn’t know who you were!”

“It’s all right! Just a mistake!” she laughed.

Her hands moved forward, and she gestured you up.

“What is your name?” she asked kindly.

You introduced yourself, only looking at the end of Catherine’s blue skirt, shades lighter than your own.

“You’re Lady Y/L/N, the future Countess Dymov!”

“Yes, I am and…your grace, I am so sorry for all the trouble that happened at my house. I tried to resolve but…here I am,” you explained.

She gave a sideways glare to where Peter walked off and turned to you, “it isn’t your fault at all…my husband is… well, you understand.”

“I completely understand!” you blurted with a scoff in your throat.

Her frozen, pale stiffness melted away. She smiled genuinely.

“Empress Catherine, what is it like for women here? I haven’t heard much…”

“Well, there are…tea parties. Ball throwings. Thing like that… But…Lady Y/L/N…”

She leaned closer, speaking quietly.

“I was like you, once. Sent to be married. New to this place. I would hesitate to head there if you are new…things are done differently and the ladies here are, if I must be honest, not nice to newcomers.”

“Alright!”

You glanced at your mother, whose brow furrowed with worry at the words.

“But I shall help you. You have to meet them eventually. Just be careful. Though you aren’t me, you might have hope. They have joy in teasing me since they know I outrank them…if you need help, you may call on me.” She offered, her words rushing at the sudden idea.

“Oh your heighness, it’s an honor!” you cried.

“From one foreign bride to another!” she commented before saying goodbye and twirling off. The maid gave a look at the puppy with wistfulness, and then followed the empress.

But as you headed back, having a few moments of rest on a seat near a window.

“Our chambers are not far, I’ll be there to see if our things are ready!” she announded.

You nodded, giving a last happy pet your puppy and stared as your mother sauntered away.

Suddenly, you heard the click of heels.

“You’re his fiancée, are you?”

You turned to see a pale woman with beautiful dark curls on her head. She wore an elaborate, dusy red dress and her slight frown was not welcoming.

“I am engaged to…to Count Dymov, if that’s what you’re asking,” you answered, getting up.

“I…I thought,” she mused.

“Pardon me, I don’t even know your name…” you said.

“You can call me Georgiana.”

Oh my god…

“Lady Georgiana, I’m Lady Y/L/N,” you replied.

She looked at you, analyzing everything. Your chin dipped low and you folded your hands in front of you, frozen in place. Part of you wanted to run away.

“Miss Georgiana is there anything you want from me?” you asked.

Her lips went tight.

“I just thought that Grigor loved me…but he brings over some unknown woman from nowhere!” she spat.

You remembered what he said about their history. And her decision. Your mind blanked with Catherine’s warning, what could you even say.

“He didn’t ask me to marry him. It’s to secure an alliance with Russia.” You informed her plainly.

Getting a little bolder, you looked back at her unamused face.

“Just know, however your marriage goes, it’s me he really loves and…”

She paused. Then smiled.

“And I’ve fucked him too.”

She stuck her nose in the air as your mouth opened a little in shock.

“That’s how mad he is for me. I know every trick that will keep him returning to me. You’ll just pop out an heir for the Dymov’s and then he’ll be done with you.”

Your face turned hot and your breath felt short.

“Why…why are you telling me this?” you asked quietly.

“Because, we all know I am the one he loves and will always love. And I know how to please him in every way,” she threatened, walking closer.

“As sure as you please the Emperor,” you retorted boldly.

Georgiana stopped, her eyes widening. Her face screwed up. Though her head nodded a little in slight acknowledgement.

“Georgiana, I don’t want us to be enemies,” you pleaded.

“I don’t want you to make him miserable. You may think you know him: he seems like a nice man, but he is only two steps away from Peter. He loves parties, drinking, fun, revelry and all things wild; are you ready to have that as your husband?”

“I didn’t even choose this match. I don’t even love him- I only met him a month ago! And he offered you his hand and you couldn’t accept it! I did not have a say in the matter to be with him! Live with your choice and I’ll live with one that wasn’t even mine!” you yelled, your cheeks feeling hot.

Her nostrils flared and she walked away, flouncing like a peacock.

Sinking back onto the seat, you cursed your temper and tongue for getting the best of you.

How could you make peace of this conundrum? Even if the Empress liked you, it seemed no one else at court would now. Especially knowing the kind man who gifted you a dog spent his nights in wildness…and maybe in Georgiana’s arms.

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