#grisha x nika

[godserpent]

Ник, а вот что если бы у тебя не было никого, а? Вот если бы меня не было?..

[mistiell]

Strange Love

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Healer! Reader

Summary: You run a secret clinic out of your home in the woods that surround Duva, meant mostly for Grisha fleeing Ravka. Your house has become a sort of safe house, one that very few know the location of. You’ve helped dozens of families flee the country over the years, but when the Black General find out what you’re up to, you find yourself in a very... unusual situation.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, brief mention of blood, Darkling might be a tiny bit ooc but idrk, sort of one sided enemies to lovers

A/N: I’m planning to make this a series, but I can’t promise regular updates bc I am shit at committing to literally anything lmao. It also depends on how y’all like this concept, so feedback would be very much appreciated!

Word Count: 2.7k

Current > Part 2

You’ve always tried to be an empathetic person.

Your mother, a healer like yourself, had taught you from an early age that every living thing deserves kindness, even when it might not seem that way. She ran a clinic out of your home, though for some odd reason, she forbid you from telling anyone about it. It confused you when you were young — wouldn’t telling people about it help her business grow? — but as you got older, you grew to understand what it was she really did.

It wasn’t a business at all. She had turned your home into a safe place for those who were fleeing the war. It was mostly families with grisha in the family that were either too young, too old, or too sick to fight. She was always so kind, so willing to help. When she passed, you vowed to do the same.

You converted the attic into a spare bedroom, a decent double bed against one wall and a couple of spare cots tucked against the other. You even added a small bookshelf with a handful of titles to make it seem a little more homey. You started offering the families that came to you later in the evening a safe place to rest before continuing on their journey towards the Fold. You aren’t sure how many actually make it through, but you don’t like to dwell on it much.

You’re restocking the pantry when there’s an urgent knock on your door, something you’ve grown used to over the years. You quickly make your way to the door and when you open it, you’re met with three worn looking faces.

“Are you Y/n?” The man asks, sounding just as tired as he looks. He’s got a cut on his forehead and dirt smeared over the right side of his face.

“Who sent you?” You ask calmly. You have a friend at the inn in town who keeps a look out for people who may need your help. You always ask to make sure it was her who sent them.

“Klara.” He replies. You smile and step out of the way to let them inside.

You come to find the man’s name is Rolan, the two travelling with him are his wife and daughter, Nika and Zarya.

“Where are you three headed?” You ask, gently wiping away the dirt around Rolan’s wound.

“Kerch, hopefully.” Nika states, watching you work carefully, “We aren’t keen on staying in Ravka.”

“Nika.” Her husband’s tone is one of warning, one that says ‘change the subject or stop talking’.

“It’s alright.” You assure, setting the now dirtied cloth in the bowl and turn to them with a smile that puts them at ease, “Whatever you say here stays within these walls.”

“I’m grisha.” Zarya blurts, voice small and shaky. The girl can’t be more than thirteen. You see the tears welling up in her eyes and your heart breaks a little for her. Based on how guilty she looks, you deduce that her parents aren’t.

“What kind?” You ask carefully.

“A healer.” She states, trying to wipe away her tears discreetly while her mother pulls her into a side hug.

“That’s one of the best to be.” You smile at her, setting about using your small science to heal her father’s head wound. Your answer would have been the same no matter what she said, but her being a healer makes consoling her a bit easier, “You have the power to help people. Just like this,” You glance over at her to see her watching you with fascination, “See? Not so scary.”

She smiles at you and you smile back.

Once you’re sure they’re all healed, you offer them something to eat and drink. Just as they finish, someone bangs on the door. It startles you all. You’re quick to reassure them that everything’s alright, but you really aren’t sure yourself. You make your way out of the small dining room and towards the front door. Standing behind it and listening through the wood, you pick up four heartbeats.

“Open up! We know you’re in there!” Your blood runs cold as the person pounds on the door again.

You rush back to the dining room, startling the family when you appear in the doorway, “You need to leave. Grab your things.”

“What? I don’t understa—.”

“There’s no time! Grab your bags!” You whisper yell and they scramble up from the table. You help them collect their belongings in record timing before ushering them towards the back door, “Listen to me carefully. When you leave, you cannot come back here. There’s a trail about a mile west of here that will take you back to the village. Go straight to the inn and tell Klara I sent you. She’ll let you stay for the night but you need to be gone as soon as possible, alright?”

“Alright.” Rolan nods, turning to leave with his family before adding, “Thank you. Truly.”

You nod and rush back to the front door once they’ve left. You pull it open, trying to look as casual as possible, though when you spot two heartrenders amongst the four people you’d heard earlier, you realize it won’t matter. They’ll be able to hear your racing heart just as well as you can hear theirs.

“Are you Y/n L/n?” Your attention turns to the squaller in front of you.

“Depends. Who’s asking?” You chance a glance behind her to see who you’d be up against if you fought back. Two heartrenders, one inferni, and one squaller.

You’re fucked.

“General Kirigan.” Your heart drops to your stomach. Saints, you’re really fucked.

“What does he want with me?” You ask, voice steady.

“We’ve had reports of someone assisting in smuggling Grisha across the Fold.” She states cooly, gaze cold and unwavering, “We have reason to believe that our culprit is you.”

You try to think of a way out of this situation. You definitely can’t run passed her. You could try to flee through the back door but really, where would that get you? You can’t take your usual escape route seeing as you had sent that family down it. You’ll be damned if you get them caught. You could flee through the woods, but do you really want to chance getting lost?

Well, you suppose getting lost is better than facing the wrath of the Black General.

Before you have a chance to overthink it, you grab the woman by the front of her kefta and punch her in the nose as hard as physically possible. You shove her backwards, sending her sprawling against the dirt, and take off towards the back of your home, hearing her shout at the others to follow you.

You make it out the back door and start sprinting through the woods, the wind lashing at your cheeks and biting at your forearms where your sleeves are still rolled up. You can hear them getting closer, shouting at you and one another. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, beating fast and hard.

Until it slows drastically. So drastically that it has you gasping and tripping over your own feet, scraping your face and palms against the ground. The world spins and spots dance across your vision. You try to fight against it, pressing your hands together and trying to raise your heart rate again. You manage to make it back onto your feet, stumbling and using the trees around you to keep yourself upright. You turn and lock eyes with one of the heartrenders, the one that’s currently trying to put you to sleep. He looks surprised and a little horrified by the fact that you’re still standing and you smirk at him, mimicking the position of his hands. You focus on a specific part of his brain, making it release a chemical you know will make him tired while lowering his heart rate and slowing his breathing all at once. He falls to the ground in seconds.

You breathe in a breath of relief as his hold on your body is broken, though it’s short lived. The other heartrender takes his place, knocking the wind out of your lungs and forcing you to the ground. You blink your eyes slowly, gasping as you watch a pair of boots enter your line of sight. The person rolls you over and you find yourself looking up at the squaller. There’s a fair amount of blood trickling from her nose and you note that she looks royally pissed off.

“Fuck you.” It’s slurred and really doesn’t help you, but it feels good watching her face screw up into a scowl.

“Finish the job, Ivan.” The heartrender that’s still standing steps forward and before you can even begin to protest, consciousness slips from your grasp.

—

You aren't sure how much time has passed when you wake, but your head is pounding and your mouth is dry. With a groan, you roll onto your back and press a hand to your head, startling when your other smacks you in the forehead. You peel your eyes open and when your hands finally come into focus, you realize you're in shackles, a metal bar separating your hands to prevent you from using your small science. It's then that your memory returns to you and the panic starts to set in.

You sit up with a gasp, scooting back—despite how much your palms sting—to lean against the wall as you take in your surroundings. The cell you're in is cold, the stone walls and dirt floor doing absolutely nothing to insulate the room. There's a long corridor beyond the bars with more cells on either wall, though they're all empty. There's a large wooden door at the other end of the hall, you assume that's the only way in or out.

You shiver, pulling your knees to your chest in an attempt to preserve your body heat. You attempt to touch your hands together so you can at least warm yourself up, but to no avail. After failing for the fifth time, you huff, wiping away the tears of frustration that have gathered on your waterline.

The heavy door you had noted earlier swings open with a bang, startling you beyond belief. Your eyes blow wide at the sight of the man practically stalking towards you. From the solid black shade of his kefta, you know that this is the infamous General Kirigan. You can’t read his expression, but you’re sure he can’t be happy. One of the heartrenders that had captured you—Ivan, you think his name is—accompanies him. It isn’t long before he reaches your cell, looming over you from your place on the floor.

“So, you’re the woman that’s been smuggling Grisha out of Ravka.” His voice is smooth and confident as he watches you glare at him.

“I have done no such thing.” You state firmly, watching him quirk a brow at you, “I run a clinic. I treat patients and let them stay when needed. What they do after they leave my home is none of my business.”

He’s silent for a moment. He seems to be analyzing you and you wish you knew what was going on in his head.

“I heard you put up quite the fight,” He starts and you wonder where he’s going with this, “You broke Zoya’s nose.”

“So that’s her name.” You smile passive aggressively, “I would apologize, but I’m not one to lie.”

He stares at you curiously. You squirm a bit under the intensity of his gaze, but you don’t seem scared, “You also managed to overpower one of my Oprichnik. The heartrender. Do you remember?”

“The one that tried to sedate me? Yes, I remember.” You huff, glancing away from him, “Listen, if you’re going to kill me, you might as well get it over with.” He huffs a small laugh at your words. It feels a little condescending, even more so when he looks at you with mild amusement.

“I’m not going to kill you, miss L/n. You,” he looks you up and down, “Intrigue me.”

“You’re keeping me alive because I’m interesting?” You scoff and stare at him incredulously, word saturated with sarcasm, “Oh, you really are so generous, General Kirigan.” You shake your head with a wry laugh, “If you aren’t going to kill me, what are you going to do with me?”

He looks to Ivan and jerks his head toward the door to your cell. You watch as the heartrender unlocks and opens it.

“I plan to make you an Oprichnik.”

“You what?” You gawk at him as Ivan pulls you up from the floor. This has to be some kind of fever dream. He must be lying. Maybe he’s planning to make an example of you. Maybe he’s misleading you so you’ll go with him willingly, “Why?”

“I don’t believe I owe you an explanation.” Like hell he doesn’t, “All you need to know right now is that you’ll be staying here awhile.”

“Where exactly is here?” You ask as Ivan takes your arm and begins leading you down the hall, the General falling into line a few paces ahead of you.

“The Little Palace.” Your eyes damn near fall out of your skull. You must have been asleep for days if they transported you all the way from Duva to Os Alta.

They lead you up a spiral staircase and down several hallways. You can’t help but admire the interior design of the place as you go. You’ve heard stories of the Little Palace but you realize now that they’re either grossly exaggerated or don’t do it justice. Whoever designed it has impeccable taste

As you pass people in the halls, they whisper amongst themselves. You make a point of glowering at them until they look away. You don’t intend to be here for long, but you find a bit of amusement watching them squirm under your gaze. You can only imagine the rumours that have formed in the time you’ve been unconscious.

Eventually, you come to a large set of doors with flowers and vines carved into the wood, a theme that seems to be common throughout the whole place. When the General pushes them open, you find yourself walking down yet another hallway, though this one has doors lining either side.  He stops you at the fifth door to the right, unlocking the door with a small key and pushing it open. Ivan practically shoves you through the doorway and you shoot him a deadly look, though he seems unfazed. You turn your attention back to the room and find it is nothing like you were expecting.

It’s a fair size, a single bed pressed up against the far wall. There’s a small dresser that doubles as a bedside table against the wall to your left and a bare desk to your right. Just byond the desk, there's a door that leads to what you can only assume is a bathroom. One that you pray has a shower considering the dirt and grime that cakes your arms and face.

“This will be your dormitory.” You startle, and when you turn to look at him you realize Ivan is no longer next to him. You stare at him like he’s gone mad. This has to be some kind of cruel joke, “You’ll find your kefta in the top drawer of your dresser. You’ll be expected in the anatomy room at eight bells tomorrow morning. Until then, you’re free to explore the palace.”

“You’re fucking with me.” You blurt, immediately regretting the words the second they leave your mouth.

He laughs, and for a moment he feels human, “I assure you, miss L/n. I am not ‘fucking with you’, as you so eloquently put it.”

He reaches out to give you the key and you glance between him and the object nervously before taking it from him. You push aside the fact that he just swore in favour of asking, “Then why are you being so… nice?”

“Despite what you may have heard, I am not a monster.” A large part of you doesn’t believe him, sensing he has some ulterior motive for keeping you alive, “I know you don’t believe me, which is fair considering the circumstances.” Saints, can he read minds now?  “But I assure you, as long as you do as you’re told, no harm will come to you. Understood?”

In other words, he’ll keep you alive as long as you don’t become a problem. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you nod, “Yes, General.”

“Good.” He nods back, “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything from me, find Ivan or Fedyor. They’ll know where to find me.”

You have no idea who Fedyor is, but you nod nonetheless before he closes your door, leaving you alone in a deafening silence. Dropping the key into a little ceramic dish on top of your dresser, you flop down onto the bed, the mattress firmer than the one you have at home. You sigh, rolling over onto your back with an arm thrown over your eyes.

How the hell are you going to get yourself out of this?