#i would die for nikolai lantsov

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

You Belong to Me

*Not my GIF

This is the first thing I’ve written in years but Shadow and Bone (and particularly Nikolai Lantsov!) is my new hyperfixation and I had the urge to write something, so here we are. Based on the prompt: “Mine.” “Say it again.” which I got from tumblr forever ago.

Summary: Reader is in an established relationship with Nikolai and they get jealous seeing someone else flirting with him so they decide to remind him who he belongs to. Turns out the King finds jealous/possessive reader a turn on, who would have guessed?

Word count: 2K

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. A tiny hint of a plot but really it’s just smut, hand job, jealousy/possessiveness, slight praise kink if you squint, reader can be any gender you like, I’ve left it deliberately vague for your reading pleasure :)

The grand ballroom was so full that you could barely move an inch without bumping into a visiting noble, courtier or ambassador of some sort. Musicians were playing at one end of the room and waiters flitted about with trays of champagne.

You scanned the crowd in an effort to locate the King. Your eyes found him finally near of the centre of the room, surrounded by young ladies and you sighed, because of course he was. You had only left Nikolai’s side for a few minutes, but that was all it took for the vultures to descend. You supposed you couldn’t really blame them, he was gorgeous. Intelligent and charming too. Wherever he went, people were drawn to him like moths to the proverbial flame. Your relationship with the King had started many years before, when he was just a wayward second son with little hope of ever inheriting the throne and though his circumstances had now changed, your love for each other remained stronger than ever. Nikolai could be a bit of a flirt, but you trusted him implicitly. You knew without a doubt that anyone trying to tempt him would fail. He would be going home with you, still that didn’t stop the surge of jealousy that burned uncomfortably in your stomach as you made your way across the room to join the group. Nikolai’s eyes lit up as he saw you approach and he reached for you immediately, wrapping his arm around your waist without even the slightest hint of hesitation. You watched with a perverse sense of satisfaction as obvious disappointment flitted over the faces of his companions and several of the ladies politely excused themselves, quickly losing interest now they knew for certain that the King was taken. The last young lady however, was not so easily deterred. She looked you up and down with barely concealed distaste as Nikolai made the formal introductions and then finally she offered you a saccharine smile - entirely for his benefit you assumed, since it was obvious that it pained her to do so. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said, smiling brightly. You would be nice if it killed you. It would only cause problems for Nikolai if you went around being rude to his guests, regardless of wether they deserved it or not. The other woman made no response, already turning her attention back to the King as if you hadn’t even spoken. Apparently she didn’t share your concerns about rudeness. Nikolai cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence, “Miss Antonova was just telling me about her home in Kerch.” “Oh yes,” Miss Antonova exclaimed, twirling a lock of her dark hair around her finger, “As I was saying, you must come for a visit, your highness. I know my father would be honored to host you.” “What a generous offer,” Nikolai smiled, “perhaps we may take you up on it someday.” The young woman beamed at him, pleased with his response. “We could make it one of the stops on our honeymoon,” you suggested, just to watch her face fall. “Absolutely not. I should not consider our honeymoon a success if we are to be fit for company at any point,” Nikolai grinned impishly and you shook your head fondly, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the implication. You could feel Miss Antonova glaring daggers at you. “Well, perhaps you could make the trip to Kerch on your own instead, moi tsar,” she simpered, batting her eyelashes at him, “I would be happy to volunteer as your personal guide.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I bet you would,” you muttered quietly under your breath, though not quietly enough if Nikolai’s sudden coughing fit was any indicator. Miss Antinova moved closer to him, her face creased in concern, “Goodness, are you alright?” She asked, laying a hand on his arm. You glared at her, touching the King was in no way appropriate. Nikolai gave you a look, shaking his head minutely - a gesture you knew to mean leave it alone. So you bit your tongue even though you wanted to tell her off. “Yes, I’m quite well,” Nikolai assured her once he had recovered, “My apologies.” Despite his reassurance, and the heat of your still disapproving glare, she did not move away or remove her hand. Instead, she moved further into his personal space, close enough to be considered indecent in your opinion. Her delicate hand curled around his clothed bicep. You struggled to fix a polite smile on your face when in your head you were fantasizing about breaking her fingers one by one. “Oh my, you have very strong arms,” she gushed and this time you did roll your eyes. For Saints sake. Nikolai met your gaze over the top of her head and you saw amusement dancing in his eyes. “I work out from time to time,” he told her with a wink, “It’s important to keep my army training up to date.” Miss Antonova giggled girlishly, as if he had said something ridiculously funny, and you decided that was quite enough. “I’m sorry but you’ll have to excuse us,” you stated bluntly, “the King has an urgent, private matter to attend to immediately.” Rather than wait for a response, you turned and firmly grasping Nikolai’s hand, pulled him away and across the crowded room towards the door. Although he could easily have escaped your hold if he had wanted to, Nikolai followed you without complaint, allowing you to lead him out of the ballroom and through the Palace hallways as though he were a boy rather than the King. Entering his chambers you made sure to lock the door behind you and then you stalked towards him, forcing him backwards until his back hit the wall behind him. “Something wrong, my love?” He asked, an amused little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “The audacity of that woman,” you grumbled, “Mooning and flirting, and touching you! As if I wasn’t standing right there.” “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused, eyes sparkling with affectionate humor, “I thought she was just being friendly.” “Friendly? She was all over you!” you objected. “Maybe a little bit,” he conceded with a slight tilt of his head, his smirk widening. “But you know that I would never accept her advances, or anyone’s for that matter,” he insisted earnestly as he reached out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear, “So what does it matter?” “I didn’t like it, Kolya,” you muttered irritably, yanking at the knot of his cravat in an effort to remove it and almost choking him in the process. “Really?” he chuckled, “I hadn’t noticed.” He batted your hands away so he could loosen the offending item himself, pulling it free of his collar and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as he went. You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s not funny.” He hummed in agreement as he dipped his head to kiss you, slow and sweet, just a soft brush of his lips over yours, but your were in no mood for romance. You nipped at his bottom lip impatiently, licking hot and demanding into his mouth when he opened up to you. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you threaded your fingers through his hair, kissing him hungrily and sucking on his tongue before you surfaced for air. You kissed an open-mouthed line across his jaw and down his throat, pausing to nip and suck at his pulse point. “Ah. Not above the collar,” he reminded you gently. You huffed, pressing yourself tighter against him and wedging a knee between both of his so that your thigh was pressed against his crotch. He was already hard and knowing it was because of you - not her - tempered your jealousy a little. Nosing down into the collar of his shirt to reach the juncture of his shoulder, you sucked a stinging bruise into his skin. His hips bucked in response. You couldn’t help but smile as you admired your handiwork, a surge of possessiveness rolling through you. “Mine,” you murmured as you laved your tongue over the offending mark. Nikolai groaned low in his throat, rutting against you more insistently. “Say it again,” he gasped. His voice was rough with arousal and you lifted your head to regard him, surprised by his reaction. You felt a heady rush of power as you looked him over. His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated with lust. His lips were shiny and kiss–swollen and his face was flushed, a deep blush spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest. You had barely started and he was already wrecked. “You belong to me,” you purred in his ear, nuzzling at his throat as you reached a hand between you to stroke him through his pants. He made an involuntary keening sound, his eyes slipping closed as he pushed himself into your palm. “No one else gets to touch you like this, do they?” He shook his head frantically, hips straining towards you, desperately seeking more friction. You sighed, feigning disappointment. “I can’t hear you,” you chastised, “Use your words Kolya." “No,” he breathed, “only you.” “That’s right,” you agreed, smiling against his skin.

You rewarded him by freeing him from his pants and he moaned as you used the precum that had gathered at the head of his cock to slick your palm. He laid his forehead against yours, opening his eyes so that he could follow the movement of your hand as you jerked him in a firm, fast rhythm until he was panting. When you knew he was near his peak, you lifted your head to meet his eyes. “Mine,” you whispered possessively, a seductive smile on your lips. He shuddered, his head dropping to your shoulder and his hands tightening on your waist as he came with a soft cry, thick stands of cum covering your hand and the front of his shirt. He slumped against the wall, boneless in the aftermath of his orgasm. “Well,” he said breathlessly, “that was..,” “Intense? Incredible? Life changing?” you suggested helpfully, and he snorted a laugh. “I was going to say unexpected, but those work too.”

You brought your clean hand up to his throat, running your thumb over the dark bruises you had left just below the line of his collar. "I'm afraid I've made quite a mess," you said, "I'm sorry." And you were, now that the bitter sting of jealousy had faded and you had returned to your senses.

"Don't be. I don't know if you could tell but I rather liked it," Nikolai grinned, "and besides, I've made a mess of you too, so I'd say we're even."

"I suppose that's true," you agreed, bringing your hand up to your mouth. Your tongue snaked out to gently lap the remains of his release from your fingers and he groaned, scrubbing a shaky hand across his face. “You’re trying to kill me,” he accused and you laughed as you leaned in to kiss him. Nikolai pulled you in closer, deepening the kiss but keeping it sweet and unhurried.

"Give me a moment to recover and I'll repay the favour," he promised.

[cornflakesachiles]

Me before watching Shadow and Bone season 2: “I like Nikolai from the books a normal amount ”

After 2.03

*trying to act normal* “I’m so normal about Nikolai”

After 2.08

*Visibly shaking from the effort of trying to act normal* “I’m totally normal about this man, you can’t even imagine how normal I am”

[shiveringfrogspawn]

Never forget that Nikolai Lantsov, former King of Ravka, inventor, general, bastard prince, secret privateer, and professional flirt knows how to juggle. This man never ceases to amaze me.

[casimirseviltwin]

James Tiberius Kirk and Nikolai Lantsov are extremely similar characters and I have arguments

They both have that rebellious image when they’re actually nerds

They’re both the ‘golden boys’ of their respective institutions

They have the EXACT same dynamic with their sidekicks/partners (litteral same colour palet)

They both have blue badass pockerface rude and hot partners (which kinda is the point above but wtv it’s too similar not to point it out)

They both command ships

They’re both extraverts

[annebrontefanclub]

I’m serious y’all

[number-0-iz]

I have gifs, I make memes, I make trailers, covers, posters and I love sharing about my ocs!

Do you ever read a fic so interesting you want behind the scenes lore, ten pinterest moodboards and one of those fancy .gif edits but none of that exists bc it's a fanfic?

[atlabeth]

congratulations on 3k!!! could I get a cute lil 🧸 hurt/comfort with nikolai where reader is grisha (maybe heartrender or inferni) and she gets jurda parem in her system and nikolai stays with her while she waits it out (like nina and matthias??) also drink water <333

by your side

pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem inferni!reader

summary: you end up as collateral in a plot against nikolai. he helps you through the aftermath.

a/n: so sorry this took so long but that’s going to be the case for all of these lol !!! oops. but i love this man and i hope you enjoy it

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): reader goes through parem withdrawal and is kinda mean to nikolai for a bit. mentions of kidnapping and drugging. hurt/comfort, nikolai is the sweetest

“Nikolai—”

“I know.”

“It hurts, Nikolai,” you breathed.

“I know, milaya.” He brushed loose strands of hair out of your eyes, matted to your forehead by sweat and blood, his heart breaking more with every passing second. “I know.”

Nikolai couldn’t stand to see you like this. You didn’t even want him to—you asked him to leave so you could go through it on your own, but he would sooner die than leave you alone. You had an iron grip on his hand, but he hardly felt it. After what had been done to you in the name of getting to him, Nikolai owed you this much.

“Everything burns,” you moaned. “My— my bones—”

You were cut off by a sharp gasp of pain and your grip on Nikolai’s hand tightened. The action made you grimace as your eyes screwed shut, but you didn’t lessen your hold.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to ease this pain for you. He understood little of jurda parem, if a cure even existed, but he did know that you were strong enough to weather what was meant to be an insurmountable storm.

“You can end it,” you said, your voice shaking. Bloodshot eyes met his own, wide and dilated and full of unimaginable pain. “You’ve got to still have some here.”

“You know I can’t do that, my love,” he murmured.

“Please, Nikolai,” you begged.

“It will only make it worse,” he said. “There is nothing we can do but wait. You are strong enough to get through it, milaya.”

“Then what are you good for?” you snarled, your voice rising with the sudden flash of anger. “You’re a damned king, but you can’t even stop this?”

You tried to rip your hand away but Nikolai wouldn’t let you. He laid his other hand on top of yours.

“Look at me, Nikolai,” you hissed. “You say you love me and you leave me like this.”

“It is because I love you that I cannot give anything to you,” he said. “I can’t imagine how this feels, but I will be here for you every second of the way.”

You shook your head as another pained gasp escaped you, and somehow your grip tightened even more.

“I just want it to stop,” you begged. “Please, please make it stop.”

You were drenched in sweat, the bedsheets and the undergarments you’d stripped down to soaked through, and yet you hadn’t been granted any reprieve.

You’d always found comfort in the blazes you could create—able to fight with unbelievable ferocity one moment and make a harmless, beautiful show out of it that summoned all the stars in Nikolai’s eyes the next—but now it threatened to consume you.

Nikolai couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault.

You should have never been involved in the first place. He should’ve done a better job at protecting you, should have kept your name hidden, should have never let anyone have the chance to do something like this in the first place.

It was his fault. Nikolai knew he had enemies, more than he could ever imagine after ascending to the throne. Some stupid, naive part of him hoped that you wouldn’t become a part of that, but that was all it was—naivety.

You were kidnapped to get to him. Drugged to get to him. The bastards must have hoped you would go up in flames once you were done, but they underestimated you. Your foes always did.

You didn’t deserve any of this. Those criminals knew one thing, at least, because Nikolai would have taken all your pain as his burden for the rest of his life if it meant one second of reprieve for you.

But he couldn’t. His enemies wanted him to suffer, and the best way to do that was to make you suffer.

“I know,” he whispered, and he raised your intertwined hands to press a kiss to the back of your palm. “I know.”

Your skin had all but ignited from the inside out, more intense than anything an Inferni could muster on their own. You could have plunged to the depths of the Isenvee and still burn the whole way down.

And it continued on.

You hurled every curse at him in your native Zemeni, and when you ran out you turned to what you knew in Ravkan. You tried to throw him off or get him to leave a hundred times, tried anything to make him hate you. He could never hate you.

You sobbed through your pain, begging Nikolai to make it end. You gripped his hand so tightly he thought it might break. You asked him to kiss you to distract you for even a moment.

You endured every hellish, torturous second, and Nikolai stayed by your side through it all.

“Nikolai.” The sudden whisper was so soft he had to lean closer to hear you.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m so tired.”

“You can sleep,” he assured. “I will be right here with you.”

“Hold me.” Your voice cracked, and his heart twisted. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Every part of you had been so sensitive, practically ablaze, and he didn’t want to worsen your already sensitive condition.

“I… I feel so empty.” You blinked a few times, but he saw the tears shimmering in your eyes. “Like— like I lost a part of myself, and I need to feel something.”

Nikolai’s throat bobbed, and he nodded. “Of course, lapushka.”

He climbed into bed next to you and laid down, gathering you up in his arms as gently as possible.

“Is this alright?” he asked softly as he pulled you close.

You nodded. He could feel each beat of your heart with your back pressed against his chest, and he’d never been more grateful for the sound. Your skin still burned, but he welcomed the blaze.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good.”

For a moment, the two of you laid there in silence. Only your heartbeat and your breathing interrupted it, yours still slightly harried.

“I’m not hurting you,” he asked, “am I?”

“…No.”

You paused before you answered, and Nikolai frowned as he said your name.

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “Everything hurts right now—I’m not going to let that keep you away from me.”

He let out a wry laugh, and he pulled you even closer. “There she is.”

He could almost feel your smile in the shift of energy, but another moment passed before you spoke.

“I’m so sorry about everything I said.” Your whisper came out as a rasp, your throat scratchy from your ordeal. “I love you, Nikolai. More than anything. You know that, right?”

“I could never forget,” he said. “Not with all the love I hold for you.”

“…Good.” He felt you swallow hard. “I’m so sorry.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Nikolai said. “It was my fault all of this happened.”

“It was their fault,” you insisted. “You saved me, Nikolai. I owe you my life.”

“And I owe you mine,” he said. “So shall we call it even? No apologies necessary?”

You let out a soft laugh, followed by a grimace. “Even.”

Nikolai smiled and nodded. “Good.”

“…I’m tired,” you repeated, even softer this time.

“Rest, milaya,” Nikolai said. “I won’t leave your side.”

“You swear?”

“On every saint, new and old,” he said. “And every vlachka in the Lantsov coffers.”

He waited for your response, but there was nothing apart from your gentle, even breathing. He allowed a soft smile before he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

Nikolai would never let anyone hurt you again.

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

What do you mean Nikolai Lantsov was a morally grey character? He was a selfless hero!

Literally Nikolai Lantsov:

Befriended and convinced already disoriented and ignorant Alina that the Darkling was a bigger issue than the First Army and the people turning on Grisha and executing them, a brewing civil war that would most likely happen even if they killed the Darkling, Fjerda and Shu-Han casually invading their territory, etc. That they should abandon negotiations with the Darkling and prepare for war even though the country can't take it. Also, his reasoning that he should become the King? Nikolai: Oh yeah, I'm a bastard with no claim to the throne who has never actually done anything to change Ravka for the better, I was too busy playing pirates. And I just gave the rapist King who doomed this country a nice retirement and more servants to rape, while your friend Genya who he raped gets a trial for attempted regicide, be grateful she will be spared.

"Fouche did not miss the boat: Befriending the revolutionary leader Robespierre, he quickly rose in the rebel ranks. When Fouche arrived in Paris to take his seat at the convention, a violent rift had broken out between die moderates and the radical Jacobins. Fouche sensed that in the long run neither side would emerge victorious."

While Alina and Darkling were watching each other, Nikolai was watching the throne. Darkling got rid of the King and the only legitimate heir for him, so all Nikolai had to do is march into a disbanded army and declare himself a war hero and the King. Nikolai: Maybe we should just abolish absolute monarchy in Ravka because it's 20th century already, some of the countries no longer have it and no one even wants it anymore? Don't be ridiculous. My mother was an oyster and I'm the pearl or something.

"Power rarely ends up in the hands of those who start a revolution, or even of those who further it; power sticks to those who bring it to a conclusion. That was the side Fouche wanted to be on.

At a certain moment, however, he called a halt to the killings, sensing the mood of the country was turning, and despite the blood already on his hands, citizens of Lyons hailed him as a savior from what had become known as the Terror."

Nikolai to the remaining Grisha after the civil war: Right, so I know I used my big guns to slaughter you, the oppressed minority, because you sided with a man who gave you shelter, saved you and was your respected general instead of a girl who was prejudiced against you, never trained, and abandoned you, BUT I need an army. So, here's your pardon and you can once again become serfs to the monarchy who failed you for centuries. Also, the drafting age has been lowered for Grisha and now we're sending unprepared children to missions. Freedom for Grisha? Letting them buy land? Don't be ridiculous. Can't you see I have more important problems to deal with? The Darkling still exists trapped somewhere in the form of a ghost!

If only the author would acknowledge in KoS duology that he has flaws and selfish ambitions. Let him be a complicated character with layers, it's not the end of the world.

[ellewritesalright]

Nine Long Years - Part 7

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 6 --- Masterlist

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Well... long time no see. I'm happy to finally share this part. it's been several months in the works since I have been very busy with college. So thank you to all who have stuck around. This part takes place around the start of the Ruin and Rising book, and is a fair bit shorter than the last few parts have been (btw I can't believe I've written over 40k words for this series) but I hope you all like it. I went a bit easier with the angst than I expected by giving these two a slight break

Warnings: mentions of death, angst and fluff, mentions of sickness, injury, panic attacks, firepox. If I'm missing something pls lmk

Word Count: 3,570

……….

SIXTH YEAR

Genya's handiwork stung. Though she was fixing your injuries, the nature of her Corporalki abilities was that she had to undo your injuries in a similar process as their infliction. You tried not to complain as she treated your fractured and cut shoulder, but you were still swallowing back a scream. Tamar ran a soothing hand along your head as she and Tolya held you down.

"Hold still for me." You could vaguely hear Genya say.

You gave a slight nod, all you could manage at the moment. The pain was excruciating. There was fire all along your shoulder blade and up and over to the corner of your collarbone where the Darlking's nichevo'ya had clawed at you. Like sticking a red hot iron to flesh. You were biting down so hard on the handle of Tamar's axe that you thought you might break a tooth. The Tailor's hands hovered over your shoulder and your body jolted but Tolya tightened his grip.

Everything was dark. It never occurred to you how musty and dank an underground tunnel system would be. You'd never considered a place like this could even exist. But here you were, below ground, in the darkest, dankest little "room" you'd ever been in. And no amount of candles or incense trays staved your new fear of the dark.

When you closed your eyes, you could see Nikolai. The way his eyes frantically found yours across the room. How he screamed when his brother was torn apart by the Darkling's shadow creatures. The silent nod of understanding as you guarded Alina while he helped his parents escape.

You wondered where he was now. With any luck, Nikolai escaped on the Kingfisher. He was safe and sound and able to fight the war while Alina and the rest of you were all underground. He had to be safe. Saints above and below, by the grace of Ghezen, and on the holiness of even the Fjerdan god, he had to be safe.

Because if he wasn't, you simply wouldn't know what to do. 

You felt the pain end, and you glanced back at the trio of corporalki behind you.

"There," Genya spoke softly, easing her hands away from your shoulder. "This is about all I can do. The scarring doesn't go away completely."

Her eyes dropped in shame, one of the scars on her cheek pulling as she frowned slightly. Tamar and Tolya had released you, and you sat up. You gently took Genya's hand, giving her a grateful smile.

"You've healed me to full strength, and that's all that matters," you said kindly. "Thank you."

She smiled back at you.

……….

Time blurred together underground. You were still guarding Alina, and you'd constantly accompany her through the elaborate tunnels. You didn't trust the Apparat running this little underground cult. He had come to Alina's aid, that was true enough. But there was no doubt in your mind that the snivelly, power-hungry little man had some ulterior motive. Nikolai had told you about him many years ago while at sea.

"The religious counsel to my father is a weasel of a fellow. That man would bite the head off a live snake if it meant he would gain control of a single chapel, let alone the whole of Ravka," Nikolai said of the Apparat. 

You could only hope Alina wasn't the snake in this case.

You worried for your sun summoner. It was no wonder that you all looked worn after your fight with the Darkling, but most of you had healed up despite your weariness. Yet Alina didn't seem to recover. She had lost use of her summoning in the past few months. It was difficult to say if that was because you were so far away from the sun, or because of the strain from her last fight with the Darkling; either way, you'd never seen her look so pale and sickly. 

"It doesn't seem like anything helps her," Mal worriedly whispered to you one evening as you two ate off to the side of the usual huddle your group maintained. "Not water, or food, or any sort of activity."

"She probably just needs sun," you said, trying to ease his mind. "Once we figure out how to escape this place, we'll get her above ground and she'll be better."

"What if that's not all? When she fought the Darkling--"

"Don't think on it, Oretsev." You cut him off. "That's no way to be, with your worrying. We'll get her out, and she'll get better. That's it."

Mal let out a long sigh and went back to eating.

Your words had carried conviction. You had no idea how your group would escape, but you didn't mention that. It was all you could do to lift your friends' spirits, even though you were as unsettled as you'd felt since you were a girl in a Ketterdam harbour.

In the evenings, you roomed with Tamar and Tolya. Often sleeping between them, their breathing--and Tolya's snoring--reminded you that you were alive and somehow safe, no matter how temporary.

But even so, the dank underground smelled like death. It was like you were back on the cobbles of Ketterdam, seeing your brothers in every corner of every dark cavern in this place. They haunted you, even here. And, with no one to distract you from them, no one to hold you and reassure you that you weren't at fault for their sickness, their ghosts dogged you all hours of the day.

There were a few children underground, and sometimes when they'd cry you could just feel the sobs your baby brother cried against your shoulder when Da had passed away. You could taste the sick you emptied into the harbour after you lost your brothers. 

It occurred to you that maybe this was your lot in life; maybe you were just meant to be haunted. You were plagued, for lack of a better word.

You couldn't count how many times a day your mind strayed to Nikolai. Worries or memories would surface, and you were unable to stave them just as you couldn't stave thoughts of your family. Truthfully, you didn't want to keep them at bay anymore. If you could die tomorrow and join your brothers, you would rather die with Nikolai in your thoughts than with nothing but fear and grief dogging your brain.

The anger you'd harboured for Nikolai had vanished. Your grudge seemed so insignificant now that you were separated like this. Everything seemed insignificant when you were trapped in a tomb.

At night the only reprieve you had from all the ghosts was when you'd finally fall asleep, your fingers clutching Nikolai's ring on the chain around your neck. 

……….

When you and your friends finally surfaced again, it was a mad dash escape from that weasel and his cult. 

You were running through some forest with them. You had no idea where you surfaced, all you knew was that it wasn't just the Aparat's cult after you, but a sect of Vasily's old Grisha-hating First Army. The soldiers were hot on your tails as you dashed through the trees. Tolya and Tamar were on your right, Genya was to your left, and Alina and Mal were slightly ahead of you. Shots were being fired behind you, and you weaved and ducked to avoid bullets as you ran aimlessly. Some of the Grisha you were travelling with used their skills to take on those in pursuit of you, but there were too many of them. 

Just when it felt as though you would never make it out of this forest and away from the soldiers, you heard a familiar shouting of command. Repeat revolvers starting gunning from above, and you grabbed Genya and ducked to the side as the Kingfisher flew overhead, taking out your remaining foes. 

It was all a blur as the flying ship landed. Your mind was whirring as Genya helped you to your feet, guiding you to the ship. You watched the others climb aboard, then you took your turn as well. As you clutched the wooden rails, you remembered the last time you'd been on this vessel, how you fell asleep below deck, curled up against Nikolai.

Nikolai.

As soon as he reentered your mind, your head was whipping around to catch sight of him, for surely he was here. It didn't take you long to hone in on him. He was speaking with Mal, grim expressions on both of their faces. Alina was there too, guzzling down a water flask; she looked automatically healthier now that she was out of the dirt and into the sun, but still not at full strength. Your eyes went to Nikolai again, and he seemed to be glancing around as well. When his eyes locked on yours, you swore you almost started to cry. The tension in his brow loosened, his strong shoulders relaxing for a second before he quickly excused himself from Mal and Alina. He strode directly over to you, bracing you in a hug. You clutched him back, face bundled in his chest as he gripped you so tightly.

There was a long moment in his arms as you embraced, but you both needed it. You'd gone months without knowing if each other were alive, much less alright.

"Thank every Saint that ever was," Nikolai chuckled in relief as he held you. He leaned back, bracing your arms. He noticed the rip in your jacket where the nichevo’ya had cut up your shoulder in the chapel. While the cult was able to provide a new shirt and trousers for you, there'd been no replacement jacket for you underground. "That's no good. Here." 

He shed his military coat and slung it over you. He dusted off the sleeves as you just stood there watching him. You'd almost forgotten how warm his hazel eyes were.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, his hands still holding to your forearms almost as if reminding himself that you were really there in front of him.

There was no way to tell him about your time underground, about the scar on your shoulder and the feeling that maybe your whole life was just haunted. It took everything in you to reply with hope.

"Better now," you whispered back, nodding softly.

He smiled regretfully at you. You knew him well enough to know that he had something to say, but you weren't going to pressure it out of him. The last time you'd seen him you were still upset with him over his engagement–something that felt inconsequential now. Months away from him had turned your anger to dust, and now you just wanted to wipe clean and move on as best as you could--with or without him.

Nikolai looked at you for a moment, then hugged you again. He whispered something in Kerch, an old saying that you could remember your Ma and Da saying to one another when you were younger and your world was a farm and a family that was whole.

"My soul knows no richer than yours," he muttered into your ear, speaking your native tongue in his pretty lilt.

You teared up slightly. Your hand made a weak fist against his chest as you replied in Kerch. "You're infuriating."

"I know." 

He cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his palm, staring at his soft hazel eyes.

"Go below deck, and I'll join you in a moment, alright?" He whispered kindly.

You nodded and made your way below. It took Nikolai longer than expected to join. There were others below deck, a few injured Grisha and Nikolai's First Army soldiers being tended to. You watched bones being reset, blood being transferred, and breathing assisted. You flinched as one of the soldiers coughed up blood, making a hauntingly familiar noise. Just as you looked away for fear of nausea, a hand grabbed yours. Nikolai had sat down beside you, and he gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

He let you lean into his side as the two of you sat there in silence.

……….

The Kingfisher flew for nearly a half hour more, but Nikolai stayed with you below deck until they had to dock the flying ship. When you arrived at the Spinning Wheel, there were lots of Grisha-friendly First Army there to greet everyone. The rescued were all led to different rooms, and as someone approached you to get you settled, Nikolai murmured something to them. They nodded and helped you through the winding hallways. You were given a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, and you wondered what you'd done to earn a private space like this. Surely many people at the Spinning Wheel had to share rooms. 

Once you were alone, you shed your dank, dirt-covered cult clothes and discarded them in the bedroom while you ran a bath for yourself. 

As you sank into the warm water you let your mind settle. It felt odd to feel safe again. After your time below ground, you didn’t know when you’d feel this way again, but you were grateful it was now.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door, and you heard Nikolai's voice.

“I took your clothes to the washers and brought you clean trousers and a shirt. I'll leave them just outside the door here for when you're finished your bath," he said kindly.

"Thank you," you called out, your voice slightly unsteady. 

The thought of Nikolai on the other side of the door made your heart race. There was something about the moment that felt distinctly like your first trip to West Ravka back when you began to know him more as Nikolai than Sturmhond. The separation by only a door felt as excruciating as it used to feel watching him get into bed beside you without being able to reach for him. Prudence and politeness governed you both so strictly back them, and it had taken reign once again.

You shut your eyes and tried to relax some more in the bath, but your peace had shattered at the thought of Nikolai being so near yet so out of your reach.

You huffed to yourself as you got out of the bath and dried off. You took the clothes Nikolai had left for you and dressed yourself. The layers of soft white linen were slightly thin, but certainly not unappreciated. After months in the same clothes that you were rarely allowed to wash, you were overdue for something clean and fresh. 

Without realizing it, your feet carried you to your bedroom door. It wasn't as though you knew where anything was in this place, but you twisted the knob and stepped into the hallway anyways. You made it two steps before you realized he was there, leaning against the wall beside your door.

"Hi," he said, blushing slightly.

You nodded at him. "Hi."

"Can we talk?" He asked, his eyes earnest.

You nodded again, stepping back into your room and letting him follow.

There were no other chairs or seating in the room, so you sat on the edge of your bed.

Nikolai sat a respectable distance beside you. "I wanted to tell you that--what's this?" 

His eyes were on your shirt's wide collar, where the edge of your shoulder scar peeked out. You hooked a finger into your collar, pulling it to show a bit more of the scar as you angled your back to him too.

"Oh… it's from the nichevo’ya. One just barely nicked my shoulder as we first escaped into the tunnels." You felt a slight sting as he gently grazed his thumb along it. You relished his touch and the reminder that he was alive and with you so much so that you didn't even mind the sting. "Genya says it's permanent."

"I should have been there," he murmured.

You shook your head, turning back to look at him. "No, I'm glad you weren't. You needed to be above ground."

"I should have been with you." His eyes had that earnest look crossed with slight guilt.

"You had to get your parents to safety and rally what was left of the First Army, Nikolai."

"I wanted to be with you." He said as he held your hand, interlocking your fingers. "You're the woman I love, and I thought of you every second of every day I wasn't with you. Saints, I need you more than I need air."

You leaned closer to him, pressing your forehead against his collarbone. It wasn't meant in any romantic way, more just as a silent way to express that you loved him too, that you cared deeply for him. He brought his one arm around your shoulder as the other still held your hand.

"That's why I'm not going through with it," he said, and you could feel the rumble of his words against your head.

"With what?" You whispered.

"The engagement with Alina."

You leaned back slightly to look in his eyes. "What?"

He thumbed along your cheek. "Once the war is won, Alina and I will not be getting married. She and I have spoken already."

"But what about the unification of Ravka and the first and second army?"

"That can happen some other way." He looked deeply into your eyes. "But once we've won this war, I only want one thing."

You sighed and gave him a sad smile. "Niko–"

"Will you marry me?"

Your breath caught in your chest.

There was a time you thought he would ask you this, before you landed in Ravka more permanently, before you got launched into this war against the Darkling. But you knew he still had his ambitions.

"Is it because your brother's dead? Because you're guaranteed to be king now?" You asked.

He sighed and shook his head. It was hard to tell if he'd expected any apprehension from you. "It's because I love you. More than anything else I could ever think of. When I first arrived at the Spinning Wheel, everyone else whined about the cold of the mountains or the fact that they missed tea service and their evening kvas, but all I missed was you." He gently squeezed your hand. "Every day I spent not knowing if you were safe, if you were alive… I could barely sleep, barely eat… You're all I could ever want."

The look in his eyes was reminiscent of his soft yet resolute stare when he’d placed that crown on your head. It felt like a lifetime ago that he whispered honey in your ears and you listened without a shred of apprehension. But right now this wasn’t honey. This was raw. This was real. This was Nikolai in a state of total resolve. And you knew you wouldn’t be made a fool if you accepted him.

"I am all you want?" you whispered in response, your lips curling upwards slightly.

"You are. I want to spend my life with you," he smiled. "Will you marry me?"

“Yes." You nodded, a full smile forming on your lips. “I'll marry you. Of course I will.”

Nikolai broke into a grin. He cupped your cheeks and kept grinning at you, his eyes locked with yours. “Saints, I love you more than anything.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, then dipped down to capture your lips.

It was the first you’d kissed him in months and months. Truly, you hadn’t felt his lips on yours since before you’d crossed the fold. It ignited a forgotten hunger in you, and you kissed him back with a deep longing.

“I missed you,” he murmured as you pulled back for a moment. You noticed tears in his eyes. “I was so stupid, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. I never should have proposed to Alina, or made you feel like I only wanted you in secret. I want you, I’m proud to want you, and I never want my love for you to be a secret. I want you as my queen–my truest companion, as you have always been. I just… I want you.”

You kissed him again, wrapping your arms around him. You leaned so far against him that he rested his back against the headboard, bringing you with him. You missed the closeness with him, the intimacy of being pressed into his body as you kissed. Your fingers threaded into his golden hair as you sighed into his soft lips.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered and you took in a breath.

Your fingers idly traced the skin right above his shirt collar. “I’ll forgive you once you get me a ring and make it official.”

“I gave you a ring years ago, my dear.” His finger went to the chain around your neck, and he pulled it loose from under your shirt, making his old silver ring dangle between you. “One could argue that we’ve been engaged all this time.”

“Then one could also argue that you were most definitely cheating on your fiance when you proposed to someone else,” you smirked at him.

“Ouch. I deserved that,” he chuckled.

He cupped your face again, his palms warm against your skin.

“I’ll get you a new ring. Something regal and fit for the most beautiful queen Ravka will ever know, moi tsaritsa.”

You smiled and leaned down to kiss him again. “Good.”

..........

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment on this new part--I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: I will reblog this part with the tags because there's too many of you to tag and tumblr won't let me do it all at once :)

[the-lonewriter]

@braveandunbreakable @korolnichevoya @udovaintomyheart @sophierequests

SHADOW AND BONE SEASON 2

#fellas is it gay to hug your childhood best friend who is also your king and tell him while he’s in your arms that your heart can beat once again

[happyhauntt]

and i am coming home to you — nikolai lantsov.

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: there are some things that cannot be saved. nikolai swears she won't be one of them.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: serious angst, pre-established relationship, descriptions of injuries, blood and torture, oc was held as a prisoner of war, allusions to ravka's war with shu han, suicidal thoughts if you squint. trauma. fluff & romance but in an angsty way. nikolai is so in love and so am i.

─── word count: 2.5k.

     There’s a soft, dusky twilight bleeding in through the window. The last few seconds before the sun goes down, and the shadows stretch like yearning fingers out of all the cracks and crevices.

     Anya used to love the sunset. Used to lay in her bedroll beneath the trees and wait for the world to go quiet. All the colour would bleed away until the blue and black and stars were the only witnesses left.

     She loved the sunset until one day, the darkness came and never left. It settled over her like a second skin, and that once-familiar comfort became something she feared she’d never shake off. She feared she would die there, in the dark.

     Once or twice, she even wished for it.

      The dark comes calling again, now. It no longer feels like an old friend. The light fades from the window, cloaking the cabin in a strange half-dark. The waves crashing against the sides of the ship are a dull roar in the back of her mind. An unwelcome accompaniment to the rest of her terrible thoughts. Her head aches. Her skin burns.

     He saved her, but what was left of her to save? What is left of her now but a ghost, a corpse, a pile of skin and bones and blood that can do nothing else but scream and scream and scream?

     That's what it feels like. Her body. Her heart. Little more than a carcass left to rot, picked over by crows.

     She would love him if she could. A fierceness rests between her lungs, the single spark of life left within her after they stripped her of the rest. This, she'd cradled close, clutched between gnarled, bloody fingers. This is his. This, they couldn't tear from her if they tried.

     And they had tried.

     The bed rocks beneath her. After so long trapped in a dingy cell, the mattress should feel like the height of luxury, stuffed with goose feathers and lined with linen, but it all feels like stone. She tastes blood in her mouth, and she doesn’t know if it’s her own. The silk sheets ghost over her flesh, feeling sharp as razor blades.

     Anya never learned to love her cage, but she doesn’t trust freedom, either. Not yet.

     It's not that he's the reason she lived. He isn't her reason to keep breathing. Anya Kamenev is her father's daughter, and has endured untold horrors, and if there is one certainty in the world, it is that she is not weak. She survived for herself, for her parents, for her country. She wanted to be home again. The trees blossoming in the summertime, fresh ripe fruit on her tongue, winter air that smells like snow.

     She wouldn't die like this. Not at their hands. Anya would go quietly in her bed at a ripe old age, surrounded by people who loved her. Or she'd go to her knees on a battlefield, still screaming as the bullets rip her wide open, and with her last breath, she'd take them down too.

     Not like this. Not in a dark laboratory, or a torture chamber. Not at their hands. Anya is stubborn. She'd bleed green if someone told her she was wrong. She'd make it true.

     But he loves her. He loves her, and that is everything. He’d appeared before her like a vision sent by the Saints, like something holy in a place she knows no god would ever touch. Like a miracle. On the bad days, his love is blossom trees and fresh fruit and winter air combined. He has held her hand through darkness, guided her through battle, and even when he left for his apprenticeship, he'd kissed her like it was a promise.

     They'd taken everything else. Broken her bones and slashed her skin. Wrought her apart to scratch at her soul. She'll bear the scars for the rest of her life, long after the wounds are healed. Her body will never be the same. Her mind may never recover.

     But this wasn't hers to give up. This is his. Loving him had been a candle in the darkness. A reminder that she was human still. A reminder that even in the blackest night, dawn will come again.

     But now, lying alone in his bed in a dim cabin, Anya grows restless. The mind is a strange thing, and something about this safety feels foreign to her. There are voices in the walls. The shadows have eyes. The ship lurches in the waves and she swears there is a hand right there, reaching out—

     She's on her feet before she realises what she's doing. She never was a girl built to run — her instinct has always been to stay, to fight — but this is different, and blood doesn’t always feel like blood when you touch it.

     Her knee buckles beneath her the moment she puts weight on it. A strangled shriek escapes her lips as pain streaks through her like lightning. The cabin door slams open, and Nikolai appears. His tailored-red hair glows in the candlelight, a halo of bronze. His face is still different, crooked nose and freckles and green eyes, but he will never be unfamiliar to her.

     He crosses the room in two strides and falls to his knees beside Anya. His teal overcoat has been abandoned, and what remains is a loose white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, still speckled with her blood. Her stomach twists at the sight of it as his hands find her shoulders. Something solid, finally; her guiding light once more.

     The chill that had stolen over her body vanishes where he touches her, and Anya leans into him heavily, her face pressed into the warmth of his shoulder. An agonising moan rises up within her, but she holds her breath. She bites her tongue so hard it bleeds.

     "You shouldn't be up, love." His voice is still the same soothing cadence in her ear. One hand brushes through ragged, tangled girls. It seems someone tried to brush her hair while she was unconscious; bathed the worst of the blood away, changed her into fresh clothes, but the scent of iron still lingers on her skin. His fingers catch in a knot, but the sharp spike of pain on her scalp goes unnoticed. The rest of her is screaming too loudly.

     "I cannot be in that bed any longer." Anya shakes her head, once, and breathes in the salt-and-cedar scent of him. Hands outstretched, clawing blindly, she grasps him tightly and swears she'll never let go again. "I cannot be here."

     How long had the Shu held her? How many days have passed since they killed the last member of her unit, since his cries grew too quiet and she'd been left alone with her worst nightmares? Had anyone notified her parents? What will they say, when they learn the truth? When they discover their worst fear has come to pass, and their darling daughter was tortured for being Grisha?

     "You cannot be anywhere else, Nastya," says Nikolai. He sounds like aching. His lips brush against her temple as he speaks, voice soft as silk. His hands are gentle, too, as he scoops her up from the floor and settles her back onto the bed. She holds herself stiffly, choking back another scream as her knee jostles and jerks.

     He winces as if every choked-off cry is a blade through his heart. He murmurs sweet apologies as he readjusts the pillows and perches on the bed beside her, close enough to touch, wary of disturbing her leg any further. His hands linger on hers. The tips of his fingers trace light patterns over the inside of her wrist.

     For a moment, nothing has changed.

     "Do you need anything, Captain?" The voice in the doorway is a little startling, and for a second Anya is back in that cell. She stiffens as the woman watches them both, a soft frown toying at her mouth. Golden eyes shine with pity.

     Nikolai rolls his lips together for a moment. "Perhaps some water, please, Tamar." The woman nods, and tugs the door closed behind her as she departs, leaving the pair wrapped in stony silence.

     Nikolai's eyes trail over Anya, searching, inspecting her injuries as if committing every scar to memory. He cannot count how many times he has done this since he found her. Sitting on the bed just like this, close enough to feel the warmth of her, counting each breath as if they might be her last. His eyes harden at the bruises on her throat, the gash across her cheek. Sweeping lower, his gaze settles on her knee again. He swallows roughly. Darkness sweeps over him like a burial shroud.

     The skin of Anya's leg is mottled, black and yellow and purple, a medley of half-healed bruises intermingled with fresh ones. They hurt her. They broke her. And for the first time since he left Ravka, anticipating a bright and shining future filled with adventure, Nikolai is drowning in regret.

     "Tolya did his best, but he's not a healer." His throat feels tight, like there's smoke in his lungs. Her skin is littered with newly-pink scars and stitched-up wounds. Her leg is the worst of it. Nikolai doesn't recall seeing injuries like this, even in the army. "We'll get you healers when we dock. The best healers. They'll be able to help with the rest of it. They'll be able to—"

     "Fix me?" Anya sounds hollow. His eyes snap to hers, and he finds someone staring back at him, but it isn't Anya. It isn't the girl he fell in love with. Somewhere within, she might be hiding, but here and now, he's faced with a ghost. "I lost count of how many times they broke it. Sometimes they'd drag a healer in to mend the bone, and then... snap. Other times they'd just leave it. There are some things that can't be fixed if you break them enough."

     A rough shake of his head. His heart sits like lead in his chest. "We'll fix it. You'll be good as new in no time, Nastya, I promise you."

Silence falls over them for a moment, filled with nothing but crashing waves and crackling candles. His fingers keep drawing circles over her wrist, and her pulse flutters gently beneath his touch. Her hands remain in her lap, pale and thin.

     "How long was I gone?"

     He doesn't need to ask what she means by that. His heart squeezes. "Six weeks, we think. They reported you missing-in-action when your unit didn't reach the checkpoint."

     Nausea rises like a tidal wave in Anya’s throat. Six weeks? Every horrible moment had felt like an eternity, and yet she never believed, never could have guessed it had been that long.

     "Sturmhond came to find me. Why?"

     An old fury lashes through him, one that had only settled when he laid eyes on her, half-dead in that dingy cell. Fingers curl into trembling fists as that anger rises again, unbidden, but not at her. Never at her. His jaw ticks at the memory. "Command thought attempting a rescue would be too... risky." He spits the word through gritted teeth. The Saints only know what he’ll do the moment he gets his hands on the First Army General responsible for that decision. "They couldn't prove you were in Shu Han, and crossing the border to rescue you would have risked an international incident."

     A necessary sacrifice. Collateral damage. A most unfortunate loss. That's what the bulletin had read, when he finally received it. Sturmhond kept up-to-date on Ravka, its military engagements, its economy. When he'd docked in Os Kervo eleven days ago and sent the twins out for supplies and information, the last thing he expected to hear was that a scouting group had gone missing near the Shu Han border.

     His last correspondence with Anya had mentioned that she was being deployed there, that she'd been tasked with leading a reconnaissance mission with the aim of finding new ways around the Fold. It had only taken a little digging to discover the names of the personnel who'd gone missing.

     He sees Lieutenant Colonel Anya Kamenev: MISSING IN ACTION every time he closes his eyes. It might be seared onto his brain forever.

     Anya’s eyes fall closed. Her jaw is tight. With pain or anger, he cannot tell. It was a sound tactical decision, she thinks. She cannot blame them for that. She might even have made the same call.

     But her leg screams at her. Nikolai's hand squeezes her own. Your country abandoned you. The words ring through her mind like a death knell.

     "You disagreed with their decision?"

     That familiar crooked grin slips over his face. He almost looks like a boy again, and not the man who loves her, made world-weary by the things he’s seen. They could be home again. It almost makes her cry. "Ravka was concerned about tensions with Shu Han. Nikolai Lantsov was unable to risk an international incident. Sturmhond had no such concerns."

     A ghost of a smile. His heart twinges at the sight of it. "Your letters never mentioned why you chose the name Sturmhond."

     "I'll tell you some other time, darling. It's quite the tale." He leans and kisses her forehead, lingering a few long moments just to breathe her in, feel the warmth of her skin beneath his lips.

     She'd been so pale when he found her. So cold. He thought he'd been too late. Every moment of the past eleven days had been agony as they docked in Shu Han and scouted out any scrap of intel they could find about Ravkan prisoners of war.

     "We'll dock soon. I sent word ahead to the generals, to let them know you've been liberated. I'll take you home."

     Home. A long journey around the Fold, most likely through Fjerdan territory, and then a trek up to Balakirev, and yet— A whimper escapes, almost too quiet to hear. Home. She thought she'd never see it again.

     "They'll want to question me, though." The thought of interviews, of recounting every detail of her torture, of having to admit that she's Grisha, that they killed the rest of her unit but spared her for experimentation, it all makes her sick.

     Nikolai shakes his head. His eyes are steel. "If they want to try, they'll have to go through me. Now sleep, love. Rest. I'll be right here."

     When sleep comes for her, finally, it does not come with those long, yearning fingers. Anya fears she will never love a sunset again, nor wish for the blissful peace of the night. But Nikolai lies down beside her, wraps her up in warm, solid arms, his chest beneath her head. She hears him breathing in her ear, a slow and steady rhythm, though she knows he isn’t sleeping.

     He’ll stay awake the whole night, to keep her demons at bay.

[milayawr]

Sweet Apologies

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: Anniversaries are important for Nikolai, but yet, he can ignore some tiny mistakes of yours.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,027

Notes: I need a Nikolai Lantsov.

My requests are still open but I didn't have time to finish writing them. The school is keeping me busy enough. I'll finish them and share them, but you can share your sweet fic ideas with me!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

He knew that waiting for an angel might be so hard. It was devastating from the inside. His angel was not showing up, but he held onto his hope so tightly that his hope had been hurt.

He had everything ready. A romantic dinner with candle lights, some music to dance; cause you loved dancing and he was excellent at it. He even left his latest project to get ready. Everything was there but you.

The most important thing was you. He couldn't just sit, eat, dance, and chat all by himself at an anniversary of yours.

This was the second year that you both were together. After the war that happened Nikolai had confessed his love for you. There had been sweet moments between you two this year. Like he always had some place of his body injured just to be healed by you.

He knew that you were the best healer, even before he fell in love with you. You were brave, selfless, and careful. You had attended the war to heal people and Nikolai had to admit that he was fascinated by your selflessness, and a little bit scared for you.

You saved his life once, when he was injured you came to the rescue. He had seen He deserved to get his happy moments more, and you longed to give it to him. your face before so he was familiar with you, but he had never seen your pretty face that close. He could remember slightly because he was nearly unconscious but your sweet voice telling him things made his life better. Seeing your face had changed his life. He felt like he died that day and was reborn as a man who was precisely in love.

So after the war, he had his ways to see you more. When he understood that you flirt back with the charming king he took the first step.

The best choice he made was when he first kissed you and he didn't want to know about the last one. He wanted his last breath to be intertwined with yours, he didn't want to die without your kisses.

Your always shy kisses and touches... He would die for them.

He missed you.

He had to see you, touch you, kiss you, take your breath in his lungs... He needed you as he needed air.

But where were you?

It had been three hours. He was waiting and waiting for you to show up. He was clearly upset. First, he missed you because he hadn't seen your pretty face since last night. Second, it was an anniversary for saints' sake. Celebrating the anniversaries meant showing some kind of affection and love. Nikolai knew that you knew how he was looking forward to this night to come.

And yet, he was all alone in the room.

He blew out the candles as the clock went to midnight. Five hours. He spent five hours for you but you didn't show up. Maybe there was something wrong. He hoped it was wrong because he didn't want anything to happen to you.

Nikolai felt hopeless as he went to the healers' infirmary. You were always there. Working. Sometimes making out with your handsome lover, and sometimes even naughty things, but always working apart from the little getaways.

As he entered there, as always, he had everyone's attention. They started to whisper but he didn't care.

"Have you seen Y/N?" He asked to some girk that was passing by him.

"She left hours ago, My King." The healer said. "Actually left earlier today. She said she had to sleep because she felt so tired." She explained and explained.

Nikolai's face never went to relieved and this scared the girl a little. She looked like she was going to say more but Nikolai left her side.

He went right into your room. Where you started to stay at the palace. It was Nikolai's favorite place as it smelled like you.

He quietly entered your room. His eyes wander around your room to find your bed. He saw your figure lying on the bed. You didn't even bother to cover yourself up. He ushered to the bed.

Nikolai gently pulled the duvet and covered you up. He sat on the bed and watched your face. Your tangled hair was all over the pillow. He wanted to hold them and take their smell inside of him. They always smelled so nice.

"Nik," You murmured as he started to play with your hair gently.

"Yes, love." He whispered. His voice was low but his eyes were loud enough to express his love.

"Will you take me to the sea?" Your eyes were still closed and he was sure that you were still sleeping. He loved your little chats while you were asleep. It was cute.

He remembered his little promise when you learned about his days at the sea. As Sturmhond. You wanted to see the life that he lived as a privateer. He wanted to show you.

"Whenever you want." He was busy but he could delay things as he wished. He was the king after all.

"What about now?"

He laughed, "now?"

"Hmhm..."

He kissed your hair. "We can't now since you're sleeping, love."

Something left your lips but he wasn't sure what was it. He kept kissing and playing with your hair. As time passed he took his shoes off and laid next to you. You snuggled close to him as soon as he did that.

To you, he was an escape from the malicious reality of this world. He gave you feelings that only another version of you would feel. Love and being loved were what you desired secretly, but you never thought you'd have those. It took months and years to understand you loved him and he loved you.

You thought it was complicated but it was just that. Love.

Nikolai listened to your breathing as he fell asleep. After meeting you sleeping became as easy as he fell in love with you.

———

Shit.

You might be in deep shit.

Shit, indeed.

That was your first thought as you started to wake up. The curtains that you forgot to close couldn't help you with the sun at all. Your mind was as tangled as your hair. You felt two strong arms around you and it came—

You didn't want to open your eyes. As childish as it sounds, you just didn't care. You knew you couldn't face his disappointment. It was too hard to get through.

Yesterday was busier than you'd ever imagine. Your plans were the same as the last one. Work, leave early, get ready, and celebrate. But you were so tired that you left even earlier. You said that you should sleep before the evening. Not the whole evening.

But you couldn't help. It was a tiring day. But on the other hand, it was a special day. It was your anniversary. It meant everything for Nikolai.

If you kept pretending to sleep you'd never have to see his disappointment, sadness, and a bit of anger.

Yeah, just sleep.

"I know that you're awake, love."

"Nikolai, I'm so so so so sorry." You said as your eyes met. "I fell asleep and I know that I should never and I'm sorry for this."

His rough voice made you shiver. You wandered your hand around his chest as you yawned. You slowly opened your beautiful eyes. He was already watching you. He always did that. Waking up early just to watch you sleeping. It was a bit creepy but you didn't care at all.

You can't take time back, he always said. He gives these events so much importance. What earth were you on? You should've never slept.

"It's okay—"

You cut his sentence from the beginning. "I know it's not! Please stop pretending as if it's alright to ditch you."

"Y/N," he said softly. "It's really okay. You were tired and I saw it all this week. It's a busy working week. Also, I'd rather you rest than stay awake."

You were glowing and he could guess how much you had used of your small science. He always had the idea of healers having the easiest of all but he was definitely wrong.

He slowly kissed your forehead. "It's really okay."

"But I know that you're upset."

"I am, not gonna lie. But seeing you like this melts my sadness." He smiled as an idea popped up. "Let's have breakfast in the garden together. We can ask for anything you crave. I, for one, would kill to eat some bread with jam."

His love for that thing always made you laugh.

"You aren't angry, right?"

"You're kidding, right?" How can I be mad at a pretty face such as yours? Believe me, I'm not."

You knew it was slightly wrong but you were still relieved.

"I love you, Nik. I'm sorry."

"I love you. And stop apologizing." His hands wandered to your sides and his mouth came close to your ear to whisper. "But I might have to give you a punishment."

"What—"

Your laugh was the thing that stopped you from talking anymore. You kept laughing as he tickled your sides.

"Wait!" You screamed as you laughed more. "I—" You tried to continue, but still he was being naughty. "I thought— I was forgiven!"

He ended it as he left your cheek a kiss. "Now, you're fully forgiven, my sweet."

"Oh, I'm glad." You breathed. Your chin had hurt because of your laughing session. "I love you and I'm so—"

This time it was a kiss that interrupted you. His intoxicating lips were on yours in a second. Your only reaction was to kiss him back. It was a slow kiss. Laziest ever, but still special.

He pulled back to say something. "I told you to stop that." He left a tiny kiss again. "Come on," he pulled you with him as he got up. "Let's have breakfast and talk about your day, then my day, and after that maybe we will walk beside the lake. I'm all yours till tomorrow."

"I thought you had meetings."

"Not today. No, not when you have booked my whole day."

He was the sweetest man that ever entered your life and you loved him for it. You loved him for many things.

You got up smiling. He reassured you that he was not heartbroken, sad, mad, or disappointed. Having a day with him would fix his little broken emotions and you were far more than ready for it.

It was what love meant. Doing anything to make the other happy. Having a day with him would have to fix his little broken emotions and you were far more than ready for it. If he was happy, you were happy.

You'd be more than happy to spend this day with him. Because this was love. You were ready to do anything to have love even after your death. You wanted Nikolai to be your end.

You loved him and he loved you. It was that simple.

"Okay," you said. "Let's have breakfast and do whatever you want. I want it to be your day."

"Well, how can I say no to that." He smirked. "I'll be in my room, changing. You'll take me there." He winked at you as you giggled.

"We have a date then."

"Yes, we do my sweet lady."

You kept your smile on your face as you got ready for the day. You had to make it up for last night and you were going to try your best to keep him away from his daily duties.

This day was for him and you. Nothing to interrupt. You wished for this morning to go the same. You wanted to apologize without the words.

You were so sure that you'd make this day his best.

Last night was a mistake that you made because of your tiredness. But today you were fully recovered from yesterday and ready to make it up with your lover.

He deserved to get his happy moments more, and you longed to give it to him.

[thebadgerclan]

Danger

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Nikolai loves to put his life in danger...

Nikolai Lantsov was a…different sort of King.  His approach to ruling had benefited his people, certainly, but it was times like this that you questioned his sanity.  Your husband refused to leave the ruling and governing to his council, which you admired deeply, but he also tended to jump before he thought, so to speak.

Take now, for instance.  The First and Second Armies were making a push on the Fjerdan border to remove their soldiers from Ravkan land.  As leader of the First Army, Nikolai wanted to be there to oversee the maneuver, but where other Kings would remain at camp or on the battlements, out of danger with a view of the soldiers, your husband was on the front lines, rifle in hand alongside his men and women.

Try as you might, there was nothing you could do to convince Nikolai to hang back, to watch from a safe distance.  So you took up your position on the battlements, overseeing the soldiers while keeping a keen eye on your husband.  In your olive drab uniform; a wool skirt than fell to just above your ankles, soft leather boots laced to your knees, a jacket that was fastened to your throat, the gold cords of a general, and the standard issue First Army cap, you almost blended in with the soldiers surrounding you.  The only denotation of your royal status was the pale blue sash across your chest.

Nikolai also wore a standard First Army uniform, though there was little need for a sash of his own.  Everyone knew what the King of Ravka looked like, and on the battlefield, there was no point in drawing further attention to himself.  You watched as your husband’s plan was enacted: Inferni and Squallers would clear a path before Heartrenders and First Army soldiers pressed forward, either killing the Fjerdan soldiers they met or forcing their surrender.

Of course, Nikolai was among the first soldiers through the newly cleared path, and you watched with bated breath as he charged forth.  For several minutes, everything went perfectly.  Fjerdans were sent running with minimal injuries on your side.  Then, it was as if everything slowed down.  Nikolai turned to look behind, meeting your gaze and smiling widely.  Even in the middle of a battlefield, you still made his heart race.  But you weren’t smiling, you were frowning.  No, you were screaming, pointing, your face twisted with fear.

“Nikolai!” you screamed, seeing the Fjerdan marksman take aim.  His smile dropped and his brow furrowed as the bullet found its target–just below his ribcage on his left side.  The King fell to his knees, and you screamed, nearly lunging over the railing.  Tamar caught your wrist at the last second, keeping you from leaping to the ground and rushing to your husband’s side.  “He’s hit!” you screamed.  “The King is hit!  Healers!”

At your call, Healers swarmed the field, clearly marked in their red kefta, rushing to the King.  Tears were flowing down your cheeks, and you watched, horror struck, as Nikolai was taken from the field.  “Moya tsaritsa,” Tamar said, stepping into your path.  You hadn’t realized you were following after Nikolai.  “You cannot go.”  “Like hell I can’t!” you retorted, but the Heartrender didn’t budge.  “Your Majesty, in King Nikolai’s absence, you are the commanding officer.  We need you here.”

You looked at your husband, borne aloft on a litter, being carried back to camp, then to the battlefield, where Grisha and First Army soldiers were still fighting.  “Y/N,” Tamar said, throwing protocol to the wind for the moment.  “He has the best Healers, they have him.  But we need you.”  Nodding, you took several deep breaths, wiped your tears, and straightened your jacket.  “Hold the lines!” you ordered.  “We get these wolves off our land, or we die trying!”

***

It was a success.  Nikolai’s maneuver went off seamlessly, aside from him being shot, the Fjerdans were run off your land and back to their own borders.  As soon as it was clear, you were running back to camp, to the Healer’s tent where Nikolai had been taken.  People leapt out of your path, knowing better than to try to stop you or ask where you were going.

Grisha and First Army soldiers alike bowed as you passed, and when you stepped into the Healer’s tent, your husband was easily found by the flurry of people surrounding him.  “Her Most Royal Majesty, Queen Y/N Lantsov!” a guard announced, and the Healers and councilors parted.  Nikolai was propped up on a cot, his shirt removed, a partially healed wound on his chest.  “Y/N,” he said, relief in his voice.  “My love, how–”

“You’re insane!” you shouted, and your husband could tell he was in for a tongue lashing.  “You know,” he replied, somehow maintaining his cool, casual air.  “People keep telling me that, but I can’t put my finger on why.”  “Why?  Nikolai, you were shot!  You could have been killed! I… Saints, I’m so mad at you!”  The King fell silent, worrying his lip between his teeth.  “Could I have a moment alone with my wife?” he asked the Healer, who nodded, ushering everyone else from the room.

You pulled up a stool and sat at his side, taking his hand and squeezing it hard.  “I thought…Nikolai, I…”  You kissed his knuckles, then leaned in to kiss his forehead, his nose, his cheek, then finally, his lips.  Nikolai smiled, feeling himself relax after a tense few hours.  Then you pinched his arm, making him yelp.  “Hey!  What was that for?”  “The kisses are because I was worried sick and because I love you.  The pinch was for worrying me sick!  Nikolai, you can’t do that! You can’t just put your life on the line!”

“Y/N,” he said, taking both of your hands in his.  “I’m sorry that I scared you, my love, I am.  But I can’t just sit back and let my men and women do all the work!  That’s not the type of King I am!”  “I know!  But Kolya, you can’t risk your life like that.  You’re the King, Ravka needs you.  You’re my husband, I need you!  For a moment, I thought…Saints, I was wondering where I’d get the mourning gown for your funeral.”

Nikolai’s heart cracked, and he tugged on your hands, urging you closer.  “Y/N, my love, I’m so sorry.  You’re right, I shouldn’t be so reckless.  But I…I can’t stand the thought of ruling like my father, sitting at camp while my soldiers risk their lives.  I can’t do that, Y/N.”  You moved to sit on the edge of his cot, draping an arm around his shoulders, kissing his temple.  “And I could never ask you to,” you replied.  “You are a far better King than your father ever could have been.  You planned the maneuver that got the Fjerdans off of our land, Kolya, your father never could have done that.

“But my love, I cannot lose you.  Please, Nikolai, you have to stop putting your life in danger like this.”  Nikolai could feel your fear, he could feel the pain of losing him even though he was right here.  He could see the sincerity in your eyes, and he nodded.  “Alright, Y/N,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.  “I’m not taking a backseat to ruling, but I’m done risking my life.”  You looked at him, eyes wide.  “Promise?”  “I promise, my love.”  You smiled, pressing a lingering, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Nikolai,” you whispered, your forehead resting against his.  “I love you so much.”  “And I love you, my beautiful bride.”  A moment later, the Healers re-entered and finished healing the bullet wound, and once they were finished, you curled up at your husband’s side, the sound of his heartbeat strong in your ear.  “You won’t lose me, Y/N,” Nikolai said.  “Not any time soon.”

[sailor-hufflepuff]

Sometimes I think the difference between darklinas and antis is which parts of the (frankly contradictory) books we consider canon.

Darklinas look at book one, at the Darkling who has worked tirelessly for centuries to free his people without taking power for himself, look at the monarchy which allows endless wars and starvation at the whims of a rapist, at Mal who ignores (at best) and undermines (at worst) the heroine while merrily sleeping his way through the first and second armies, only to notice her the moment she looks at someone else…

We look at those things, and look at later books and say “That doesn’t make sense. The Darkling would never ally with Fjerda, would never kill Grisha, it’s against everything that he is.”

We say “the Lantsov dynasty is corrupt, and should be destroyed, the entire feudal society of Ravka needs an overhaul”.

We say “A boy who compares the girl he wants to marry to a donkey, who kisses another girl the moment Alina’s attention wanders from him, who openly prefers her when she was sickly and powerless, is not good husband material.”

Antis, on the other hand, seem to take the opposite view. They see the Darkling as the power-mad mass murderer of RaR, and assume the General who eats on the ground with his men was a manipulation.

They see Nikolai as a shining example of the fairytale prince and conclude that the monarchy only needs a NEW king, a GOOD king, and everything will be fine.

They see the Mal who is willing to die for Alina, who gives himself to her and her cause, and think “I wish someone were willing to die for me. I wish someone would look at me and change his ways,” and thus view his characterization in books one and two as the foibles of youth.

Darklinas look at the duology and say “it was the King who conscripted Grisha and otkazatsya alike, who raped Genya, and the Darkling who gave everything for Ravka.”

Antis look at the duology and say “Zoya and Genya both blame the Darkling for their problems, therefore he must have groomed them.”

Which is more canon, the first thing written or the most recent thing published? I think that’s what truly divides us.

[atac-agent]

Stay With Me

masterlist

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2027

Summary: Zoya takes care of a sick Nikolai, who happens to be down with the flu.

---

The fierce winter winds howled outside, as Nikolai Lantsov lay in his bed, pale and feverish. The once vibrant and indomitable king now appeared frail, his skin flushed and clammy, his breath coming in labored gasps. The room was cold, despite the roaring fire in the hearth, the chill seeping through the stone walls and biting at Zoya's skin.

Zoya stood by his side, her expression a mask of composure that hid the turmoil within. She had seen him wounded before, seen him on the brink of death more times than she cared to count, but this was different. This was an enemy she couldn’t fight, an illness that didn’t respond to her powers or to any remedy they could find.

"Nik," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the wind. "You need to rest."

Nikolai’s eyes fluttered open, and he managed a weak smile. "Rest is for the dead, my dear," he replied, his voice hoarse. "And I am not quite there yet."

Zoya’s heart clenched at his words. "Don’t say that," she said sharply, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. "You’re going to get better."

He reached out a trembling hand, covering hers with a touch that was both comforting and heartbreaking. "Zoya," he said softly, "we both know that’s not true. The healers have done all they can, and even you…" He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

Zoya looked away, unable to meet his gaze. She had tried everything, pouring all her power into him, but nothing worked. The flu was relentless, a silent killer that showed no mercy.

"I can't lose you," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Nikolai squeezed her hand gently. "You are stronger than you know," he said. "And Ravka needs you. You’ve always been the strength behind the throne, Zoya. You can lead them without me."

"I don’t want to lead without you. You are the heart of Ravka."

He smiled then; a ghost of his usual grin. "Then you’ll have to be its heart and soul."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to be strong for him, for Ravka, for herself. "I don’t know how to do this without you," she admitted.

"You’ll find a way," he assured her. "You always do."

Hours passed, the night dragging on in a haze of fever and whispered conversations. Nikolai spoke of plans and contingencies, of allies and enemies, trying to prepare her for a future without him.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he knew it was necessary. He had to make sure she would be alright, even if he wasn’t there to see it.

"You know, when I’m gone, you should really redecorate this room. Maybe something less gloomy. Brighten it up a bit."

Zoya rolled her eyes, despite the ache in her chest. "Stop talking like that," she said, her voice hard. "You’re not going anywhere."

"Always the optimist," he chuckled weakly. "But seriously, Zoya. Promise me you’ll take care of things. Of yourself. Of Ravka."

"I promise," she said, her voice trembling. "But I’m not giving up on you. You’re too stubborn to die from something as mundane as the flu."

"I do like to make a grand exit," he admitted with a tired smile. "But just in case, you should know… I trust you. More than anyone. You’ll make a fantastic queen."

Zoya’s breath caught in her throat. "Don’t you dare," she whispered fiercely. "Don’t you dare leave me."

His eyes softened, and he reached up to touch her cheek. "I wish I didn’t have to," he said. "But you’ll be alright. You’re the strongest person I know."

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes against the flood of emotions. "You’re not allowed to die, Nikolai Lantsov," she said, her voice breaking. "I forbid it."

He tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a fit of coughing that left him gasping for breath. "Is that an order, my Queen?" he managed to choke out between coughs.

"Yes," she replied, her voice trembling as she handed him a cloth to wipe his mouth. "An order from your queen."

His smile faded, replaced by a look of profound sadness. "I wish I could obey," he said softly. "But some things are beyond even a privateer’s control."

The night dragged on, and Nikolai grew weaker, his breathing more labored. Zoya stayed by his side, refusing to leave him even for a moment. She held his hand, whispered reassurances, and tried to keep the fear at bay.

Nikolai's coughs continued to grow frequent through the night, each one more violent than the last. The sound echoed through the room, a harsh reminder of the relentless grip of his illness. Zoya clung to his hand, trying to pour her strength into him, but she could feel him slipping away.

The room seemed to close in around them, the walls a silent witness to their anguish.

"Stay with me," she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. "Just a little longer."

Nikolai's eyes flickered open, and he managed a faint smile. "I'm trying," he coughed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's hard, Zoya. So hard."

She brushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead, her touch tender despite the turmoil inside her. "You have to keep fighting," she said, her voice fierce. "For me. For Ravka."

He closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "I'm so tired," he admitted. "I don't know if I can."

Zoya's heart clenched at his words. She had never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so close to giving up. She had to be strong for him, had to keep him grounded in the world of the living.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to be strong for him, had to show him that she could carry on. "I can't lose you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Not now. Not ever."

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her with a mixture of love and sadness. "You won't lose me," he said softly. "I'll always be with you. In your heart."

The minutes stretched into an eternity, the night closing in around them. Each cough wracked Nikolai's body, leaving him weaker, his breaths more labored. Zoya's heart ached with every labored inhale, every painful exhale.

"Do you remember," she said softly, trying to distract him from the pain, "the night we first met?

Nikolai's lips twitched in a faint smile. "I remember," he said, his voice barely audible. "You saw right through me."

"And you never gave up," she continued, her voice thick with emotion. "You fought for Ravka, for all of us."

His eyes opened, and for a moment, there was clarity in his gaze. "Promise me you'll keep fighting, even when I'm gone."

A sob caught in her throat, but she forced it down. She had to be strong for him, had to keep him grounded in the world of the living.

"I promise," she said, her voice breaking. "But you're not gone yet, Nikolai. Stay with me. Please."

"Zoya, I. .. I love you."

The words broke something inside her, and she felt tears spill down her cheeks. "I love you too." She leaned over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his burning forehead. "So much. Please, don't leave me."

He gripped her strong hands with his pale and trembling fingers and pressed her knuckles to his lips. "Be strong," he whispered, "for me."

And then, with a quiet exhale, Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka, grew still. His hand went limp in hers, and Zoya felt a profound emptiness settle in the room.

He was gone.

Gone.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She stared at his still form, unable to comprehend the reality of his death.

"No," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, please. Come back. Please, Nikolai."

But there was no response, no sign of life. The man who had been her anchor, her strength, was gone, leaving her alone in a world that suddenly felt unbearably empty.

She clung to him, her tears falling onto his lifeless chest. "You promised," she sobbed. "You promised you wouldn't leave me."

She couldn't contain her grief any longer. She screamed.

She screamed, a guttural cry that echoed through the room and mingled with the howling wind outside. It was a raw, primal sound of loss and anguish, carried away by the winds that seemed to mourn with her.

Outside, the storm raged on.

Zoya's heart felt shattered, her entire being consumed by the void left in Nikolai's absence. She collapsed beside his bed, her sobs wracking her body.

Eventually, the healers came, their faces solemn as they gently took Nikolai's body away. Zoya stood frozen, her eyes fixed on Nikolai's still form, unable to fully grasp the finality of his absence.

She watched them go mechanically, her movements slow and deliberate, as though moving through thick fog. The world seemed to move around her, but Zoya felt suspended in a moment that refused to end.

It was Genya's gentle touch on her shoulder that finally broke through the haze. Zoya turned to her, tears streaming down her face.

"We need to go," Genya said softly, her voice breaking the silence that enveloped them.

Zoya nodded wordlessly, allowing Genya to guide her out of the room.

Each step felt heavy with the weight of the loss. As they walked away from Nikolai's bedside, Zoya couldn't shake the feeling that a part of her had been left behind with him.

Outside, the morning light filtered through the windows, casting a somber glow over the palace halls.

"Zoya, we need you. Ravka needs you."

Zoya took a deep breath, steeling herself against the pain. She had promised Nikolai she would be strong, that she would carry on. She couldn't let him down.

"I know," she said, her voice steady despite the tears still streaming down her face. "I'll be there."

Genya nodded silently. She knew this feeling.

"I remember when David..." Genya began softly, her voice carrying the weight of her own memories. "When he died, it felt like the world had stopped. Like I couldn't breathe without him."

Zoya looked at her, gratitude mingling with her grief. "How did you do it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did you cope with it?"

Genya sighed, her eyes reflecting the pain of her past loss. "At first, I didn't cope. I just existed, moving through the days because I had to. But then I realized... David wouldn't want me to just exist. He would want me to live, to find purpose again."

Zoya listened intently, drawing strength from Genya's words. "And did you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Genya nodded, a small smile touching her lips despite the sadness in her eyes. "It took time, Zoya. Time and the support of friends like you. I found solace in helping others, in channeling my grief into something meaningful."

"You did everything you could," She murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from Zoya's tear-streaked face. "He knew that. Nikolai knew."

"But it wasn't enough," Zoya whispered, her voice filled with anguish.

Zoya swallowed hard. "I want to honor Nikolai's memory," she admitted, her voice wavering. "But right now, I don't know how."

Genya reached out, squeezing Zoya's hand gently. "You will," she said with quiet conviction. "In your own time, in your own way. And until then, I'll be here for you, just like you were there for me."

They stood together in the alcove, the two women bound by grief and resilience.

As the morning light grew brighter outside, casting long shadows on the palace walls, Zoya felt a flicker of determination ignite within her.

She would carry on for Nikolai, for Ravka, and for herself, knowing that though his physical presence was gone, his legacy would endure in the strength of those who loved him. With Genya beside her, offering silent support and understanding, Zoya took a deep breath, ready to face the challenges ahead with newfound resolve and purpose.

[sophierequests]

The f!reader x Nikolai fic including Vasily was gorgeous! I just found it and wow - perfection. Absolutely jaw dropping.

Could I get a follow up fic about Nikolai's recovery? Maybe there are some after effects of the poison and he's struggling to get better. He's back at the Grand Palace but the fever, pain and dizziness keep plaguing him and he's having a hard time dealing with being so weak and feeling sick. Besides the wound on his chest hasn't healed either yet...

Basically reader being cute af and taking care of sick Nikolai (maybe also Vasily being a little but caring shit lmao)

bring me back to life // in the bright lilac light part two

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x f!Reader

A/N: This is part two to my 'Violet Rot' fic, so please check that out before you proceed with this one. Otherwise, you probably won't understand some of the references and the general set-up. I did not expect that anyone would want a part two to this particular fanfic, but I'm very glad you asked! Taking care of a sick Nikolai is very dear to my heart <3 Now I just have to wait for someone requesting a part three with the wedding djhalhldhja Thank you for requesting this, I hope I managed to live up to your expectations <3

You can find part one here!

Summary: Recovery is hard and there is nothing one can do to speed it up - very much to Nikolai's dismay.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, very much Fluff

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, injuries and Vasily

"Why does he still look like he's standing on death's doorstep?" Vasily whispered to you as he looked down on his very sickly-appearing brother, who was supposed to have recovered from his injuries by now.

"Try getting stabbed with a poisoned blade and we'll see how you look after barely a week of being home," you replied, letting a comforting hand run through Nikolai's golden hair, carefully removing the wet strands that stuck to his fever-stricken forehead.

"I'm sure I'd at least have a little bit more…colour on my cheeks. That's all. He looks terrible," the prince mumbled almost childishly.

"I'm not unconscious, Vasily. I can hear you. Loud and clear for that matter. And it's not really aiding my headache," your fiancé rasped out, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"I think it would be best if we'd give him a bit of space. Some peace would very likely do him some good," you sighed as you filled up another glass of water to at least keep him hydrated, putting it beside his bed and attempting to stand up.

"Stay, please." You felt his hand tightening around your wrist, his grip hardly firm enough to pull your hand towards him.

"I'll take that as my sign to leave." Vasily gave you a courteous nod before sauntering to the door. "Don't die while I'm gone, brother. I'd hate to be the one having to break the news to mother."

"Don't get blackout drunk. I'd hate to be the one having to tell Nikolai about you vomiting into one of the plant pots again," you called after him, earning a faint chuckle from the man next to you and an offended grunt from his brother.

You turned back to Nikolai, watching him struggle as he attempted to sit up. The wound on his chest was still an oozing mess that just didn't want to heal properly. He could barely move his torso to complete the most basic tasks, and it infuriated him deeply. The additional fever and dizzy spells didn't improve his already low spirits.

"I hate to admit it, but our pompous little prince is right. You do look terrible, my love."

"Oh, so now you're taking his side?" he lamented dramatically, presumably putting all his energy into the act.

"Well, he is to be my future brother-in-law, after all. I must agree with him occasionally or else he might think badly of me. And who would want that?" you mused with highly sarcastic undertones.

"And I'm your future husband, does that not have any merit in the matter?"

"You're right. I should marry Vasily instead. Just to not commit any sort of treason by periodically opposing my beloved." Nikolai's gaze shot towards you, shock and a slight hint of disgust in his eyes.

"Don't you dare even think about that," he griped, fiddling with the delicate engagement ring on your finger.

It was a habit he had picked up ever since he had proposed to you. Whenever nervousness or stress overtook him, he'd reach out to take your hand into his, mindlessly twisting and turning the golden band. On the rare occasion that you weren't around, he would do the same with his own. It just wasn't as comforting.

"I would never," you snorted. "I do have standards. Even though I had to tweak them quite a bit to consent to marrying you."

Instead of giving you one of his snarky comebacks, he squeezed your hand one last time before letting go of it. His free hand reached for the glass of water on the side table next to him, but he was too weak to properly hold on to it, causing it to shake heavily. You quickly snatched it out of his hand, earning a dissatisfied glare from the young Lantsov.

"Love, I can-"

"Your hands are shaking like reeds in the wind, darling. As much as I would love to see you do all these things by yourself again, you can't right now. And that's okay. I'll take care of you until then," you assured.

"It's just so…frustrating," he let out a huffed breath, visibly overwhelmed by the whole situation.

He wanted nothing more than to just feel like his old self again. It infuriated him how weak he was. The pain should have gotten better by now, yet he still felt like a frail porcelain doll that threatened to break every time it left the shelf. And as much as he appreciated you taking care of him, he couldn't shake off the feeling of being useless.

"I know," you sighed, letting your eyes trail down to the bandage covering his chest. "But the more pressure you put yourself under, the longer it'll take for you to get better."

Nikolai turned his head to the side, not wanting you to see his face in case he wasn't able to keep the tears from falling. You seeing him cry would only humiliate him more, he thought.

"Nikolai." You cupped his cheek with one hand, pulling his face back to look at you. He hated that you knew him well enough to realise what was going on inside his head. "Don't be so hard on yourself. We're all so relieved that you're alive - even Vasily. No one expects you to do anything other than recover. No matter how long that might take. Please get some rest and let me help you."

"You shouldn't have to take care of me," he breathed out. "You shouldn't have to worry about my health or whether I will make it through the night. I'm so sorry for putting you through all of this."

"I'm not doing this because I have to, Nikolai. I'm doing this because I want to. Taking care of you isn't burdensome. Not to me." He closed his eyes as your thumb began to trace circles over the slight ridge of his cheekbone. "We're engaged - soon to be married. One of the conditions for that is to be there for the other. In sickness and in health. We may have not exchanged our vows yet, but that doesn't matter. I love you too much to watch you wither away like this. Let me do this for you."

"Thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Now, drink something and then try to sleep for a bit. I still have some correspondence to take care of, but it won't take too long. I'll come back as soon as I'm done. Send for me in case you need me. " He only nodded in response, too tired to say or do much more.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before you left his bedroom. Of course, you would have preferred staying with him, even if it was just to watch him sleep. However, you still had a few duties of your own to fulfil and you couldn’t shove them away forever. You couldn’t allow yourself another misstep after lying to your parents about your whereabouts, that was for sure.

After close to two hours spent with measly paperwork and bureaucratic duties, your focus was pried away from the neatly stacked documents on your desk by muffled bickering in the hallway outside your door. You took a quick look at your pocket watch, concluding that it was definitely way too late for your parents to still be out and about.

A bit hesitantly, you abandoned your previous occupation, carefully tiptoeing towards the corridor where the noise had to come from. The scene you had to witness almost gave you a heart attack.

Vasily stood in the middle of the hall, his normally pristine white shirt dirtied with bloodstains. He was hunched over, hovering close to another person that sat on the hard marble floor, their back pressed against the wall. When you noticed that said person was none other than your fiancé - blood smeared all over his hand and shirt, a dazed look on his face - you immediately sprung into action.

“Vasily?” You directed your question at the more alert-looking Lantsov. “By the Saints, what happened?”

“Fuck, if I only knew!” he replied, his stern features relaxing as you approached the two of them. “I was just about to retire to my chambers after a hard day of-”

“Day drinking? You reek of kvas, Vasily,” you muttered under your breath, poignantly ignoring the scowl he gave you.

“As I said, I was about to make my way back to my chambers until I saw this fool lying on the floor with blood everywhere. I thought he was dying! I tried to get him back to his own bedroom, but I can’t possibly carry him back there on my own. Especially not with all that carnage on him.” You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, crouching down next to his brother to assess whatever was going on.

“Nikolai,” you said his name once, your hand finding his face like it had a few hours earlier. His eyes were open, but he seemed to be somewhat loopy. “Love, are you alright?”

“Yes,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his bloody hand clutching the wound on his chest as he tried to sit up straight. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you warned, looking at the quite deep cut that ran across his arm and hand. “Do you think you can walk back to your room? With our help, of course.” Vasily scoffed, but you didn’t let that bother you. “I have to take a look at that. You don’t need another injury that runs the risk of developing an infection.”

He wanted to say yes, but when another jolt of pain shot through his body, you knew that you couldn’t let that happen.

“That’s a no. Vasily, I will need your help to carry him to my bedroom. It’s right around the corner and we won’t risk having any of his wounds reopen.”

Even though the prince gave you a sharp look of dismay, he followed your bidding. Slowly, he bent down to his brother, slinging an arm around his middle to awkwardly force him to stand. Nikolai tried everything in his power to get both of his feet on the ground. However, he could only hold his weight for a few seconds before his knees threatened to give in. Vasily had to stifle a gag when he felt the wet blood dripping on his skin and staining his clothes. If you hadn’t been so worried about the state of your boyfriend you would have probably found his reaction pretty amusing.

“Are you certain that you want this biological hazard to be brought to your chambers?” he asked, turning up his nose when his brother let out a low grunt. “Wouldn’t it be preferable to bring him to a Healer? You know, like a person that is specifically trained to treat wounds like this?”

“No Healer, please,” Nikolai panted, tightening his hold on Vasily’s shoulder.

Both of you knew that he wasn’t too fond of Healers. It was not like he disliked or opposed them, but after seeing what people like them were used for in the Second Army. He had seen what they could fix, but he had also seen what they could destroy.

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it. As much as I have seen, it’s nothing life-threatening. And even if it were, we all know that I have some experience in treating life-threatening injuries by now.” You flashed Vasily a cocky grin, reminding him of the threat on his life you made should he ever even do so much as think about telling anyone about what he saw in that medical tent.

“If you insist,” he mumbled, taking steady steps towards your room.

Once you finally reached the safety of your chambers, you ordered him to set him down in one of the armchairs next to your vanity - bloodstains be damned. Nikolai groaned as soon as his brother let go of him, his back hitting the braided wicker quite harshly.

“Uhm, I’ll go and…clean myself up now. Especially before mother sees this,” Vasily declared, his gaze staying on his little brother for a bit longer before he turned to leave. “You know where to find me in case you need any help hiding the body. Or whatever issue you might need help with.”

“Thank you, Vasily.” No matter how often this man had infuriated and annoyed you before, you couldn’t help but appreciate his unexpected acts of kindness when you needed them most. Even with his unnecessary commentary. “I think I can handle him for the night. But thank you nonetheless.”

With an acknowledging nod, he exited the room, leaving you alone to deal with a bleeding Nikolai.

“First things first, I’ll need to get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” you explained, hurrying towards the bathroom to grab a wet rag and all the other medical supplies you were sure to need.

Since you couldn’t have been sure whether the bloodstains on his shirt were from the fresh wound on his arm or the stab wound on his chest, you decided that his shirt had to go - it was ruined anyway, so what was the harm?

“Darling, shouldn’t we get married before consummating said marriage?” your fiancé joked, looking down at you as you unbuttoned his shirt.

“Kolya, this is not the time,” you rebutted light-heartedly, pulling the ruined shirt off his shoulders and allowing him to do the rest.

With rather unsteady hands, you tried to clean all of the remaining blood off his torso and arms, seeing that the wound on his hand wasn’t too drastic after all. He didn’t fuss when you tossed the dirty rag, replacing the warm feeling of the wet fabric with the cool sting of the numbing cream. The relief on his face was evident in an instant.

As you put a bandage around his arm and hand, you felt his gaze fixating on you, not leaving your form, not even when you left his side to clean out the piece of cloth and stash away your medical supplies. You couldn’t help but think about his nickname ‘sobachka’. He hated that nickname, but in moments like these, it rang more true than ever. He really was a lost little puppy sometimes.

“Are you alright, Nikolai?” you asked softly, stealing a brief glance at the bandage wrapped around his torso, which he detested with a burning passion.

“I am now. Thank you, my love,” he sighed, letting his gaze waiver towards the clunky bandage on his arm.

“Do you mind telling me what caused you to drag yourself outside of your room with a bleeding wound? How did you even manage that?”

“I was thirsty,” he began, the façade of the confident prince slipping, revealing a meek little boy that had to talk about something he really didn’t want to. “I couldn’t hold onto the glass and it shattered on the floor. And since I didn’t want to have someone else remove it, I tried cleaning it up. Well, let’s just say it didn’t turn out how it was supposed to.”

“And why didn’t you call for me, honey?” you sighed, retrieving one of his spare shirts from your dresser, not wanting him to get even sicker from the cool evening breeze that filtered in through your open windows.

“I didn’t want anyone else to see me like…this.”

“So you opted for stumbling through half of the Grand Palace looking like you had just murdered someone instead?”

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot less logical than I had imagined it.” Now you could see how he and Vasily were related.

“You were really lucky that your brother’s drinking habit forces him to be out this late. I don’t even want to imagine how long you would have stayed outside if he hadn’t found you.”

“We should probably call him again to help with getting me back to my chambers,” he fretted, dreading having to rely on Vasily’s help again.

“Absolutely not. You’re staying here for the night. I’m not letting you out of my eyesight tonight. Not after this stunt,” you declared, grinning at the befuddled expression on his face.

“We’re sleeping in the same bed? Before we’re actually married? Scandalous.”

“Choose your words wisely, or else I might let you sleep on the floor.”

“You would let a poor injured man sleep on the cold, hard floor? That’s pretty heartless.”

“Maybe I should genuinely reconsider marrying you if that’s how you see me. I heard Vasily is still looking for a wife,” you sneered, throwing him the shirt and watching while he put it on.

“Tough luck. You’d have to compete with his love for whiskey and horses first, and I have a sneaking suspicion of which one of you would win that scrabble.” You let out a faint laugh at that, shaking your head as you moved closer to him.

“Alright, enough slander for the day. Let’s get your stubborn ass to bed.” You offered him your arm, supporting him steadily before you cautiously manoeuvred him towards your bed. He was very unsteady on his feet, heavily relying on you to keep him standing, but you were glad that his knees didn’t threaten to buckle this time.

Slowly, you let him sit on the bed, lifting the duvet for him to crawl under. You were very careful when you slid in next to him. Even though you didn’t want to treat him like he might turn to dust as soon as someone touched him, you still had to be cautious to not accidentally hurt him.

A part of your worry subsided when he opened his arms, beckoning you to come closer to him. He may be a bit weaker than what he was used to, but his neediness was still on the same level as it was before. So with a hint of hesitance, you scooted closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you.

His arms were still wrapped around your waist when you woke up the next morning. The sun that filtered through the window bathed both of you in a warm golden light that made wanting to get up even more difficult than you had expected. You couldn’t even begin to describe how much the thought of waking up like this for the rest of your life excited you.

You placed a gentle kiss on the sharp line of his jaw, tracing your arm along his arms before slipping out of his grasp. You had expected him to wake up after feeling you kiss him, however, he remained laying in bed like a wet sack of flour. For a moment you panicked, fearing that something might have been wrong with him. But when you intended to reach for his wrist in an attempt to check his pulse, a sonorant snore left his mouth. Perhaps he really just needed a long good night’s sleep.

He only showed any sort of life when you re-entered the bedroom after you had changed. His snores had seized completely now, replaced with his soft breathy chuckle as he watched you parade around your room.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you laughed, seeing him sit up slowly. You were glad to see that he looked a whole lot better than yesterday. “You slept well, I assume?”

“How could I not? I slept next to you, after all.” His hazel eyes glistened in the light, resembling two pieces of true amber. “I can’t recall the last time I had a dream this pleasant.”

“What did you dream of?”

“I dreamt of a life with you in it.” His honesty made you freeze for a second. He was quite the piece of work. One second he had you fearing for his life, and the next he made your heart skip a beat because of how utterly besotted with you he was.

“I’m already in your life, Kolya. And I’m not intending to leave it anytime soon.” You walked over to your bed to press a faint kiss to his cheek. As a reminder that you would always be here.

“If I get bet-”

“When. When you get better,” you corrected, reaching for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly.

“When I get better, we should look into moving the wedding forward. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“So eager to marry me now, aren’t we?” you laughed, letting out a high-pitched squeak when he pulled you towards him. “Nikolai, be careful!”

“Oh, love, I’ve been eager to marry you ever since the day I proposed to you.” He peppered your cheeks with kisses, forcing you to giggle like a young schoolgirl. Every single etiquette lesson you ever had the joy of attending flew right out of the window while your fiancé continued to make you laugh and wiggle erratically.

“I suppose I’ll have to agree to that.”

This was the life you wanted to have.

Nikolai had opted to stay in your chambers for a few days longer. This way, you would be able to get to him quicker, he reasoned. And obviously, you weren’t one to deny him. Staying with you seemingly helped him in his recovery, and it helped you in calming your nerves.

You could the colour return to his cheeks again, the longer he rested and let himself be taken care of. He was still weaker than he had anticipated, but he could do most of the minor self-care tasks himself. He could hold a glass, eat, and even managed to get himself to the bathroom without any sort of support. Even though that felt like a minuscule step to him, you were more than proud of him.

One week after he started sleeping in your room, he made you feel even prouder.

It had been such a long and tiring day of working through the piles of documents and correspondence that you could quite literally feel your body gravitating towards the floor. A quick glimpse at the clock told you that Nikolai was probably already waiting for you to come back. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you at all today - you had been with him for breakfast, lunch and dinner - but he still managed to pump up his theatrics and act like you had abandoned him for years. His penchant for overdramatisation didn’t help you with stowing away all your paperwork.

You pulled yourself to your feet, arranging and sorting all the different stacks you had created, before you put them in their respective cabinets surrounding your table. You had been so focused on your work that you didn’t hear the door behind you clicking shut, and someone approaching you very slowly.

A pair of firm arms wrapped around your middle from behind, someone’s head now resting on your shoulder. You were close to whacking whoever it was with the not particularly heavy paperweight, but when a gentle kiss was pressed to the column of your throat, you rethought that intention. Nikolai let out a muffled hum, his body flush with yours as you sunk into his touch. You didn’t begin to process the semantics of his presence until you noticed him sway backwards ever so slightly.

“Wait, Nikolai?” You wiggled yourself out of his grasp, your hands still resting on his in case he needed to steady himself. When you turned, you saw the smug-looking prince glance at you like he had just been caught red-handed in doing something he shouldn’t.

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, sounding almost offended.

“How did you get here?” You waved off his question, letting your eyes wander towards the door in an attempt to check for someone who could have helped him get here. The walk from your bedroom to the waiting room wasn’t long, but it was definitely longer than the walk to your bedroom.

“How do you expect me to get here?” He smiled at you, waiting for you to finally understand what this statement implied.

You raised a quizzical brow, not really following what he was trying to tell you.

“Since my horse didn’t fit through your door frame I had to take it upon myself to walk over to you,” he explained, watching the realisation spread over your face.

“You walked over here by yourself?” you beamed, unable to contain your excitement. “Kolya, that’s so good! I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d get better soon. Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Do y-”

He silenced you by pressing his lips onto yours, abruptly ending your ramblings with a smile on his face.

“I’m fine. A bit sore, but fine.” He kissed your forehead once more. “It’s late. I was wondering why you didn’t come to bed. Apparently, my terribly worrisome heart and undying love for you was enough of a reason for my body to eventually listen to me again.”

“Admit it, your main objective is to push our wedding date forward,” you laughed, looking up at him to see him smile sheepishly.

“I see, you have revealed one of my most well-guarded secrets,” Nikolai bemoaned with a fake scowl.

“If that is one of your most well-guarded secrets, I can’t even begin to imagine what the other end of that spectrum loo-" He kissed you again, uncaring of whatever sarcastic comment you might have to offer.

"Y/N!" The door to your office was slammed open. "Nikolai is not in his or your b-" Vasily stopped dead in his tracks, seeing his brother and fiancée look at him amusedly after you had just visibly been making out.

Both of you watched as a shade of deep red shot into his face as he noted the mistake he made by not knocking.

"Forgive me, I'll leave you to it."

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Nikolai Lantsov: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaye-here @maximoffgxrl @lastwandastan