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ellewritesalright · 1 year ago

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Nine Long Years - Part 6

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

Part 5 --- Masterlist --- Part 7

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: Hi! It's been a while, huh :) ? Get ready to buckle up again cause this part is another 10k words of mess and destruction <3 Hope you're ready for it. Also this part picks up directly after the events of part 5 and then takes place over a few months, so I hope it makes sense to y'all

Warnings: heartbreak, mentions of death, angst with minimal fluff in this part, mentions of sickness, panic attacks, firepox, mentions of the Hertzoon con. and if i'm missing something pls lmk

Word Count: 10,020

……….

FIFTH YEAR

You had a bag packed and ready by dawn. All you had to do was find a horse, then you'd be headed far away from this camp and the people you'd devoted so much of yourself to. Even if it pained you to leave them, it would pain you more to stay; so you snuck out of Tolya and Tamar’s tent and into the camp. You quietly approached the stable area. Not everyone was awake yet, but a few soldiers were up and roaming already. Still, no one noticed you as you went along–or, you thought no one noticed. As soon as you laid hands on one of the horse's reins, a voice called out to you.

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned and saw Mal with his arms crossed.

"Wouldn't have anything to do with your captain and Alina's engagement, would it?" He asked.

"What's it to you?" You countered, dropping your hands to your sides.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you and him are involved. So if you leave, what's stopping him from wanting a real relationship with Alina?"

You rolled your eyes. "He can have a real relationship with whoever he wants, I don't give a shit."

"But I do." He pursed his lips and sighed. "I care about Alina, and this whole… situation with Sturmhond is stupid."

"Prince Nikolai, not Sturmhond," you corrected. "And I rather think he'd call it 'mutually beneficial' for him and the saint."

"It's a sham is what it is."

"Well, take that up with him, not me." You turned back to the horse you planned on stealing.

“Back to the topic, though. You're leaving?"

"You're staying?" You sassed over your shoulder.

"I love Alina. No matter how angry I am with her or with Nikolai right now, I love her. So I'm going to protect her and stand by her, even when we don't see eye to eye."

You glanced back at him, voice quiet. "How can you do that?"

"Because it's always been her and me. Together. And I would rather be with her and be miserable than be without her and be devastated."

"I don't think I can do that for Nikolai," you admitted, eyes drooping to the ground.

"Do you love him?" Mal questioned.

More than anything, you wanted to say, but all you could manage was a shaky nod.

"And how would you feel without him?"

"Terrible." You felt your blood boil at the thought of it. "But having him like this–in the night, behind closed doors–when she'll have him in every way that counts? I can't live that way."

"She won't have him like that," he scoffed. "She loves me as much as I love her, and she wouldn't have him in any way other than ceremonial. I mean, it's like a stupid show for the Ravkans, for saint’s sake."

You whipped around to him, bordering on incensed. "And when they're married, when they have to have children--heirs--what then?"

"It won't come to that. I won't let it,” he ground out, his face going red.

"You can't stop it, Oretsev."

"Just watch me, Rietveld." He looked as angry as you felt, but he took a breath and made his next words calm yet firm. "I won't let it happen. And if you stick around, there's even less of a chance it will happen."

"I can't watch this 'show,' as you put it. It hurts too much just thinking about it all; seeing it would kill me."

His face softened. "Rietveld, please, stay with us. At least until we make it to Os Alta. You could find a job in the city, or you could always stand as a private guard–that’s what I’ll be doing. And if it ever feels like too much, come talk to me. Vent to me. I’m on your side here–I hate this all just as much as you do.”

You considered his plea. You didn’t realize how this would affect him too. It felt like the lash of this engagement had only cut you, but it was selfish to not realize how others around you were bleeding. This sort of thing hurt everyone involved, not just you–though admittedly it hurt some people more. With a frown, you realized how Alina and Nikolai must also be in pain.

But despite your deeper understanding of the situation, you couldn’t feel sorry for Nikolai–he was the one who’d dealt the blow, and he would have to lick his own wounds.

“I’ll stay,” you told Mal. “But I swear I’m not going anywhere near Nikolai. I’ll only be here to stand guard of Alina with you.”

“You realize they'll likely have to spend time together and you’ll have to see him?”

“All I have to see is Alina, he’ll be peripheral from now on.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Thank you.”

You nodded at him and squared your shoulders. “Where is the saint then? I’d like to start working.”

……….

At first you thought the journey to Os Alta would be no big deal, that you would be able to handle how he rode side by side with her or in a pretty little carriage while you were riding ten feet behind at all times. And it almost was no big deal, for the most part. Alina didn’t seem swayed by his joking or small talk, she was too proud to let him in after he’d lied about his true identity all the time he was at sea with her and Mal.

But it was when you stopped in all the little towns on the way to the capital that things became rough. Nikolai put on a show for the Ravkans, charming them left, right, and centre. And his pretend affections--if you could even call them pretend considering how real they looked–slowly showed more blatantly in front of the townspeople and First Army escort. His hands would linger on Alina’s as he helped her off her horse; his eyes would watch her softly, as though she was the light of his life; he spoke of her to his travelling companions and hosts with a reverence and care that made your stomach twist each time you overheard it.

You kept yourself busy, preferring to spend your time with the horses or sitting in the corner listening to the gripes and gossip of the First Army soldiers. If ever Nikolai glanced at you and you caught him, you always glared back until he looked away first. Sometimes you saw a glimmer of hurt in his eyes from your harsh stare, but you couldn’t allow yourself to feel bad for him. This was his doing, after all.

Sometimes Tamar or Tolya would sit with you. They would all glare at Nikolai just like you did, though you tried to dissuade them. Well, you didn’t try very hard to dissuade them; you would give them each a look if you ever caught them doing it, but you never said anything as you were silently grateful that they sided with you. The twins had known Nikolai longer than they’d known you, and you felt weird being the reason they were icy with him. And yet, you kept repeating to yourself that this was his doing, that they were also upset about the way he treated you.

The arrival at Os Alta could not have come sooner. You were glad to be in a more permanent spot, though you couldn’t say either building would ever feel like a home to you. You were used to the open decks and low ceilings of schooners and ships, or the modest rooms of inns, or even the little farmhouse you’d grown up in. The Grand and Little Palaces were greater than any building you had ever seen. When you’d been in Ketterdam, you thought the exchange was the most massive place in the world, but now you knew you were wrong; the Grand Palace stood three intimidating stories high, with marble and gold inlaying almost everything.

It was odd picturing Nikolai’s youth here. You couldn’t imagine being a child in a place like this; how impersonal it all felt to you, with its glimmering white walls and landscape oil paintings, but how much worse it would have been to be a kid here. You supposed that was why Nikolai had made an effort to fill the captain’s cabin on the Volkvolny with all manner of cozy blankets and furniture and knick-knacks he’d acquired from his travels.

Luckily for you, though, the only times you had to be in the Grand Palace was when you were on guard for Alina and she had a meeting or had to attend dinner over there. Most of your time was spent with Alina in the Little Palace. While still massive, the Little Palace had much more charm to it, with its lovely carvings and pearl embellishments. On days when you weren’t guarding Alina, you’d taken to sitting by the lake and watching the Second Army summoners training.

And, now that you had more officially started working as a member of Alina’s guard, the times you saw Nikolai were more manageable. Most times you saw him, there were royal officials or army generals around, so he had dialled back his smittenness with Alina compared to when you were all on the road. Moreover, he barely spoke to you, though you supposed that was because you never spoke to him. The most you conversed–though it was one-sided–was a short greeting and nod from him before you tilted your head away to watch whatever Alina was doing. He didn’t push it beyond that; he didn’t dare, knowing the anger you carried last time you two spoke.

It felt slightly odd to you that the last time you’d actually talked to him was weeks ago when he told you of this engagement with Alina. You’d never gone that long without speaking, not since you first met him. Even before you were his second in command, he made it his mission to speak to you and every crew member on the Volkvolny at least weekly.

His greeting to you today was the same as it had become as of late. You were with Alina at a meeting of First and Second Army generals in the Grand Palace. At the end of the meeting when almost everyone had cleared the room, Nikolai approached you.

“Rietveld,” he smiled at you, giving you an almost awkward nod. But rather than keep it at that, he also said, “You look well.”

You wanted to scoff. You’d barely gotten any sleep the night before because of your nightmares. They’d returned since you started sleeping by yourself again. Night after night, you kept waking up having relived your brothers’ deaths, and there was no one with you to help you through it.

You tilted your body away from Nikolai, doing your duty as you looked at Alina. You knew she was safe since she was just speaking with Mal, but you needed the poor excuse to turn away from the infuriating man beside you.

“I thought you might like to know that a team of Fabrikators and I are rebuilding the Hummingbird after the crash through the fold. It will be docked at the lake behind the Little Palace, so you’re welcome to visit it any time, to see how it progresses.” He spoke with all the confidence he usually exuded, though one look at him and you knew better; his eyes were nervous as he extended this small gesture of goodwill. He was worried about what you might say or do, you just knew it.

You almost said nothing, but as you looked into his eyes, you let out a short huff and grumbled, “Well let’s hope this one flies better than the last.”

“Truly,” Nikolai grinned, pleased that you’d given him a response.

You looked at Alina again and noticed she was leaving the room, so without another word, you left Nikolai.

……….

It was happening again.

You were on the streets of the Barrel, hurrying to reach your brothers after a long and stressful day of work. You wove through the alleyways, your feet moving like air; you were weightless–drifting. There was a light scraping, the prodding of the Bodymen's hooks against the cobbles, and a horrible thought came to your mind. You tried to move faster, but your feet were still drifting. All you knew was that you had to get there faster–had to say goodbye to your brothers.

Suddenly, something shifted and you were upon the tall stack of crates Jordie and Kaz were hiding behind in their time of illness. You stepped up slowly, only to see Nikolai sitting there in the place of your brothers.

He lay in a heap on the cobbles; weak with firepox, and mumbling nonsensically. Your feet could not move fast enough to be with him.

You crumbled down to your knees beside him. And you reached for him, but he used what little strength he had still left in him to push you away. You tried again, but he swatted you back with a sick wail in his throat. Again and again, you reached for him, trying to hold him in your arms, to touch his forehead or grab his hand, to comfort him in whatever way you could, but he always evaded you.

And then when you finally got hold of his shoulders and leaned in to look at his face, he shoved you away with a great force. You were knocked down beside him, and his face turned angry–hateful.

Suddenly, he shouted at you, "This is all your fault!"

You woke up with a start. Sweaty and shaking in the dark, you rushed to light your bedside lamp. The dim flame brought you some comfort, but as soon as you started to dwell on the images you’d dreamt, you felt nausea gripping you tight. You could taste the death in your mouth, stirring a sour, stale sickness inside you. You sat on the edge of your bed, your body doubled over and your head between your legs as you tried to shove the rot away.

You tucked your knees up to your chest as a sob tore through you. It was moments like this that made you most angry over Nikolai’s engagement; moments where you used to rely on him to help you, but where you couldn’t anymore. Since that trip to West Ravka a year and a bit ago now, he was the one to pull you out of any nightmares and back to the warm reality of his arms around you. But now for the last two months, he was all the way in another stupidly grand building. And engaged. And utterly unavailable to you.

You huffed, shoving to your feet despite how weak your limbs felt. With a cloak over your pajamas and your boots to protect you from the autumn evening chill, you travelled out of your stifling bedroom, through the tall halls of the Little Palace, and out into the open sky of the outdoors. You gulped in the crisp air, clearing your lungs of death as you listened to the crickets. You looked out at the lake behind the Little Palace and spotted Nikolai’s new flying boat modelled after the Hummingbird. The bobbing boat beckoned you closer.

In the moonlight, your boots crunched towards the short dock on the lake. It creaked underfoot as you approached the boat. Kingfisher was written in scripted lettering on the small vessel’s stern. The deck wasn’t too large, though there appeared to be a cabin beneath it, judging by a small circular window on the port side. You noticed the flicker of candlelight through this window, and before you could turn tail and run back in the direction you came from, you heard his voice.

“Can’t sleep?” Nikolai called out to you, appearing from the open hatch of the cabin

You gulped, not wanting to meet his eyes. You muttered, “Something like that.”

“I can’t sleep either,” he said.

He stepped towards the ramp that connected the ship to the dock. You ignored how he wrung his strong and greasy hands on a cloth. You also ignored the sweat on his brow, ignored the memories of all the times you’d once worked beside him. All the times you’d admired the concentration sculpted along his beautiful face. He wasn't dressed like the prim prince you'd seen the last couple of months, he looked more like the privateer you loved.

“Would you want to come aboard and look around?” he asked softly, his voice reminiscent of all the nights you’d once spent with him by your side.

You nearly shook your head, nearly said you should go back to sleep. But the lingering fears in your mind kept you from returning to the Little Palace. All that was there for you was nightmares and a Nikolai that despised you. At least this Nikolai spoke softly, with a lingering affection.

Silently, you climbed the ramp and boarded the Kingfisher. Your arms crossed as you took in the sails and rudders, the fine lacquer keeping the fine wood intact. The sway of the waves beneath brought you some peace. It was too long since you’d sailed.

“Come check this out?” Nikolai asked of you, tilting his head towards the stern.

You stepped over to the back of the boat, keeping a secure enough distance beside him as he braced his hands on the wheel. You eyed the lever that would adjust the sails so that Squallers could lift the boat. The designs were updated, but most everything looked the same as it was on the Hummingbird. Nikolai pointed to the back mast.

“When I pull the lever now, this mast will only tilt halfway, allowing smoother steering than the last one did,” he explained, his eyes alight. He looked like a kid on the first wintery day of snowfall.

He looked over and caught you staring at him. You turned away as soon as you could, but the damage was done. The soft adoration in his eyes snapped whatever tough resolve you’d built up over the last few months, and you took a sharp breath. It came out in a shaky exhale, and you brought your hand to your mouth.

“This is all your fault!”

The words he cried in your nightmare flashed through your ears, and you felt your throat tighten. You started sobbing, nothing held back as hot tears dripped down your face. You heard Nikolai sigh softly as he realized you were crying. Without hesitation, Nikolai brought you into his arms, holding you under the watchful eye of the moon. You should have been strong enough to push him away, to remind the both of you what you’d lost. But you just weren’t strong enough. It wasn’t in you to push him away like he had pushed you away in your dream.

"What’s wrong, my darling?" He murmured into the crown of your head.

“Nightmares.” There was so much more to your pain, but this was all you could say.

His voice fell to a whisper, "Oh, darling."

He held you close, swaying you for a moment as you stood on the deck, then he ushered you to the cabin hatch. He brought you below deck, sitting down on a plain bench with you as a lantern burned in the corner. As you sat there, you felt the boat swaying gently, rocking you.

Nikolai's one hand caressed your back, rubbing warm circles into you, as the other cradled the back of your neck, holding you securely as you leaned against his chest. He smelled like salt, grease, and pine; it was a combination so familiar and so Nikolai. You forgot what it was to breathe him in.

There was a bubble in your throat, an aching pressure on your larynx as you sobbed into his half-laced shirt. You tried to keep it inside, tried not to let the bubble burst and the truth come out, but you hadn’t been good at hiding things from him ever since the first night he saw you cry.

“I just miss you,” you whispered, praying he didn’t hear you.

His hand stilled on your back for a moment, then he kept rubbing along it. He heard, then. And yet, he didn’t say anything. He just held you to him as you kept crying.

The scent of him lingered as you stayed in his arms. Even after you shut your eyes and felt your brain slowly falling asleep, you could smell him. The boat kept rocking, and soon enough your body fell asleep in the comfort of his familiar arms.

……….

You could hear birds when you woke up. The air smelled crisp. Your eyes blinked open, looking around at the cabin of the Kingfisher. It looked bigger in the light of dawn. You lifted your head off of Nikolai's chest.

A sick form of embarrassment took root in your chest. There was no humiliation quite like falling asleep in the arms of someone you swore you were done with. And he awoke with you, just as light a sleeper as he'd always been. He smiled softly at you, and you had to look away and get up lest you do something even more stupid.

"I should go," you said, straightening out your cloak as you went to the hatch. It was still dawn, the sun had barely risen, but you needed to be off of this ship and back into your room before people started waking up.

"Or you could stay," Nikolai replied quietly, standing with you. "We could talk about us? About last night?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Nikolai," you huffed.

"Darling, you were sobbing last night. I haven't seen you as bad as that since that time we were stranded in West Ravka." Nikolai sighed, stepping a bit closer to you. You let him grab your hand. "I made a promise to myself that night that I wouldn't let you cry alone ever again.”

You pursed your lips, saying something he knew. “You’ve already broken that promise."

“I know. I know I have, so the least I can do right now is talk and listen to you until you’re better.”

“I’m not going to get better," you scoffed.

He knew that too, you were certain of it, but he didn’t dare say it aloud. Instead, he said something much more stupid. “If I knew the people of Ravka would accept me as their king I never would have–”

“Stop,” you said tiredly, dropping your hand from his. You folded your arms around yourself. “I don’t want to argue right now. You’ve made your choice, and that’s that.”

Nikolai went quiet, his eyes dropping to the floor. You took a breath and climbed up the hatch, into the open air, and into reality. You walked across the deck, but stopped at the ramp when he cleared his throat and called your name.

"I have a test flight of the Kingfisher this afternoon." He gave a weak knock to the mast, a paltry smile on his face. "You're more than welcome to come watch.”

“I’m on duty later, I’m not sure I can come.” At your sides, your fingers balled into your cloak.

“I invited Alina already. She said she has Grisha training, but she might be able to make it.”

You nodded politely. “Then perhaps I’ll see you again later.”

“Perhaps.”

You turned to leave but he called your name again. You looked at him, watching his nervous eyes.

“I… I hope you know that you can always come to me when you’re hurting. I’ll never turn you out,” he said softly. “Or if you’re not upset but you just feel like talking to me, I’m here for you.”

His words made your blood sting. You knew he didn't mean to make you mad, that he was being sincere and kind, and yet you couldn't stop the low-boiling rage that seeped into your veins. Why he couldn't just say that he missed you and that he had made a colossal mistake, you didn't know. Why he felt the need to cloak his regret in some twisted extension of goodwill, you also didn't know.

If you were even angrier, you might have called him a coward, but instead you shook your head and gave him another polite smile.

“Thank you, your highness, but don’t ever expect me at your door.”

He frowned and glanced out at the lake. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that. You know we’re beyond formalities.”

“I’ve nothing else to call you now besides formalities.” You turned on your heel. "Have a good day, your highness. I won't bother you like this again."

"It wasn't a bother," you heard him mutter as you descended the ramp and hurried back to the Little Palace.

……….

Your day wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sure, you woke up in Nikolai’s arms, but other than that nothing of note happened. You guarded Alina, you escorted her around, then you came back to the Little Palace.

As you were turning down your bed for the night, you heard a soft knock at your door. You expected it to be one of the twins challenging you to a game of cards before bed as you sometimes did with them. So you gently called out for them to come in.

It was not Tamar or Tolya. Or even Alina or Mal, the only other people whose quarters belonged in this wing of the Little Palace. It was someone who was not supposed to be here.

"No," you shook your head at him as you glanced back and saw him. You hadn't snapped at Nikolai this morning, but as he shut the door behind him you felt the urge to chew him up and spit him out. "Are you crazy? What are you doing here?"

"You said you wouldn't bother me, but I made no promises not to come and bother you," He said with a playful shrug. "Besides, last night reminded me of how terribly I sleep without you."

"You shouldn't be here, you'll be caught," you said quietly, though with a measured level of anger.

"By whom? The twins? Mal? Alina? They all know our feelings for each other, and they won't care."

You crossed your arms. "Well, I care. Staying with you on that damned boat last night was a momentary lapse of judgment, not an invitation to make this into a habit."

"To me, it's just a way to sleep better," he said softly, stepping a bit closer to you. "I would rather have four hours of high-quality sleep with you in my arms and have to sneak back to the Grand Palace while it's still dark. The alternative is tossing and turning alone in my bed because I feel so incredibly alone I could scream."

“I don’t care if you’re lonely! I don’t care!" You stormed up to him, glaring a hole into his beautiful hazel eyes. "I'm lonely too, but I don’t cry about it to you. Because what good would it do? Would it change your mind? No, it wouldn’t."

Nikolai raises his brows slightly, a signal he's about to talk, but you cut him off with a huff.

"So, your highness, no matter what you say to me, no matter how badly you want me to, I will not warm your bed. Not if there is no real future with me by your side as anything more than a mistress that you hide away from the world!”

He opened his mouth to try to speak again but a loud knock on the door cut him off before he could.

You raised a hand in front of him in a halting motion. “Don’t. Don’t say whatever it is you’re going to say. I don’t want to hear any more on the subject or I will leave Os Alta. I will pack my things and head for the coast. Because I won’t do this. I… I can’t.”

You ignored the tremble in your lip as you watched him stand there, dejected. Something in the way he stood made him look like a small child after a scolding. It was almost enough to make you feel bad for lashing out at him. Almost.

Another knock at the door made you take a breath, and you stepped back from Nikolai again.

“Come in,” you called out.

The door opened to Tamar, Tolya, Mal and Alina standing in the hall. Great, you thought, you’d woken everyone with your yelling. With your luck, all of the Little Palace heard your grievances.

Tamar and Tolya came to your side, not-so-subtly standing between you and Nikolai. Mal and Alina remained in the doorway.

“Is everything alright?” Tamar asked, carefully looking between you two.

“Nikolai was just leaving,” you muttered.

“Good. I’ll walk him back,” Tolya said.

“I’ll go too,” Mal piped in.

Nikolai shook his head with a sad little frown. “I don’t need you to–”

“C’mon, your highness.” Tolya ushered him from the room.

The last you saw of him was an ashamed glance he cast over his shoulder as he passed Alina in the doorway. Once he was gone you approached the summoner.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you said to her. You looked at Tamar. “You and the others as well.”

“It’s alright.” Alina gave you a paltry smile. “If you want me to, I can punch him again.”

“Same,” Tamar said. “Or I’ll get Tolya to do it. That would be a spectacle.”

You chuckled. “That won’t be necessary. But thank you.”

When you looked at Alina again you saw a guilty gleam in her eyes. She almost matched Nikolai’s levels of shame as she wrought her hands. Then she suddenly hugged you.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled beside your head.

You wrapped your arms around her.

It wasn’t her fault, though you couldn’t deny that you resented her a little. She would have the greatest love of your life, living in the peaceful eye of a hurricane, while you would be caught up in the worst storm imaginable, peering through to them with desolate eyes as you tried not to lash out and harm them.

But it still wasn’t her fault. It was squarely on Nikolai. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to her, to so much as accept her apology.

Alina let go of you, and she and Tamar said their goodnights.

You couldn’t sleep, so you lay in bed, watching the stars through your window.

You recalled starry nights at sea, when the sky and the water were one with twinkling specs of white on the darkest blue you’d ever seen. Nights when you were happy, wrapped in a warm and familiar pair of arms, and the worst kind of storm you knew of only involved heavy rain on the deck of a ship.

……….

As luck would have it, there was a hunting party leaving the next day. Mal was going, and after the fiasco with Nikolai the night before, he invited you to join him and the group of nobles and high-ranking military faces on this hunt.

You gladly seized the opportunity to be away from the palace for a spell, and now you were riding horseback alongside Mal. The last time you'd ridden beside him was the road to Os Alta, but you shoved that memory aside. Nikolai was there then, putting on the show of his engagement for the Ravkan people. Saints, no matter what you were doing or what memory you carried he always seemed to linger, staining your mind and your every moment.

You shut your eyes for a second, your grip tight on your reins.

"Everything alright?” Mal’s voice reached your ears.

You glanced at him. “I’m fine.”

“Rietveld,” he started, eyes darting around before he lowered his volume. “I hope you can enjoy yourself this week. You deserve the time away from it all.”

“I know.” You nodded. “I just… I don’t know how to get through this.”

“Well, you’re faring better than our lovely prince.”

Were you though? You might have been the one to reject him last night, but you were also the one who broke down in front of him then passed out in his arms the night before. You supposed neither of you were taking this well.

“And how are you and Alina?" You asked quietly.

He turned his eyes ahead. "We're…"

You nodded after a long moment when he could not respond. "Yeah. I get that."

"It's a bit shit, isn't it?"

"A whole bucket-load of shit is more like it."

He shrugged in agreement.

……….

While you could admit it was a marvel watching Mal tracking, the hunting part of the trip was not nearly as interesting as the evening dinners. You'd be sat at tables between Ravkan lords and generals and dignitaries, listening to their stories and answering their questions. Speaking with them reminded you of your time with Lady Trokowsky; so many of them were as curt and prim as her. And though some of them were also a bit pompous for your liking, you held your own in their conversations. Plus, when there was wine and good food, even the most irritable guests were made tolerable.

"Were you really a sailor, Ms. Rietveld?" One of the lords asked you on the third night. "Grigor here says you were, but I can't imagine you at sea."

"And why's that, my lord?" You raised a brow. "Do you not think me capable?"

"Oh, not at all! Aside from our esteemed Oretsev here, you've shot the most game--I think you are very capable indeed. I just can't envision a young woman as refined as you in the life of a sailor."

"You think I'm refined? My lord, you flatter me," you said, smiling politely and tilting your glass at him. That was what Lady Trokowsy used to do when paid a compliment; you took your cues in manners from your time with her. You noticed Mal leaning forward in his seat.

"Ms. Rietveld is more than accomplished. If I'm not mistaken, she knows five languages, she can track and divide large sums all in her head and without paper, she's quite gifted with a sword, plus if you're bleeding and broken she's great to have around when there's no corporalniks nearby."

The table guests all nodded their heads, murmuring in approval, and you gave a slight look of thanks to Mal. As their new favourite hunting guest, his word meant a lot to these people. You were grateful for their good opinion; you hoped perhaps one of them might offer you a job or help you once you one day decided to leave Alina's guard.

Dinner carried on, with many of the guests asking you more about yourself or even just your opinion on local matters or the state of the war. They all seemed pleased by your answers, and you left for your tent that night feeling good about yourself and your future. Mal walked with you, and he nudged you with his elbow.

"We've got a future diplomat on our hands," he smiled.

"Well, you helped out quite a bit."

"I said one thing. The rest of that was all you, Rietveld. You charmed them all by yourself."

You sighed at his words. A small grin took up your face. "I kind of did, didn't I?"

"You definitely did." He turned to you as you stood outside your tent. "I'm glad you came on this trip. And I'm glad you got to see what kind of life you might have ahead of you."

"And what kind of life is that?"

"A life of rubbing elbows with the Ravkan 'elite.' You're already pretty good at it, but it's nice practice for once you're one of them."

You gave him a look. "Mal, that's never going to happen."

"It will once Nikolai marries you," he smirked.

You frowned at his chipperness. "He's already engaged, remember?"

He lowered his voice, looking around to check if anyone was nearby. "Alina's not going to marry him. Trust me. She doesn't want that life. When all is said and done, she won't go through with it."

"And you think he'd just marry me?" You asked in an irritated whisper.

"Yes. He loves you."

"I have nothing to offer him. At least Alina's a saint."

"He loves you, Rietveld," Mal repeated.

You looked at him, saw the certainty in his eyes, and had to look away again. You hated how sure he seemed. How confident he was, even though you knew better and he should know better too. Even if Alina didn't end up marrying him, Nikolai wouldn't marry you. The last few months had shown that. He would no doubt choose a princess or a very rich man's daughter, of which you were neither of those things.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Oretsev," you muttered, then ducked into your tent.

……….

Alina was there to greet you and Mal when you arrived at the Little Palace. But unfortunately, Mal kept riding to the stables, practically ignoring Alina. You had no idea what happened there between them to have him ice her out like that; all trip Mal had only complimentary things to say about Alina. Still, you supposed if any of the hunting party asked your opinion of Nikolai you would only say favorable things.

Regardless, Alina was there to offer you a hug and walk with you inside the Little Palace.

"How was your trip?" She inquired.

"Good. It was nice to be away for a bit," you said, remembering the tense circumstances before you'd left. "And nice to spend time with Mal. He's a good friend, even if he embellishes a bit."

"Saints, he embellished what exactly?" She raised her brows worriedly.

"Well, he was talking me up to some of the guests and he made me out to be some daring and sophisticated hero."

"Why's that?" She chuckled.

"No idea why. At one point he even said I went to the university of Ketterdam and graduated top of my class. Meanwhile, I was never educated past fifteen years old; I was raised on a farm, for saint's sake."

"Well, I'm glad he talked you up." She smiled at you. "I'm sure it made those stuffy lords and generals more pleasant to be around if they thought you were admirable."

"I suppose it did." You looked at her. "He talked you up too. Turned more than a few of them on to your side as the new leader of the second army."

"He did?"

"Yeah, he's really good at all of that."

A gentle silence filled the air. You weren't sure if it was because you'd told her what Mal got up to while they were apart, but she decided to talk about what Nikolai had been up to. Apparently, he mostly spent his time fine-tuning the Kingfisher or a number of other inventions he'd set up work on near the Summoner Pavillion.

"Also, last week he did something odd," Alina said as you arrived at the wing where both of your rooms were.

"Odd how?" You asked.

"Well, we were meeting with the royal family's jeweller." She saw the quizzical curve of your brow and added, "For Nikolai's birthday next month."

You pursed your lips. "Oh. Right."

"Part of the preparations was getting fitted for outfits and choosing which royal jewels and crowns to wear. It was a lot." She sighed. "And when we were going through the royal jewels, that’s when he did something odd."

"Oh?"

"The jeweller was showing off different crowns and tiaras for me," Alina blushed slightly, "and when he pulled out some sapphire crown, Nikolai lost it for a second."

The mention of a sapphire crown made your face burn. Could it be the crown you'd helped Nikolai recover? The crown he'd once put on your head and called you moya tsaritsa--his queen? Your heart hammered in your chest.

"He…" You furrowed your brows. "He lost it? What do you mean by that?"

Alina leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice despite how you were alone.

"Well, I wouldn't compare it with other people's losing it, but for Nikolai, it definitely made him lose it. He's usually so calm and everything, but he looked upset. He got all pale and then he looked at the jeweller and sternly said something like 'I told you very specifically not to put that crown in the selection.' And when the jeweller said that the queen wanted me to pick from everything, Nikolai started to go red, and he said 'I don't care what my mother said. This crown isn't to be worn.'"

Your lips parted slightly, and you glanced away for a moment, parsing out what she'd said.

Had Nikolai really been that upset over seeing that sapphire crown on display? You cared to know what upset him about it. Was it the sight of it? Or was it the thought that Alina might have picked the crown he foolishly thought you would one day wear? You weren't sure. You didn't even know if he had actually thought you could be his queen; but regardless, he had to know now that you weren't an option.

Alina chuckled slightly. "That's odd, right?"

"Yeah…" You said softly. "Odd."

……….

It was your first day off after you'd gotten back from the hunting outing. So, like most of your days off, you decided to take a walk on the Little Palace grounds. There was a pretty path behind the lake, and you were admiring the changing leaves of the trees all around you. It was understandable then that you didn't notice someone's sudden presence.

A throat cleared ahead of you on the path and you instantly snapped into focus. Your eyes landed on Nikolai and you almost sighed but then your jaw tensed instead. Since you got back you had seen him while on guard, but you hadn't been alone with him since that night he'd snuck to your room. You were afraid that the furious nature of your last conversation would only continue if you spoke again.

He gave you a slight smile and a polite nod. His hands were clasped behind his back. You took in his clothes, the slightly unkempt way his fine shirt was tucked, and the grease spot on his trousers. He must have been working on the Kingfisher again when he saw you walk by and chose to follow you. Still, he didn't look like he was in the mood for an argument either, not with his diplomatic smile.

"How was your hunting trip?" He asked, finally breaking the silence between you.

"Fine," was all you said.

He nodded, shifting his weight on his feet. "I hope you weren't too bored with all the lords and generals. I know how dreadful those trips can be."

"It was fine, really," you said, crossing your arms. "Mal is a good friend to have around those sorts. He and I spent all the time while we weren't shooting to talk up our little saint; to win public opinion of her."

"I didn't think Oretsev was clever enough for that," Nikolai grumbled, the annoyance of his words hidden under a smile. "Using influential lords and the likes to bolster the public's opinion of Alina… good on him, I suppose. It's a smart tactic."

Something about his words, or perhaps his slight irritation and the fact that he had no right to be irritated, irked you to no end.

"You hypocrite," you scoffed. "You frown down on Mal for using these lords and changing their opinions to help your fiance, and yet it's you who's engaged to her just to use her sainthood to bolster your claim to the throne."

Nikolai chuckled lightly. “And she is using me so that my family doesn't declare her and all the other Grisha enemies of Ravka. I wasn't frowning down on Oretsev for using these hunting parties. Using people for one's own advantage happens all the time in politics.”

“So I’ve learned," you said, your eyes narrowed slightly on him. You watched him for a moment. "Were you using me?”

“What?” He turned to you, his eyes turning from slight amusement to a blinking bewilderment. “Of course I wasn’t using you,” he said softly. “Do you really think I was using you?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore, Nikolai. You told me you wanted us, now and always. You put a crown on my head and called me your queen.” You tugged your simple chain out from under your shirt and let Nikolai’s ring dangle on it. “You gave me a ring that I, very stupidly, believed meant something… And then you made me feel like an idiot for thinking you could ever be mine–that I could ever share my life with a prince.”

"You still wear the ring?" His eyes seemed hopeful.

"I… that's what you've latched onto?" You blinked at him.

He stepped closer to you. His eyes were earnest. "I'm sorry. I wasn't using you. It was always love between us; I wasn't going to exploit that."

"No, instead you broke it."

You saw it on his face. Yes, I broke it, was written in the mournful line of his mouth as his eyes drooped to his shoes.

"If I could take it all back," he said quietly, "I would. And you would be happy and I could stop worrying and it would all be back to the way it was before."

Your fingers balled up at your sides as you scowled. "And how was it before? You expect me to believe you would have married me once you were back to being a prince? When you were still Sturmhond you were so ashamed of me that we didn't even let the crew know we were together!"

"I wasn't ashamed–" he started but you stepped closer to him, eyes furious.

"Why would I believe you'd ever let the royal court know you wanted to be with a common sailor?"

"Because I would!" He exclaimed, a desperate glint in his eye as he brushed his hands through his hair. "Because I love you and--despite what you think–I am not ashamed of that love. I never have been."

He took your hand, and--ignoring the urge to break free and slap him or shove him into the dirt–you let him. He took a breath, letting his eyes meet yours again once he was ready.

“What I’m trying to say is that I–"

Nikolai cut himself off at the sound of footsteps approaching. He dropped your hand and took a step back, and you pretended his actions didn't sting. The approaching footsteps turned out to be Vasily, and you kept down the groan you wanted to make.

"Vasily," Nikolai nodded.

He put on a charming smile, though his chest rose and fell quickly. You didn't need to read his mind to know what he was thinking because you were thinking the same thing--how much had his brother seen between you two? It was a wonder with the way Vasily stared so skeptically at you both.

"Who's this you're speaking with, brother?" Vasily asked, sleazily eyeing every part of you besides your narrowed stare.

"This is Rietveld," Nikolai answered calmly, though you noticed how his hands were desperately trying to not ball up at his sides. "She was my second in command at sea, now she's one of Alina's guards."

He sneered as he glanced between you and Nikolai. "Ah yes, one of your… crewmates. Seems quite pretty for a sailor. I think you spoke about her before… didn't you say she was Kerch?" He addressed you. "Are you Kerch, girl?

"Yes," you replied with gritted teeth. He bent a superior eyebrow and you added, "Moi Tsarevich," with the bow of your head.

"A Kerch sailor," he mused. "I wonder where you met her… Was it Ketterdam?"

"Yes, brother," Nikolai said, his words carrying a careful twinge of annoyance.

"Such a pretty thing… I wonder, where in Ketterdam could you have found her?" He made no attempt to hide how he watched you like you were a piece of meat. "Did you pluck her from the Barrel?"

"Vasily," Nikolai warned with a low voice.

"I imagine she came from somewhere lush and expensive, at least I hope you didn't buy her out of one of the cheap brothels. Though she does have the scowl of a cheap whore."

Nothing more could be said on the topic, as Nikolai's fist came in contact with Vasily's jaw. You heard an ugly thwack sound, and Vasily stumbled backwards, landing on his ass on the dustiness of the dirt path.

"You filthy mutt!" Vasily spat. "You nearly knocked all my teeth loose!"

You expected Nikolai to straighten out with a diplomatic apology, sarcastically citing a lapse in judgment or pretending his arm had spasmed. You expected him to act as prince, but at this moment he was privateer instead. He bent down beside his brother and grabbed him by the collar.

"If I ever hear you speak about her like that again, I will punch you so hard you bite off your own tongue," Nikolai threatened. "Am I understood, brother?"

"Some brother you pretend to be–"

Nikolai's grip tightened. "Am I understood?"

"Yes," Vasily sneered.

Nikolai let go of him and stood to his full height, dusting himself off. He was back to being a dignified prince. "Good."

Nikolai glanced at you then glanced down the path in the direction back to the Little Palace. You took the hint, and silently but with quick steps, the two of you walked along.

The image of Vasily in the dirt brought you joy, though you couldn't say the same for the way Nikolai threatened him. Nikolai's actions frustrated you to no end, making you frown as you walked. It wasn't his job to do that, to fight for you, but he was a fool who treated it like his duty.

Once the Little Palace was in sight, you spoke to him.

"I've dealt with worse than Vasily, I don't need you to defend me," you asserted.

He looked at you. "I know you don't, but I wanted to."

"You don't get to anymore," you said, "you have a fiance to defend instead now."

Nikolai scoffed. "He called you a whore, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Let it slip by. Defending me is not worth the wrath of your brother."

"Please, I've already earned his wrath just by existing." He smiled. "And besides, it was nice to give him a whack like that. He deserved it for what he said."

You wanted to agree with him that Vasily deserved a whack, but you held firm. It was hard to tell if you were just being contrary for the fun of it or if you meant it.

"You shouldn't let him get under your skin," you muttered. "Don't do that again, Nikolai."

He slowed and you slowed with him. Stopped in the shade from the Little Palace, he looked at you, his stare earnest.

"I could tell you I will only let myself lash out at him just this once, but I would be lying." You thought he might hold your hand, but as he reached for you he thought the better of it and clasped his hands behind his back. "I would be lying, because if he–or anyone else for that matter--speaks about you like that again, hitting him would be the least of what I'd do."

……….

FIFTH YEAR - KAZ

Kaz didn't know why he was in Lij.

He hadn't been in his hometown since he moved away from it at nine years old. But he was walking the harbours of Ketterdam on his day off from the Crow Club and saw a boat travelling down the coast to the southern farmlands of Kerch. Next thing he knew, he was sailing away from Ketterdam.

Then he was in his old, simple little world. Acres upon acres of farmland, a town square with market vendors and people who smiled at other people without trying to steal their wallets… it all seemed so foreign to him now.

He went up the hill to his old farmhouse first. It had sat in disrepair for a few years now since his siblings moved to the city. The fields were wildly overgrown, but it still looked like a plot of good land. Kaz trudged through the weeds to the barn out back. It only took him four seconds to pick the lock on the barn door. The inside was empty, but it still looked alright.

He didn't dwell for long, though. He stood in the barn, shut his eyes for a moment, breathed in the farm air, thought briefly of his family--of how he missed them--then he left.

He relocked the barn, instinctively leaving it how it was found, then set out on another path down the hill.

Kaz passed by the well-kept house of Old Lady Trokowsky. How that Ravkan bat frightened him when he was younger. He had no idea how his sister managed to visit with her every other day just to read to her and keep her company. As Kaz recalled, her tongue was always so sharp, and she would shout at him and Jordie from the upper porch above her front door whenever they got into the slightest bit of mischief.

He wondered for a moment if she was still alive; in his memory, she seemed ancient, after all.

A broken post on her otherwise perfect fence caught his eye, and he nudged it with his foot.

"Rietveld? Jordan Rietveld!" A worn voice called out as soon as his boot made contact with the post.

Kaz's eyes snapped wide in surprise, and he instinctively straightened out at the memory of reprimands gone past. He looked up to the porch above her front door, and sure enough, sitting there by the railing was Old Lady Trokowsky. He would have smiled at the sight of a familiar face if he wasn't so frightened of her.

"Jordan Rietveld, what are you doing to my fence? And what are you doing back in Lij? Your family's supposed to be in Ketterdam!"

Kaz blinked up at her. Did she really think he was his brother? That he was Jordie?

"Well, young man?" Her gravelly old voice called down to him again.

He felt like a child under her eyes. He was fourteen now, yet he felt like he was six and following along with whatever trouble Jordie was getting into.

Trokowsky waved an arm in a resigned manner. "Oh, come inside, boy. I've got hot chocolate and cookies that I'm too old to stomach now. Eat and talk with me, Jordan."

Kaz paused at the gate. He wanted to pass by and head back to the town, but he felt a strange desire to go into her house. The closest he'd gotten to the house was standing in the doorway with Jordie when Da would sometimes send them to fetch their sister home early; the inside of it was always a mystery to him.

He passed through the gate and went up the stone path. It felt like he'd get in trouble, but he opened the front door and peered into the front hall. A caretaker for the bat came down the stairs to greet him. She directed him up the stairs and straight to the front where Lady Trokowsky would be waiting on the upper porch.

His eyes roamed the walls as he went upstairs. All these Ravkan portraits and plaques adorning her house--the burgeoning criminal in him told him he should swipe something, but he ignored the urge. His sister had always spoken highly of Trokowsky, despite how the bat would shout at him and Jordie, so he would respect his sister by respecting the bat's belongings.

He stepped onto the upper porch and noticed immediately that her eyes had a slight wispiness to them that no doubt impaired her vision. Cataracts, if that was the right term. This was likely why she didn't recognize him as Kaz but as his brother.

"Ah, Jordan Rietveld," she greeted in her worn voice, gesturing to the rocking chair beside hers. "It's been years, hasn't it?"

Kaz nodded and took a seat beside her. "Yes."

"How are you, boy? How is the city treating you?"

Like hell.

That's what he wanted to say. He'd been chewed up at spit back out by Ketterdam. He was rising through the ranks of the Dregs, but not without a few scrapes and tussles. He'd grown to be a swindler and a scammer, though he supposed that information would be quite useless to this old lady.

"Very well," he lied, feeling compelled to smile for the bat. "I've just been promoted at work."

"Oh, isn't that wonderful?"

She did something that was nearly a smile. Her wrinkly face tightened slightly with the weak force of her mouth muscles, stretching her lips in a kind position.

"And how is that young brother of yours? Is he still as much trouble as you?" She chuckled fondly.

"Kaz is dead," Kaz said bluntly. He almost didn't realize he said it at first, but then he noticed Trokowsky's face fall.

"Oh dear… I'm sorry to hear that. Your sister always spoke so highly of her baby brother," she said with a sad coo.

Kaz glanced away over the balcony. "Well, she's gone now too. Moved across the world."

"I suppose that explains why she stopped writing to me." Trokowsky sighed. "I thought she might have passed in that plague–what a terrible, terrible bout of firepox it was this last time…"

If only she knew, Kaz mused, holding back a wry smile.

"Do you ever see her? I'd love for you to tell her I say hello and that I miss her company," she said softly.

He didn't have the heart to tell her the truth. "I see her every few months. She comes to visit me in Ketterdam, or I go visit her in Novyi Zem."

"Oh, good. I'm glad to hear that." She smiled again. "Your family has suffered enough without being separated by something so trivial as the sea."

It seemed as though Lady Trokowsky might have said more on the matter, but a sudden coughing fit wracked through her. Kaz's body recoiled from her wheezing. It brought back memories of plague.

He balled his gloved hands into fists and he looked away from her as he waited for her coughing to end. She recovered from her fit, and he stayed long enough to finish his hot chocolate and eat three cookies while he listened to a couple of stories from the bat. But he didn't stay much longer than that. Trowkowsy grew tired, in need of an afternoon nap as the elderly sometimes need. She gave him a kind parting smile as her caretaker wheeled her to her room.

Kaz waited in the main foyer until the nurse came downstairs again. He procured a Crow Club card from his pocket and handed it to the caretaker.

"Please let me know when she passes," he nodded to the caretaker.

Then he left and went down to the town square again, heading for the municipal office. He tried to acquire his family's farm back from the township. He didn't quite have enough money to buy it back yet, but he knew he would put it under Jordie's name when he did. Or perhaps Jordie's middle name would lend itself better as the ink on a dotted line. Either way, he could not secure the deed today, so he found his way to a ship bound up the coast to Ketterdam, back to the city of thieves and barterers.

A few months later, Kaz received a short letter. Lady Trokowsky had died of her old age.

At her funeral, the name card on the grandest bouquet of flowers gifted was simply: "The Rietvelds."

..........

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 :)

Part 7

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

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fic #grishaverse fanfic #nine long years

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crazyyluvr · 9 months ago

Text

Masterlist

hi! i’m mar, and i’m just here to write about random stuff because motivation strikes me at the weirdest times. my writing’s decent… i think… anyway, here’s my masterlist!

will write:

gn, male, or female reader (not that experienced in male tho, but i want to practice)

fluff

angst

somewhat suggestive content

platonic stuff

romantic stuff

will not write:

nsfw

incest themes

major character death (unless it’s canon)

dark content (yandere type thing)

request status: open!

Fandoms

Marauders Era

sirius black .

The World Wants to Melt my Face Off I Swear- (If the summer heat was not going to back down, you’re just going to take matter into your own hands. And Sirius is all up for it.) — drabble.

remus lupin .

Dealing with the Problem = Breaking the Problem's Nose (You punched another student because he was annoying. Not because you were defending Remus Lupin. Totally not.) — oneshot.

james potter .

A Revelation in Potions (Not Through Amortentia, That's too Generic) (one potions class with you got james questioning his sexuality.) — oneshot.

I think James Likes Beaters! (James can’t get over his new crush when he has a Quidditch game against Ravenclaw — with you as their new Beater.) — oneshot.

regulus black .

coming soon…

Percyverse

luke castellan .

coming soon…

percy jackson .

coming soon…

jason grace .

How to Anger a Demigod as a Horse 101 (one of jason's skills that he's proud of is to be able to calm you down when others try and fail to do so.) — short oneshot.

Overworked, Underappreciated (by the gods) (your urge to prove yourself can cause you to overwork yourself, so jason tries to stop you for doing so — and of course, comforting you during the possible breakdowns that could happen along the way.) — oneshot.

Stop Being Nice to Me, I'm Supposed to be Mad at You (in which Jason gets in an argument with you before a Capture the Flag game and you end up avoiding each other... until you get injured, and Jason couldn't let the previous argument stop him from checking up on you.) — short oneshot.

leo valdez .

LEO APPRECIATION >:( (Leo sometimes (always) wonders what he did to deserve you and whether he still deserved you.) — short oneshot.

Grishaverse

mal oretsev .

coming soon...

aleksander morozova / the darkling / general kirigan .

coming soon...

kaz brekker .

I am the QUEEN of Hearts, Don't Tell Me Otherwise (Having a blind Heartrender has its perks. For Kaz Brekker, having a blind Heartrender that can hear his heartbeat change around her has its disadvantages.) — oneshot.

jesper fahey .

coming soon...

inej ghafa .

coming soon...

nina zenik .

coming soon...

Unorganized

Fluff

e!1610 miles morales x reader (basketball player!miles who dedicates his points to you all the time.) — headcanons.

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heliads · 1 year ago

Note

Oh! maybe an alina starkov x fem!reader?? it doesn't have to be a big deal, just one where alina and reader enjoy an afternoon together after the end of ruin and rising, thinking about when they came to be together and how much it was all worth it. maybe reader is a healer so she can take care better of the orphanage kids

anything for my favorite saint

masterlist

When you close your eyes, you can still see the ghosts. Hear them, too. They scream more than they speak. Most of the friends you’ve ever had ended up dead before they really got a chance to live. Is that their fault for not trying hard enough to make it through the war, or is it your fault for surviving when they didn’t?

They’ll be gone when you wake up. You’re vaguely aware of this, but not enough to force yourself out of the nightmare now. After all, where else would you see all of the people you’ve lost? When you dream, you dream of how they died, but sometimes you see older memories too, back when everything was still a little bit alright and they could smile more than they didn’t.

The nightmare ends soon enough. Your eyes fly open, your heart beating fast in your chest as you look around. You force yourself to follow your normal nighttime routing before your panic grows uncontrollable. Look around you– familiar four walls, sturdy ceiling. This is not the Little Palace, this is not the duke’s orphanage at Keramzin. Not the old one, at least.

This is the place that has become your home once again. You are here because the war is over. Once the Darkling died and the Shadow Fold fell, Alina Starkov offered you a chance to rebuild, one place at a time. The orphanage was her first choice, and it was yours as well. She gave Mal Oretsev the same chance, but he hadn’t yet seen his fill of the world. You have no idea where he is now; Kerch, perhaps, or some other distant corner of Ravka or another nation, but he’s happy, at least, and you’ve long since learned that matters more than anything else.

The new orphanage is yours and Alina’s, then. That’s the way it was at the start. Alina showed up first, then you, then Mal. You left it first, though. Before the Grisha tester came around to Keramzin, before she saw something in you that she shouldn’t have, you had almost liked it there, as much as any orphan could love a cold hall that was never quite warm enough to be home.

All good things come to an end, though, even the times that are only half-good. Suddenly, you had gone from spending your days and nights attached to Alina by the hip to being completely separated from her. They took you away from Keramzin to learn the Grisha arts in Os Alta, and they say you did not stop weeping for the friend you lost for a month, at least.

Alina confessed to you later that she thought you would have forgotten her at the Little Palace. You were only at the orphanage at Keramzin for such a short time, and Os Alta had far more marvels than little girls in dark halls could ever offer you.

This, you have told her on several occasions, could not be further than the truth. You never lost sight of your best friend, not when they dressed you in Corporalnik red and trained you to be a Healer, not when the years flew by and people started thinking that you’d always been in Os Alta and never anywhere else.

You certainly didn’t forget her when she showed up years later, lost in rumors that she might be the Sun Saint come to save you all. You had flown into her arms the second you were able, and you saw it in her eyes even then, how the fear left her in a flash. Alina knew she would be safe so long as you were with her. No harm could come to either of you if you were together again.

This only ended up being half true. Harm and danger have gotten to know both of you quite well indeed, but you survived the war. Now, you’re back to the way it was again– Alina without her powers, you still with yours, and both of you returning to Keramzin to start the orphanage up again after the Darkling had razed it.

You had never intended to return. They told you that you were capable of amazing things, that you were destined for big crowds with shiny trappings. Miracles only come to the powerful, and a quiet afterlife isn’t encouraged in Os Alta. They had managed to persuade you that you were only so good as your gifts, and you believed them.

You believed them, then it destroyed you piece by piece, and the world took it upon itself to fix that. And so you find a girl, and you let her into your heart enough to convince you to leave your entire world behind. You learn what love is, you learn that love shouldn’t be dependent on what you can achieve as a Grisha but you, only you. You help her create an orphanage. You care for the children who wander your way. It is a life, and it is a good one. Sometimes, you think it’s better than you deserve. You let the girl assure you otherwise.

And now? Now, you’re happy. You watch the sun rise and fall over the hills, and you remember watching Alina summon the sunlight for the first time. It had been marvelous, and she had looked over her shoulder for you the second she did it. It was you and her, forever and always. Even when neither of you were Grisha. Even when you both were. Even now, when you are but she isn’t.

Alina says she doesn’t miss her powers, but you’ve seen the way she watches you when you’re healing kids in the medical wing. For someone who claims she’s perfectly happy to remain human, her eyes linger on how your hands flex and move whenever you use your Corporalnik abilities. At her sides, her fingers always twitch, as if remembering how to call forth a power that no longer answers to her.

You want to offer the use of your abilities, to see if you can heal her enough to potentially give her back the capacity of summoning sunlight again. You think she wants to ask too at times, but both of you are too afraid to imply that there is something broken in her that is fixed in you, and so the quiet ones stay silent for now, at least.

The ceiling over your head feels a little too low, too controlling, so you dress quickly, slipping out of your room under the dim light of dawn. Most of the kids won’t be awake for another few hours, so you won’t have to worry about disturbing them. They’re well behaved kids anyway. They know what it’s like to lose a home, so they’re not that inclined to mess up this one with a few bad choices.

You slip out the back door and into the stands of wild grass. Every time you walk into this meadow, you almost think it’s a dream. You saw it often enough whenever you closed your eyes back at the Little Palace that actually being able to return has never quite been able to seem like anything other than an impossibility.

It has changed since you were a child, obviously. Most of the grass burned away when the Darkling destroyed the orphanage, and it’s slow in coming back. The trees have been blighted, but they’re getting better. We are all getting better.

You take a few steps more then pause, cocking your head to the side as you register the sound of heartbeats emanating from the ground a few paces away. You follow the beating until you come to a stop in front of a young woman lying on her back in the grass. Her eyes are closed, but she still smiles when she says, “I knew you’d find me out here.”

You smile back and take a seat on the ground next to her. “It’s your favorite spot, Alina. Where else would I look?”

Alina cracks open her eyelids enough to glance up at you. “Consider me overly nostalgic, then. Can you blame me? It’s quiet out here.”

You chuckle softly. “I know. I remember it being louder, though. Maybe there were more birds or something.”

“Or maybe we weren’t out here at dawn. We slept in more often when we were small,” Alina retorts.

There’s a silent despair in those words. You could sleep more when you were little because you had far less to fear. The only people you had lost were your parents. Now you have buried far more than just two people, and your sleep suffers accordingly.

That time has passed, though. There will be no more conflict, not for either of you. Not if you have your way with it.

“Still,” you whisper, “it’s a nice place.”

Alina hums in agreement. “We used to come out here all the time, didn’t we? You and me and Mal.”

Obnoxiously, your mood sours at the mention of Mal. He was your friend too, but you always liked Alina more, and you always feared that she would in turn prefer his company. You certainly heard enough rumors of Alina’s boy back home when she first came to the Little Palace. You had assumed those rumors were false when she chose to live at the orphanage with you instead of him, but your insecurities always choose to argue that whenever you think of him.

You sigh. “Mal wasn’t the only one in that meadow, you know.”

Alina sits up on her elbows, tilting her head back so she can stare at the brightening sky. “I know. Sometimes it was just us.”

You keep your eyes focused on the grass in front of you. “To me, it was just us.”

“It was the same for me,” Alina replies.

You risk a peek her way and realize that she’s smiling. It’s the same soft smile she always wears with you, the one that tells you that she’s finally let her guard down. She never quite had it with Mal, but she had it with you. Always with you. There’s a reason for that, you know. There’s a reason for that, if you care enough to look.

And when have you not cared enough about Alina? She was your sun to orbit ever since the very first day you arrived at Keramzin. You have needed her every day of your life, and now you have her now, you have her forever. If you do not use the time you have, it will be wasted, and you have lost enough years to blood and bone to frivolously use up any more.

“I love you,” you say suddenly.

Alina goes quiet. At last, she looks at you, and says, “I love you too. I always have.”

“I know,” you tell her, “I know.”

You do. You know everything about Alina. And, the reason you stayed with her, the reason you left the rest of the Grisha to come home with her, the knowledge that she loved you just as much as you loved her, even if neither of you had properly addressed it. There was no reason to say such an obvious truth, not then. Still, it’s nice to hear it now.

Alina reaches through the struggling grass to take your hand. She passes her thumb over your knuckles as if to say: here are your hands, which have cost lives and given them back, which have fought in wars and won them, and I want them anyway. There is no part of you that Alina does not want, even the quiet voices and the dark, looming memories. All of it is beautiful to her. It could be naive, or it could just be the love of someone who has known you all your life and understands enough to want to keep you in hers.

You can hear the distant sounds of the children starting to wake, how the laughter and voices begin to trickle out of the windows and doors. The sun rises on a new day, a good day, and you breathe in the gentle heat of the morning. There is much to do, but that is not a bad thing. Not at all.

requested by @cassiecrown, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @gods-fools-heroes, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @story-scribbler, @eclliipsed, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @budugu, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#alina starkov #alina starkov imagines #alina starkov x reader #alina starkov oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #grishaverse alina #grishaverse alina imagines #grishaverse alina x reader #grishaverse alina oneshot

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stray-kaz · 2 years ago

Text

Masterlist

Fandom works! So much here...

All reader inserts are female.

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

T.L.C.

Girl Dad

Reds and Whites

Not Even a Candle

Reparations - 18+

Prologue One Two Three Four

Snow & Ice - 18+

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen

Frank Castle

Kiss Cam

A Touch of Crazy

Brothers In Arms

Frank Castle x Family headcanons

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

Time and Time and Time Again - 18+

A Baby Shower for Frankie

Two Pink Lines

Two to Tango - 18+

Baby Talk

Paper Ring

Blooded

The Opposite of Soft - 18+

Gone Off Half Cocked - 18+

Butterflies On Fire

A Stitch in Time

Look Where You’re Going

I Do

Matt Murdock

On Blind Faith - 18+

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN

Headcanons

Steve Rogers

I Love You, But... - 18+

Shadow and Bone

Jesper Fahey

A Better Distraction - 18+ - Completed

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Kiss & Tell

A Good Shot

Ruse

Little Lantsov

An Unexpected Prince - sequel to Little Lantsov

Tender

Trigger

Swap With Me - 18+

He’s A Criminal and He’s Mine

Safe Inside, Out of the Rain

Laundry Day

The Law of Loss

You’re The Reason I Hate Champagne

There Goes My Life - An Assortment

One Two Three Four Five Six

Mal Oretsev

Twice Wounded - sorta 18+

Nikolai Lantsov

Patched - 18+

All Patched Up - 18+ - sequel to Patched

Monkey in the Air

Daddy and The Fox

To Be His Queen - 18+

Kaz Brekker

Stray - request prompt

A Murder of Crows - Miniseries

Part One Part Two

Memento Mori - request prompt

Green - request prompt

Love is a Battlefield

Set, Charge, Boom

The Magpie Verses - Completed

Take Off The Mask , Caught , The Crow and The Magpie , Unmasked

Aleksander Morozova

Trouble Just Walked In - sorta 18+

Matthias Helvar

Scrubbed Clean

Tolya Yul-Bataar

Awoken

Top Gun: Maverick

Bob Floyd

A Soft Landing - 18+

Red Flag Week

Baby. On. Board.

Jake Seresin

Out of Bounds I, II, III, IV, V, VI - 18+

Bradley Bradshaw

Jukebox Jive

Lockwood and Co.

George Karim

Death and Doughnuts

A Personal Experiment - 18+

Stuck in the Middle With You - 18+ - requested

Oh Dear Baby - fic idea from @the-biscuit-agreement

Oh How Time Flies - sequel to Oh Dear Baby

Ghosts I Get, People Are Crazy

Anthony Lockwood

Between a Tree and a Lockwood - sorta 18+

Honey, I’m Home - 18+

Delirium

His Mistake

The Invitation

Walt de Ville

The Flower and The Serpent - 18+

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

Little Women (2019)

Laurie

Sugar & Spice - 18+

one

two

Zombies (Disney)

Zed Necrodopolis

Awkward Question

Betwixt

Midnight Resolution - 18+

Leo Grande

Three Day Hire - 18+

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

A Very Grande Christmas

Austin!Elvis

Sky High

The School for Good and Evil

Rafal Mistral

The Sky Is Falling

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall

Under The Blood Moon - 18+

The Heirloom and The Heir

Evil, Be Mine

You Shall Be Loved

Rhian Mistral

The Storian’s Favour

Back from the Brink

Bubbles

To Sleep and Not To Wake

Ben Hardy Characters

Billy / Four

Hold Me Close, Don’t Let Go - 18+

The Witcher

Istredd

Chasing Fire - 18+

One Piece Live Action

Roronoa Zoro

Buoyant

A Book and A Nap

Starless - 18+

First Kiss, Last Kiss

Keeping Watch - 18+

Double The Bounty - 18+ - Part One Part Two

Sanji

Tall Blond Pacifier

Sand and Stars

Wind and Rain - 18+

Monkey D. Luffy

First Blushes

Usopp

In The Moment

OPLA Men

Dance With Me

Christmas Drabbles 2023

Scent of Pine - Shanks

Neatly Tied With A Bow - Mihawk

Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice - Sanji

The Perfect Excuse - Zoro

Fullmetal Alchemist

Edward Elric

Happy Birthday To You

Rest and Recuperation - 18+

Tale of the Nine Tailed

Lee Yeon

Need - 18+

Sweet Home

Cha Hyun-su

Sunshine Part One - 17+

Let Me Do It

A Shop For Killers

Jeong Jin-man

Breathing

Time - 18+

Misc.

Ready or Not - 18+

Original Writing

Top Drawer

Quiet Peace

The Hat - 18+

Pirate Intro

Sweetness

Bandaged

To The Sea, My Love, To The Sea

The Uncanny Counter

So Mun

Oops!

Love & Pragmatism

To Spar or Not to Spar

Wong Yeok

Illicit - 18+

#liss masterlist #liss writes #masterlist

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padfootagain · 1 year ago

Text

The Last Ones on Earth (II)

Chapter 2 : A Meeting

Hi everyone! Here is the second chapter for my Darkling series!

I’m going to keep the same structure for the chapters throughout the series, in case you’re wondering about that…

I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings for the series: mentions and depictions of violence and warfare, mentions of trauma

Warnings for the chapter: None

Summary: You and the Darkling are a team, even if no one knows it. Beyond being a team, you are the only one he trusts, and he's the only one you care about, and you're each other's true love. But if you've kept your secrets hidden for a long time, now that the Sun Summoner is fighting against you, it's time to reveal who you are, and what you are capable of...

Word Count: 4333

Masterlist for the series – The Darkling’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

The chains are heavy around your wrists, but you’re not surprised. You hate being bound though. You were bound before, many times. You hate the feeling of it: the impediment, the feeling of being useless, of having no way to fight. That’s the worst part of it all. Being unable to defend yourself, even if it is to last for a mere moment.

You used to be defenceless; you’re not anymore. You’re too talented for this kind of trap.

If you expected the chains, you’re surprised when you’re guided to a dusty room of an abandoned house, to meet directly with Alina. You thought it would take a little more convincing than that… after all, you barely talked to her at all at the Little Palace, you don’t expect that she would trust you.

You’re even more surprised when you don’t find just Alina in the dimly lit room, but Nikolai Lantsov as well, along with David, Genya, Zoya and Mal Oretsev. What a merry gathering…

David’s head snaps up when he sees you, a mixture of a frown and a smile spreading on his features as he looks up at you.

You like him. He’s kind and dangerously intelligent, although a little too naïve. You’re happy to see him in good health…

“Take a seat,” says Nikolai with a wide smile, one that oozes charm but you’re not fooled.

You oblige nevertheless, resting your bound hands on your laps, hidden under the table. No one objects to your gesture.

The fools…

Your expression remains neutral, but you can see that they don’t expect it. You should be afraid, intimidated by the group before you.

But you’ve lived too long for that. And today, many masks will have to fall.

“I’m sorry about the chains,” Alina finally spoke. “We just need to make sure that you’re really on our side before letting you go as you please around this place.”

“I understand,” you reassure her.

Everyone, except for Mal, is sitting around the same round table, just as you are: Alina directly before you, Nikolai and Zoya by her sides. Behind Alina, Mal’s figure hovers, a grim look on his face. You guess he’s trying to look threatening, he looks rather ridiculous in comparison to what you can look like if you want to. Genya and David are sitting next to Zoya. They’re all clustered around the other half of the table though, letting a safe distance separate you from the group.

It will take more than that to save their skins if you decide to kill them.

“David told us that you’re a Durast,” Nikolai speaks, studying you carefully. “Why aren’t you wearing a purple kefta then?”

“Ravka is not particularly safe for Grisha these days, in case you haven’t noticed,” you answer with a humourless smile. “Traveling as an otkazat’sya is much safer.”

“Blame the Darkling for that,” mumbles Zoya.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.”

All of them look at you with a frown. They focus on your words, on your expression that’s still coldly neutral. They don’t notice the way your fingers move under the table. The leather of your gloves moves in perfect sync with your fingers, you’ve made these to fit your hands to perfection, like a second skin. Fabrikator made. And made by you, of all people. No one but Aleksander really knows what that means though. No one knows why you never take these gloves off either. You remember many of the stories that ran though the corridors and bedchambers of the Little Palace along the years: a strange hereditary sickness, old burns from an experiment that went sour, some even thought your hands weren’t real, that you had been born handless and had built prosthetics instead. All ideas more ridiculous than the other, and none of them being anywhere near the truth. Good. It made you unimportant in the Little Palace, and that is probably why no one notices the way your fingers dance under the table, why no one asks to see your hands now. Why would they? They don’t have the kind of powers you do, anyway.

“You said that you had escaped the Darkling. How did you do it?” Alina asks, tilting her head a little to the side, narrowing her eyes at you, studying your reaction.

But you smile, because it took you but a few seconds to use your powers. No need to stall.

“I didn’t. I’m here to talk to you, on his behalf.”

They all lean back at that, in what you recognize as fear. You smile. Aleksander most definitely succeeded at making them see him as the villain…

“Did he send you here to kill us?” Genya asks, and you can hear in her voice that she’s trying to reach a firm tone, but fails, her voice remains unsteady.

“Not necessarily,” you shrug, genuinely unbothered by the prospect of killing everyone in the room. “It will depend on how the negotiations will go.”

“So, if we don’t yield, you’ll try to kill us? These are very poor terms for negotiations,” Nikolai complains.

But Mal chuckles, and you raise a surprised eyebrow at that.

“You use threats, when you are alone here, your hands bound. You are powerless,” he points out.

You give him a toothy grin, it looks thirsty for blood, and you kind of are. He pisses you off. You almost long to cut his throat. Almost.

“Poor me,” is all you answer.

Meanwhile, your fingers continue their silent dance under the table. And all of them are fooled.

And you reckon that the long years spent sacrificing a part of your intimacy with Aleksander are worth it. Because no one knows who you are, what you are truly capable of. And so, no one thinks that you are a real threat. They don’t pay attention to the slight hissing sound of metal moving near the doorframe, or the light thud noise coming from the corridor, or the barely audible click ringing near your wrists.

You were right to remain hidden for years. It pays off now.

“So, what do you have to negotiate? Your surrender?” offers Nikolai, and you chuckle with him when you catch his eyes.

You like him. He’s more eager for power than he pretends to be, like everyone is, like Alina, like Aleksander… but he’s nice enough. He’s be a better king than his supposed-father, you have no real doubt about that.

“I’m afraid not. Although, I will gladly accept yours,” you answer in the same humorous tone, and Nikolai is impressed, even though he won’t admit it.

“As Mal pointed out, you don’t exactly have the upper-hand here. Our men are patrolling the area, they’ve confirmed that you’ve come here alone.”

“Indeed, there’s no one else. And there won’t be.”

“So… the Darkling sent you to your death, and you accepted?” Zoya asked, mocking you.

And you’ve never been fond of her, but you pity her more than anything else. She has much to learn still.

“I can handle myself perfectly well,” you give her a smile. “Besides, this was my idea.”

“Your idea? Does the Darkling even know you’re here?”

“Of course, he does. We’re a team, he and I. We have been so, for a long time.”

And Alina seems to realize something. A flash of understanding passes through her features, and you almost feel sorry for her. She really doesn’t understand a thing…

“Maeve, the Darkling manipulates everyone. And he might have made you feel like you’re special, but you’re not. Not to him. I know what it feels like, it was not your fault. He used this on me too, and I almost fell for it.”

Maeve. It’s the name you’re wearing these days. You’re used to it, enough so to react as if it were your own. It isn’t. It tastes bitter on your tongue every time you have to speak it to introduce yourself. But the only ones who know your true identity are Baghra and Aleksander. No one else.

They’ve taken even that from you. Even your name…

“You did fall for it,” you correct her with a disgusted wince. “I can’t believe you did, he wasn’t even subtle about it.”

She frowns at that.

“You knew he was…” her voice trails off, as if she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words.

“Seducing you?” you complete her sentence for her, and she winces but doesn’t deny it. “Of course, I did. It was plan A. But Baghra got us in trouble, again. Is she alright, by the way? I heard she was with you. Is she unharmed?”

“Are you really worried about Baghra?” Genya asks, puzzled.

“Yes, I am. Is she alright?”

“She’s fine,” Alina answers in a glare.

“Good. I’m sure she drives you all crazy. Keep you on your toes.”

“You said that the Darkling manipulating Alina was ‘plan A’,” said Nikolai, pulling the conversation back on track. “So what is plan B, then?”

“This. This is plan B.”

Nikolai can’t hold back a laugh.

“You surrendering to us, chained, and trying to talk your way out of a genocide… this is plan B?”

“Well, when you say it like that, it’s not that appealing, I’ll admit.”

During the whole conversation, David has been staring at you, clearly puzzled, trying to make sense of what is happening. You reckon it’s the longest he’s ever stared at someone in his life. He remains silent though.

But Genya seems to notice the way you glance over at your fellow Durast, with genuine fondness, and she frowns at the sight, distorting a little more her scarred features.

You feel sorry for her at the sight. She suffered too much to deserve that. You didn’t approve Aleksander’s decisions when it came to Genya. You reckon he has failed her, and so in a way, you did too.

“When you arrived here, David said that he knew you well. That you were nice to him. That you were a friend.”

“He is my friend.”

“And you’re on the Darkling’s side?”

You heave a sigh at that.

“There is no other side to choose from, Genya. We’ve tried. Many times. It never works. The Fold is the only thing we haven’t tried yet.”

“To do what? Kill everyone?” Mal breathes through gritted teeth.

“To protect the Grisha,” you answer in a cold tone.

You lean over the table, but keep your hands hidden on your lap. You stare at this boy, who looks at you as if he knew everything better than you do. He is so young. He is but a drop of water in the flowing river of time. You’ve seen hundreds, thousands of boys like him before. They’re always wrong.

“What happens in your righteous plan? Once the Fold is destroyed, and the Darkling is dead? You try to rebuild Ravka with Nikolai as a King, I suppose. Alina must reach martyrdom if she wants to be a saint, so she’s out of the picture the second the Fold no longer exists, whether she might be truly dead or in hiding. And what happens next? You build a new Second Army? And then what?”

“We can make Ravka better,” Alina argues. “We can make it a safe place for Grisha.”

“People don’t change so fast, Alina,” you shake your head. “Your politics might change, but the people won’t. They’ll keep on slaughtering us, the way they always have, at any given occasion. And what do you do about Fjerda in your brilliant plan? About the Grisha who are burnt alive like witches? About the Shu Han who dissect us alive in the name of science? About the Kerch who buy us as slaves? About the Grisha taken from their family in the Isles to be sold? What do you do about them, in your great plan?”

“What did the Darkling do about them?” she answers out of spite.

“Not much,” you admit. “Not nearly enough. That’s why we need the Fold. Because then, it’s not only Ravka who will be frightened, it’s the entire world.”

“Grisha don’t survive the Fold more than otkazat’sya do.”

“That’s not the point. The point is not to commit a genocide, the point is to have a weapon powerful enough to commit one.”

“What about the villages you’ve destroyed then?” Zoya asks, and you know that her voice trembles because of the family she lost in one of the movements of the Fold. “What about the families you’ve slaughtered, the innocents, the children.”

But you’ve heard that argument before, and she’s surprised when you’re genuinely unmoved by it.

The fools…

“How many children are killed every year because they are Grisha? Have you ever tried to make a count of that, Zoya? I’m not particularly moved by your argument, indeed. I’ve seen too much death for that.”

“So you want revenge,” Alina says, more of a statement than a question, and you don’t like the way her tone is judgemental, almost disdainful.

You laugh at her. A full-on laugh.

“Ha, little Saint,” you mock, and she’s taken aback by your words and your tone. “You are very naïve. That was the whole problem, you see? The Darkling thought you were too young, too innocent, to understand what needs to be done, and I agreed, but I still thought that telling you the truth would help. He thought it was useless, and that manipulation would be more efficient.”

“I’m not so naïve,” she answers, clenching her jaw, a look of defiance in her gaze, and you notice the way the others see it as bravery. It isn’t though. It’s just pride.

“You’re running around the country looking for amplifiers, because you crave for power, more than you are willing to admit even to yourself. That’s the game you’re playing, Alina. Power calls for power. Once you’ve had a taste of it, you can never have enough.”

“You sound like Baghra.”

“I’ve had many years to hear all about her mantras. Do not think yourself so above me, Alina. You’re young, it makes you eager and candid. It doesn’t make you righteous.”

You heave a sigh, leaning back into your chair.

“I still believe that we can make an alliance. We’ll go my way this time: I’ll tell you everything, we can negotiate terms, and we can work together to make sure that the Fold is properly used, and that no one will ever die simply because they were born Grisha ever again.”

“There will be no negotiations when it comes to the destruction of the Fold,” argues Nikolai, his tone firm, decisive.

“It won’t work without it. We’ll be back to square one, all over again,” you argue. “We’ll be back with a King on the Throne for whom we are not a priority, and with all our neighbouring countries happily slaughtering us all or making us their pretty toys to play with like pets ready for a parade. We need the Fold. We need its potential destruction to ensure that it will stop. Only when our societies are changed will we be able to get rid of it, but it will take centuries to do so. And while we wait, we need insurance. And that’s what the Fold is about.”

“You have little faith in people,” Nikolai points out.

You chuckle at that.

“I do. They haven’t proven me wrong, so far, either.”

But Mal is getting impatient, annoyed even. He shakes his head.

“This is ridiculous. We will get nowhere with this.”

Alina heaves a sigh.

“It’s late, let’s talk tomorrow morning.”

But you shake your head, shooting them a grin.

“I’m afraid no one is leaving this room before we’ve reached an agreement. Or… at the very least, we have fully debated our options.”

“Should we truly remind you who is in chains right now?” Zoya asks, rolling her eyes.

But she’s taken aback when you laugh at her.

“Oh, you mean… these chains?”

You lift your hands above the table, at long last, carrying the heavy metallic chains so that all can see that you are free of them.

They all stare at you, cautious now. You see Mal’s hand moving towards the gun at his side.

“Have I ever told you that I am an incredibly powerful Durast?” you speak as you lower the chains to put them on the table, keeping your free hands on display to make sure that they see that they are unbound, but also to show them that you are not using your powers for now. “I don’t need my hands to touch to use my powers anymore. I don’t even need my hands at all, if I focus enough, but it is pretty tiring.”

“How did you get that kind of power?” Genya asks, her voice shaking.

“I was born with it,” you answer matter-of-factly.

Mal’s fingers close on his weapon, and you shake your head, resting your chin on both your hands.

“Oretsev, I’m not stupid. I’ve made sure that no weapon in this room is usable anymore. No need to reach for your gun. It won’t do you any good. Besides, I would prefer if we could discuss all this like responsible adults, sitting casually around this table, but I will bound all of you to your chairs if I need to. I will barely need a second to do so. So, please, don’t tempt me too much.”

“That’s enough,” Alina stands up, angry now, and you let her stride towards the door. But she struggles against the doorknob, and it doesn’t budge.

“No need to tire yourself out, I’ve locked the door,” you explain. “Even David is not powerful enough to open it. Oh, and there’s no need to try and call for the two guards stationed at the door either. I’ve killed them both.”

All around the table look at you with round eyes.

You smile at them.

The fools…

“You would be surprised how easy it is to kill someone with something as small as a brass button.”

You turn around to look at Alina, who is still standing, aghast, by the door.

“Now, can we start truly talking? Or do I really need to tie your arse to a chair?”

Three weeks earlier

An abandoned house near Adena

“We have talked about this a hundred times. You are not fighting anymore.”

His voice was colder than usual that night. Because he was tired, because he was in pain, because he was worried. And there you were, bringing back this same debate you had gone through so many times before…

“I’m probably the most powerful Grisha here, right after you. And you’re not even considering using my abilities…”

“You are not fighting, Y/N. End of story.”

But you shook your head, crossing your arms before your chest. He was wearing his commanding voice now, the one he used as a general. But you were not a mere soldier in his obedient army, and he knew it. He wasn’t surprised when you stood straighter, when you glared at him.

There was so much fire in you. He had always loved that about you, the passion burning behind your eyes, always mingled with something softer, tender almost.

It was tainted with sorrow and rage now, but he still found the same glint he adored. Seeing a trace of it was enough. You had changed, and he couldn’t blame you. He had changed tremendously as well…

“This is ridiculous. You are being stubborn,” you argued.

And any other night, he would have raised his voice, and gotten mad at you, but he didn’t. He didn’t, because he was tired, because he was in pain, because he was worried. If he were to be honest with himself, he would even admit that he was afraid. And at that moment, he didn’t need to argue with you. He needed to be with you, just for a moment.

You frowned when he didn’t answer, merely staring at you. He had used his nichevo’ya during the day, while you raided an encampment filled with Grisha prisoners. You knew it cost him much to summon them, although, you weren’t sure how much. These were uncharted territories. A new way of using his powers that even you couldn’t fully comprehend.

Slowly, you let your arms fall to your sides, a frown remaining on your brow, but it grew out of worry now.

“Aleksander? Are you alright?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“You didn’t answer.”

“And?”

“You’re not the type to let anyone have the last word in any conversation.”

He smiled at that, his gesture fond, as he held out his hand to you.

It was the middle of the afternoon. Neither of you had changed clothes after the raid. You were dirty, sweaty, covered with dust, ashes, the harsh smell of smoke still glued to your skins. Still, you stepped into his embrace the second he opened his arms for you.

You smelled of fire, of fear, of blood. He had to breathe too deeply to finally catch your scent: lilac, pine trees, a river running through a summer afternoon…

“Are you in pain?” you asked him, voice gentle now, as you soothingly rubbed your hands up and down his back.

He nodded.

“Do you want me to call for a Healer?” you asked next, but he shook his head.

“I just want to rest,” he admitted. “And I want you to be safe.”

“Aleks…”

“No, please, listen to me…”

“I am one of the most powerful Durasts who ever existed, and we’re wasting my powers by keeping me in this house.”

“Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I saw you there? When I saw you fighting?”

“I can fight.”

“I know you can. That is not the point.”

He held your face in both his hands.

“You are the most powerful Durast who has ever lived,” he spoke, voice low and deep and genuine under his intense gaze. “You could kill me without moving a finger. That is not the point. I know you can fight. But I am terrified whenever you do. I need you, do you understand?”

“Of course, I do. I need you as well. But this… love, we don’t have time for this. We can’t be as cautious as we usually are.”

“If we win, and you’re not here anymore, it would all have been for nothing to me.”

“Don’t say that… it will still help the Grisha…”

“But it won’t help you. You need to stop fighting. You need to stop…”

“I won’t stop.”

“Y/N… darling…”

“No, Aleks. I can take care of myself. You will not change my mind. I’ll keep fighting. Until we’re done with Alina and the others, I’ll keep fighting. Just like we used to. Together.”

He heaved a sigh. Painful, slow, but you knew you had won all the same.

“As you wish. But if you die, I’ll destroy everything in Ravka. You are warned.”

You knew he was serious, you knew he would do it. He loved you enough for that, just like he loved you enough to listen to you when you calmed him down.

You nodded, holding him tightly again.

“We need to deal with Alina and her tracker,” you breathed against his shoulder, the kefta ripped over his collarbone because of a bullet it stopped that morning during the raid. You could still smell gunpowder on his clothes.

“And Lantsov as well. The pup is back, probably looking for our blood.”

“Probably. Or well, yours more than mine. He has no idea who I am. But you’re insufferable enough for the entirety of Ravka to try and get your head.”

He chuckled, the sound deep, like thunder rolling on a summer evening.

“Insufferable? Really?”

“Indeed.”

“Even to you? Even after all this time?”

“Hmm… now you know how much I love you.”

You brushed your nose across his cheek, his beard tickling you; the gesture tender, intimate.

“How do you propose we deal with Alina Starkov?” you asked him after a long pause.

“I can still call for her, we are still bound together. I can still try to control her from afar. But I doubt it will be enough.”

“We should talk to her. Tell her what will happen if we don’t do this. There is no other way, she must see that.”

“I’ve tried to convince her…”

“But I haven’t.”

He frowned, pulling away enough to look at you, study your features with great care.

“You want to go and talk to her? That would be too much of a risk.”

“They have no idea what I’m capable of. I can lie, tell her that I want to turn against you. That I have information. She’ll see me. David is there, and we were close friends before all this, he’ll convince her. I’ll talk to her.”

“And if she doesn’t listen?”

You shrugged.

“We’ll see. But we don’t need her help to control her powers. I’ll work on that. If she is too stubborn, we can still use the stag’s bones again, only, in a different way. I have a few theories about that.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“We’ll discuss this later. I am too tired to take such a decision now. My head is not clear enough to weigh our options.”

You ran a hand through his hair, and he couldn’t help the way he closed his eyes under your touch, relaxing as soon as your fingers brushed across his hair.

“But then again, you are the most powerful Durast who has ever lived,” he repeated himself. “If there is anyone who can solve our problem with the Sun Summoner, it’s you, my darling.”

“It can wait until tomorrow morning though,” you pleaded. “For tonight, what about a bath together? We haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

He grinned, you had not seen him smile so much in what felt like years.

“That sounds perfect, darling.”

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

@wolfmoonmusic @reg-arcturus-black @sayumiht

#the darkling #the darkling fanfic #the darkling x reader #the darkling x y/n #the darkling x you #aleksander morozova #aleksander x reader #aleksander x y/n #alksander x you #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse #grishaverse series #the darkling series #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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theautisticwriter · 2 years ago

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Shadow And Bone Masterlist!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

DISCLAIMER- I have not read the books yet, as of writing this I have just begun reading shadow and bone book 1 so please keep that in mind when requesting. I have spoilers for the books, so I can try my best, but my knowledge on what isn’t in the show is limited currently.

key:

✿=fluff

☁︎=angst

❦=romantic

★=platonic

✧=yandere

red=oneshot

blue=headcannons

green=scenario

♡Kaz Brekker♡

♡Inej Ghafa♡

♡Jesper Fahey♡

♡Wylan Van Eck♡

♡Nina Zenik♡

♡Matthias Helvar♡

♡Aleksander Kirigan♡

♡Alina Starkov♡

♡Malyen “Mal” Oretsev♡

♡David Kostyk♡

♡Tolya Yul-Bataar♡

♡Nikolai Lantsov♡

♡Multi♡

♡Poly♡

♡Yandere Crows Series♡

WYLAN VAN ECK INTRODUCTION-❦ ✧

JESPER FAHEY INTRODUCTION-❦ ✧

NINA ZENIK INTRODUCTION-

KAZ BREKKER INTRODUCTION-

INEJ GHAFA INTRODUCTION-

MATTHIAS HELVAR INTRODUCTION-

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows x reader #yandere six of crows x reader #yandere shadow and bone #alina starkov x reader #malyen oretsev x reader #kaz brekker x reader #wylan van eck x reader #jesper fahey x reader #inej ghafa x reader #grishaverse #nina zenik x reader #matthias helvar x reader #aleksander kirigan x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader

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sodaabaa · 7 months ago

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his shadow chapter one; nikolai

nikolai lantsov x OC inessa, the darkling's daughter and a childhood friend of ravka's golden prince, joins nikolai and alina in their plan to fight against the darkling.

tw: just some angst

masterlist

disclaimer: some parts of this chapter are taken from the book in order to stay within the timeline of the actual grishaverse. i do not take credit for leigh bardugo’s work.

“I can give you the chance to change Ravka,” said Nikolai. He was starting to become irritated at the sun summoner’s defiance. He’d known Alina for weeks now and yet it seemed as though she was immune to his charm and his charm was what he relied on. Nikolai assumed it had something to do with a certain otkazat’sya.

“I can give you the chance to bring your people hope,” He tried appealing to her loyalty to the grisha.

“Oh is that all?” Alina said sarcastically. “And just how am I supposed to do that?”

Nikolai inhaled. This was going to get him killed.

“By helping me unite the first and second armies. By becoming my queen.”

Before Nikolai could even let out the breath he’d been holding, Mal stormed towards him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and shoving him into the wall. Despite his initial instinct to fight back, Nikolai did not. He understood the love Mal had for Alina and what he’d just suggested would make their relationship difficult to manage.

“Easy now, mustn’t get blood on the uniform, let me explain -”

“Try explaining with my fist in your mouth” Mal snarled.

Nikolai twisted and in a flash he’d slipped from Mal’s grip. A knife was in his hand, pulled from the strap in his sleeve.

“Step back Oretsev. I’m keeping my temper for her sake, but I’d just as soon gut you like a carp.”

“Try it,” Mal spat.

Sudden movement pulled his attention to the shadowed entrance of the tent. Where Inessa was standing.

Inessa. Shit.

Nikolai had sent for Inessa, a fact which he had completely forgotten in the midst of the chaos that was Mal and Alina’s unspoken love story. How long had she been standing there? What did she hear?

He couldn’t linger too long, there were more pressing issues to deal with.

“Ah, Inessa. Good.” Nikolai clapped his hands, turning to Mal and Alina.

“I would like to formally introduce the two of you to Inessa Mor-”

“We’ve met already. Briefly. On the Volkvolny.” She cut in, giving him a sharp look.

“Yes, but I think a proper introduction would be quite nice.” Nikolai glanced at her, raising his eyebrows. He shot her a glare back.

His eyes trailed to Inessa’s shoulders, they trembled as she inhaled. She lifted her arms and with the motion, shadows started creeping around them, surrounding them in a cloud of dark smoke.

Mal and Alina staggered back in shock, gasping at the sight before them. Nikolai couldn’t help feeling a seed of pride swell in his chest, his Nes was quite a sight.

“She- How can she? Is she-” Alina stuttered, eyes wide.

“Related to the Darkling?” Inessa finished for her. “I’m his daughter.”

Nikolai watched the two of them battle with what this meant, unsure about the dark haired girl before them.

Nikolai’s gaze turned to Nes, watching the way she held her chin high, admiring her unwavering pride.

Mal marched over, grabbing Nikolai by his coat and shoving him. Irritated by the interruption, Nikolai made a mental note to pay him back for that.

“How could you let that thing in here? She could be working for him!” Mal yelled.

Thing. Monster. Heretic. Demon. Nikolai knew Nes was used to the comments, she’d shrug it off and keep that stubborn chin of hers held high. But that didn’t mean he was okay with it.

Nikolai pushed Mal off him, red hot anger burning through him.

“She is on our side. Inessa is nothing like her father, you needn’t worry, Oretsev.” He spat, his voice rising.

“How do you know?” Alina whispered. She looked up warily at Inessa.

Nikolai’s gaze softened, looking at Inessa, “Because I know her. Better than anyone else.”

Nes looked away. A pang of hurt resonated in his chest.

“I won’t hurt you, or anyone for that matter,” She said reassuringly to Alina. “I might make an exception for His Royal Highness though.”

Banter, humor, insults. I can work with that.

“The promise of pain never scared me away, Nes.” Nikolai teased back. To his dismay, Inessa didn’t reply.

Mal sighed, “I think I’ll take that as my cue to leave.” He looked to Alina who nodded, “me too.”

Despite Alina and Mal’s absence, the grand tent never felt stuffier. Nikolai found it hard to breathe, being this close in proximity to Inessa. Being alone with Nes for the first time in what felt like forever.

“And then there were two.” Nikolai finally broke the silence.

“I’m gonna head out as well, I’m still working on the map.” She replied, her voice impassive.

Please don’t go. Not yet.

As she turned to leave, Nikolai called out. “Nes, wait.”

Inessa stopped but she didn’t turn, keeping herself turned away from Nikolai.

“Talk to me.”

Saints Nikolai, way to sound pathetic.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then yell at me. Scold me. Hurt me. Hit me. Anything but this- this silence.” He pleaded.

Nikolai stopped talking before he could lose his composure. His heart was racing, it felt like it would burst right through his sternum and onto the floor. In the silence of the room, he prayed Nes couldn’t hear the drumming of his heart. After an eternity, she finally broke the suffocating quiet.

“You have your fiance to do that for you, Moi Tsarevich.” And with that, her hand slipped from Nikolai’s grasp and she walked back into the shadows.

Nikolai cursed, running a hand through his hair. He walked to his desk, grabbing a glass filled with scotch and he threw it at a tent post. The glass shattered, leaving shards all over the ground. Every day Inessa’s hatred towards Nikolai grew, he could feel it. And who could blame her? Nikolai abandoned her. It’s a miracle she’s even working with him. He slumped to the floor, holding his head in his hands. Carrying the weight of an entire nation, a divided one at that, was taking a toll on him. To make matters worse, he didn’t even have anyone to share his grievances with. Nikolai was completely and utterly alone.

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai x reader #six of crows #the darkling #the grisha trilogy #the grishaverse

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tirkdi · 1 year ago

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My Grisha Fic Masterlist

A list of fan fiction I’ve written for the Grishaverse! Rating is “Teen” unless otherwise noted. All book characterizations, mostly darklina.

Multichapter Complete

A Hundred Lifetimes Ago (Alina/the Darkling) (rating: M) (99k words): This fic explores the answers to three questions: What happened to Aleksander and Baghra in those years between Demon in the Wood and The Grisha Trilogy? How might the Darkling and Alina have pushed and pulled and eventually shaped each other if he had reacted to events at the Spinning Wheel differently? And, most importantly: after everything that was done to them, and everything they did to each other, what would it take for our Grisha trilogy immortals to be happy — or at least, have the potential to be?

This is a story of familial love and loss, and other types of love, and anger, and fear. It’s a story about what it means to be alone — and what it means to be together.

The Shadow of War (Alina Starkov/the Darkling, 135k words): Alina’s project in her last year of university has caught Ambassador Morozova’s attention. He convinces her to move to Ravka to bring solar energy to the villages; her role turns out to be much larger than that. Modern day AU and occasional retelling. Nothing Small about this Science.

The Wind and the Darkness (Zoya Nazyalensky, The Darkling): A triptych of scenes with Zoya & the Darkling set before, during, and after Shadow & Bone. Includes rumors, amplifiers, broken ribs, and Alina’s escape, all in the context of two egos large enough that one wonders they can fit in the same room.

Multichapter Incomplete

Mastering the Cut (Alina/the Darkling) (3/4 chapters): Dr. Morozova is a surgical prodigy and master of the cut. Dr. Starkov has the luck and misfortune of becoming his intern. Half crack.

One-shots

A Family Affair (Alina Starkov/Malyen Oretsev & the Darkling): Alina and Mal attend his family reunion. The Morozovas are also there. Features the Darkling’s Terrible Innuendos™. (tumblr)

Three's A Crowd (Alina Starkov/Malyen Oretsev & the Darkling): Immediately post-KoS. Alina and Mal's quiet night in Keramzin is interrupted by a newly not-dead visitor. They never made a very good trio. More of the Darkling’s Terrible Innuendos™.

Once Again, and Always (Alina Starkov/the Darkling): A bird falls in the darkness and becomes a husband. The Sun Summoner and the Darkling have worn a groove in the universe, and they get up once more to play their parts and say their lines. Deathless AU. (tumblr)

Legal Matters (Zoya/Nikolai) (rating: M): AU in which Nikolai & Zoya are lawyers who casually hook up. Mostly an excuse for banter. (tumblr)

Naming a King (the Darkling): Aleksander meets Alexander. Half a century-ish before Shadow & Bone. (tumblr)

Ficlets

Canon-compliant Aleksander gets a goat * Mal & the Darkling do dinner * Nikolai + Genya in the bathroom * A young Darkling visits Fjerda

Alina and the Darkling rule forever AU Salvation * Yahrzeit * Kittens * Pink * Honey * Blame * Do not. Tempt. Me. * Apologies to William Carlos Williams * Enemy

Other Ivan sides with Alina * Nikolina surprise * Alina as cryptographer * Zoya/Nikolai + honesty * Zoya/Nikolai + drinking * Zoya/Nikolai + bleeding * Alina/Darkling at the camera shop * The Sturmhond

#moving from a url to a post #pinned posts are a thing now!#late to the tumblr party but i brought cookies #grishaverse #grisha fic #darklina

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omgkatherine01 · 2 years ago

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Shadow and Bone - Masterlist

Back to main masterlist

Kaz Brekker

Series

Creatures of the Night

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Aleksander Kirigan / The Darkling

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Mal Oretsev

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Inej Ghafa

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Jesper Fahey

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Alina Starkov

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

Wylan Hendriks

Series

-nothing yet-

One-shots

-nothing yet-

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hibewriter · 7 months ago

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je te vuex

Masterlist Read it on AO3 Chapters: 1 2 3 Discontinued

This fic was discontinued because it was meant to be a gift for a friend who is no longer a friend because they are a zionist.

Shadow &. Bone | Darklina | 12.9K (total) | M

Tags: Underage | Underage Drinking | Masturbation | BF's Brother Trope

Chapter 3

(When Alina started at Saint Ilya's School for Gifted Children, Malyen Oretsev was the first person to approach her with any semblance of kindness. It had all begun in their shared Honors English class. Professor Kuya, unlike Aleksander, was the second eldest member of staff and decided the illusion of choice was useless in her class. So they entered her class at seven fifteen in the morning, blurry-eyed and exhausted from the summer activities that had only ended the night before, all the freshmen were expected to find their names carefully printed on a white label at the edge of their desks.

It was Mal, then scraggly and lean, who'd approached her. At the time, she'd thought it was a prank. She'd known him at their private middle school – he was a legacy admission as a favor from his father's fraternity brother. When they walked the halls, it was as if she were invisible. But that day he saw her. )

Each sip of her cocktail was another numbing agent as he kept glancing her way. Somehow this was better than the past nine months of avoiding his gaze at the cafeteria. Pretending she didn't see him and turning away from the taunts from his friends. "Sticks" had turned further contentious. Each time it was flung at her was with vitriol and a peppering of antagonism.

______

(There was something about their huddled whispers that Freshman year. Something that ignited butterflies in her belly with the way he'd wrap his arm around her shoulder, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. He always pointed her out during his soccer games, rushing the pop-up bleachers on the pitch to kiss her just after they finished. Ignoring the chastisement of his coach and fellow teammates. She felt like a Ravkan princess. Thought they'd probably start discussing college and if she'd follow him to a specific place, or if he'd drive his Jeep down the coast to come see her.

But instead, Sophomore year came and brought with it change. )

_____

Zoya had pulled them into a circle at the center of the room, a soft weight on the small of her back pressing her toward the group. Everyone had their cups, though there was an empty bottle lying in the center of the floor, prepped just for the occasion.

"Alright, bitches," Zoya said with the authority of a commander, stepping to the center of the circle. "You're all welcome, I know it's not every day you get to be graced with my presence. For some of you, you'll learn so much. For instance, Mal will learn what it's like for a girl to kiss him and not throw up."

_____

(During the summer of sophomore year, he'd buzzed his hair when he went to his soccer camp. He'd met and started hanging out with Mikahel and Dubrov, who insisted on calling her "Sticks", just because she wanted to hang out with her boyfriend. As much as she hated them – they were loud, brutish, and cruel – whatever Mal had turned into was worse. Instead of his playful shoulder wrap and forehead kisses, he insisted on holding her where her body curved, stroking on any exposed skin every chance he got. His kisses drifted lower, inhaling her mouth and forcing his tongue between her lips, regardless of their setting. And then came the pressure. )

______

Alina stifled her giggle into her cup, smiling softly as Zoya sent her a wink before continuing. "For others...well. Welcome to the party. We're doing old-school games with Seven Minutes in Paradise, and no that does not mean what you do with your hand Dubrov. I start us off by spinning the bottle, the lucky bitch or bastard on the other end gets to go get locked in that closet," she pointed to a partially closed door on the other side of the room, "for seven minutes with me. Once those seven minutes are up, we come out, hopefully, clothed, and my lovely partner spins for a new one. Maybe we all get a technical fourteen minutes in Paradise."

She clasped her hands together, as she looked expectantly at the circle. After a beat of silence, she smiles, crouching with her knees closed, spinning the bottle on the hardwood. It lands with pinpoint precision, on Genya.

______

(Every time they were alone, his hands grew heavier with each touch as he attempted to get her to fool around with him. To expose herself to his gaze, more of his touch, and his —

And she couldn't do it.

There's something to realizing you're not ready for that leap. It's something so poisonous to realize you're not sure if your love for someone would survive what it took to reveal yourself to them and give them something that the Os Alta education system had decided was something "you should only share with someone you were in a monogamous relationship with".

And so resentment grew, like ivy on the tower that was their relationship. Even the things that weren't related to sex, felt poisoned by his touch until he mostly stopped altogether. Until they were together because they had been together for over a year and he kept saying she would get there and that they'd be together forever so what was a small snag of waiting? )

_______

There's a time when you go to a party and realize that you're alone once the only person in your corner is gone. The circle of people felt almost suffocating once the two girls disappeared into the closet. Alina goes back to her cup, sipping on it as she counts the seconds. A useless way of telling time, but it was either count to four hundred and twenty or risk speaking to a group of people who seemed friendly enough with her ex-boyfriend.

_______

(Junior year was the nail in the coffin. They slowly got accustomed to not being in the same classes; her straight Advanced Placement courses were always in conflict with his Honors courses. She thought maybe he'd break up with her. Or at least try to schedule more time to see her, outside of brief glimpses during his soccer practices and rides home in that stupid fucking Jeep that he insisted on keeping the doors off of.

Instead, it was the night that Alina had decided she may as well have ripped the bandaid off and got it over with. Let him crawl over her and put his cock in her and maybe let him lie and say he loved her when at this point their teen romance had already run its course. And she was going to tell him when she arrived at the homecoming game. Let him know once Genya ran off to speak to whoever was joining the party that evening and they had a moment's privacy. But he had been under the permanent stands – the football team always had more money.

The stands with shadowy places, plenty unable to be seen as passersby walked to their seats or concessions. Yet he chose the spot closest to the bright lights of the path, barely hidden behind the concrete pillar. Like he wanted to be caught with his hands down Rose Fitzgerald's pants and his lips pressed to her neck. Because he wanted her to see him, evident by the way his eyes made contact with her, a glint of mischief in his eyes as they dared her to say something.

Just like they did tonight.)

_____

It continues similarly once Genya comes out of the room. Alina sipped her cup silently next to her while the redhead made conversation. Each time a new person came along she would smile and nod as her friend would insist that they knew this person from some obscure class or another. The small talk at any party is often atrocious, the only saving grace being the natural buffer her friend gave her. Genya and whatever stranger of the moment would go in depth about a class or plans for the upcoming year, while Alina would pretend she cared about Gabby's eighteenth birthday party after the first week of school. Or Nikolai's planned rager next month – something Genya graciously backed them out of because they couldn't go to the boat and his birthday,

Then the bottle landed on her.

_____

"Pfft, make sure she doesn't crush you mate."

The boy on the other end of the bottle shook his head, extending his hand to Alina's. Walking her to the closet and not letting go until they were firmly inside. The door closed, encasing them into darkness amongst a crowd of giggles.

"I'm Matthais," he said, after a moment of silence. "Kind of awkward – not being able to see! Not the um... a stranger in the closet thing. Though you know maybe that is awkward I dunno. I think there's a hanger digging into my back maybe, and —"

"I'm Alina," she said, rushing to stop the rambling. "I'm sure there are other ways you envisioned meeting someone."

"Quite the contrary, I've always thought I'd meet my wife at a party."

The silence that followed could've been felt from space. It probably would've been better, living out in space with no worries about why someone would say they were looking for their wife at a party.

"Shit, I uh, just meant that like...I've thought about meeting people during parties," he rushed to say, trying to salvage his statement. She could feel his hand reach to her side, before retreating to his. "What I meant to say was like —"

"It's okay, I know what you meant," she said. She didn't, but she'd rather say she did if it meant smoothing out the next five minutes. She could practically see through the dark how he relaxed, the sigh of relief barely audible over the muted voices of the rest of the group on the other side of the door.

"Thank you," he said before they fell into silence again. This time it was more comfortable, with an edge of awkwardness. Until he broke it again.

"Wanna make out?"

_____

The opening of the door is sudden when it comes. Matthais, hunched over her small frame, barely registers the new audience. His lips are urgent against hers, large hands cupping her face to keep her close. Maybe it was how much tongue he was using, but the display garners low whistles from the crowd. In that moment she's glad she's been drinking so her blush could be explained away.

It's with a soft push that Matthais backs away, that same boyish smile on his lips as he gestures to let her leave first. She smiles back, slipping past his arm back into the room. Zoya's arm was like a vice, gripping Alina to draw her back into the circle, ready to spin for her fate. Not that Alina wasn't almost giddy as they approached the ring, kneeling to pick up the bottle. And it was fun, as the bottle spun and the circle joked amongst themselves, the soft laughter over Matthais and Alina's emergence enough to fuel the conversation. Until the bottle slowed, ticking slowly past faces she did and didn't recognize, until it landed on the one she wanted the least.

Malyen Oretsev smirked when the bottle landed dead center on him.

It was enough to make her bristle, shrugging off Genya's hand as it went to reassure her. The circle had grown quiet, the majority of the group no doubt aware of Mal's obvious disdain for his ex, even if the context was missing. Still, Alina shrugged, the smile gone from her face as she sharply turned on her heel and stalked back to the closet. She would wait patiently. If she was meant to play this stupid game, she was going to do it on her terms.

He joined her shortly after, closing the door behind him and engulfing her in the dark space again. She was silent, pressed firmly on the opposite wall from him. Counting seconds was easier and better than talking to Saint Ilya's biggest nightmare.

"You never answered my texts," he said, breaking her concentrated thoughts.

"I got a new number after I went to make sure my ex-boyfriend didn't give me herpes." She deadpanned, staring at where she assumed he stood on the other side of her.

"We would've had to have sex for that," he said.

"No, we wouldn't," she snarled. "Herpes can be spread orally, we learned it in Coach Botkin's health class. Or were you too busy thinking of ways to cheat on me to pay attention?"

"I wouldn't have had to cheat on you if you'd just put out," he hissed right back. "You'd think I was torturing you to just lay there and spread your legs. It's not like anyone else would've touched you."

"Oh, I didn't realize that I should be grateful to just be in the presence of someone who thought they were just doing a pity fuck."

"Better than being such a sad sack of shit." He hissed back, pausing only for a moment before delivering what he no doubt believed would hurt her the most. "Hell even Genya can barely stand your 'whole woe is me' act."

It wasn't true, she knew that. What she didn't know was if it was on instinct or just pure rage that her hand flew, surprising both of them with her ability to find his face in the dark and, even more, that she could hit so strongly. His hands flew to his face, cradling his cheek as she went to try the door.

Not locked.

She slipped out, past the confused group in the den, and into the crowded hall. Mal was right behind her, fury raging in his eyes.

"You fucking bitch!" He yelled after her. "Just cause no one wants to fuck you doesn't mean you make it everyone else's problem!"

"Malyen Oretsev" Zoya yelled back, stepping between him and his path to Alina. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh, what?" His voice is louder than the music, carrying through the entire room. "She's allowed to whore herself out to —"

"That's enough," Zoya cuts him off, her voice eerily calm. "I've gone through too much therapy and shit to hear you be an absolute dick just because Lina would rather kiss someone else than fuck you. Get the hell out."

"And take your stupid pity fuck idea with you," Alina mumbled. She downed the rest of her drink, watching as Mal glowered at her friend. The other boys in the group hesitantly looked at each other, only moving when Zoya turned to them, eyebrows raised when Mal didn't move.

There's a sick satisfaction to watching your ex get ushered out of a party, and it grows even sweeter when you know he can't come back.

His leaving brings new life into the room. It was like a fist unclenching, the life of the party began to rush through her system. The mumbled insults and side eyes disappear and with them their vitriol. She didn't have to feel like an accidental tourist – her trepidation and fear were thrown into the void, replaced with a courage that manifested as an extroversion she'd never felt before. Names she wouldn't remember felt like sparkling wine on her tongue — the promise of new friendships that would be forgotten by morning.

The endless flow of drinks didn't hurt. Liquid courage flowed down her throat in quick succession as she found herself leaning against the kitchen counter with Genya close by as they drank together and laughed at the awkwardness of boys who tried to approach them. The crystalline kitchen was so clean and crisp, so against the teen revelry that she was sure it wasn't a place that intended for them to chug solo cup after solo cup of the burning liquid.

Zoya joined them shortly, hips shimmying to the bass that filled their ears. The world was little more than a blur of color and mass. Time seemed unreal, the conversation beginning and ending in seconds or was it hours? When did it become two in the morning? When did she find her head leaning on Zoya's shoulder, soft tears coming out because the girl had said she liked her hair? Where did the glitter on her cheek come from and was that couple having sex in the corner? The liminal zone of being present but not being real, the world tilted on its axis letting her know that she was real and an illusion at the same time.

Then Genya threw up in Zoya's mom's fifteen thousand dollar vase.

Sobering up is impossible. Teetering steps as she attempted to hold her friend (she took the right arm and Zoya the left, but both girls moved more like they were dragging a dead body through the woods, tripping on air to get to their destination) to the unfairly chic and modern bathroom. It seemed insulting, the quivering mess of a girl who was washing the remains of vodka and the small dinner from her mouth into a sink that cost more than Alina's house. But the taller girl looked at her, seemingly more sober than both of them as she demanded that Alina call someone.

It's easy enough to find the phone in Genya's back pocket, even with the numbers blurring as she uses her friend's limp hand to unlock the device. Then the decision of who to call becomes a mountain to climb. The names blurred — a list of people whose names were saved incorrectly. (Seriously, who names a contact Boring Lantsov? Was there an exciting one?) Until she found the correct one — or what she assumed the correct one was.

Calling Dickhead (For emergency)...

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line was more comforting than she would've been willing to admit. The version of herself at the present was willing to bite her lip, leaning back on the wide marble countertop as she did. The stone should've helped ground her, but instead, she found herself more in tune with the pulsing in her ears. It felt like a thudding in her head that traveled down to her core, a molten pit just from a simple hello.

"Al–Aleks," she cooned, head knocking back onto the cool window. The comforting tilt of her world before was now too much, spinning too fast. "Oof. We might be...um...too fucked up. Wait, shit. Sorry. Um. We need help."

"Is that Aleksander?" Zoya whisper-yells as she begins to help wash their friend's mouth with a new toothbrush. Where she got it, Alina will never know. She nodded, reaching out to softly rub the redhead's shoulder, falling a little short and barely noticing.

"You, um," she mumbles into the phone, curling in on herself as if that would help him hear her. "Can you come? Help us? Please?"

For a moment she thinks he hung up, if not for the sound of his steady breathing on the other line. Each exhale is a dagger in her chest, and if she was of the right mind she might've explored why she felt that way.

"I'm on my way. Don't turn her phone off please."

She nods, trying not to focus on the way his voice sounds like the crunching of gravel or the edge of her sanity. How does he manage to sound that way without trying? Does he know what it does to people?

"Can you both get to the lobby? I'll be there in ten."

Again she nods, keeping her eyes closed. Moving sounded impossible, but for him, she could try.

"Alina."

"Hmm? Oh, yes. We'll be there."

It turns into a mission. A poorly executed one that was performed by drunken toddlers as the three girls attempted to cross the crowded room. They kept stopping to explain why they were half dragging, half carrying a girl slipping in and out of consciousness to the elevator, concerned drunken partygoers with their own opinions about what they should do with Genya and how they could take care of her here.

______

(His voice could be heard in the elevator down, yelling for the doorman to let him go collect his sister.)

______

(They all pretend not to notice)

______

Aleksander drives a truck. A shiny black RAM with raised tires and a penchant to make Alina feel small. She always thought it impractical, a mistake to use in the bustling city where you could barely see over the dashboard to the road below. But she's far too concerned about Genya to shove in his face her opinion on the matter. Not as she watches him haul his sister onto his shoulders just to toss her into the car. For a second she wondered if he would be able to do the same to her, picking her up as if she were nothing, and tossing her to the cab. But she knew better than that.

He turns to her, anger on every line of his face as he raises an expectant eyebrow.

"Passenger seat," he says. "Now."

She adds scrambling to new heights to something a drunk person shouldn't attempt to do. She's halfway in the seat before she feels his hand wrapped around her ankle, raising her leg for her instead of letting her dangle out of the seat. And she barely has a chance to tell him to wait before he hisses, taking a step back and releasing her as if he'd been burned by the accidental vision he'd seen.

______

(The first five minutes of the trip are held in silence, broken only by Genya's soft moans as she tosses and turns in the back seat. They were determined not to mention the fact that he saw her thong.

Or that they both knew it was wet.)

______

"Where are we going?" She breaks. He didn't wind the streets that lead toward the outskirts. He was heading away from the Morozov Estate, going further north, deeper into the city. He shrugs, turning with a singular hand as he fiddles with his gear shift.

"If I drop her off like that Baghra will kill me, and you."

She bit her lip, the flesh feeling sore from how often she'd done it this evening. He's right. In all fairness, the worst they'd gotten caught doing was rifling through Baghra's pantry. And even then, it was only because Genya had stolen Aleksander's gift of chocolate sweets without realizing it.

Maybe it was best to stay in silence.

______

She'd never seen his apartment before. He'd always arrived at the Estate for dinner or reluctantly had driven there from the school to drop the two girls off. And she'd only seen him leave the Estate the few times she'd spent the night. But then again, she supposed she tried not to think of him much on purpose, keeping all thoughts of him to the recesses of her mind until she was soundly alone without a soul to witness.

And she certainly hadn't thought of his apartment then.

______

It was industrial. The opposite of the elegant old-money luxury of the Estate, with its exposed brick and steel beams on high ceilings. She did her best not to marvel as he laid his sister on the exposed sofa, ignoring the black finishings that encased dark mahogany, or the slate-grey upholstery that somehow looked so inviting. No, she shuffled her feet, teetering at the edge of the entrance to the open-concept apartment. And she steadfastly refused to look at the double-frosted glass doors that led to the only private space in the apartment.

It takes him a while to get Genya settled. She crosses to the large windows, peering out to the city that has just begun to rise.

"So you gonna tell me what happened?"

"No."

She doesn't look at him, staring as cars begin to line the streets, so focused on appearing uninterested that his presence at her back startles her.

"I won't tell your parents," he says. "If that's what you're worried about."

She humphs, crossing her arms over her chest. " They won't care. Nothing happened. We drank too much, and she threw up so we called you."

"Why?"

"Why?" she repeats. " She had you listed for emergencies. It was a party, and we weren't gonna ask a room full of drunks to help."

He hums, sidestepping to lean against the window to look at her face. She looks to the other side. She wonders who fills the building next door and if they too got caught up in ridiculous conversations about why a teenager might drink at a party.

"Genya doesn't typically drink to excess," he starts, glancing back at his sister. "So she must've had a reason. Either you can tell me, or she will in the morning."

She huffs in reply, turning to walk back toward the kitchen. She hears him follow. There's a soft thud to his footsteps as he slinks behind her in, what she assumes, is his portrayal of mild curiosity. "Do you have any water?"

______

His counter is cold against the back of her thighs as she sits on top of it. He just stares at her as she recounts the events of the night. Her brain was just addled enough that she didn't bother omitting the details of her kiss. The way she thought Matthais used too much tongue but at least he seemed nice. And she just doesn't stop, not when he furrows his eyebrow or sways slightly closer.

"–And it's so stupid," she half sobs into her water. "I don't even like him anymore so it's not like his words have much meaning but it was just so...embarrassing. But it doesn't matter. I'm over it."

" Are you now?" He asks it like a taunt. She fixes him with the best glare she can muster, as watery and lackluster as it may be.

"Sorry," he says. "Why does it bother you so much? Not that I'm saying go after Helvar but –"

"Because," she whines, leaning against his shoulder. She tried to ignore his scent, but it was infectious. The cedar notes that laid over the soft cleanliness of a fresh shower filled her nostrils, and she couldn't help to inhale, momentarily forgetting herself.

"Because?"

"I'm never gonna get out of my head," she mumbles. "I'll die a virgin because no one else... can."

He sighs, and she smiles a little bit as he wraps an arm around her. "Mal isn't the only person in the world who–"

"No," she groans. " Not Mal. I don't – I never – wanted him."

"Alina–"

"You, dickhead," she mumbles. She turns her head to hide her shame from his gaze. "I want it to be you. But you... can't"

______

(He was going to respond. )

______

(She didn't give him a chance.)

______

"Alina —"

"Don't," she says, pulling away from him in an attempt to continue to hide from her shame. "Please don't try to let me down easy. I know. You're Genya's brother, not to mention —"

She's cut off by his hand around her arm, the tug that lands her back into his arms. His lips are on hers in an instant, the shock rendering her still as stone. How often had she thought of this exact moment? How many nights had she pushed her hands between her thighs to the thought of how his hands would feel against her skin? It didn't matter, because her fantasies paled in comparison. There was real heat on the other end of her lips, his hands provided real pressure, a weight she craved yet never admitted to. It was everything she thought it be and more.

Genya shifts in her sleep, releasing a low moan as she attempts to find comfort on the couch. It's enough to break Alina out of her stupor, enough to force her to think about who she was kissing. Her professor. Her best friend's brother. Her —

She pushes away from him. She stared at him with wide eyes while her thoughts raced a mile a minute in the darkness of his apartment. Her professor. Genya's brother. Her professor. Genya's brother. The reminders of who he is ring in her head like a tune that won't go away. Stuck in her head on repeat to remind her of how she almost ruined everything for a kiss.

It's enough to make her run.

#darklina

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ellewritesalright · 2 years ago

Text

Fic Requests Are Open

While I finish up Nine Long Years through the next couple of months I am taking requests for shorter fics. I'm doing this to keep myself engaged with writing and also to have some fun!

The fics will probably range from 500-2500 words each. I will write fluff and angst but no smut simply because I am no good at it. They will all be x readers, usually female readers but I will try to write without female pronouns, especially if you request it.

As for characters I will write for, they include:

Nikolai Lantsov (& Sturmhond!Nikolai)

Kaz Brekker

Jesper Fahey

Inej Ghafa

Zoya Nazyalensky

Tamar Kir Bataar

Mal Oretsev

Masterlist

#elle speaks #grishaverse fanfic #not tagging all of them cause it's a lot but also cause i don't wanna flood the tags

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spaceagebachelormann · 2 years ago

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shadow and bone masterlist

♡ - fluff

✿ - angst

✧ - crack fic/random

❁ - gn reader

➺ - fem reader

❍ - male reader

navigation || master masterlist

ALINA STARKOV 🌞

blurbs

headcanons

long/short fics

GENYA SAFIN 🗡

blurbs

headcanons

being poly with genya and david ♡/❁

long/short fics

ZOYA NAZYALENSKY 🌌

blurbs

headcanons

long/short fics

TAAMAR KIR-BATAAR 🦉

blurbs

headcanons

long/short fics

MAL ORETSEV 🔭

blurbs

headcanons

long/short fics

NIKOLAI LANTSOV 🧚‍♀️

blurbs

headcanons

long/short fics

TOLYA YUL-BATAAR 🥄

blurbs

headcanons

long/short fics

DAVID KOSTYK 🍉

blurbs

headcanons

being poly with david and genya ♡/❁

long/short fics

#marlee organization <3

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heliads · 2 years ago

Note

So because there can’t be enough drama (if you don’t want to write that it’s okay!): Male squaller that is now married to Genya, travelling with the darkling (basically being a second Zoya) on the hunt for the amplifiers with the kidnapped Alina. However when Stormhound arrives he realises how dangerous the darkling is, throwing Genya onto the other ship and saving her this way. Now the one who gets tortured by the shadow monsters, always forgetting their names, is him (since he clearly worked against the darkling and the darkling probably is like „who needs two squallers that are fiercely loyal when you already have zoya?“) and when they finally met each other at the chapel he is convinced he isn’t worthy of Genyas love anymore because of the scars. Pretty dark, but at least he is staying alive in this one 😹

i love drama with all my heart

masterlist

It is a difficult thing, realizing that you might be on the wrong side of a war. It is worse knowing that your friends were aware of the truth all along and failed to convince you to come to the right side. Now, you’re stuck among monsters, wondering if you’ll ever get a chance to switch sides or if you'll be doomed to die with the wrong people.

Being trapped on a ship with somebody who you’re now growing to appreciate is the enemy certainly doesn’t help matters either. The Darkling has always been cold, always shifty, but now you can add treacherous to that mix.

It’s not the best place to be at the moment, to say the least. Factor in the fact that you also got your wife into this mess and you’re looking at far more risk than you’d ever like. Outside the protective walls of Os Alta, the danger seems to be heightened tenfold. Your mixed feelings only add to that paranoia.

Usually, this is the point at which you go to your wife and beg for her counsel. Genya Safin is brilliant at strategy, a fact that bewilders most people who don’t know her well. They take one glance at her then stop cold, thinking that gilded trappings and pretty, batting lashes are all they need to gauge someone’s character.

You thought differently. Perhaps that’s why you were lucky enough to marry her. Since you first arrived at the Little Palace and were able to practice your gifts as a Squaller without fear of death, all of your memories have seemed to glow with light, but your wedding day shines with an entirely different kind of power. Images of Genya smiling at you and reciting her vows are the sorts of things that never leave a person. Even a man as tormented as you.

You’ve come to rely on Genya’s advice, but in times like these, she’s just as worried as you are. Ever since Alina ran from the Grand Palace the night of the Winter Fete, ever since the Sun Summoner was dragged back and had those antlers locked around her throat, ever since she blew up the skiff and ran, Genya has been conflicted. Some part of her wonders if she’s truly doing the right thing. You wish you could help ease her mind, but you’re struggling with the same thoughts.

After all, what proof do you have that the Darkling’s side truly is the right one? Yes, he supported you as a young Grisha in need of a home, and yes, he protected the practitioners of the Small Science like no one else, but he’s done some terrible things as well. Alina tried to tell you that the Darkling was the one to create the Shadow Fold in the first place. Maybe she was right.

The two of you are reminded of this revelation in twofold now that Alina is back with you again. The Darkling managed to capture her and that otkazat’sya tracker, Mal Oretsev, a short while ago, and now you’re all on the same ship, searching for a new amplifier. You have no idea if you’ll truly be able to find the sea whip, but you seem to be growing closer by the day, if Mal’s restless mutterings are to be believed.

As more time passes, you find yourself convinced that the Darkling is in the wrong. You’ve seen how he keeps Alina locked away, how he leverages lives in an effort to regain the Sun Summoner as a weapon. Genya doesn’t want to talk about it, but you get the feeling she’s starting to come around, too.

It is now, in the depths of your terrifying revelations, that you gain a new piece of information. It was not meant to drift to your ears, this conversation, but any words whispered on the air have a way of making their way to a nearby Squaller. You and Zoya learned this trick a while ago, and you use it now to great effect.

The secret you learn is that the captain of this ship, Sturmhond, is planning on deceiving the Darkling as soon as the sea whip is found. He’ll have another ship join up and then ferry Alina, Mal, and the mythical beast away under the guise of an attack.

Seeing as you’re supposedly on the Darkling’s side, you have free rein over the ship, able to wander wherever you see fit. This allows you to visit Sturmhond’s office later and present him with a deal: you won’t tell the Darkling about the privateer’s upcoming escape attempt if he takes Genya with him.

At first, Stumhond isn’t having it. He has no proof that you or Genya won’t turn him in anyway, and besides, he only counted on having two extra mouths to feed. It takes a bit of bargaining, but you think you’ve managed to win the captain over. The only problem is that you’ll have to find a way to get Genya onto Sturmhond’s ship when it pulls up, a feat which will be difficult to accomplish in the middle of the fight.

Regardless, you’re willing to do it. Alina needs a shot to free all of you from the Darkling’s influence, and you need an opportunity to get your wife to safety. You harbor no illusions about being to escape alongside Genya; the Darkling will be fighting to reclaim all passengers trying to leave him, there’s no way you’d be able to flee as well. If you’re lucky, Genya can make it over, but not you.

That’s a fate you’re willing to accept, however. You bide your time, and soon enough Mal is shouting that the sea whip is within sight. Harpoons are launched and the beast is dragged close to the ship. You have to hand it to Sturmhond, he picked his moment well. In all the tumult of trying to capture the sea whip, no one notices another ship approaching, especially not with Sturmhond’s Squallers conjuring up mists to disguise it. You’re certainly not about to inform the Darkling otherwise.

Before you know it, dozens of rogue sailors are appearing out of nowhere, securing the sea whip to their ship instead. You see Alina and Mal being tossed over to the ship, and through the chaos of the scene, you see Stumhond nod once at you. It’s time.

Genya is by your side; she doesn’t like to leave you, not when both of you feel so threatened by the Darkling’s wrath. You pull her close one last time, and whisper in her ear that you love her, you always will. Genya has just enough time to realize what you’re about to do. Her face drops with horror, but you’re spreading your hands, using your gifts as a Squaller to lift her carefully to the other ship.

With the last of your energy, you join Sturmhond’s Grisha in pushing the Darkling’s ship away. You sense shadows looming around you, and then all is lost. The last sound you hear of your lover is her scream carried over to you by the whistling winds, begging you to return to her. You’re not sure that you will.

Although all Grisha feel protected by the Darkling’s might, none of you much like the idea of crossing him. The Darkling’s temper is infamous, his ideals of revenge bloody and brutal. You have the chance to understand that fully now that you’ve betrayed him by helping Genya and the others escape.

You are not sure of where you are, nor where you got where you did. All you know is pain, neverending pain, the howls of the Darkling’s merzost shadow creatures as they tear into your flesh and bone. The Darkling wants information, but you have none. You did not turn him into a rival agency, you simply wanted to protect your wife. He keeps searching, expecting some corner of your mind to give up your secrets if he applies enough pain, but there is nothing. Still, he keeps looking.

The names disappear first from your head. You’d thought it would be the faces. Usually, that’s how memories work, isn’t it? You picture scenes from your past but the characters themselves are blurred, blocked from you forever by an inability to remember the details. As the torture progresses, you start to forget just why you’d betrayed the Darkling that day on the ship.

It was for someone, you remember that. A woman. A brief thought occurs to you that she was yours, but it disappears just as quickly. There’s a ring in your finger, but you can’t remember why. Those gaps in your memory aren’t enough to convince you to remove it, though. Something much deeper than your own distinct thoughts keeps the ring with you.

The pain stops eventually. It might be months later, maybe only weeks, but it is for quite a long time indeed. You run your hands over your face when that light pressure doesn’t produce agony and marvel at what your fingers find. You had a vague recollection of what you looked like, but the deep scars and gouges in the skin are new. One of your eyes is gone, plucked from your skull as penance. An eye for an eye. The Darkling was always quite literal in his threats.

There are fragments of memories swirling around in your subconscious. A woman with red hair, smiling at you and only you. The churning of a restless sea. Someone screaming a name that could be yours. You suppose you’ll never know why or how it happened. There is only the pain, and then the uneasy restlessness of being alone in endless darkness.

The Darkling comes for you again, forcing you to walk with him. He travels a great distance to somewhere that seems familiar. The merzost creatures snap at you, reminding you how much they enjoy the taste of your blood. You stay by yourself. You stare at your hands, which have remained untouched. Although the Darkling punishes traitors, he would never rob a Grisha of their gift. That is his idea of mercy.

You are needed some time later. The Darkling stands in the ruins of a church. He surveys a battered and bruised group of Grisha before him. They can’t see you, not yet, so you have a chance to study them. A quiet voice in your head whispers in shock that this can’t be it, that surely there are more of you. You have no idea what would tell it otherwise.

A girl at the front of the group, dark-haired, holds up her hands and they glow with light, forcing the shadows back. Another young woman stands at her side, her face as entrancing as a fantasy. Something twists in your throat, bringing tears to your eyes, and you realize she’s the redheaded woman from your dreams, the one who refuses to let you rest. Genya. Your Genya. Yours no longer.

As if reading your mind, the Darkling extends an arm, and you’re forced to your feet. Genya’s face contorts with horror, and you feel sickness expand in your stomach. She is beautiful, always has been, and what are you now? Some scarred thing, a wreck of blood and bone. If you were ever fit for her, you certainly aren’t now.

The sun-girl raises her arms, shouting for the rest to go. You stay motionless, waiting to die, but Genya rushes forward, dragging you back with her. You move on instinct, running with the rest of the pack until you stop moving. You hear whispers that you’re protected by the Soldat Sol and you’re in a place called the White Cathedral. You don’t like to talk to anyone much, even after the running starts and the hiding begins. The others have a way of staring and muttering that you don’t much like.

There is one person who refuses to leave you alone, though, and that is Genya. At first, you cannot fathom why. She keeps up a happy bubble of conversation, utterly one-sided. It only faltered once, and that was when the dark robe you wear shifted back to reveal your scarred hands. She saw the ring on your finger, how you stubbornly clutch to it like it might save your life, and burst into tears.

She was better after that, and slowly, carefully, you remember why it might have upset her. Genya is your wife. You are her husband. She thought you were dead, and in truth, you might be, but even in the midst of life-ending pain, you kept your wedding ring. That is love if nothing else.

As the memories start to piece themselves together again, you tell Genya to leave. She doesn’t deserve to be stuck with someone like you for the rest of your life. You are the thorns to her rose, scars and grief compared to a flawless image. She refuses every time, recounting how you’d stood by her when she needed help. You were the only one who saw her as more than a face, she said, and now she’ll do the same with you.

It will take a while to fully let yourself believe her. It will take longer to mend and heal and come back to who you were. Still, you think you’d like to try. It would be nice to be you again. It is good, then, that you have someone by your side who remembers who that was.

requested by @schroedingers-kater, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @thatfangirl42, @retvenkos, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000

#genya safin #genya safin imagines #genya safin x reader #genya safin oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #grishaverse genya #grishaverse genya imagines #grishaverse genya x reader #grishaverse genya oneshot

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