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happyhauntt · 7 months

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and i am coming home to you — nikolai lantsov.

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

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

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

─── word count: 2.5k.

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

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

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

Once or twice, she even wished for it.

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

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

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

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

And they had tried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a moment, nothing has changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How long was I gone?"

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

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

"Sturmhond came to find me. Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You disagreed with their decision?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#* chapter update.#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov oc #nikolai lantsov fanfic #shadow and bone oc #shadow and bone fanfic #nikolai lantsov x reader #grishaverse #six of crows fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #* fic: gold rush.

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averagewriter-inthedark · 9 months

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Eye of The Storm ⛈| Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place during the events of Shadow & Bone S2

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Crows x Squaller/Saint!Reader (platonic), Kaz Brekker x reader (slight/eventual)

Content Warnings: fighting, blood, profanity, cannon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨: yes/no

Premise: As the Crows make their way back to the Slate following their climatic dethronement of Pekka Rollins, they are ambushed by his supporters with no plan of action to escape. As they slowly accept their fate, what was once a clear night is rained upon with lightning and thunder in its wake. Having beat the odds of meeting one living Saint in their lifetime, the Crows are stunned when their savior, a player in the ever unfolding drama in Ravka, is the legend in stories of restoring life in the world when all hope was lost.

Note: although the Saint name I give is not Y/n, it’s still a reader insert and explains more at the end (it’s not an OC) also I know Zoya is called Sankta Zoya of the Storm but I have yet to get to her arc so for this the reader has powers equivalent to her

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The sirens had finally seized, concluding the hysteria in the streets of Ketterdam once it was revealed the Firebox outbreak was a hoax. Constructed by none other than the Bastard of the Barrel and his thieves amongst men, the Crows. After years of heated tension, and guided vengeance, against Pekka Rollins, Kaz Brekker succeeded in his plans of putting down the Lion that had ruined his life. Constant mental torture as he manuevered his players on their chestboard now able to rest.

“Where were you?” His voice was raspy, face still painted with his blood from the beating as he addressed Inej when she appeared from the shadows. They had been making their way back to the Slat. Nina, Wylan, and Jesper were flanked beside him, the dimly lit street light shining down on the group. Inej had been the only one not accounted for, flooding Kaz with anxiety mixed with anger that she strayed from the plan.

“I--.”

A gloved hand came up, stopping her. “Actually, I’d rather not hear what you have to say.” he wanted to shout. Reprimand her for being so foolish. Voice how her actions could’ve gotten her or one of them hurt because they had no idea where she was.

Despite these desires, the pain in Kaz’s body was too much and he was in need of a strong drink. Inej narrowed her eyes, but the man brushed past her leaving the others to send her looks of sympathy. Falling in step, the group followed behind Kaz, making note of how empty the streets were at that time of night. It was eerie. Yeah they may have caused an uproar with their little stunt, but they assumed there’d still be people out and about.

Dance halls and clubs are empty. The markets closed for business. Not a soul in sight. Wylan was the first to speak, “I’ve never seen it this quiet.”

“Very odd if I must say,” Jesper agreed, unconsciously letting his hands fall to where his guns strapped to his belt. His intuition was picking at his brain at the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s plotting now that Pekka is gone,” Inej made note of their surroundings. They were only a block from the Slat. Soon they’d be in the comfort of their home, able to bask in the relief they pulled their task off. A warm cup of tea by the fireplace before it came time for bed. Inej was looking forward to it.

But unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Nina suddenly froze, “Stop,” all movement seized, heads turning to the heartrender. Unease consumed them as they took in the sudden paleness of her appearance. “I hear heartbeats.” There was a subtle gulp, the woman adding in a low tone, “a lot of heartbeats.”

Tensing, they were met with the sounds of footsteps approaching from every angle. Inej pulled out her knives, as did Jesper with his guns. Wylan clutched his satchel to his chest, thinking of what he could use to help them out of this situation, though the odds were not looking good. Meanwhile, Kaz reversed his steps while the others spun around, the Crows forming a circle with their backs to one another, Kaz keeping space between him and Jesper. Allowing them a full view of the square.

They watched the herd of men step into the light. Revealing themselves with menacing eyes filled with vengeance. Kaz tensed, recognizing them as Pekka’s men.

Well the ones still loyal to the King of the Barrel. Several had already pledged their support to Kaz or took the chance to ditch town while they had the opportunity. Yet, here was a group of at least twelve, likely part of Pekka’s inner circle who’ve taken the actions of Kaz more personally. Those who refused to kneel. The young criminal should’ve known better than to expect a sudden shift in power would come easily to him.

“We have no business with you, gentlemen,” Kaz spoke with a level of calm that surprised even him. Deep down he was consumed with nerves seeing he and the Crows were severely outnumbered.

“Oh, but we do,” a gruff voice replied. Kaz’s eyes drifted to the owner, who’s hand mavuevered over his gun. “See, some of us are not too pleased with your little show tonight, Brekker. And we’ll be damned before claiming you as the King of the city.”

Jesper tilts his head slightly, whispering under his breath, “What do we do, boss?” Beside him Wylan was visibly freaking out. Nina raised her hands, ready to counter any attacks while Inej tightened the grip of her knives.

“This is it,” Kaz thought, clutching onto his cane. No ideas surfaced to help them escape. Accepting his time was up. Though he was going to fight for his Crows, the Bastard of the Barrel was ready to come to terms with his fate.

But before anyone could make the first room, a crack of lightning followed by its booming thunder shook the ground. Several flinched, including the crows, some of the Dime Lions stumbling by how close and sudden the element was to them. Rainfall began to pour down the once clear sky. Dark clouds covering the stars and skies.

The rain was thick, drenching everyone from head to toe. Their clothes became heavy. Had it not been for the skewing of their visibility, making them struggle to see where they were, they’d be annoyed by their state. But there were more important things at stake.

The storm made it hard to see. Only getting a glimpse of shapes and figures when flashes of lightning in the near distance hit the earth. Coupled with its thunder. Kaz barely could make out the enemy, bringing his cane up for any sudden attacks.

“What’s happening?” Wylan shouted, gurgling when the water hit mouth. “What do we do?”

“I-I--,” Kaz stuttered, the feeling of nausea swarming him at the cold, wet, rain hitting his face. It brought him back to the worst days of his life. Floating on top of cold, wet, bodies in the harbour, begging the Saints to save him. The man wanted to crawl away and hide. Yet the fear of not knowing what waited for them when the rain stopped kept him from falling to his knees in a panic.

“Hey! You there!” the same man from before shouted, Kaz squinting his eyes to see him raise his gun only to be thrown back by an invisible force of wind. His partner beside him went down next, though what hit him appeared to be a beam of light.

Kinda like a lightning bolt.

“What the hell was that?!” Inej shouted over the thunder.

‘A Squaller?’ Kaz thought to himself, watching another bout of wind sweep his oncoming attacker off their feet. He had not heard of another Grisha roaming the streets of Ketterdam. Surely if a squaller were inhabiting the area he’d know.

Using the butt of his cane Kaz knocked him out unconsious. When he glanced back up, his eyes landed on a cloaked figure standing on the roof of a nearby building. The rain made it impossible to make out their face. But judging by the way they moved their hands, and the fact his enemies were being bombarded by gusts of air, their savior was in fact an Ethereaki.

But what kind exactly?

At first Kaz believed they had to be a Squaller due to the wind. Yet, he then witnessed the rain shift direction, and water from a puddle shoot up to hit a man about to attack Wylan. A Tidemaker would better fit that description, however Kaz wasn’t aware of a Grisha able to control both air and water.

“I don’t know,” Jesper responded, shooting at an assailant he saw racing toward them, “But I’ve never been so happy for a thunderstorm as I am now.” At that moment Kaz realized nobody else noticed the mysterious person on the roof. His attention turned to Jesper beside him, oblivious to the help he was getting from a fellow Grisha. Turning back to the roof, expecting to see the cloaked individual, but they were gone.

As the fight commenced the storm ensued. Thunder overpowering the sound of pelting rain and gunshots. The Crows fought for their lives as the number of Dime Lions against them decreased. Nina managed to incapacitate several as did Jesper and Inej. The fight came to a climatic end with the last one standing was, quite, literally, hit with a lightning bolt causing the Crows to freeze where they stood.

Smoke filled the space, and when it cleared they were met with the mysterious being. Rain pelting down on them, however they seemed to pay no mind. As though it were a natural occurrence. It was still hard to see them. The streetlight candles had been blown out from the rain and wind, and the moon was covered by the clouds. Both those combinations obscured the face of their savior.

Nina raised her hands, ready to defend the group but Kaz motioned for her to stop, causing confusion amongst the rest. Who was this person and what did they want? And why was Kaz not doing anything?

“Well,” their voice, a feminine one at that, breached the once silent square. “That was entertaining if I’m being honest. Been a while since I’ve squabbled with angsty men,” she chucked, “but I was in dire need of practice.” Now hearing the woman speak clearly, they were able to identify her Ravkan accent. For Nina, her heart nearly stopped.

“I know that voice.” she felt the eyes of everyone, including the woman, on her. Hands lowering to her side, Nina's face etched into pure astonishment. Adding more confusion to the group who were at a loss of who this woman was.

“Oh!” The woman chuckled, not commenting on Nina’s words, “Apologies for the storm, let me just--,” they watched in stunned silence as her right hand rose, displaying a motion before the rain slowed and stopped altogether. Then with two fingers, she waved them around causing the clouds above to dissaperate, allowing the moon to shine down.

“Did she just--.” Jesper whispered to Inej, who’s expression resembled that of witnessing a miracle. “Can squallers summon thunderstorms? I thought that was a myth.”

Inej blinked rapidly, voice so low the others barely made out her reply. Tone in absolute awe, “Only one can.”

“One?” Kaz repeated, feeling a wave of unease beneath his skin.

Water from puddles splashed as the woman walked forward, stepping into the ray of light. The Crows, now able to see her fully, were greeted with her (y/h/c) hair and bearing dazzling grey eyes like the storm clouds she’d summoned. She appeared to be slightly older than the group, possibly by a few years. Then again Grisha were known to age slower than regular folk. For all they know she could be in her 50s. Look at the Darkling, who passed as a man in his early 40s to the naked eye but had lived for nearly 400 years.

Adorned in a deep grey kefta, the white and blue embroidery etched on resembled lightning bolts along with tiny drops of rain. It was unlike any kefta the Grisha wore. Those in the Ravka’s Second Army, with the exception of the Darkling, wore certain colored keftas and embroideries to signify their order. But to the knowledge of the Crows, no Grisha wore grey.

“Saints,” Nina gasped, jaw dropping slightly, causing the woman to smirk.

“Now, now,” she playfully tsked, “I’m not above swearing, but considering that applies to me….” her smirk never faltered, “I’m sure you can understand.”

Jesper’s head spun, looking between his comrades to see they were reacting the same way, “I’m sorry, are you saying that you’re--.”

Nina beat him to it, “Sankta Imber of the Drought.” Inej gasped, as did Wylan. The former repeated the name in wonder, falling to her knees in respect, “Sankta Imber….”

Kaz tightened his grip on his cane, mind racing to remember the tale behind the name. Who’s story was passed down from generation to generation for centuries. Who, like the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, was said to be either myth or once lived but suspected of perishing long ago.

Legends say that Sankta Imber of the Drought had been born in the century following the creation of the Fold. A farmer's daughter in the region of East Ravka, her family lived through the period where the country was stricken with a severe drought lasting over a hundred years, beginning not long after the Black Heretic disappeared. With no rain bringing water to the crops came a deadly famine. Hundreds of people and animals were lost, not only due to starvation and dehydration, but also illness. The economy in all of Ravka crumbled. Both States were fighting against each other for resources, as the food supply from East Ravka to West was now scarce. An increase in fires and dust bowls destroyed a lot of ecosystems, further deteriorating the country.

What was left of it that is.

There was little to no hope, with even prayers to the Saints to help them becoming meaningless words. Those still worshiping begged for a savior. The one who would bring the rain and storm. Ending the drought. Releasing them from the famine.

The idea a Squaller could summon a powerful storm was unheard of. Being able to bring forth powerful winds, rain, and possibly lightning and Thunder? Surely a Grisha of sorts would be only known by folklore. Especially given Tidemakers were the ones to control water.

Yet, it all changed one day as the 104th year of the drought approached.

“You’re more powerful than you think, Imber,” Baghra's stern voice echoed in the cave. Sitting opposite of her, with her head down and tear stains painting her cheeks, 15-year-old Imber Egorova made a sound Baghra could only assume was a whimper. “Denying it will do you no good. It will do this country no good.”

“How do you know?” The girl whispered, voice hoarse from crying following another gruesome 12 hour training day. “What makes me different from any other Squaller here?” She referred to the 20 other Squallers residing on the Little Palace grounds. Though some trained with the renowned Gisha teacher, none experienced the level of intensity Imber did.

“No Squaller here has shot someone 80 yards by their power during an exercise,” Baghra rebutted, causing Imber to wince at the memory. The reason why she was suddenly called to Baghra’s cave in the first place. From then on Imber barely got a lick of sleep or time to eat a proper meal.

The older woman gave a pointed look, “nor have they been able to summon electricity.” Ignoring Imbers stunned expression, she continued, “yes, girl, I know what you did when your sister’s heart stopped before you came here. Why your family was so willing to let you go after the testers proved you were Grisha,” Baghra leaned back in her chair, face void of emotion. “Ravka has not seen more than a few inches of rain since this drought began. No storms. And with the famine,” there was a light pause, “It’s claimed more lives than the Fold.”

Imber shuddered at the mention of Ravka’s darkened entity. Not wanting to think about its black abyss swimming with volcra.

“The point is, child,” Baghra captured her attention once more, “Besides the Sun Summoner, you could be the one to end part of Ravka’s suffering. But that will not happen if you cannot believe it yourself.”

Weeks shy of her 16th birthday, Imber received a letter from her father, which would change not only her world, but the one around. After contracting a bacteria from contaminated pond water, her mother and sister succumbed to a deadly illness after only a week. Her father had buried them on their land by the dead oak tree where they used to have picnics before Imber was taken to the Little Palace.

Distraught and riddled with unbearable pain, Imber collapsed to her knees in the middle of the courtyard, crumbling the letter in her hands. Her peers were silent, staring at her with sympathy. Unsure of what to say to the grieving teen, despite many knowing the exact feeling Imber was feeling.

Sorrow, anguish, regret. Never having the chance to correct wrongs or make memories with the loved onces they longed for. The cries of the Grisha filled the otherwise silent courtyard.

Suddenly, a rumble came from the sky..

Imber didn’t hear it over the sound of her sobs. Her companions, however, drew their attention upward, where they were greeted by a sight unimaginable. What once was a clear blue canvas, barely any clouds to begin with, transformed to that of a dark shadow. Wind, so powerful they thought a Squaller was responsible, nearly sent them off their feet.

“What’s happening?” A girl shouted, though they had difficulty hearing her due to the mix of rumbling overhead and breeze of wind.

“I don’t know!” the boy, a Tidemaker, beside her squinted, “Imber!” He lifted a hand to protect his eyes while focusing his view on the kneeled Grisha. A flash of light where her hands were plaed on the ground had him flinching. ‘What in the---.’ The spark occured once more. Chills filled his entire being as his eyes became saucers, falling to a whisper. “Saints above.”

Witnessing the sparks, an Inferni moved closer, ignoring the warning sent by the Tidemaker. “What is she doing?” His answer came by being blasted back by a gust of wind.

Imber let out a broken scream, head tilting back toward the sky as bolts of lightning released from her hands, igniting bouts of thunder in its wake. Gasps and shouts echoed around the Squaller from fellow Grisha and palace guards. The group behind her ran to find cover as the wind became too much, sending barrels and crates flying. Lightning and thunder, the duo reuniting as lost friends.

A sight to behold.

As the tears rolled down Imber’s cheeks, heavy rain soon replaced them. Drenching the lands of East Ravka for the first time in a hundred years.

For hours the girl remained kneeling on the grounds of the courtyard. Alone as everyone had seeked shelter within the Palace walls, letting the water from above coat her. The kefta she bore grew heavy. She paid no mind to it.

It wasn’t until she began to shiver from the freezing atmosphere that Imber retreated inside. Coming face to face with the reality of what transpired. As two guards escorted her to the throne room, Imber barely took notice of her peers watching the storm draw on from the windowsills. Some glanced at her in a mix of wonder, awe, and fear. Fear at the unknown, but wonder at what will be known.

Entering the throne room Imber was greeted by the King, Queen, Baghra, and the General of Ravka’s Second Army. Whereas the country’s monarchs were visibily bewildered at Imber, Baghra appeared impressed in comparison to the General’s excitement. Nerves consumed her on top of the immense grief Imber was experincing. Rain continued pelting the windows and roof of the Little Palace. Every once in a while, the occupants in the room flinched at the crack of thunder.

Upon making eye contact with the King, Imber bowed her head, curtseying as best she could with the weight of her soaked kefta. From there she underwent an hour of intense interrogation at the hands of the King and General. Baghra was questioned as well. Admitting she suspected the scale of Imber’s power but decided to stay quiet until the time came. The General, while pleased to know the world’s most powerful Squaller was among his ranks, voiced concern at the possibility of their enemies discovering her.

“Ravka has been praying for the day storms finally wash over her,” his tone was calm, almost haunting. Imber couldn’t look away as he moved toward her, tear stains painting her cheeks. “To save them from this wretching drought. Bring an end to this famine that has wiped away countless lives. Rain has touched grounds for the first time in over a century, Miss. Egorova. The people of Ravka are going to celebrate you. Erect statues on your name for being the hope they prayed for all these years.” he halted directly in front of her, keeping hold of her gaze it sent another wave of chills not relating to the cold clothes Imber wore.

“You are now the symbol of this dark period coming to its end. You are Sankta Imber of the Drought.”

“The storm lasted a fortnight, dispersing across Ravka’s lands until every inch had been touched by lightning. Yet the rain continued for months on end after the winds disappeared,” Nina recited the story etched into her brain. The crows silent as they took in her words. “Many say it was the raw grief of Imber losing her family that the storms were so strong. The constant rain marked as a symbol of her time in mourning.” The crows familiar with loss could relate. Kaz, Jesper, and Inej looking elsewhere than the Grisha.

Nina let out a breath, “Now whenever a powerful storm appears in Ravka, locals believe it to be Sankta Imber reminding them they will never experience a drought again. Famine will never touch their lands so long as she remains. Rain will be their protector, and she will be its champion.”

At the end of the Heartrender’s tale, Imber clasped her hands behind her back. “Nice to see my reputation still precedes me after all these years.” Chuckling, she took another step toward the group, “Still odd to hear myself spoken like a myth when I still live and breathe the same air as you.”

Again, no words could describe what the Crows were feeling at that moment. No one however was more shocked than Nina herself. And her reasons were far more than just being in the presence of a living Saint. “But you…”

Imber’s smirk turned to a soft smile, “Been some time since our last acquaintance, Nina Zenik.”

All eyes turned to the brunette, Kaz the first to speak, “What?” Not only was his mind racing, but now it was full of questions and doubts. They knew each other? But judging by Nina’s reaction, it was not all that meets the eye. She was stunned beyond belief like they were. “Care to explain, Zenik?”

Tensing by the tone of his voice, Nina sent him a light glare, “I don’t know her as Sankta Imber,” her eyes returned to the Grisha, this time showcasing betrayal as the memory of the woman in a blue kefta like her fellow Squallers appeared in her mind. “But as Commander Y/n Tempestasov of the Second Army.” Everyone felt the shift in the air at the mention of the Darkling’s army.

Why was one of the Darkling’s soldiers, a Saint at that, coming to them in the middle of the night? Traveling across the sea and saving them from Pekka’s men. There had to be a reason.

Kaz tightened the grip he had on his cane. Thinking back to events of the past several months. He would’ve recognized Imber, or Y/n, whatever she wanted to be called--at the Winter’s Fete. The kefta was unique; it would've captured anyone’s attention. As a powerful Squaller, Kirigan surely wanted her close to his side. Yet the Grisha had not been present on the skiff nor did Alina mention anything of meeting another living Saint.

Then there was the fact that the legends of Sankta Imber of the Drought were from nearly 300 years ago. It was believed she had died or dissapeared roughtly 20 years after she brought the storm to Ravka.

Meaning she’s been hiding in plain sight for centuries. A ghost among the living. Playing the role of a Second Army soldier under a false name to preserve her identity.

Another chuckle brought Kaz out of his thoughts, “Allow me to fill in the blanks, Crows,” Imber smirked at their reaction, “yes I know who you are. Do not doubt Nina’s loyalty--the last time we saw each other I was a different person. Roughly eight years if I’m correct,” bringing a hand to her chin, the Saint acted like she was deep in thought, “You’d only just arrived at the Little Palace before I escaped.”

“Escaped?”

Imber retained her posture, more serious than the initial laid back she had presented, “You’ve witnessed the evil General Kirigan is capabale of first hand.” they stayed silent, but each of their expressions faltered. “I discovered the scale of it a long time ago, after he made me a prisoner of the Little Palace under the guise of a trainer.” Nina bowed her head, the memory of Commander Y/n paroling the grounds where the Etherealki trained. She always appeared detached, but was kind to the young Grisha who had not yet succumbed to the corruption of the Darkling. “He was responsible for everyone believing I had died or dissapeared. After instilling fear in me at the thought of being captured by enemies, he had me locked in the caves of the Little Palace.” Inej let out a gasp, face consorting with sadness.

Imber shrugged, “sooner or later people stopped searching for me. Unaware I was close the entire time despire my storms becoming a blanket over Ravka for years. I was all but the myth you’ve heard.” Turning her head to Nina, Imber offered a soft smile, “It was years before he let me out. When he did I was named Commander under a false name and trained Grisha for centuries. Changing my name each time he did because someone asked too many questions and we had to clean up his mess. Y/n Tempestasov is the recent name of the many I’ve gone by. Frankly it’s my favorite if I’m being honest.”

“Would you prefer it if we called you that?” Wylan raised his hand, resulting in a side eye from Kaz at his formality. The Saint, however, smiled at him, “I’d like that. Imber Egorova…” she trailed off, connecting her gaze with Kaz as though she read him like a book. “She is of the past.”

Ignoring the weight on his chest, knowing damn well what the Saint was refering to, Kaz changed the subject. “Enough sentiment. You still haven’t said why you’re here.” The sound of his cane echoed on the pavement when he moved closer to her. “The Darkling might be dead but how are we to trust you’re not doing his bidding.”

The woman scoffed, obviously offended by the assumption, “Believe me, I hate the man more than anyone. Probably more than you and Alina combined.”

Jesper made a face of shock, voicing what they all thought, “You know Alina?”

“She sent me,” Y/n mused, shocking them more when she added, “And Kirigan is alive.”

“How is that possible?” Inej wondered aloud, unable to grasp the news.

“Turns out his own creation did not kill him after all. Instead he used merzost to create shadow monsters. Monsters that can only be destroyed with a certain blade that, like me, is also a legend.”

“Neshyenyer,” Kaz narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to call bluff. Y/n smirked in response.

“That is where you come in. We have some mutual friends, and they sent me to retrieve you lot to find the sword. Said you were the best of the best.” Hand going into her pocket, she removes a rolled parchment tied with a ribbon. “For your cooperation, the King of Ravka plans to generously compensate you.” She held it out to Kaz, “For you, Dirtyhands.”

He ignored the name, deciding not to question the depth of her knowledge on him and the Crows, and instead took the parchment. Once unfolded, he read the message inked onto its surface, detailing the extent of the mission and amount of kruge to be paid. He stopped at the name signed at the very end, ‘Nikolai Lantsov.’

‘Mutual friends,’ he remembered she said. Intuition telling him it was not only Alina and Mal the Saint referred to. Only person Kaz recalled that could likely be said aquaintance was a certain privateer.

Footsteps wandering away had the man look up, finding Y/n to take her leave. Kaz and Jesper flanked to his sides, the whole group watching her depart. “Come along, Crows,” she called out, the playfulness returning. “A storm is approaching.” light rain began to fall once more, followed by the sound of thunder in the distance. Kaz pictured the smile on her face by the tone of her voice. “And we’ve got work to do.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x fem!reader #inej ghafa #inej ghafa x reader #inej ghafa imagine #jesper fahey #jesper fahey imagine #nina zenik #nina zenik imagine #six of crows #SOC #six of crows imagine #grishaverse #grisha!reader #Saint!reader #grishaverse fanfic

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aleksanderscult · 6 months

Note

What would you think Aleksander's google search history be like? :D (If he had access to it oc)

Now that's very interesting and fun!

Grishaverse trilogy:

"Tips to keep your cool"

"How to endure immortality"

"I've caught feelings what should I do?"

"Local pastry shops" for his sweet tooth y'know ;)

"Sneaky ways to overthrow the shit monarchy"

"How to make your love interest see reason"

"100 + 1 ways to kill your romantic rival"

*after Alina escapes*:

"Ship schedules from East Ravka's port"

"How can you feel less lonely"

"Merzost: What side effects are there?"

"How to make your nichevo'ya pick you up and make you hover above the ground like a badass"

"Rizz lessons"

"Creative ways to dispose your second romantic rival"

"Tips to deal with heartbreak and loss"

Nikolai duology:

"Tips for better patience"

*after he sees Alina*:

"Cure for brainwashing"

"Tips for even better patience"

"How to annoy your enemies"

#he already knew about strategy. battle and all that kind of stuff so I didn't put them there #he knows about the ways of the Small Science too but I couldn't resist putting the merzost thing too #if anyone else wants to add something then be my guest 💛#lovely asks #anon asks #the darkling #aleksander morozova #grishaverse #shadow and bone #anti nikolai duology #pro darkling #pro aleksander morozova

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 6 months

Text

Finally finished the outline of Daughter of the Rain and Snow and I know exactly how the ending is going down almost pretty much (details are blurry, but plot and character arcs are completely outlined and ready to write instead of just bullet points or vague ideas) so out of interest (won’t necessarily stick to it 100% but would still like to know) what would anyone like to see next if you would like to continue reading my stuff?

Explanations below cut

Sequel

I have every intention to write this one, I have characters but thus far not a main plot more of just the premise. Would follow Ahra, Evan, Yara, maybe Vix, and maybe Lilia as our young Dregs and start around when Kaz and Inej left for Ravka since the Dregs was kinda on the verge of collapse whoops. Can’t go into too much detail or they’ll be spoilers for the current fic but there’d be the opportunity for some Aimee and Kiada, and Kanej would still be present but they might not be in focus (again, can’t explain too much or they’ll be spoilers). There might even be some Fiona or some Maya stuff who knows

I really want to write this bc I really want to write Ahra’s story so it’ll probably end up coming around at some point but I realise it might not be the most interesting to y’all when it’s mostly ocs so yeah

Feliks had been more than lenient with Ahra. He’d been the only person who ever gave her a real job - playing her violin in the reception of the White Rose - and when things had predictably gone haywire he’d been good enough to only turn her away, not Evan too. Ahra hadn’t much cared for the job, she loved her violin but she did not enjoy watching the Rose’s clients come and go and she certainly hadn’t cared for having her skin paled and her hair Tailored white for such purposes, but it was easy money and enough to keep them ticking over as all of Evan’s funds petered away on overpriced little medicine bottles. She studied the thin stack of kruge in her hand, thinking of Kaz standing opposite her in the alley by the Slat.

“I don’t need your charity, Brekker,”

“And far be it from me to offer you any,”

Not charity, but she didn’t doubt Dirtyhands had his own purposes in paying her for a job she failed to finish. Still, cash was cash. And medicine was medicine. She tucked it back into her breast pocket and tapped it lightly, slipping round the corner and pulling a bone light from her jacket.

What Evan didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Helnik

This was an idea I had a looooong time ago and I shared a little snippet scene on here, but then I started writing Daughter of the Rain and Snow and never looked back. I really want to write this one I think it could be pretty cool, it would be relatively short set in between Crooked Kingdom and King of Scars and take place in Ravka; based on a headcanon I have about Nina learning how to use her new power and as a result of it experiencing hallucinations of Matthias being with her that she is fully convinced are real. Following Nina, Zoya, and Genya as they try to navigate this and worry that they shouldn’t let Nina got to Fjerda in this state.

“What time is it?” she mumbled into the cushions.

“A little after seven bells,”

“Saints, how disgusting,”

Nina sighed, in a mixture of content and tiredness. The luxury of the Little Palace was a mostly welcome change from crawling in next to Matthias in the tomb at Black Veil - or even of the hotel room at the Geldrenner. They’d shared a sofa, so close to each other; limbs entangled, chest against her back so she could feel his heart beating. A steady rhythm, no matter what he was feeling. The big bed here was more comfortable, but the closeness felt like an aching absence, as though the few feet between them spanned for miles. She reached out behind her and found something soft that she decided was his arm.

“Come closer,” she whispered, and she imagined the way he’d smile.

He would press her fingers to his lips and she would roll over to face him. She’d reach out and touch his cheek, and he would catch her hands in his.

“Witch,”

“Barbarian,”

“Little Red Bird,” he would say, just before his lips met hers

The sunlight would be warm and soft on their skin as they moved closer, as she felt his heart beating beneath her fingers.

But he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t come closer, or kissed her fingers, or brushed his lips against hers. He had not gently pushed her hand down towards his wrist so their fingers could intertwine.

“Matthias?”

Nina made the mistake of rolling over, and began to scream.

Wesper

There’s a line in Crooked Kingdom where Jesper says if Van Eck really couldn’t cope with Wylan not being able to read he could have told people he was blind, the point being that still would’ve been wrong but that everything he’d resorted to was unnecessary and Wylan shouldn’t feel like it was his fault. So this would be an au where Van Eck did exactly that and Wesper attend Ketterdam university together; Wylan grapples with his father being the worst and falling for Jesper as he fears telling him the truth, Jesper grapples with addiction and wanting to stay at university partly for the sake of falling for Wylan.

Jesper leaned in, pushing one of Wylan’s curls back off his face.

“It’s pity you can’t see how beautiful your eyes are,”

Wylan blushed, letting Jesper run his hand over his cheek and tilt his face up towards his own. Jesper leaned forward but then Wylan squirmed, just slightly, and Jesper tensed as he pulled his hand away.

“And me, of course,” he added, letting his voice take on a teasing lilt to brush past the moment, “It’s a shame you don’t know how gorgeous I am,”

Wylan almost smiled, but he had stepped away.

“I- erm,” he brushed his fingers through the lock of hair Jesper had moved and cleared his throat, “Excuse me,”

And then he was gone.

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sodaabaa · 4 months

Text

his shadow

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.

tropes: opposites (literally) attract, childhood friends to lovers, grumpy girl x sunshine boy

tw: mentions of sexual assault and domestic abuse

playlist here!

chapter one inessa nikolai

chapter two inessa

chapter three nikolai

more parts coming soon...

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

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heresthefanfiction · 1 month

Text

Elya Kalik as The Raven in The Spy,

a Shadow and Bone fanfiction.

"It was the Raven's job to know everything in Ravka that moved, every rumor whispered behind closed doors. And where she couldn’t be, she had contacts. Pirates and privateers on the seas, spies living in Novyi Zem, servants in the households of the Merchant Council, Grisha and soldiers alike, both willing to give up a little information for a little more money to send home to their families. And every drop of information she gathered went straight back to him. To the Darkling. Well, maybe not every drop. But he didn't need to know that."

Huge thank to @wordspin-shares to beta reading this and putting up with my extremely sporadic writing habits.

Also, shoutout to @dancingsunflowers-ocs and @manyfandomocs for inspiring me to actually sit down and make this edit. Go check out their Grishaverse ocs too!!

Tagging:

@arrthurpendragon @untestedtheory @ocappreciationtag @themaradwrites

#shadow and bone fanfiction #when will I be posting this #no idea #elya kalik #the raven #the spy #impossible #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone oc

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bi-bard · 1 year

Text

Stay till the End... And After, and Always - Kaz Brekker Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: Stay till the End... And After, and Always

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Sun Summoner!Reader

Word Count: 5,624 words

Warning(s): Mention of Past Trauma [Kaz is damaged as fuck], hallucinations, drugging, canon-typical violence, mention of death

Summary: While on a mission to find and steal the blade sharp enough to kill shadow, Kaz is forced to confront a very real future that may await him.

Author's Note: I warned y'all that I jump around a lot.

Also, the quote as a title thing hasn't screwed me over yet!

**Written in third person**

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

----------------------

Kaz traced the signature on the letter carefully.

Slowly.

As if the writing alone could bring (Y/n) home to him.

He wondered if it had been their idea to sign the paper or if the royal family had swayed them into it. Not that the origin of the signature matter. What mattered was that it was there at all. That (Y/n) was asking for the Crows to help.

Kaz hadn't heard from them since they separated. He returned to Ketterdam while (Y/n) became committed to the idea of tearing the Fold down. Saving the world.

He could still hear the thoughts nagging at him.

The collection of unspoken words that traced the edge of his tongue, desperate to be spoken to (Y/n) before the two said what could have been their final goodbye. It was a shame that his fear seemed to have such a strong reign over them.

He looked at the visitors in front of him. He could have asked them a million questions. But he didn't. He merely told Nina to have them find a table and that he would be right back.

He knocked on Jesper's door, paying no mind to whatever Jesper yelled from the other side before telling the pair inside to get downstairs. For Ravka's sake.

Now, the Crows sat opposite two of the people working with their missing member. Zoya and Tolya.

Nina stole the note from Kaz's hand, reading it over. She scoffed.

"The Neshyenyer?" she asked. "Sankta Neyar's blade?"

"You haven't forgotten what you were taught at the Little Palace," Zoya replied, enough attitude dripping from each word to flood the building. "Just your loyalty to Ravka."

"Ravka or Kirigan?"

Zoya tensed at the mention of the general's name.

"Didn't take him destroying a city or kidnapping the sun summoner from their home for me to question my loyalty."

Zoya rolled her eyes. Nina smirked a little bit wider, quietly thanking the Saints that she had asked Jesper and Inej about (Y/n).

"So, now that we all know that you two have history," Jesper said, trying to ease some of the painfully obvious tension. "Is there a payment for this job?"

"Name your price," Tolya replied. "If it matters to you."

"Lantsov crest," Nina noted. "Hideous."

"The job comes from the sun summoner."

Jesper immediately seemed more than interested in the mission. The mention of the friend that he longed to see was enough for him to be ready to jump on board. Nina looked at the bottom of the letter. There it was. The name of the sun summoner, clear as day.

"The job is to retrieve and deliver the Neshyenyer to (Y/n) (Y/l/n) in East Ravka."

"Why now," Jesper asked.

"The Darkling has returned," Zoya said. "At his side is an army of shadow monsters. Indestructible."

"I don't like the sound of that," Jesper muttered.

"The blade is the only thing that has a chance at killing them."

"Retrieve the blade and Prince Lantsov is ready to pay you whatever you ask," Tolya offered.

Kaz would have done the job for nothing.

He would never admit that, but he was willing to do anything for the chance to have (Y/n) back by his side. After the events of the last few days, he needed something to ground him and felt like (Y/n) was the only person who could truly do that for him. He knew that the first step was to stop the Darkling.

But again, he could never admit that. To anyone.

"I like the sound of that," Jesper replied to Tolya.

Zoya's eyes turned to Kaz. "I assume the same goes for you."

"I'd welcome the chance to help your prince spend his country's money," Kaz said.

Zoya knew immediately that Kaz was that person (Y/n) was so determined to get home to. Yes, the Sun Summoner had mentioned getting back to their family. The small group that protected them. But Zoya could easily see that one of them was far more important than the others. She could hear it in how (Y/n) spoke.

"I don't need kruge," Nina spoke up. "I need to get someone out of Hellgate. The Lantsov must have some strings that they can pull with the Kerch government."

"For a certain Fjerdan?" Zoya tilted her head. "He must be quite the slab of fur."

"The offer is the offer," Tolya steered the conversation away from the two. "Prince Nikolai is a man of his word."

"But we need to go now," Zoya added.

There was merely a short pause before Kaz spoke up. "It's settled. We're in."

"And your Wraith," Zoya asked. "I was expecting to see her."

"She's gone."

"Not yet," Jesper spoke up. "She's-"

"Not an option."

The tone was blunt. Annoyed.

He knew very well that if he showed up with the blade but without Inej, then (Y/n) would only have questions for him. Fears of the worst, anger for his choices. But Kaz had a tight ship to run. He needed to have some kind of order or else all of his planning and cleverness would be for nothing.

The group set plans to leave soon after their very brief meeting. Just enough time to gather what was necessary and sort out who would keep Kaz's new properties from falling into hands even more rotten than his.

Jesper dragged Nina along to see Inej.

She was angry at Kaz's choice. She knew he was upset with her, but she wanted to believe that he would eventually give her some grace. Especially when the job was something that would clearly be important to her.

She scoffed. "'Not an option.'"

"I know," Jesper said. "No idea where he could have gotten that idea from."

"And when I'm done, she'll never be an option again," Nina commented, carefully moving her thumb over Inej's wrist, leaving it looking as if no mark had ever been there.

"Why wouldn't he tell me about a job for (Y/n)," Inej asked.

"I don't think it had anything to do with (Y/n)," Jesper replied. "It's about his control."

Inej scoffed again, clearly getting angrier with Kaz the more she found out about.

"He knows that (Y/n) would be pissed with them if they found out about this," he continued. "I'm guessing that threat will be enough to convince him to think logically about this."

"Saints know that he does enough to push them away without the help of their anger," Nina said, grabbing both of their attention. "He feels so much for them but would rather die than say a thing about it."

Jesper scoffed at the bluntness.

"Was I meant to not say anything about it?" Nina raised an eyebrow. "I spent ages watching him trace their signature like a love-stricken teenager."

"I'm glad that you did," Jesper shrugged. "It was getting painful to watch."

His attention turned to Inej.

"Listen. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I know that you deserve to know why we're doing this. For your Saint. For (Y/n)."

There was a pause before Inej spoke up, "(Y/n) hates being called a Saint."

"And yet they've grown into the role quite naturally."

She let a small, amused grin cross her face.

"I have to go," Nina said after a pause.

She stood up and started to walk out of the small room, grinning and nodding to Inej as she did.

She met Zoya, Tolya, and the other Crows. They were discussing what their next steps were going to be now that Kaz had gotten information from someone.

The Neshyenyer was said to be in Ahmrat Jen.

It took little time for Kaz to know that the blade was a fake.

"We already knew that," Zoya rolled her eyes. "Have anything new to tell us?"

"According to my contacts, it's been stolen by a thief known as The Disciple," Kaz explained. "He had a penchant for stealing Saint-related relics while on jobs."

"A thief and a collector," Wylan asked.

"And retired. But he has put a few pieces of his collection on the black market."

"So, to get to him, we go to his fence," Tolya replied.

"Ohval Saran. She has a tea shop in Bhez Ju. To speak with her, we have to order yellow chrysanthemum tea, off-menu."

While this conversation was taking place, Jesper was with Inej. They talked about a lot. About (Y/n) and Kaz and the job... about the hat that Jesper had found in Inej's place.

Eventually, she agreed to go with them. Kaz's anger and spite be damned. This was about something greater than him. Greater than all of them.

Kaz walked over as soon as he spotted them walking down the steps.

"I see you couldn't help yourself, Jes," he commented, saying the nickname as if it left a sour taste on his tongue.

Jesper merely walked around Kaz, not sparing another glance.

Kaz turned to Inej. "This is what you choose to do with your freedom?"

"I can't think of a way that I would rather spend it," she replied. "(Y/n) needs us. I am going to be there when they tear down the Fold. I promised to be there when they needed me. I won't break that promise because of your foolish anger."

They gathered their passports together and grabbed their supplies.

It didn't take long for Kaz and Nina to find themselves in the small teashop, waiting for the arrival of Ohval Saran.

"How do you think it tastes," Nina asked, staring at the teapot in front of them.

"Like tea," Kaz replied.

She scoffed at him. "Yes, but... is it floral? Bitter? Mildly sweet with notes of buttery-"

"Warm. And wet."

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Are you like this all the time or is it just because (Y/n) is gone?"

Kaz rolled his eyes. He was far too busy to entertain Nina's curiosity.

"Saints, does your heart always race when someone says their name," Nina asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kaz replied, not even sparing her a glance. Probably because he thought that it would be too easy to prove he was lying if he did.

"Sure you do," Nina insisted. "I've heard it every time someone brings them up. Your heart races. When they were first taken... Inej and Jesper lost a friend. You lost something more-"

"Can we focus on the job," Kaz snapped. Nina held up her hands to show that she was going to back off.

There was a pause between the two. A long, very quiet pause.

"(Y/n)," Nina muttered quickly. She chuckled at the immediate jump in Kaz's heart rate. "I'm stunned that you haven't broken a rib yet with how hard your heart beats."

"Focus."

"I am focused!"

The two both fell silent again.

Soon enough, Inej was motioning to Kaz that Ohval Saran was near.

Ohval sat across from Kaz and Nina. She dipped the tip of her ring finger into her tea, flicking some off twice before touching her fingertips to her forehead.

Nina copied with no hesitation.

Kaz didn't. Not until he was pressured into the act by Ohval and Nina, who did everything in her power to put on a very convincing husband and wife act.

Kaz took a deep breath before sliding the gloves off of his hands. He mimicked the actions he had seen moments before. A little less smooth than that of Nina and Ohval, but they were done.

"Anyway, our contact mentioned that since The Disciple's retirement, he has periodically parted ways with some of his personal collection," Nina said.

"You're looking for something specific," Ohval replied.

"The Neshyenyer," Kaz answered bluntly.

"The Neshyenyer is at Ahmat Jen."

"From what we understand, that blade is a fake."

"I wouldn't know anything about that."

Kaz noted Ohval motioning towards a server.

"What if we told you that the Disciple could name his price," Nina asked.

"I'd say you have a surprising amount of disposable income... for thieves," Ohval smirked a bit as she spoke.

Nina chuckled. "We're not thieves. We're just collectors."

"I've worked with enough thieves to know them when I see them. If you want the blade, you'll have to steal it from Ahmrat Jen."

Ohval stood up abruptly. Kaz went to follow, only to get run into by a server holding a tray. If his mind hadn't shut off in that moment, then he would have immediately realized it was the same server as earlier. He would put those pieces together later.

Nina touched his hand in the hopes of bringing him back from whatever panicked state he was in.

It didn't work.

Kaz stumbled away from the shop and into the busy street. His breathing was frantic. Uneven, gasping breaths that made him feel like his throat was truly closing up on him. That the touch had caused a genuine allergic reaction.

He continued running into people, which caused more flashbacks of a younger him in that ocean of bodies, which only panicked him more and made it even harder for him to control his movements. And on and on and on the cycle went. It was beginning to seem hopeless to try to calm himself down.

Someone grabbed his arm. If he had been in his right mind, he would have swung his cane at them. But he wasn't. He couldn't do anything to fight back against the person that dragged him into an abandoned alleyway and shoved him against the stone of one of the buildings. He was sitting on the ground, rendered immobile by the fear.

His eyes settled on Inej, who was kneeling next to him after watching the episode break out in the shop.

"You were supposed to follow her," Kaz snapped.

Inej closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry."

Kaz didn't reply. He turned his head away, holding onto his cane a little tighter.

Inej felt some of the anger simmering in her stomach. "I was just trying to ensure that you were alive when we made it to (Y/n)."

She laid his gloves on the ground beside him before lifting herself up and walking away. The Bastard of the Barrel was left to cling to his gloves while trying to calm his breathing.

He slid his gloves over his hands again before lifting himself to his feet and walking away.

The Crows gathered in a small building, gathered around a table. They tried to figure out what could be learned from the very brief meeting.

"Ohval's not just a fence," he said. "She's the Disciple."

"What tipped you off," Wylan asked while Jesper shut the doors.

"Her teacup," Kaz replied. "When she put it down, she did so without making a sound."

"And her heartbeat never fluctuated once," Nina added. "It held at one beat a second like a clock."

"So, she can control her heart rate and her emotions," Tolya said.

"Those are useful skills for a thief," Wylan muttered.

"Now's the part where you tell us where the blade is," Jesper spoke up.

"Ohval has it," Kaz explained. "Her signal to the waitress to spill tea on me told me as much."

"It's as if I know you," Jesper said dramatically.

"And if she's not going to sell it to us, then we'll just have to take it. After Nina and I ordered the Chrysanthemum tea, I had Inej follow the tea shop employee who was sent to notify Ohval."

Inej spoke up after that, "She lives just outside the city. When she stopped at the tea, she placed an order at the apothecary that she'll be picking up tonight. I watched her at home for a while, no one came or went except for her."

"So," Kaz continued. "While she's out of the house, Nina will tail her to make sure that she stays out of the house. The rest of us will grab the blade."

Zoya scoffed at the plan. "You don't seriously expect me to break into this woman's house."

"Why do you think we're here," Jesper asked.

"I'm a soldier, not a thief. Why else would I need you criminals?"

"Oh, there's much less of a difference there than you think," Tolya replied. "Also, these are (Y/n)'s friends. You know... the (Y/n) that's trying to save everyone. Let's not leave bad blood between all of us."

Zoya rolled her eyes. "You just keep eating your walnuts. I'll go with Nina."

Nina choked a bit on the food that she had been eating. She coughed before turning her question to Kaz, "Are you sure that you don't need me?"

"Nina and Zoya will wait for Ohval at the apothecary. Follow her. If she starts heading home, buy us some time. Distract her."

While Nina and Zoya watched over Ohval as subtly as possible, Tolya and the rest of the Crows found themselves outside of the thief's home.

Tolya called it traditional. He claimed that it had a specific layout and used that to outline a plan. Start in the front courtyard, go through the antechamber to the middle courtyard and then to the main chamber. The goal was to sweep the entire house. Check every single place that could possibly be hiding the blade that was needed.

With an emergency set up by Wylan and nothing but the knowledge of the weight of what could happen if they failed, they walked inside.

The front courtyard held nothing of note.

The antechamber seemed as if it was going to be very much the same.

Until everyone but Wylan had stepped in.

Tolya had been focused on a heartbeat off in the distance. He could hear it. Just barely. It was faint. Somewhere farther in the house. He couldn't spend enough time focusing on it before he stumbled onto a board that sank with the pressure of his step.

The doors on either side of the building slid shut, locking. Pulling on them was pointless. They didn't move. Inej tried to stab through one of them. Nothing. Durast-made locks and impenetrable doors. They were stuck.

The trap only got more intricate from there. A collection of gears turning and things shifting was only punctuated by a red gas starting to leak through one of the vents.

Tolya sat down, holding both of his hands over his chest, slowing his heart and his breathing. His goal was to last as long as he needed to in order to survive.

Jesper was the first to collapse. Rough and loud as he crashed to the floor.

Inej was next. She had leaned against the wall, having something to slow her fall.

Kaz was last. He had nothing to cushion his fall. It was loud and harsh. He could have imagined the pain that would radiate along his spine if his mind wasn't gone before then.

Instead, he felt the cold water swallow him as he fell.

He tried to shove himself up. The waves weren't helping him. The harsh landing, the cold temperature, and the rough waves were merely the beginning of his disadvantages in that moment.

The front of his jacket was grabbed and he was dragged to the surface.

He found his brother waiting for him.

Jordie. Cold, clearly soaked to the bone.

And suddenly, Kaz was back in his nightmares. The nightmares that he thought would go away after he rid the Barrel of Pekka Rollins. The nightmares that almost angered him more than they scared him.

"Did you really think that I would go away, brother?"

Jordie's question was left unanswered by him shoving Kaz back below the surface. Kaz tried to take a breath before going under. It only invited more water into his lungs. He was tugged back up again.

"You thought pain was your weakness? You thought you could fix everything broken inside you? You thought vengeance was the answer and still you drown."

Jordie shoved Kaz beneath the surface again, only to pull him back up.

The words became mixed. Kaz couldn't keep the sentences straight. Drowning, vengeance, broken, pain. All of it repeated over and over as his lungs filled with water.

He was ready to give up. To allow himself to drown.

Then, he was dragged out of the water again.

This time, Kaz wasn't met with his brother's face.

He was met with (Y/n)'s.

Not just that, but also warmth. A warmth unlike any Kaz may ever be allowed to know. As if sunlight had been injected into his veins in the hopes of protecting him from the freezing water that had once engulfed him. It moved through his blood slowly, crawling from his toes up his legs along his arms and finally settling in his chest. Armor worn beneath the skin, stronger than that which he already possessed.

(Y/n) grinned at the sight of him. Their hand cupped the side of his face.

He didn't jerk away. He didn't feel the all-too-familiar panic rise in his chest. He didn't feel anything other than their hand. For the first time, he didn't feel too broken for them to look at him with so much... love.

He was never one to concede to the saints' control over the world, but he was ready to get on his knees and beg to never lose that feeling.

The saints didn't give him the chance.

(Y/n) and the comforting warmth were gone far faster than they arrived.

Something was standing behind them. His eyes didn't focus for a moment, but when they did, he was convinced that his blood ran colder than the water he was in. Behind them was the Darkling, staring down at Kaz as if telling him to make sure that he was watching.

Kaz tried to speak. Yell at (Y/n) to turn around. He couldn't. He couldn't force the words out. He couldn't save them.

The Darkling grabbed (Y/n) by the throat, dragging them away from him. They were slammed on the ground, the air effectively knocked out of them.

The last thing that Kaz saw as he sank back into the water was (Y/n) going to defend themself, but the Darkling moving first.

If the water hadn't swallowed him, Kaz would have seen (Y/n)'s death and been able to do nothing about it.

The darkness clouded his vision soon after he sank.

Kaz wanted to yell. Beg. Those words that had been clinging to his tongue since they last saw each other were fighting their way out. No, come back! Please! Come back to me!

He wanted to reach out. For the first time, he truly wanted to reach out and hold onto something.

When the darkness started to fade, Kaz felt a hand touching his face again, but the warmth was gone.

He blinked slowly, allowing the real world to come back into focus.

Inej was kneeling next to him, holding the side of his face with one hand while clasping the other over his mouth.

Once Kaz realized what was happening, he jumped, trying to push the hands off of his skin. He heard Inej's quick apology as he did so.

He stood up, grabbing his cane as he did so.

He ignored the attempt at conversation about their hallucinations. He could see (Y/n)'s face burned to the inside of his eyelids. The shock and pain and... he shook his head. He didn't have time to be consumed by his fear. There was still a job to get done.

"What's the plan," Tolya asked.

Kaz turned away from the wall that he had been staring at. "You said that there was another heartbeat in the house."

"South-east corner. Heartbeat's weak."

"I suspect she built all of this to protect that heart. Along with a different way in to get to it."

They all laid back down in the antechamber. They played dead as long as they could, as long as they needed to.

Ohval walked in slowly, scanning her eyes along the collection of bodies now littered along her floor.

Except for Inej, who dropped down from the rafters behind her. She didn't have much time to move before Ohval kicked her hard enough to send her flying backward out the door that she had walked in.

The rest of the Crows scrambled from the floor as best they could, making it outside to aid Inej in whatever way they could. Except for Kaz, who moved in the opposite direction.

As the fight raged on outside, he found his way carefully to the south-east corner.

He paused in the doorway. He was met with the face of an old man. A man that was clearly nearing the end of his life, sitting in a wheelchair.

Kaz saw the art scattered along the walls. Priceless artifacts. That was enough for one answer to be provided.

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to put together the connection between the man and Ohval.

"Who are you," the man asked Kaz.

"A visitor," Kaz replied. "I'm an art collector from Kerch. I left some friends outside. I was going to track someone down. I think I got lost in the halls."

"Well, you should look for my wife," the man said.

Oh. It clicked in Kaz's head. Every conclusion he needed for the time being.

"I can help you find her."

"Thank you."

Kaz made his way behind the chair, pushing the man back through the halls he had come through. They made it back to the courtyard, where the fight was nearly coming to a close.

"Sweetheart!" the man called. "We have visitors! Art collectors from Kerch!"

"I know, dear," Ohval replied. "I was about to offer them tea."

The others were just pushing themselves off the ground, barely recovering from her attack.

"These are the friends that I told you about," Kaz explained to the man. "They're collectors like me. They'll be pleasantly surprised to meet you... the great thief of the art world. The Disciple."

"That's the Disciple," Jesper asked.

"Have we met before?" the Disciple replied.

"Yes," Kaz nodded. "In your room, just now. And I've met your wife. In Bhez Ju. We had tea there."

"Bhez Ju Museum," the Disciple said. "The support beams are under every second section of the floor. The others creak. Important to know the secrets of a place."

"Truly."

Tolya and Ohval shared a few sentences in Shu before her husband spoke up again, "The Neshyenyer. I stole it for her."

"Please, dear," Ohval tried to stop him.

"It was the last piece I stole before we decided that I should retire. Anyway, you couldn't really call it stealing. It was hers to begin with. She made it."

"I'm sorry," Jesper said. "She made it?"

The Disciple pushed himself from his chair, taking short, staggering steps to get to his wife. "Hours of work. Prayers. And tears. To fight the unkillable army created by the clock worker Kho."

Tolya left out a breathless chuckle at the story that he knew all too well. "Three days and nights she fought the unstoppable soldiers. And when the last soldier fell, she laid down the weapon. And it was named Neshyenyer. 'Relentless'."

Tolya took a knee, bowing his head.

"We are honored to be in your presence, Sankta Neyar."

Kaz took a deep breath as a sudden and strange familiarity crept into his chest. He couldn't place it for a moment, but it soon became clear.

The saint saving the world and the thief that loved them without the status.

It was a mirror.

It was like seeing into a possible future. A future where he and (Y/n) survived the fight against the Darkling and tore down the Fold and saved Ravka. Not only that but managed to find some peace together. In love... accepting... both of them healing from whatever ghosts followed them.

If only time weren't as cruel as it was.

Even if they did both survive the final fight, Kaz would always age faster than (Y/n). (Y/n) could live lifetimes beyond him. Could fall in love with people after him, could find a meaning past him... could leave him behind for someone who could live on their timeline and not his.

A cruel possibility to be confronted with.

He found the rest of the crew kneeling, paying their respects. He bowed his head too.

"Come on, my love," Ohval muttered to her husband. "Let's get you to bed."

Kaz looked at Ohval after her husband had been placed back in his chair.

"This is our sanctuary. Where we can sleep peacefully. Not have to worry about thieves and bandits like you."

"We're not bandits," Kaz replied.

"No one gets past the poison. You're just a child, really."

"A child who understood your weakness."

"Weakness," she scoffed. "Four hundred years I've been alive. I've seen my family, my loved ones die. I spent hundreds of years with my heart closed as if that was the solution to ending all pain. What a safe way to live... what a small way, as well."

She looked back at Kaz. He wondered how much of his thoughts were clear to her, even with his attempts to hide them so deep within himself. Her face showed that she had caught something in his eyes that he didn't mean to show.

"You guard against pain, you guard against joy. But when you allow yourself to be blindsided by love... two worlds make a universe. He's not my weakness. He's my universe. And I will see him through his days. Sharing every moment until he is part of the night sky."

There was a spike in Kaz's heart rate. Nina heard it. As if she had been tuned into its change. It was nearly the exact same spike as when someone would speak (Y/n)'s name. She hid a small grin. What was the thought that crossed the man's mind?

Kaz knew that answer. It would continue to blare in his mind for ages. Would (Y/n) choose him over a life alone, yet safe? And better yet, would he allow (Y/n) to choose him if he could already predict the pain that he would bring them in the end?

"What do I care about the blade?" Ohval continued. "What do you care about the blade?"

"The Darkling has created an unkillable army made of shadow. Your sword is the only one sharp enough to cut them down."

"That sounds like Ravka's problem."

"You think he would be stopped by a line on a map?"

"I think I can still kill you where you stand before you can blink."

"Sankta Neyar," Tolya stood. "I have met the Sun Summoner who will take leadership in Ravka if the Darkling is gone. I can promise that they are benevolent. They want to finally bring peace... end the suffering that the Darkling has caused. But that can only be done if you grant us use of the blade."

"Use of it," she asked. "All this just to borrow the blade?"

"All this just to protect your husband in his sleep?"

"And why are you searching for the blade?" she countered, eyes turning to Kaz again. "What is your motivation for all of this?"

It was all the confirmation that Kaz needed to know that she understood him. Understood his thoughts while he watched her and her husband. She wanted to prove a point. They were both fighting for their person. The one thing in this universe that was more important than anyone else. That she and Kaz were one and the same.

"We all fight for what matters most," Kaz said simply.

"And on my life, I will make sure that the blade is returned to its rightful home," Tolya promised. "With you, Sankta Neyar."

"Ohval," she corrected. "The last thing I need are pilgrims crowding my gate."

"Is it time for bed now, darling," her husband asked.

"All of you, out," she instructed the group. "Except for you... the one with the hat. I'll give the blade to you. Alone."

One and the same, yet not similar enough.

Kaz walked out reluctantly, leaving Jesper alone to wait for the blade.

It was sunrise when Jesper came out again. He gave the blade to Inej. She was better to handle the blade than him.

They all walked off together, taking the time to have their own conversations. Wylan with Jesper, Nina with Zoya and Tolya, Inej with Kaz.

Kaz and Inej passed Wylan and Jesper, who seemed to finally be working out whatever had happened during the trip.

"Everyone's lost their minds," Kaz muttered.

"We all did in there," Inej replied.

Kaz paused for a moment. "Maybe I did see something, through the haze of the poison."

"The one that you're fighting for?" Inej tilted her head a bit. She knew that he wouldn't admit it. He couldn't admit his feelings for (Y/n) to himself, let alone her. His silence was all that she needed to be certain of that much.

"What did you see," Kaz asked.

Inej grinned to herself. She considered telling him. But her mind was riddled with him reminding her how foolish hope was. How her vision of her family would do nothing but spark another lecture of sorts.

"Couldn't make out a clear image," she said simply. The image she saw was only for her to know. "More important things to worry about now, aren't there?"

The group continued their walk to the Hummingbird.

This was merely the first part of their job. The second part was going to be far worse. They were all aware of that. But at the end of the day, their fear didn't matter.

This was one of the occasions when the greater good triumphed over any fear or hesitation.

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jahayla-parker · 1 year

Text

King Of My Heart : Nikolai Lantsov x Reader Series

Part 1

For warnings, descriptions, and previous parts, see series masterlist here.

Nikolai hated y/n for as long as he could remember. His family and y/n’s family had spent nearly every summer together since he was a small child. It made summers the most despicable time of year for him. Her family was tolerable; just your standard royal family. But, y/n? Nikolai couldn’t stand her presence.

Y/n couldn’t stand Nikolai. She knew the feeling was mutual between them, but it didn’t make things less tense between the two. In fact, their obvious mutual hatred towards each other only made her more frustrated that Nikolai’s family proposed a marriage arrangement between the two. Y/n thought Nikolai’s hatred towards her would’ve been strong enough to cause him to act against such a suggestion. Unfortunately for her, Nikolai did no such thing.

Even though y/n heard him approaching, she refused to make eye contact with Nikolai, her betrothed. She ignored him as he neared her side while she stared out at the palace gardens.

“We’re supposed to uphold a façade, you know,” Nikolai scolded, leaning on the balcony railing.

Y/n pursed her lips as she shook her head. She could feel Nikolai’s eyes on her, but she still refused to look at him. “You really hate me enough to force me to marry you?” Y/n asked him, eyes focusing on the stars above the shadowed gardens.

Nikolai rolled his eyes. He huffed loudly, still watching y/n closely. “You really think I want this?” Nikolai asked rhetorically. “Summers were torturous as it was, I don’t need all year… for the rest of my life”.

Y/n shifted her jaw, briefly looking at Nikolai from the corner of her eye. “Yet, here we are,” she sighed loudly. Y/n steepled her hands on the railing, refocusing on the dark sky.

“Why are you so mad about this?” Nikolai questioned. He watched the brief confusion on y/n’s face shift into anger.

Y/n turned to Nikolai. Her eyes shot daggers at him. “You don’t get it do you?!” She hissed. Y/n looked towards the patio doors to ensure no one was around. “I have no choice in this. I knew I’d likely never be able to marry for love,” she admitted with a sigh. “But, I didn’t expect to be married off to …”.

“To?” Nikolai asked with a loud breath.

“To someone like you,” y/n answered breathily. “To someone I cannot stand to be around. To someone who hates me just as much as I hate them,” she explained.

Nikolai hummed loudly. “Why do you hate me so much?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same,” y/n retorted with a knowing glance.

The newly betrothed couple fell into an uncomfortable silence. The only sounds were the faint musical tones seeping through the closed patio glass and gold paneled doors.

When y/n shook her head, still not looking his way, Nikolai smirked. “Silver lining is you’re marrying a fairly handsome prince, you could do much worse,” he bragged smugly.

Y/n nearly snorted. She quickly covered her mouth to silence the sound. “The only silver lining I see is that life is short,” y/n remarked.

Nikolai taped y/n’s head jokingly. “Yeah, so are you,” he snickered. Nikolai groaned when y/n rolled her eyes in response. “Keep rolling your eyes at me, maybe you'll find a brain back there.”

Y/n laughed humorously. “At least I’d have something to find,” she muttered.

Nikolai watched y/n’s face as she tried to focus back on the gardens, clearly trying to distract herself. He sighed and whispered, “be honest with me”.

Y/n huffed, glancing back over at Nikolai. “But why? Why would I do that?" She asked sharply.

Nikolai smirked at her. “Because we have to spend the rest of our lives together,” he reminded her.

“Don’t remind me.” Y/n groaned. She prepared herself for whatever Nikolai’s next attack would be. After waiting a few silent moments, she sighed. “What?” Y/n asked, indirectly agreeing to be honest as he had requested.

Nikolai turned completely towards y/n. “Why are you going through with this if you hate me so much?”

Y/n sighed loudly. She slowly moved her gaze from the gardens over to Nikolai. Once she was facing him, she took a deep breath. “Because I love my country, and this,” y/n said, pointing to herself and then at Nikolai. “Evidently, is what it needs,” she explained. After all, that was truly the only reason she hadn’t run away by now.

Nikolai nodded silently. He wordlessly gazed out at the gardens.

“You?” Y/n questioned, understanding that distant gaze.

Nikolai turned back to y/n. “What?”. When she simply raised an eyebrow at him, he smirked. “Oh, you just couldn’t get me off your mind?” He winked.

Y/n scoffed loudly. “Why are you going though with this if you hate me so much?” she asked, echoing Nikolai’s question to her.

“Mmm,” Nikolai hummed. “Are you quoting me?” His smirk grew.

Y/n rolled her eyes at Nikolai. She silently turned to leave. Her ballgown’s skirt floating across the concrete balcony during her turn.

Nikolai reached out and grabbed y/n’s wrist. He quickly let go when she turned to glare at him. “For Ravka,” he answered.

Y/n nodded in understanding. She forced a small smile. “At least we have one thing in common,” y/n agreed. “Other than our hatred,” she added on her way back to the welcoming party.

Zoya smirked as Y/n approached her. She’d known the Princess for quite some time. They often spent time together during the summers after Zoya moved into the Little Palace. She hugged y/n in greeting, not having been able to see her upon her initial arrival today. “I should have David whip me up some earplugs”.

“What?” Y/n asked. She was confused as to what Zoya was trying to joke about. Y/n knew Zoya long enough to know she was making a joke. But y/n couldn’t tell what it was.

Zoya smirked and nodded her head towards Nikolai. He was standing across the hall from them, Zoya having watched him saunter in not long after y/n. Zoya then turned and nodded at y/n, finalizing her joke.

Y/n rewarded Zoya with an exasperated and offended look. “Excuse me?!” She tried to keep her voice down as to not draw the attention of the other guests, but it only added more tension to her tone. She knew of the Prince’s rumored less-than-pure activities, but couldn’t believe Zoya would think y/n would participate; betrothed or not.

Zoya nearly choked on her drink as she began laughing. “Not what I meant,” she smirked, raising a taunting eyebrow. “I was referring to the slamming doors that always happen when you two are forced to spend time together,” Zoya explained with a laugh.

Nina walked over to join her friends. She wrapped her arm lovingly around Y/n’s shoulder. “But! Why did your heart go up when you thought she was talking about you and Nikolai having-“ the heartrender asked.

“Enough Nina!” Y/n smacked Nina’s arm, making the girls laugh. “Because I was appalled is why,” she defended. “By the way, hello to you too,” y/n laughed, trying to change the topic off of her hatred of Nikolai.

“Mhm, if you say so,” Nina whispered. She smirked with Zoya as they shared a wordless knowing look.

“Saints, I already have to spend time with Nikolai even though I hate him,” y/n said exasperatedly. “Don’t go and make me hate you both too.”

Just as Zoya’s smirk widened while she opened her mouth to release some snarky comment, Genya waltzed over to their group. She smiled widely at y/n and shook her head softly. “Still so beautiful y/n/n,” Genya cooed as she cupped y/n’s face.

Y/n bit her bottom lip. But, she quickly stopped, letting the slightly inflamed lip pop back into place as Genya’s gaze scolded her for the action. “Thank you Genya,” y/n said with a grin.

“Of course Miss Y/L/N,” Genya teased lightly. She always used ‘Miss’ or ‘Princess’ whenever joking around with y/n. “Or, should I say Mrs. Lants-“ Genya began.

“No, you should not,” y/n advised. She shook her head firmly, glaring around at her taunting friends. Couldn’t they see the situation she was being forced into here?

“True,” Genya sighed. “Perhaps it’s a bit too soon, hmm,” she agreed. “I should’ve said soon-to-be Mrs.-“.

Y/n rolled her eyes. She held up a hand to stop Genya’s tease and silence her other friends’ giggling. “Can we talk about something else?” Y/n pleaded with a groan.

“Are you kidding?” Nina huffed. “We have a royal wedding to plan,” she giggled, smirking.

“You have to work on hiding your disgust,” Zoya commented when y/n groaned over Nina’s comment.

“No promises,” y/n mumbled. She glanced sharply over at Nikolai for a brief moment before back to her group.

Zoya sighed sympathetically. “It’s for the country,” she reminded y/n more warmly than normal. When y/n nodded and relaxed some, Zoya decided to indulge herself a bit. “Besides, he’s not bad on the eyes.” She winked.

“Oh my Saints!” Y/n gushed. She shook her head adamantly. “You need to stop,” y/n pleaded, trying to resist the urge to smack her own face with her palm.

“What’re we talking about?” Nikolai asked. He’d made his way over once he caught y/n glancing at him. It had been from the corner of his eye, but he saw it. And Nikolai could tell they were gossiping about him. While he didn’t care to come over, he’d heard whispers from some guests doubting the strength of their courtship.

Therefore, Nikolai pasted on a polite smile and placed his hand on y/n’s waist. When he saw her eyes snap to him with fury, Nikolai just nodded subtly in the direction of the spectating guests.

Y/n sighed quietly and forced a smile. She silently pleaded with her friends for help with the situation. There wasn’t much they could do, but y/n was hoping for at least a distraction to get her mind off the fact she could feel the warmth of Nikolai’s hand on her waist through the material of her dress.

Genya hummed. “I was just saying, Y/n is going to make my job so easy,” she said, answering Nikolai’s question. “Don’t you think she’ll be such a beautiful bride, moi tsarevich?” Genya questioned smugly.

Y/n shook her head at her friend. “I don’t know which I want to do more, thank you or slap you, Genya,” she hissed.

Genya laughed and raised her eyebrows at Nikolai.

Nikolai paused and pretended to ponder the notion, taking y/n’s appearance in. “Perhaps the tailors won’t have to work overtime to make the wedding look half decent,” he conceded.

“Geee, thanks,” y/n sassed. She rolled her eyes, making the girls laugh.

Nina gasped. “Wait!”. “That reminds me, let me see your hand,” Nina gushed, grabbing y/n’s hand.

Nikolai knew everyone’s eyes were cast down to y/n’s hand, not just his. Yet, as his eyes landed on the Lantsov emerald ring on her hand, he felt short of breath. Nikolai swallowed thickly as he caught himself thinking that it almost seemed like it belonged there; to her, to y/n. But, he mentally shouted at himself to stop that delirious thought. After all, it was surely only Nikolai’s sense of duty to his country that had him thinking that. He hated y/n. Even if she was what was needed to help Ravka.

“Are you unpacked?” Nina asked y/n, pulling Nikolai from his distracting thoughts.

Before Y/n could answer, Zoya answered for her. She answered matter of factly, “of course, the staff should’ve un-“.

“Not quite”. Y/n cut Zoya off in order to accurately answer Nina’s question.

Nikolai turned to y/n. He raised his eyebrow and formed a smug grin. “Too enthralled by the elaborate decorations my parents thought were necessary?” Nikolai teased, sarcastically waving at said decorations.

Y/n stared at Nikolai and rolled her eyes. Her eyes softened as she turned back to the rest of the group. “I prefer not to have others handling my things,” y/n admitted.

“What are you hiding? Sneaking in a personal tailor?” Nikolai asked. His implied insult was clear and had the others staring at y/n expectantly.

“Awe,” y/n cooed. Her tone dripped sarcasm as she continued her taunt. “You think I’m so pretty I must have snuck a tailor?” Y/n smirked through her grin. When Nikolai faltered, her smirk grew. Returning to the actual question at hand, she shrugged. “Just a sword and an escape bag,” y/n teased, eyeing Nikolai. “For when this becomes as disastrous as it already seems it’ll be,” she explained.

It took Nikolai a moment to recover from her earlier comment. But he shook his head and pulled himself together enough to issue a comeback. “Ahh, running away from one’s duties?” Nikolai huffed. “Admirable,” Nikolai scoffed.

Y/n laughed humorlessly. “Really?!” She choked. Y/n shook her head as she rolled her eyes at Nikolai. “That’s rich,” Y/n chided, copying his loud scoff.

Nikolai merely squinted in response.

“Sturmhond,” y/n mumbled, making Nikolai falter. As his eyes widened dramatically, she smirked. “Close your mouth, moi tsarevich,” y/n mocked, “or you’ll catch flies”. In response to Nikolai’s scarlet cheeks, she decided to continue her remarks. “And, duty or not, I don’t kiss men with bugs in their teeth,” y/n smirked.

Nikolai’s cheeks flushed darker as he found himself at a loss for words. He watched silently as y/n sauntered away for the night. When Nikolai turned back to their group, the others girls were smirking at him. “What?”

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moonlightgrisha · 1 year

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Backstory 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 - Next

A letter came.

The tsaritsa, how thoughtful of her, had written to her distant cousin, your mother. But it wasn't about her.

She was inviting you at the Grand Palace to be her welcomed guest.

You didn't even think she knew you existed. You looked at your mother.

"Don't be naive. She wants to marry you off to some lord", she said.

You were a young woman now and your cousins had already gotten married. Everyone had expected you to do the same.

Still, it was clear to you that you could never live the life of your cousins. They weren't you. They had nothing to hide - at least, nothing like that. You could never share your secret, nor keep it from a husband, and so you had refused any proposal that came by - which weren't many, for the record, as you were known to have a temper.

"That's what distant relatives are for", your mother concluded. "Establish allegiance. And now it's your turn".

It wasn't an invitation. It was an order, and there was nothing to be done about it, but obey.

"If you step off the tracks, they will know", she kept telling you in the days before the journey, while you were packing. "Do as you are told. Stay indoors. And stay away from all Grisha, at all cost".

You wouldn't follow that last advice.

That's it. I don't even know what I'm doing. I haven't written a fan fiction in ten years. English is not even my first language. I came back here on tumblr because I need a little break from reality and just like that I found out there's not much left on tumblr nowadays. It doesn't matter. This is just for fun and if somebody is reading, well, I'm so happy I can share my fantasy with you. But that's it. Just having fun, and I hope you will be having fun with me.

PS I hated S&B season 2. Bad writing is bad writing.

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naushtheaspiringauthor · 2 months

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~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- cremation but nothing too descriptive (im not sure if that counts as trigger)

A/N- This isn't the end of the fic I promise there's still more...so much more. Anyways let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @evelyndane @marauders-wife @el-de-phi

Ch-64 ~The change had come for her~

“I’m sorry, What?” Anaya spoke, utterly bewildered. She was entirely sure that she’d heard the statement wrong.

“You will lead Ravka’s council” She repeated with certainty.

Anaya’s eyes widened.

The girl has clearly gone berserk.

“You have the capabilities of being one” She further amended. “You have skills, experience and just the right amount of confidence”

“That, I do” Anaya pursed her lips.

“And didn’t you live in Ketterdam for several years?” Alina asked

“I did, yeah” Anaya nodded

“Also you have degrees in what, business and finance ?” She furrowed her brows, unable to remember the exact details.

“Business, finance and political science,” Anaya corrected, pointing a finger.

“You don’t need to doubt yourself, Anaya” Alina reassured her. “The country needs you to get back on its feet”.

“I’m not entirely sure that those people would be willing to follow me” Anaya pursed her lips.

“Then you make them follow you” Alina put a hand on her shoulder. “You prove it to them”.

Anaya looked down at her feet.

Is that what she truly wanted? She believed some part of her really did.

She had wanted to help people, so that they didn’t end up being used, manipulated and tossed away.

She wanted to help people so they could live a life where they wouldn’t go to bed at night, fully aware that they might not wake up the next morning.

She wished for Ravka to be a better place, a place suitable for everyone. Not just the rich, the powerful, the soldiers.

She wished for Ravka to be a home.

And she knew she would do all in her power to make that true.

“Alright” she sighed. “I’ll do it”

Alina smiled.

“Ravka shall prepare itself for an extremely charming and talented Councillor” Anaya gave her a smug grin

Alina grinned brightly, “I’m afraid they might swoon at your feet”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did,” Anaya shrugged.

Alina smiled and then wrapped her arms around Anaya. “Thank you, for being by my side when I least expected it,” she said.

Anaya stilled for a moment then wrapped her arms around the girl. “Of course”.

“Take care of yourself” Alina smiled, blinking away her tears

“You too” Anaya smiled, surprised by the strange prickle in her own eyes.

……………………………………………......................

Into the sands of the Unsea, the pyre was a massive mound of birches and white limbs. Atop it lay Ruby, who had been tailored to be the Sun Summoner, a soldier who’d fought by Anaya’s side.

It was astonishing just how much she looked like Alina.

Beside her, lay the Darkling, with his hair neatly combed back, dressed in his black kefta with his hands folded on his chest.

The sun had almost set and dusk was falling, yet the crowd was massive and hadn’t deteriorated in the slightest. Some complained that the Darkling did not deserve to share a pyre with a saint but this was the way it was to be.

They needed to see the end of it.

From beside Nikolai Lantsov and the Apparat who’d just been pardoned, Anaya Nasrazeen stepped front.

The question had come up when they'd been discussing the details of the ceremony.

Nikolai and Genya were propped up near the fire. Zoya was sitting near the table, brandy in hand. David had been scribbling in his notebook.

"Someone needs to do it," Zoya said, taking a sip from her class. "The people need to know the future of Ravka, that we'll be the ones to lift it back on its feet".

"I don't think I can do it" Nikolai's voice rose. He sighed.

Genya shook her head as well.

"I can't either," said Zoya, her voice trembling.

"I can do it" Anaya's voice rose, reverberating in the silence.

Their gazes shifted to her sitting at the far end of the table.

"What?" She raised her shoulders.

"Anaya, you-" Nikolai began. "You don't have to feel pressured to do this".

But Anaya only remained composed, "It's fine".

She got up from her seat and walked towards the door. "If I need them to follow me" she looked back at him. "I'll need them to know who I am".

“People of Ravka!” Anaya bellowed, her voice booming through the crowd, making them all go silent.

“In front of us lies the very man, who once gave us hope” she glanced at the Darkling. “Hope to make our nation a better place.”

She stepped forward.

“However, he was the very man to be consumed by greed and power. He took something from each and every one of us”

“And here lies an innocent girl” she said, glancing at the Sun Summoner. “A girl who was more than the world had presumed her to be. The girl who became our savior, the harbinger of peace, a Saint, when she could’ve chosen not to.” Her voice passed through the massive crowd, reverberating through the dead sands. “She owed the world nothing, yet she gave it her most valuable possession, her life.”

Several chants of “Sankta Alina” went up from the crowd.

“Let us not allow her hard work, her sacrifice be in vain!” Anaya roared. “Today marks the end of a dark age of Ravka, one we’d all been living in."

"And it is the beginning of a new era, a free Ravka, a Ravka gleaming with the flame of hope, a Ravka that is ours” she stood with her back straight, her chin up.

There was a shift in her demeanor, a new flame burning in her eyes. As if this was the part for her to play all along.

“Let us not forget” Anaya’s voice was jagged, borne of her struggles, her experiences. “the sacrifice of all those who have laid down their lives for our nation”

Harshaw, Marie, Fedyor, Rabeah, the list stretched on.

“I, Anaya Nasrazeen, pledge to devote my life to make Ravka a better nation, along with each and every one of you” she took a step forward.

“Let us all work in harmony, to bring about change, for the better, To not let their sacrifices be in vain” She raised her arm, her fist clenched.

“For Ravka!” her voice boomed through the crowd, like the beating of a drum, a grand symphony

“For Ravka!” The crowd bellowed in unison.

She turned back and gave a single nod to the Apparat.

He raised his hands.

The Inferni struck their flints. Flame leapt in bright arcs and spread onto the branches.

The fire grew, flames shimmering, the shaking leaves of a great golden tree.

The moans and weeping of the crowd grew louder.

Sankta, they cried.

Sankta Alina.

Anaya glanced at the burning pyre, the Darkling’s body with an unprecedented relief.

The man who had given her everything.

Her lips formed a small frown.

The very man who had taken it all.

She looked at the crowd. Amidst the crowd, she could make out a woman in her purple kefta. Her dark locks falling on her bronze skin.

Beside her, a man in his blue, red embroidered kefta. An unfamiliar gleam in his moonlit skin.

They were gazing at her, smiling.

They were proud.

They were at peace, at last.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x oc

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