#the darkling x female oc

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Three: Dogma Uncovered

The Darkling's Secret Weapon

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

General Kirigan x Samantha Vercozki

Summary: After her first night with her new husband, Samantha’s eager to explore Little Palace and get to know the layout, its staff, and most of all, who she's married.

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Tradition, Anxiety, Bullying, Degradation, Classism, Racism(?), Mentions of Murder, Religion

A/N: Truthfully, I haven't read the books, and while I've done some research, I just hope that someone likes the take I have on this world and its characters, and I'm glad to be able to get these scenarios out of my mind.

The next morning she'd awoken much later than usual. Muffled voices filter through the walls, making it hard to discern the conversation. Golden sunlight streams through the parted curtains and window adorning the right side of their room. It's not too surprising, the General's lack of presence. A yawn escapes the Princess' lips as she stretches, a slight soreness held between her legs. No doubt it's from last night. Tossing the covers from her body, she makes her way to the lavatory, ready to start her day. Already, there's so much to do.

"Hmm, no morgengave," she concludes. With General Kirigan gone, she felt more comfortable taking in their room, making space for herself as she dressed and braided her hair. Once realization struck that braids are usually kept for unmarried women, Samantha let it fall. Brush in hand, she recombs through her long locks, hazel eyes taking in all the possessions around her. There are many books, a fair amount of stationery, pens, and paper strewn about his quarters. A man with the knowledge of a scholar, she's sure. To think that the esteemed General had boasted his Fjerdan skills after the wedding, only to forgo one of the most sacred traditions.

No morgengave. While taking in all his personal possessions, she'd yet to encounter anything akin to what'd look like a morgengave. A present; it's given to the newly-bed wife as a token of the loss of her innocence. Most often it's jewelry, sometimes symbolic if the man is sentimental. There were low expectations going into this arrangement. However, the lack of this common tradition only worsens the worries she holds for their marriage. In an attempt to think positively, she convinces herself it has to be due to the fact that General Kirigan had business to attend to and has yet to see her in person. Therefore, he's not yet had a chance to gift her this present.

Prepared for the day, Samantha decides that since it's nearing lunch, she'll head down to the kitchen. On her way, she passes few Grisha, all of which give her odious looks. It's hard to ignore, but she knows that being Fjerdan in Ravka, let alone their capital: Os Alta, will cause uneasiness at first. Following the smell of cooking meat, something similar to steke, she finds herself in a hall of bustling servants. She sends a kind and hopeful smile here and there as she makes her way down the hall. It's only when someone speaks up right outside the door she's seen multiple people come in and out of that she stops.

"Are you lost, my Lady?" The unexpected title elicits an excited thumping of her heart. She hadn't realized she'd gained a title through marriage, though she supposes 'lady' is another term for the women in the palace. While she's still technically a Princess in her realm, here, she's traded it for 'Lady' it would seem.

"I'm trying to find the kitchen," she responds hopefully.

"This is it. Is something wrong? Did you want to order something?" The servant looks surprised. Surely she knows she can task anyone with delivering a lunch order. No one ever comes down here. "If there was a problem with the food, we will find the culprit straight away," he assures her.

As the foodstaff seemingly starts to grow anxious, Samantha shakes her head. "Nothing's wrong. I was just wondering if it'd be possible to do something. I have a plan." A smile displays itself across her lips as she brings the staff in closer to reveal her idea.

Without much deliberation over logistics, the staff agrees. Enacting her plan, it doesn't take long for her to get the lunch she'd requested and head back up toward their quarters. With instruction, she knows the adjoining room to their quarters is the General's War Room.

A quick three knocks to the closed mahogany door, she turns the handle.

"What is it?" The annoyed voice of General Kirigan sounds through the door.

Making sure to be careful while pushing the door open wide, Samantha manages to fit the dining cart through the doorway. All eyes in the room turn to land on her, and with only a quick glance she knows there are three pairs. Parking the cart beside a cabinet, she smoothes down her pastel green dress before lifting her gaze to meet theirs.

“Hello,” Sam greets, sending a smile and wave toward the pair of Corporalki stood before her. “I don’t believe we really got to meet last night." She takes a step toward them, “I’m Samantha, though you can call me Sam, Sammy… whatever you prefer, really. Most people in the Ice Court would just call me by my title: ‘Princess.’” With a hopeful smile and outstretched hand, she’s met with hesitancy at first, before the closer of the two reciprocates.

“I’m Feydor,” he greets, “it’s a pleasure to meet you again-” pressuring eyes cause him to conform to the information she’d just given, “-Sam.” 

"We don't have time for an intrusion, we're doing business. Now, if you'd kindly leave us," The General announces with a dismissive wave of his jewel-littered hand.

"Surely you do, I didn't bring you lunch all the way from the basement to be dismissed like some common servant. Besides, if there's anything too classified for even me to know, then I suppose it'd only be treasonous," Samantha jokes, a pleasant smile on her lips as she attempts to placate the General.

Unbeknownst to the Princess, the unspoken Corporalki sends a look toward the General. With a clearing of his throat, he speaks up.

"Ivan, My Lady," he introduces himself with a slight bow of his torso and head. "Forgive me if this is too forward or blunt, but you've only just entered the kingdom and become the General's Wife as of yesternight."

"Therefore I must be some sort of plant or spy, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike whilst I gather information?"

"Never mind the fact that you are both Fjerdan and Otkazat'sya," Ivan adds on as if these details add up to paint some sort of awful portrait of the Princess.

A derisive sound leaves her lips with a huff of annoyance. "If you truly believe that then you are all either truly dull, or closed-minded." With hasty hands, she grabs handfuls of her skirts before heading toward the door.

"Wait," the General's command brings a halt to her step. While she doesn't turn, it's obvious she's listening. "Take the cart with you," He commands with a bored sigh. Leaning against the table behind him, he eyes her with annoyance, masking the little intrigue he holds after witnessing the fire that seems to live beneath the confines or her otherwise colorful and chaste appearance.

"No." Arms crossed beneath her breasts, she turns on her heels to meet their inquiring eyes. She's changed her mind, unwilling to give up just like that. Insults and assumptions she knows to expect, and while they're never fun to deal with, she must fight them. "I wanted to properly introduce myself to your men," she speaks with more heed this time. "While I now know Feydor, I can't say the same for this... gentleman." The word has a slight venomous tone to it, yet she still remains upbeat and docile in demeanor. Ready to be pleased and entertained.

"Ivan," the other Corporalki succeeds, another slight bow following, "pleasure to make your acquaintance."

“Can I ask you… is it true?" With a cocked brow and a curious glint in her hazel eyes, Sam looks between the Corporalki with fascination. Puzzled looks instantly appear on their faces before she expands. "You can really stop a man’s heart from more than a dozen paces away- just like that?” With a wave of her hand, she appears flippant.

“Yes,” Ivan answers immediately, no falter in his expression.

“Really?” She stares in awe and wonder. Suddenly realizing what she’d said, she quickly raises her hands in submission, a chuckle following. “I don’t need a demonstration! I’m just curious. My brothers would come back from their adventures with so many stories and feats, but I’ve always wanted to know for myself.”

“You’ve never met a Grisha before?” Feydor asks in bewilderment and wonder.

“Well,” Samantha ducks her head for a moment before raising it in the General’s direction, eyes settled on him as she offers a playful smile. “I can’t say that’s entirely true since I’ve only just met your General, I’m afraid. He would be the first Grisha I’ve truly met, yes.” The astonishment on the Corporalki’s faces leave her more than embarrassed, though the fact that they’ve had very different lives is something she’s sure she can attribute to such reactions. “I mean, I’ve seen them from afar plenty of times on the battlefield… but that would be the sum total of it."

“I suppose living in Little Palace will correct that in short order,” Ivan comments snidely. The fiery remark boiling in his chest as she'd spoken now bubbling forth. “So you’ve seen it then. The way your people slaughter us with no mercy…? And yet you’re here.”

The playful smile on her lips quickly falters into a look of chagrin. “Unlike most of Fjerda, you’d be surprised to know that I don’t follow their beliefs. They’d like you to think we’re all monsters of humans who despise Grisha and want you all dead, yet there are many of us in the outer regions who think otherwise.” A threatening stare sent his way, she stands her ground. “I want the same things as you do. I’m here to ensure that there is a hope for our countries. There’s a solution to our problems that does not involve war and can bring us to a state of peace.”

“And what is it you believe, exactly?” The General’s icy tone slices through the tension between the two as he stares on in skepticism. “If you don’t believe your precious Djel would delight in the extinction of all Grisha?”

“Djel would never wish that, and the people who think so are too foolish for their own good.”

“So all the drüskelle,” Feydor remarks under his breath.

“I believe that we’re all the same; you and me.” She gestures between herself and the Corporalkis before turning her gaze to the Darkling himself. “Though you have different abilities from me, so I have different abilities from you—so does everyone else—you cannot do what I can and vice versa. Of course, with what I’m told most Grisha believe, you’d no sooner admit that than banish the Unsea. But mortal or not, we all have our specialities and that’s what makes us the same.”

The room sits in silence for a moment as they take in her words. While perhaps part of what she said is true, she’s right, they’d no sooner admit that than run face-first towards the Fold alone. “And what is it you can do that’s so… special?” 

Meeting Ivan’s eyes again, Samantha smiles, still hopeful that in her beliefs, one she knows she’s not alone in. With the help and influence of the more powerful people in Ravka… they can change the world. “I always seem to manage one way or another to know what someone’s feeling,” she offers,

“I can tell when someone is lying, I’m told I’m quite a people’s person, a good listener, and–” she trails off, smiling at the fondness of her traits, “-I can always somehow bring plants back from the dead. Make them grow? I’m also very good with animals as well, and lastly… somehow I always manage to make whatever I bake taste good?” She laughs as the memories come flooding back.

“I used to send for whatever copies of recipes my brothers or their soldiers could find on their expeditions. They’d bring back Shu recipes, Ravkan recipes, Old Ravkan recipes… even if I had no idea what I was really doing, somehow it always managed to taste good? I don’t know how I do it, but everyone seems to enjoy it, so I take pride in that one.”

“Shall we test this theory, then? What am I feeling?” Surprisingly it’s Kirigan who speaks up first, no change in his demeanor as he now stands loomed over the war table. Samantha smiles at him for a moment until her expression falls flat with concentration. Though she may have found his gaze to be intimidating so far, she also knows he’s testing her, and she isn’t afraid.

“Look at me,” she asks. As he turns his head slowly, dark eyes shifting to meet hers, he does exactly that. He stares. A breath leaves her lips, the Princess searching his eyes for a moment. It momentarily feels as though all the air has escaped the room, her voice suddenly gone, as no one stands in the room except the two of them. Her expression remains flat until a faint smile makes its way onto her lips once more.

“You’re annoyed. Annoyed that I interrupted your meeting for something unimportant,” she easily states with a wave of her hand. "Frustrated because I’m still here and you’re not getting your work done,” she adds on, yet there’s another emotion hidden in his irises that she knows she needs to pinpoint with the correct verbiage. “And… intrigued? I’d say intrigued since you didn’t know those things about me and you hadn’t anticipated me to guess correctly.” Content with her work, she feels triumphant in knowing she’s correct. He remains quiet, eyes unmoving, and she can’t tell what might be going on inside his mind.

“Ooh, do me next!” Feydor asks excitedly, eyes shifting from his General toward her. Looking into her eyes, he waits expectantly, hands clasped in his lap.

“You’re curious… fascinated, and… I feel that there’s hope within you. It’s not hope in a full sense, but, almost like there was a black sea before, and now there’s a pinprick of light in your world and that hole has opened your mind to the possibility that there might be hope for something, even if you’re not quite sure what yet.”

The guess and reading had come much more quickly this time around, more adept at handling those who tend to either wear their heart on their sleeve or those who tend to keep things buried so deeply that they think no one notices.

“Wow! That’s… entirely true, boys. She’s got a talent, this one,” he compliments. Eyes turning toward Ivan and Kirigan before the look on the latter’s face causes him to purse his lips and bow his head a little.

“Thank you,” Sam responds, still smiling as she takes amusement in the fact that she knows it’s true; she has a gift. Whether or not she’s Grisha, she can do something they cannot, and that fact only solidifies her beliefs.

“Okay, well now I think you’d better try for three out of three,” Ivan pipes up. Though he looks at her dead-on, and the emotions are a little harder to place this time.

“I don’t know you as well, so it’s a little harder to read you… but,” she speaks as she searches his eyes. Body language giving nothing away, he stands like the trained soldier he is. “I’d say that you’re feeling curious as well. Frustrated, and though you hold the same sort of hope I mentioned with Feydor, I’d also dare say there’s a confusion in you about it too. An ambivalence.”

“Get out!” Kirigan shouts. Samantha whips her head around, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in shock as she isn’t sure if he’s talking to her, “The two of you, leave! We’ll reconvene at the end of the night.” With a wave of his hand, the two Corporalki give a slight bow before they turn and leave. “You,” his laser-focused deathly stare shifts over to her. “You interrupt my meeting with my men and then you attempt to get into our heads for the sake of some game?”

“That’s not what I was doing,” she argues.

With a shaky breath, General Kirigan finally releases the edge of the war table and attempts to regain the composure he’s steadily been losing. Standing up straight, he speaks again. “Then what, exactly, are you doing here?” Eyes resettling on her as he ever so slowly starts to round the table closer, he waits for an explanation, an answer. What could possibly be so important that took her this long to get to the point when she’d just been conversing with his soldiers like childish friends in the schoolyard.

“I thought we could have lunch together! I’d asked if you’d taken yours yet and they said you hadn’t, so I figured—”

“Why?”

“Why?” She chuckles, looking at him as if he’s the one who’s out of his mind. “Because I thought it might be nice? That I’d be a good wife?” With a shake of her head, she divulges the true reasoning. “I thought it might be nice to get to know one another! It would certainly make pretending to be intimate with one another in public much less awkward.”

“So you come in here unannounced to converse with my soldiers on time that could be better spent actually getting work done and coming up with a plan as to do what you claim you want and bring peace to this world? Yet you come in here with some ridiculous belief that you, a mortal, think you can come into my home and change the minds of my people?”

Whatever surprise she’d once held is gone and instead replaced by the sinking pit in her stomach as she realizes she was right. “Oh…” the disappointment is not hidden in her voice as she tears her gaze away from him, eyes drifting toward the floor as she’d suspected this… but like many things in her life, she’d hoped it wouldn’t be the case. “You’re one of those Grisha.” The comment lingers in the air as her temper quickly shifts into one of anger. Before he has the chance to speak, she comes back at him. 

“You really think—what?—that I’m no better than some street rat because I don’t have abilities like you? That you’re so much better than me, and what? All because I can’t do the things you can? And I’m the one who’s being ridiculous? Wow…” Pacing the length of the room by the windows, she tries to keep her composure. 

“I never said that,” he argues. Stepping in front of her, he stops her pacing, eyeing her with curiosity. His dark gaze rakes down her body, fingers coming up to her face as he toys with a strand of hair that’d fallen into her face. The fiery look in her eyes affects him in a way he hadn’t anticipated, yet, he decides it’s worth it to be upfront and honest about his intentions. “We’ve already been intimate, there’s no need to pretend. As for your accusations… I’ll be clear. I see no point in indulging an Otkazat’sya when you have no power to make any real change here. As far as getting to know one another, there’s no need. You know what you need to, and there’s no point for me considering you’ll die much sooner than I.”

The words, the outright nature of his demeanor... it takes her aback. While she's heard many nasty rumors of General Kirigan, she hadn't anticipated he'd be the same behind closed doors. Now, it's obvious that the rumors weren't far from the truth at all.

“I hoped this wouldn’t be the case," Sam whispers, not meeting his eyes. She doesn't retreat from his touch, yet is aware of it, however unwanted it may be. "But if you’re so desperate not to get to know me, then fine! Don’t. Make things harder for us. Think you’re all that, but know that I won’t stop doing whatever it takes to make sure that things get better. Know that I tried my best to make this marriage work, and that I wasn’t the one who backed down first!"

Pulling herself out of his reach, she finally raises the daggers in her eyes to meet his steely gaze. "But don’t come into our quarters and tell me about how upset you are that things are only becoming worse when you’re the one who has the power to change it! Not by dividing us, but by uniting us in a way that’ll prove more beneficial!”

“If you think you can beat the Grisha, then fine, believe that. But that doesn’t make it any less ludicrous. You really think you can change the world when what? You won’t live long enough to most likely even see any substantial change?”

Kirigan argues as she walks across the room, lifting the top off the tray of food she’d brought. Gathering her plate to take with her back into their shared quarters in the adjoining room, Sam spares one last death-glare in his direction. Angered and hurt by his egotistical beliefs. “Maybe I should go and tell the King then that you don’t plan to see any substantial changes in the near future and that you seem to be wasting his resources and time!” Using her emerald heel to kick the door shut, it slams behind her.

~~~~~~~

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[multix-ct117]

Dancing in the Dark

Ophelia Laskin + Aleksander Morozova

the Darkling x the Moon Wielder

{Shadow and Bone}

“He was her dark fairytale and she was his twisted fantasy. And together they made magic.”

[visd3stele]

The child of moon and stars

please read the post here before proceeding

tw: mentions of SA

Chapter 2: The aftermath of one fatefull night

I sloped down on my side of the bunk bed I shared with Anika. The stash I've come back with I let on other capable hands as I made my way to Per Haskell's office. As soon as I got away, I felt more tired than after a night out fighting on the severe streets. A sigh left my throat and I let my eyes close.

"Ah, Morozova," Per has said earlier. "You've decided to show your face, finally."

"Sorry, sir. It was urgent."

"The new weapons, I know. Odd, the order hasn't come from me." The short man eyed me with meaning.

"No, sir. But the Stadwatch received a new shipment tonight and it'd have been a shame to let it waste." I kept my voice even, my silver gaze casted on the wall behind him and not Haskel's face. It helped covering my distaste for the man who called himself the Dregs' leader. Kaz did so much more for the band than Per could ever dream of. Except, the old man had no dreams. No ambitions. He'd gladly leave the things as they are while other bands gain power and land.

"Indeed. I assume you acted on Brekker's behalf?"

The words wouldn't leave my mouth through my clenched teeth. It was all I could do not to grind them together. To confirm it, even if Per already knew the answer, even if Kaz – as his lieutant – had the authority to deal certain orders, felt like betrayal.

"Answer me, Morozova." Hearing the name from his mouth made my fingers itch to curl and gather the shadows around his chair to strangle him. After arriving to Ketterdam, I couldn't use the name I've been known by in Ravka. And I needed one for my contract. So I used the first to come to my tired mind after dreadful nights. The name my father said it's a secret no one must know and the one he and his lover dreamt to call another like me. My ancestry, my legacy, my cursed blessing. Arina Morozova.

When papochka said it, shivers ran down my spine. Even as a young, little, girl I could feel its power. The ancient timbre it brought. The legend come to life. It made me feel powerful, safe, worthy. When Per Haskell spoke it, it sounded like an insult. As if I was beneath him, not in rank, but in simply being. Not something unusual in my experience so far – both as a Grisha and a indentered servant in Ketterdam. But it still irks.

"Did you have a job for me, sir?"

Per watches me closely for a while. Trying to decide wether to end my contract now and then or if I'm too valuable to lose. It's not the first time the old man threatens to send me back in the streets. Probably the main reason I hate him so. The power he has over me still. The way he likes to rub it in my face. I'm not the only one he does it to. Kaz amazes me every day with his self restraint and Inej carries it better than both of us. She hasn't lost her soul in the Barrel and it shows.

"The Wraith is nowhere to be found," he says at last, rolling his shoulder into the backrest of his chair. "Figured Schatten can take her place tonight."

My eyes widened with concern and I forced my body to remain in the same position: chin up, back straight, limbs relaxed at my sides. But fear pushed my arms around my torso, hugging myself in search of comfort. "They're still out?"

Kaz, Jesper and Inej had a meeting with a rival band tonight, the Black Tips, to settle some trespassings. Nothing out of the ordinary and certainly nothing to panic over. Jesper is the best sharpshooter we have – actually, I'm quite confident in saying the Zemeni boy is the best in the whole country. Inej is skilled. Her knives always land true and she can disappear with ease if she needs to. The kind Suli girl doesn't need a savior, those who go against her do.

And Kaz? He's a myth already and not for nothing. He seems to read people minds with the efficacy of his plans. His cane is known as a terrible weapon in the Barrel – and possibly beyond it. Dirtyhands is not someone to play with if you're on the opposite team. But I knew the boy before he climbed to power. I saw him make mistakes and learn from them, I saw him waver in his wits before gaining enough experience. And as much as I trusted him, as much as I trusted Inej and Jesper, my blood froze in my veins.

For tonight wasn't a simple meeting. It would end in a cross fire, at the best expanse. Kaz wanted to use tonight as an opportunity to clear up the waters and reveal Big Bolliger as a traitor. But of course the paranoid little devil wouldn't tell a soul. So what if something went wrong because the other on the mission were clueless?

"Yes, Morozova, that's what I make of it, supposing they didn't deserted us."

I glare at the short man. How dare he doubt the best in the Dregs' lines? "They're not back yet. None of them? What are they doing?" I muttered to myself. Per heard it anyway.

"How am I to know? I can't wait for the mission's report, that's for sure. But enough pleasantaries. You have a job to do."

 When I came back I spoted Jesper losing money he did not have at a gambling stand. "Jesper!" I yelled in relief, startling the sharpshooter.

"Ari," the boy stood up and picked me in a tight hug. Seeing how tall he was, my feet hovered a few centimeters above the floor before he put me down. Taking a better look at my ruffled hair, bruised cheeks and the way I favored leaning on my right side to protect the left leg from too much weight pressured on it, Jesper wrinkled his nose. "You look like crap."

"And might you be an epitome of beauty right now?" Truthfully, the way he carried himself told me the meeting with the Black Tips didn't unfold smoothly.

"I always am," he grinned from ear to ear before worry took over and he studied me more carefully. "But seriously now, are you ok?"

"The regular, I guess," I lifted my shoulders indiferently. "What about you? What happened?"

Jesper's face stiffened. "Big Bolliger's a traitor."

"I know. What I don't know is if there was a fight or not." I looked at him expectantly. He drummed his knuckles over the holders of his beloved twin guns. A flash of anger passed on his features.

"You knew?" A shake of his head. A weak, bitter laugh. "Of course you knew."

"Jesper," I said as gently as I could, hesitating before gripping his arm and rubbing it with my thumb. Trust is the rarest coin in Ketterdam and no matter how many months he worked with us, how used he may get with me and Kaz, the pang remains. "He trusts you. We all do, moy drug. It's just the way he is. Reserved."

"But he told you."

"I wasn't there with you guys, was I?" I wasn't sure what Jesper would make of it. What I even meant. But I hated to see him so hurt. And I couldn't lounge in a long, possibly more harmful explanation. Dirtyhands and Schatten rose together. The two legends are woven into each other, may we like it or not. Jesper only joined the team not that long ago. That would be worse to tell him, right?

The Zemeni boy shot me a toothy smile, slowly coming back into his usual, cheerful self. "Yeah, whatever. About tonight, then, nothing too bad. We're fine."

I nodded, as if my agreement would make it more true. "Kaz and Inej?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. They stayed behind for a bit."

I frowned. Nighttime isn't a nice place to be alone. And despite all of their strength and power, it'd make me feel better if I knew Kaz and Inej were both inside the slat. At least here there are people around to have our backs.

When the door opened I jumped as I turned to search for my friends. But it was only Anika and a few others returning from the streets.

I hid my fists in my sleeves and looked quickly away. But she already spotted me and waved, smiling. Before I could do the same, she dissappeared up the stairs.

Jesper leaned back on the chair, barely stilling his laugh. "So, you and Anika then...?"

"Shut up, Jesper."

It only made him laugh harder. "But seriously Ari, when are you going to tell her you like her?"

"Shut up, Jesper." I don't even know if I actually do, I thought, but didn't voice it. Anika and I weren't close, despite us sharing a bedroom. But something made me wish we were. I'm not sure what, I'm not sure if it's love, curiosity or just an itch of mine – how can I sleep next to a person I know nothing about? What I know is that it's enough to make me both uncomfortable around and away from her. And I don't particulary like that.

"Tsk, tsk, wouldn't have thought you're scared of a crush."

"I'm not scared," I rolled my eyes, breathing normally again and feeling the blush brush off my cheeks. "I don't think it's the right time for it, that's all."

"Why not? We're young and free, now's the time for everything!"

I glared at him viciously. "We're young, but not stupid enough to afford distractions. And we're not free. You're neck deep in debts and I have yet to pay off my own."

Jesper sighed and sat back at the table. "You sound like Kaz when you speak like this. As if allowing yourself to love would stop the money flow."

"It won't," I shrugged, "but it'd be in the way of priorities."

The Zemeni boy shook his head amused. "If you say so...". Then, motioning for me to join him, eyebrows rose in a silent question. "Maybe you'll bring me some luck," he jocked.

"She's a new one," one of the men said, hungry eyes fixed on me.

"Oh, yes," the one holding me on his lap laughed. "Brings me luck, it seems."

"Maybe I can borrow her after this game. You've made enough to buy a new house already, man!"

Shadows came to life on the walls of the Crow Club, stirred by my uneasiness. Waiting for my call, eager to answer and protect me of unseen danger. I relaxed my fingers and hid my trembling hands under my armpits.

"Sorry, Jes. Some other time, yeah?" I move past him then stopped. "Get away sooner rather than later, please. I can't drag you to your bed again after you fall asleep at that table." I threw over my shoulder, jumping over the stairs to my room.

tag list: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

[littlest-w01f]

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Happy Kinktober everyone! Enjoy <3 (not posting in order)

Heart (Autassassinophilia with Rheana (Oc) x Eris)

Summary: Rheana is jealous watching Eris charm a court female, she sets out to make sure he knows who his heart belongs to.

Shifter (Futanari with Feyre x Reader, Rhysand mentioned) pt 2 of Rita's

Summary: After taking you home, Feyre has more fun with you

Naughty kitten (Pet play with Sylus x Reader)

Summary: Sending a pic of yourself laying in Sylus' bed half naked to him gets you in trouble when he gets home earlier than planned.

Dark (Shadow play with The Darkling x Reader)

Summary: The Darkling uses a merzost creature to take care of you after an intense training session. Using you as practice for the magic.

Birchin (Gangbang with Cazriel x Elsie (Oc) x Feysand)

Summary: Elsie and Feyre get invited to join their mates in the birchin on their annual Winter Solstice traditions.

Cold (Temperature play with Zayne x Reader)

Summary: After suffering from a little heatstroke, Zayne takes on the responsibility of cooling you down.

Firsts (Parthenophillia with Tamsand x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhysand teach Tamlin how to give and receive pleasure.

Demonic (Monsterfucking with Sylus x Reader)

Summary: After hearing what the common folk of the N109 zone think Sylus truly looks like, you didn't believe them, then, you took him up on his offer to take his brooch the easier way.

Moonlight (Spectrophilia with Azriel x Reader)

Summary: No one sees him, no one feels him but you, and your mate is quite a jealous male over those who you can see

Sharing (Free Use with Cassian x Fia (Oc), Nesta mentioned, Feysand's partner)

Summary: While her partners are busy, Fia knocked on Cassian and Nesta's door for company, Cassian answered.

Ease (Blood play with Rafayel x Reader)

Summary: Missing his bodyguard, Rafayel decides to visit you and ends up comforting you through your cramps.

Shaken (Overstimulation with Stermhond x Reader)

Summary: Being unable to sleep at night on the Volkvolny, the Stermhond provides you with the perfect distraction.

Session (Role play with Zayne x Reader)

Summary: Your appointment with your doctor.

Ruined (Femdom with Rafayel x Reader)

Summary: Gem Affection Au, having a little peace and quiet with Rafayel after a long day socialising

Clubs (Triple penetration with Batboys x Reader)

Summary: Morden AU, working in a strip club, you got your fair share of customers who offered you payment for vip services even when you never did, until you finally chose to.

As you all can see, I did not post it soon... But still, here it is :)

Please comment to be added to the taglist <3

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

QOTD- Which songs do you think, would be perfect to describe the Little Palace and the overall setting?

Warnings- Bits of violence, ptsd, traumatic flashbacks throughout the chapters

taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

..............................................................................................................................

Ch-4~ Welcome Back~

She looked around at the dark wood walls. The golden domes shining all the same and the walls glimmering with the decorative pearls. Everything around her was all the same, yet, so different. The darkling had went off to somewhere else with his oprichniki. Anaya was gazing at the view around her when a woman approached her.

She had deep auburn hair and perfect features, her eyes were of a golden-amber colour and her skin shone beautifully in the light. She was dressed in a white kefta with golden embroidery.

"You must be Anaya, I'm Genya Safin. The darkling has sent me to escort you to your chambers" she spoke in a smooth an clear voice

Anaya followed her without saying a word, they were accompanied by two female servants. Genya Safin, she'd heard of her, but never met her personally. Genya was quite popular among the grisha, mostly because of her extraordinary abilities. She was a Tailor, a special and rare type of Corporalnik. Her abilities ranged from healing small cuts and bruises to changing the look of one's face. She was despised by most of the Grisha her age because she had been gifted to the queen, by the darkling himself.

Genya led her to her room. It looked quite similar to the one she had as a child, but this was a lot more bigger.

"You used to live here, didn't you?" Genya asked her as she sat on a chair near the bed.

"Yeah" Anaya hesitated before sitting on the bed

Genya took a sharp breath before speaking "Well, I'm in no place to ask you further questions about your personal life and you clearly don't look like you're in any state to answer"

Anaya was relieved that Genya didn't ask her any further questions. "You certainly look like you've been in many fights" Genya took a closer look at her, and waved her fingers softly over the scar on her forehead.

"You're not wearing the Corporalki colours" Anaya finally spoke and the words came out as more of a question.

"I wear the servant's colours, because I'm only seen as servant by the queen"

Anaya almost felt bad for her, though she wasn't entirely sure as of what colour embroidery do Tailors have in their keftas.

"Saints, you are in such desperate need for a bath" Genya looked at her with a disgusted look. Anaya felt a sting by her words, but she was right, she hadn't bathed for weeks and was in a pitiful state.

Genya gestured to the maids, and they came near her.

"Get up" Genya ordered Anaya

Anaya stood up hastily and the maids suddenly began unbraiding her hair and stripping her off, one of them measured her height and waist. Anaya tried to move to move her arms away from their grasp. "Easy, they're just trying to make you look less like a scrawny pirate's daughter" Genya spoke. They paused for a moment to look at the scars on her back. She already knew what they were looking at, "Leave them be, they're not worth the time and effort" she told Genya.

Anaya felt incredibly embarrassed in being naked in front of them, but she didn't feel like she had any choice.

The maids led her into the bathtub that was in one side of the gigantic room, and closed the curtains. The started cleaning her wrists, shoulders, feet, and everywhere they were capable of. Then, one of the maids suddenly dipped her head inside the water.

Blood, all around her, blood in the water. She tried to desperately to scream, but failed miserably. She was choking, there was someone near her, not alive anymore.

Anaya quickly got her head out of the water. It had felt like her throat had closed up and she had lost the ability to breath for a moment. She starting taking rapid and panicked breath and began to her whole body began to tremble.

Genya looked at her with a concerned look and gestured the maids to leave.

"Are you okay?" she asked her

"Yeah, yes I'm alright. And I am perfectly capable of cleaning myself" Anaya managed to speak.

She got out after a few minutes. She'd worn the dark blue night gown that Genya had brought her.

"You're kefta will be sent to you in the morning. Tidemaker, right?" Genya asked

"Yeah"

"I'll leave you to yourself now, try to get some sleep. Your training will be starting from tomorrow" Genya left her room.

Anaya slowly laid down on the enormous bed. Her surroundings felt completely strange to her, but she tried to brush off the uneasy feeling in her stomach, and tried to sleep.

[findroleplay]

hello! i'm F25+ writer looking for 21+ writers for various fandoms. i'm a literary writer and my replies generally range from 700-1000 words or more, depending on the content of the scene. i don't expect my partner to match my length each time but i'd like someone with a good grasp of writing/grammar/plot! third person past or present tense preferable. i'm fine with nsfw content but all characters must be aged to 18+!

i'm currently looking for lines in the following fandoms - i am mostly interested in playing female ocs so that would be who i'd prefer to play in the pairings mentioned below.

i'm open to doubling and i'm fine with nsfw content!

hogwarts legacy (sebastian sallow x oc, ominis gaunt x oc) either aged to appropriate age or set after their time at hogwarts until dawn (josh washington x oc) shadow and bone (darkling x oc) stranger things (eddie x oc, steve x oc) true blood (eric x oc) harry potter (draco x hermione, draco x oc) supernatural (castiel x oc, dean x oc) preferably picking up in the earlier seasons i would prefer to write over discord! please like this post and i'll send you a message so that we can work out details!

_

[wesper-ao3feed]

Black Out Days|| Kaz Brekker's sister

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/M8326w7 by XOastorybynatxoxo "Dig a hole Fireworks exploding in my hands If I could paint the sky Would all the stars be shining bloody red? Stay Ey ey ey ah Away ey ah - Black Out Days, Phantogram OR IN WHICH Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason. Those were the words whispered on the streets of Ketterdam, in the taverns and coffeehouses, in the dark and bleeding alleys of the pleasure district known as the Barrel. Kaz always had his reasons. His reason was always his little sister. Brekker Sister OC x found family Words: 517, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: Shadow and Bone (TV), Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: Original Child Character(s), Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Alina Starkov, Mal Oretsev, Genya Safin, Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, David Kostyk, Pim (Six of Crows), Anika (Six of Crows), Pekka Rollins, Tante Heleen (Six of Crows), Jordie Rietveld Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik, David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey & Inej Ghafa & Matthias Helvar & Wylan Van Eck & Nina Zenik, Kaz Brekker & Original Female Character(s), Inej Ghafa & Original Female Character(s), Jesper Fahey & Original Female Character(s), Nina Zenik & Original Female Character(s), Wylan Van Eck & Original Female Character(s), Matthias Helvar & Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Dead Jordie Rietveld, Protective Kaz Brekker, Protective Inej Ghafa, Protective Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker Has PTSD, Ketterdam (Grishaverse), Grisha Jesper Fahey, Alina Starkov is Still a Sun Summoner, Half-Shu Alina Starkov, Cross-Posted on Wattpad read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/M8326w7

[keepsdeathhiscourt]

Pairing: Aleksander Moroza x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Summary: Alyra Koshkova has always lived in the shadows, concealing her true nature to survive. But when tragedy forces her into the heart of Ravka's Second Army, she finds herself under the watchful eye of General Kirigan, the Darkling—a man as enigmatic as he is powerful. Struggling to come to terms with her newfound role, Alyra must navigate a world of hidden threats and dangerous alliances. As secrets unravel and the Darkling’s intentions grow ever more unclear, Alyra’s choices could reshape the fate of a nation—or lead to her own undoing.

Series Masterlist

Read on A03

Warnings: Violence, Language

Additional Tags: Canon Divergence, Language, Depictions of Violence, War, Political Intrigue, Horror Elements, The Darkling has a Heart, Grisha!OC, Grisha Sympathetic, Alcohol, The Darkling was right about a lot of things

Chapter 4: The Rock and the Hard Place

As with all their most intimate of conversations, it was deep into the darkest part of the evening when Alyra strained against her bonds to settle beside him. It was then that he learned her story.

“The Druskelle took me in Ryevost,” her soft voice cut through the night, barely more than a whisper. “But the village I grew up in was in central Ravka.”

Ivan squinted at her, eyes narrowed against the dark as he tried to figure out where she was going. “I don’t understand—“

“You told me Petra’s story—the story of the General’s Grisha,” she cut him off. “Now I will tell you mine, the story of the Grisha beyond the Little Palace.”

He shuffled close so that he might hear her properly, stopping when only an inch of space remained between their shoulders. Settling in, he waited patiently for her to continue.

“My father died when I was young; I barely remember him. But my mother raised me outside the village. I never received a formal education, but I never suffered for it. She taught me my letters, how to chart the months by the position of the stars, and which plants would cull a fever or soothe a toothache. She always had a way with plants. I think the Second Army would call her an Alkemi, though she was only ever ‘Mama’ to me.” A soft smile played at her lips, some of the strain of their captivity peeling away in her sudden unguardedness. “I spent my days running through the woods and playing in the streams. They were the happiest days of my life.”

Ivan tensed, waiting for the inevitable turn in her tale. “But then she was taken by witch-hunters and I never saw her again.”

“You must have been very young to be on your own.”

“I was ten and wandering the woods when an apothecary and his wife found me. I think he knew what I was from the start, but he didn’t care. All Pavel saw was a little girl alone in the world that needed his help. They took me with them back to Ryevost, and that was that.” 

Ivan nudged her with his shoulder. “He sounds like a good man.”

“He was,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t enough to save him.” 

She shifted her cloak around her shoulders, pulling it up around her neck to block out the wind that had begun to pick up. “He had this way of making you feel like the most important in a room, and everyone who knew him respected his opinions. But he always had a hard time sitting by when he didn’t like something. So when Druskelle began to steal away Grisha in the night, and children with powers they never asked for were sold to brothels or pawned off to Shu Han to be experimented on, he decided that if the king would not do something, then he would.”

“I think I was thirteen when I first realized that he was smuggling Grisha into the country. He tried to shield me from the worst of his back-alley dealings, but life in a port city is rough and I would have been wrapped up in it one way or the other.” 

Ivan drew a breath, the pieces starting to come together. “So that is how the Druskelle found you.”

She nodded, eyes drifting to some undetermined point on the horizon. “I told him it was too risky, but it didn’t matter. Not when there were lives at stake. It would have been fine, but somebody tipped them off.” A puff of laughter escaped her lips, bitter and hollow. “Pavel always said I couldn’t hide forever. That eventually the world outside would find me. And then one day, it did.”

He brushed his shoulder against hers, an uncertain show of comfort. And although he dreaded the answer, he asked, “What became of him?”

“They tore the shop to pieces before dragging Pavel and his sick wife from their beds. I tried to run, but a second troop caught up to me too. I don’t know what happened to them.” Her eyes glassed over in remembered pain, tilted her head up to meet his stare. “He committed his life to helping the Grisha when it would have been easier to bury his head in the sand. And look where it got him.”

“He did not deserve his fate,” Ivan murmured.

“No. He didn’t, and yet the world still turns.”

Ivan said nothing. There were no words for grief such as theirs. Instead, he nudged her towards him, settling her head against his shoulder, the ghosts of their pasts watching on.

The pieces of their pasts laid bare between them, and a tentative bond began to form between the captive Grisha. Each day, they endured the grim reality of their existence, and each night, when their jailors had fallen asleep, they would share stories of their childhoods, of memories from better times. Most were happy, some sad, but none as harrowing as the tragedies shared in those first tense nights.

One chilly autumn evening, with the stars scattered like diamonds across the sky, Alyra broke the silence, her voice barely louder than the rustling of leaves. “You know, you’ve never told me where you’re from, Ivan.”

The nights grew colder with each passing day, and in the mornings, the ground was covered in a lacy blanket of frost. The crisp air was a constant reminder that winter was fast approaching. Ivan watched as she tucked her legs beneath her, her movements slow, almost mechanical. She was thinner now than when they’d first met, a hodgepodge of sharp angle and ragged fabric. He wondered what he must look like to her—did she see gaunt cheeks and hollowed eyes when she looked at him?

“You never asked,” he quipped, shaking the thought away with a slight tilt of his head, then rested back on his aching wrists.“I was raised on a farm outside Os Alta.”

Alyra hummed in amusement. “A farm boy. I should have known.”

He arched a brow at her, the shadow of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing,” she teased, her smile evident even in the dark. “you just seem the strapping, hardworking sort. I bet you were quite popular with the girls in your village.”

There was a beat. He turned toward her, his expression loaded with meaning. The silence between them deepened, charged with an unspoken truth.

She caught on quickly, her mouth forming a small ‘o’ of surprise before she flashed him an understanding smile. “I see.”

He grunted in response, content to leave it at that. But Alyra seemed more keyed up than usual tonight, eager to engage in conversation. 

“Did anyone ever catch your eye then?” she asked, rolling onto her stomach to watch him, mischief dancing in her eyes.  “A handsome apprentice from a neighboring village, maybe?”

Ivan sighed, a long-suffering sort of sound. “Not during my time in the village, no. But there was someone waiting for me when I left the Little Palace.”

The strings of his heart tugged painfully at the thought of Fedyor, with his easy smiles and gentle hands. He wondered how he was faring if he was out there somewhere searching for him. Ivan swallowed hard, scooping a handful of loose dirt between his hands, letting it slip through the cracks between his fingers.

“And you?” he asked, his voice a little rougher than before.

Alyra snorted, a comforting sound in the quiet. “I fancied myself in love once. Andrei was a sailor. Scandalous, I know,” she said with a soft chuckle, the white of her teeth catching the faint light. “A few times a year, when the whether was good, his company would dock in Ryevost. Sometimes they’d only stay a few hours, sometimes weeks. But each time, he’d  seek me out with some trinket he’d brought back from his travels in exchange for a kiss.” She paused, her expression clouding,” Pavel hated him.”

Ivan huffed in agreement, the sound low and thoughtful.

“I thought you might say that,” she said, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground. “I used to fantasize about the day he would take me away from the stink of the canals for adventures on the True Sea.” She scoffed, the bitterness in her voice cutting through the stillness. “I was a foolish girl. I let him take my virtue in a back alley. After that, the visits became less and less. That was a hard lesson.”

They fell silent, the weight of her words lingering in the cool night air. Ivan watched the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders as she shifted to lie on her side. Then, surprising even himself, he whispered, “I think he was the fool.”

He knew that she heard him because he heard her breath catch. But there was no reply—none was needed.

Ivan shifted onto his back, stuffing as much of his cloak beneath his head as he could spare without freezing. Sleep was within reach when he heard he whimper once, then again as little shivers dissolved in a body-wracking tremble. She had been unwell since they’d met, but her state had taken an abrupt turn for the worse alongside the changing seasons. With a harsh Ravkan winter approaching and mired down weeks away from the capital, Ivan doubted she would survive to see spring. 

His chest tightened at the notion, an overwhelming fear seeping in around the edges of his thoughts. If something should happen to her, he would be well and truly alone. With a sigh, he slipped the worn cloak from his shoulders, tucking it around her frail frame, and exhaled in relief when the shivering subsided.

As he turned to pull away and search for sleep once more, her hand shot out and wound around his wrist. They lay there in the dark, face to face, both wrapped up in the silent terror of the unknown.

“Ivan,” she whispered finally, her breath ghosting over his face as she squeezed his hand.

“Yes?”

Her eyes squeezed shut, and in the moonlight, he saw a tear catch on her eyelash before escaping down her cheek. “I’m afraid I’m going to die out here.”

Ivan closed his eyes as if the darkness behind them might shield him from the raw sting of vulnerability. “So am I.”

---

It was a frigid morning in late autumn when everything changed. The sun, hidden behind oppressive dark clouds, left the world wrapped in a shroud of thick fog. Alyra was jolted awake by the usual scramble of movement and the sharp steel of the Commander’s voice barking orders. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stretched her aching muscles and immediately sensed that something was wrong. The camp was in disarray—men sprinted from one tent to the next, rousing their dozing comrades. And when they emerged into the misty morning, fear was etched in their eyes. The air crackled with frenetic energy as the Druskelle shouted back and forth in clipped, panicked tones, rifles hastily slung over their shoulders. Alyra knew the source of their fear immediately. Three nights ago, scouts had spotted a large unit of Ravkan soldiers—Grisha in colorful keftas. Since then, it had been a game of cat and mouse, the Druskelle skittering through the shadows in a desperate dash to the border, hoping to avoid confrontation with the Second Army. But each time they seemed to gain the upper hand, Ravka was always a step ahead. Tension grew, the feeling of being hunted warping into a wretched, tangible weight, intensified by the sudden and overwhelming press of fog. It had crescendoed into a fever pitch. Her eyes strained against the mist, searching for the telltale colors of red, blue, and purple among the trees. Then, startled, she cried out as a rough hand yanked her to her feet. The man’s green eyes were tight with unease as he snapped at her in a tone that needed no translation, pushing her forward. They were going to make a run for it. Alyra balked, her heels digging into the dirt, eyes desperately roving the camp for any sign of Ivan. Her resistance earned her a backhand across the face. She hit the ground hard, the taste of blood trickling into her mouth from a split lip, but she paid it no mind. Forcing herself back onto her feet, she caught sight of the man who struck her—his eyes wide with terror—before he dropped like a sack of potatoes into the mud. His body jerked once, then went still, blood oozing from his nose. Her head whipped around, searching for the source as dread coiled in her gut. The fog had thickened, blurring everything beyond a few paces ahead, swallowing up the familiar landmarks of the Druskelle camp. A muffled cry echoed somewhere to her right, though she couldn’t say how far. Anything beyond arm’s reach might as well have been on the other side of the woods for all she could see. The Commander’s frantic voice cut through the fog, but his words were garbled, lost in the chaos. Then came the staccato bursts of gunfire, and she watched silhouettes retreating back toward her, dropping one by one as they fired blindly into the mist. All at once, the camp was lit up as if the sun had burst through the clouds. Alyra caught a glimpse of collapsed tent poles, the crumpled bodies of the dead, as a fireball arched through the clearing, heading straight for her. Heat licked at her skin, and she barely managed to throw herself clear before it exploded against a tent a few feet away.

She craned her head to assess the damage, only to find herself rooted to the spot as a powerful gust of wind ripped like a scythe overhead, cutting back the mist and carrying the flames from tent to tent. Within seconds, the world around her was a whirling inferno, the air filled with the cries of men burning as they tried to jump free of the flames, only to be forced back by the wind. “Ivan!” she cried out, coughing into her cloak, her eyes stinging from the plumes of smoke.

The remnants of the camp were in absolute chaos as the core of the Second Army battalion swarmed into the field, spreading out rapidly in blurs of bright color against the black uniforms.

A hand gripped her shoulder, tugging her back as another fireball whizzed by, close enough to singe her cloak.

“What are you doing, you little idiot?” Ivan growled, wrenching her around to face him. Metal glinted in his miraculously unbound hands, the dagger coated in blood as he cut her free. Her wrists screamed in gratitude, but she only had a moment to rub at the chafed flesh before he was tugging her away from the heart of the burning encampment.

The smoke was thinner at the edges of the clearing, but the fighting was just as fierce. She watched a man in blue and gray curl his hands into claws, sending a Druskelle soaring into a tree where he collided with a sickening crack. A burst of rifle fire exploded to her left, and she jumped back just in time to see a bullet graze the neck of an unfortunate woman, extinguishing the spark between her fingers. With a cry of pain, the woman staggered, clutching at her bleeding wound as a man in red rushed to her side.

Alyra didn’t have time to see what happened next. A flash of movement in her peripheral made her react on instinct, but she wasn’t quick enough. The Ginger-bearded Druskelle slammed into her, tackling her to the ground and out of Ivan’s grasp as they were parted by a wave of soldiers. She hit the ground hard, the air wrested from her lungs as she blinked up into a familiar, hateful stare.

He bore down on her, icy eyes murderous in the fiery glow. His knee held her legs in place, and when she tried to raise her arms, he pinned them uselessly above her head. Panic erupted in her then, and she thrashed against him with all her might, kicking and gnashing in desperation. But he was stronger, nearly double her size. He might as well have been carved from stone.

Fear pooled around her, cold and paralyzing, as he shifted her wrists into one sweaty palm so the other could wrap around her throat. The pressure was unyielding, the effect immediate. She kicked out blindly, hoping to make contact with some soft part of him, but found only empty air as the edges of her vision darkened.

“Witch,” he spat, squeezing hard enough that she feared he might break her neck. She struggled to make out the rest of his words over her screaming lungs and the chaos around them. Heat thrummed in her veins, eager to lash out, to protect, but rendered utterly impotent by the space between her hands.

“We should have killed you when we had the chance,” he hissed, breath hot against her face. “But I will make it right.”

It was a vow, a promise that chilled her to her bones as her chest heaved in agony and black spots seeped into her vision. The pressure increased tenfold, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but all that came out was a fountain of red.

The blood was hot where it splattered against her skin, her ribs aching as he collapsed against her with a gurgle. Then he was silent.

Alyra gasped for air, her lungs greedy and desperate, as she tried to wriggle out from under the dead weight. All at once, the pressure lifted, and she found herself staring up into two sets of dark eyes—one familiar, one unknown. She caught Ivan’s hand, allowing him to haul her to her feet.

“Are you alright?” the man beside him asked, his brow knit with concern on a face both soft and angular.

Alyra rubbed at her neck, her throat burning. She opted for a nod in response.

“Good,” he said, flashing her a weak smile, and she caught a glimpse of a dimple. “I’m Fedyor.”

“Alyra,” she rasped. He squeezed her shoulder before Ivan stepped between them.

“There will be time for introductions later. We’re sitting ducks here,” Ivan shouted over the roar of fire and shouting. He charged forward, his broad frame cutting a path through the carnage, making it easy for her to follow. Fedyor fell into pace behind him with Alyra at his heels, stepping sidelong out of the way as a Druskelle hit the ground beside her. It was only a moment, but just enough time for three men in black to slip between them, effectively cutting them off from one another. One of them whistled with a sharp hand gesture, directing his comrades toward the trees.

That’s when she saw them—six men with rifles, positioned between the thin trunks, all poised to fire, their barrels trained on Ivan and Fedyor.

Alyra’s heart pounded in her chest as she cried out for them, but her voice was carried away by the fog and the fighting. She needed to warn them, but they were already too far ahead, nearing the treeline, and she knew she would never make it in time. The soldiers’ guns raised in unison, and there was no more time to think. Alyra reacted, jaw clenched as she felt the power bubble up like an uncontrollable geyser. It surged forward. The grass around her withered and died, energy diverted in a deadly rush toward the gunmen.

It was over in seconds. Bodies dropped like flies, their skin withered and gray, eyes wide with horror. Alyra’s vision swam, her body drained from the effort. But Ivan But Ivan and Fedyor were unharmed, gathered near the fallen gunmen. Alyra stepped over the fresh corpses, her gaze drifting down to their lifeless faces, their empty eyes staring back at her. A sick feeling churned in her stomach as she realized what she had done. She forced herself to meet Ivan’s gaze, his expression stricken with a mix of shock and something else—something she couldn’t quite place.

Suddenly, it felt as if the world had narrowed to just the three of them, the burning encampment, the dead men, and the raging battle all fading into the background. Alyra’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath quickening as she took in the horrified looks on their faces. She knew those looks, knew the disaster that always followed them. Panic coiled in her gut, and her muscles tensed, fingers twitching in anticipation.

Ivan must have noticed her shift because he took a step forward, his hand outstretched. “Alyra, wait—”

But she was already running, her legs pumping as fast as they could carry her toward the dark stand of trees beyond. Her body was weak, unaccustomed to the sudden burst of activity, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. The treeline was close, tantalizingly so. If she could just make it to the safety of the shadows, she might be free.

Two soldiers in blue keftas stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She pivoted, boots sliding in the muck, but they mirrored her movements, cutting off any escape. The gap between them was small, but she was fast, and surprise was on her side. She shifted to the balls of her feet, ready to dart through any opening, but these were trained soldiers, seasoned by combat.

Salvation came in the form of a gunshot somewhere to her left. It was too close for comfort, but Alyra didn’t have the luxury to be alarmed. The soldiers’ eyes drifted toward the sound, just for a second, but it was all the time she needed. Alyra seized her chance with both hands, darting between them and bolting for the trees at a dead sprint. Somewhere behind her, she could hear Ivan’s voice calling for her, but she didn’t stop. She had a head start and the cover of the forest on her side. Ivan would be safe among his kind, but Alyra had no such guarantees.

Breathless, she pressed forward, unsure how much distance she had covered. Her lungs burned with every ragged breath, each step becoming more laborious as her legs turned to lead. The mud clung to her boots, making every movement a struggle. She finally pulled her foot free, only to lose a boot in the process. There was no time to retrieve it. She pushed on, her blood thick and sluggish in her veins.

Her chest ached with a vengeance now. She willed herself to keep going, but her body had reached its limit. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she crashed to the ground, her cry of frustration escaping as no more than an exhausted whimper.

Footsteps approached behind her. Slowly, she turned her heavy head to peer over her shoulder. Red fabric danced in her vision as the world tipped, and she collapsed into the mud.

[winterkoya]

just enough

aleksander morozova x wife!oc , aleksander morozova family au , aleksander morozova x original female character

summary: Alina’s arrival at the Little Palace forces Irina to realise she might care about her husband more than just enough

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of smut

part two , part three , part four , part five

masterlist 

***********

“Anya! Eric! Come back here!” Irina called, running after her youngest children, two toddlers that were determined to avoid their bedtime and instead chose to make their mother chase them through the Little Palace. 

“You have to catch us first, Mama!” The five year old girl giggled, running alongside her younger brother. 

Irina was racing across the main hall, she was only five steps away from grabbing the hand of the three year old boy, when she saw something that made her stop so abruptly she almost fell. Her husband was there, giving strict orders to the guards arround them, alongside a pretty, although scraped, young girl. ‘Alina’, she thought. That must be the girl her husband had written to her about. The Sun Summoner he had recently saved from the merciless hands of the drüskelle. She looked up towards Aleksander. He was back home. 

Her marriage with General Kirigan wasn’t a fairytale one. As the daughter of the King and Queen of Ravka, she had been asked to marry the leader of the Second Army as a peace offer between the citizens of Ravka and the Grisha. Aleksander hadn’t been too happy about it either, but he knew he wasn’t in the position of bearing the consequences of being unwise– or selfish. It was either marrying the pretty, dutiful girl or gaining another enemy the Grisha could not yet afford to fight. He would destroy the Ravka nobility when the time came to it. 

“Moya tsarévna.” The guards chanted when she approached them, lowering their heads as a proper greeting for a member of the royalty.

Irina straightened her posture and placed her blonde hair behind her ears, acknowledging the welcoming with a kind smile and a slight head bow. She was a princess. Being the epitome of grace and exemplary manners was her job, after all. 

“Princess.” Alina said, courtsing. 

“Lady Irina is just fine.” She replied with a small laugh, helping the girl back up. “You must be Alina, Alina Starkov, is that correct?” 

“I– I am.” Alina stuttered, admiring the woman’s gentle features.

“I gather you’re a cartographer. We have a wonderful library here, should you be interested in continuing with such a delightful craft. Ivan,” she called, looking over her husband’s shoulder, “make sure Genya attends her. She’ll help you get settled for now, and ready every morning.”

“Thank you.” Alina said, wholeheartedly. 

Irina smiled back at her, but then she heard the sound of tiny footsteps dashing towards them, and so she quickly extended her hands to grab the hands of the two toddlers running between them. 

“Got you!” She laughed. “Now, you must go have a bath, both of you, and after that is bedtime for you little monkeys. And no more running away, is that understood?” She said, kindly, but sternly. 

“But Mama we want to play–

“Children.” Aleksander’s voice echoed through the hall, in a grave tone– but not mad. He had yet to speak angry words to his children, and he wasn’t planning on doing so anytime soon. “Do as your mother tells you and go to your room. Now.” 

The kids, who barely had time to smile due to their father’s arrival before realising he was actually scolding them, finally calmed down.

“Fine, Papa.” They both chanted, not trying to escape their mother’s hold anymore.

Irina looked up to Alina’s face, smiling. “It was a pleasure meeting you, I hope we see more of each other soon.” With one last glance towards Aleksander, she left towards the dormitories, with two little heads walking by her side.

“Why doesn’t Kira have to come with us?!” Anya complained. The five year old was so much like her father, not only in looks, but in personality as well. Anya didn’t ask, she demanded.

“Because,” Irina answered, putting a strand of the girl’s brunette hair behind her ear, “your older sister has already taken her bath and is now waiting for you, in your bedroom.” 

As Irina said this, the three of them entered her husband’s war room, where the only two entrances to the kids’ room and her room were. She found Kira, her seven year old peacefully reading in her bed, with her nightgown already on and her golden hair neatly tucked into a braid. 

“There you are!” Kira smiled, jumping from her bed. “I just heard a guard saying that Papa is here, is that true?” She asked, looking at her mother with hopeful eyes. 

“Yes he is,” she said, as her kids started to giggle with happiness, “and I’m sure he will come soon to wish you all goodnight, but first you two need to have a bath.” 

“But Mama, we want to play with Papa first!” Anya protested.

“Play with Papa! Play with Papa” little Eric started to chant, following his sister’s whines. 

Irina once again lost control of the two toddlers as they started to dance around the room singing about all the things they wanted to play with their father. Irina was tempted to let them get away with it and just call it a night, she was too tired after the long day she had had with them.

“No one gets to play with Papa unless they’re bathed and with their nightgowns on.” Someone said behind them. Irina turned around to see Aleksander standing against the doorframe with a small smile on his lips. The three kids jumped off their places and ran to meet their father, who seemed happy enough to see them. 

Irina knew she was lucky. She might be stuck in a loveless marriage, but she knew she had got it easy: Aleksander had never done as much as raising his voice against her, he had never spoken ill of her behind her back or taken a mistress. In bed, he always asked for her consent first and afterwards he would always hold her against his chest until she peacefully drifted to sleep. He made sure other grisha respected her and severely punished anyone who disregarded her. He did everything a husband was supposed to do for his wife. Except for loving her.

His demonstrations of love were scattered and superficial: had only ever gone as far as a kiss on her temple after making love, holding her hand in a room full of people he didn’t trust, or the three ‘thank you’ he had whispered to her after giving birth to their children (which had almost felt like a promise of love. Almost.) Hardly something more than that.

But Irina had learnt to be okay with it. And so what if her life wasn’t the fairytale she had always dreamt about? She had three children she adored and a husband to share that love with. She was grateful for their mutual respect every single day. He liked her just enough, she liked (loved) him a little bit more than what she considered wise. The important point being, they liked each other enough. Saints knew most of her friends would call themselves fortunate if their marriages were anything like hers. She didn’t have one thing to complain about. And yet, sometimes, she found herself wanting to hear her husband saying he loved her more than anything else.

Irina smiled at the way Eric was sitting on his father’s shoulders, and how Kira was trying to explain to him the book she had been reading, loudly speaking as to raise her voice above her siblings’ screams. Hating to be the bearer of bad news, she yelled, hoping someone would pay attention to her , “Anya, Eric, you have played with your father enough, now please go to the bathroom.” Irina pleaded, taking the boy in her arms. 

Her husband saw what a hard time his wife was having trying to get the kids to behave, knowing he was mostly the cause of the children’s distraction, and so he decided to help her:

“Tomorrow we can keep on playing but only if you do as your mother says and go have a bath.” Aleksander said sternly, which managed to get the two kids walking towards the bathroom on their own. 

“Thank you.” Irina muttered, grateful for his help. She leaned towards him to help him out of his kefta. “I’ve been running after them for like an hour…you could use a bath as well, you know. To clean the journey off.” She added, partly because she knew how long he had travelled to get home, and partly because of the smell coming from his coat.

“I think I’ll get on with that.” He agreed, walking in the opposite direction, towards their shared room. 

Irina bathed her kids, making sure that they were properly cleaned and washed. She let them play a bit, allowing them to splash water all over the floor, and then she tucked them in bed. She kissed all of them goodnight and as she was turning all the lights off, she heard Kira’s voice. “Mama, what about our story?”

“We went riding today, then you’ve had your lessons, we visited Grandmama… aren’t you too tired?” She chuckled. 

“We’re never too tired for a story!” Anya giggled. 

“Okay then,” Irina gave in, sitting at the end of Eric’s bed, “you shall get half a story today.”

“Why half a story?” Kira asked, as she and her sister jumped from their beds to go lay beside their brother.

“Because this is the story about a boy who fell in love with the moon, and then he took something from her. Something that has yet to be found” 

Kira laughed warmly at that, for the girl loved stories more than anyone else has ever loved stories. 

“Once upon a time, many, many years ago,” Irina started, “the moon had a voice. A beautiful voice, so serene that could make even the most stubborn children go to sleep, and yet so alluring that could convince people to declare their love for someone. At night, just before bedtime, everyone would climb to their roofs and tell the moon their biggest secrets, or to ask her for advice. Because the moon had been in the sky for such a long time, she was wiser than the sun and the stars, (who were a little silly, so it was mostly mischievous kids who talked to them, asking their advice on how to create chaos.)” Irina narrated, tickling the three of them, resulting in their giggles.

“And as many years ago, a boy named Jex fell in love with the moon. He would find the tallest building everywhere he went just so he could be the one speaking closest to her. He told her about his day, and in return the moon would tell him about all the secrets hidden in the sky. The way certain stars could help him find the path home when he was lost, how shooting stars were actually messengers bewteen suns (and that’s why they’re such show offs) , and how, if he focused hard enough, he could find particularly chatty stars who liked showing stories.

 (“Are those constellations, mommy?”, “Almost, Kira. Constellations are the ones that recite poetry, easier to spot in the sky but much more difficult to understand; chatty stars merely tell stories.”) 

“And then suddenly, one night, she wasn’t there. The moon hadn’t come out. Jex spent a whole night and a whole day crying, until, on the second night, he saw her again. The moon had returned. But he was so scared of losing her once more, he thought he could ask the moon for a present, something that would remind him of her even during the nights she wasn’t there. And so he talked to the moon, and the moon told him that she had nothing to offer but her voice as a gift. And so one night, following the moon’s strict instructions, he trapped her voice inside a jar his mother had made for him. And so the next day, he spent it entirely listening to the moon. It wasn’t until the next night he realised what a big mistake he had made. Because you see, the moon had only taught him how to trap her voice, not how to return it. So Jex carefully took care of the jar, so afraid to drain the moon’s voice forever that he would only listen to it when he was desperate for some advice, or desperate for some company. And then, when he was very, very old, he hid the jar in the brightest star in the sky, hoping that, someday, someone would be able to return the moon her voice back.”

“But Mama, why is it half a story?” Kira, the only one that was still awake, asked her. 

“Because, legend says that if you know the right star, and you ask her to return the moon her voice, she will gladly give it away, should she find you worthy of it.” 

“Mama, do you know how to talk to stars?” 

“No I don’t malyshka, I don’t think anyone knows how to anymore.” Irina said, faking disappointment. “Perhaps the rivers, or the seas. But they’re difficult to talk to, they’re far too stubborn.”

“Maybe Papa knows.” Kira whispered. “Because he knows how to speak to the shadows, maybe he can ask them to speak to the stars for us.”

“Maybe.” Irina whispered back. “But, we will have to ask him tomorrow. Now go to sleep, we have a big day ahead. Learning to talk to stars is no easy job.” She kissed the girl on her temple, and left towards her room.

Irina was startled to see her husband waiting for her, under the doorframe of their room.  “Saints, you scared me.” She laughed, closing the door behind her. 

“I apologise,” he smiled, “I was waiting for you so we could go to bed.” He lied, not willing to admit he was listening to her story. As someone who has lived a hundred lives, there weren’t many things in the world interesting enough to intrigue him. He had heard every song, read every book, and most certainly knew every tale by heart. But somehow Irina always managed to come up with a story that lured him enough.

“So,” Irina said, taking her dressing gown off, looking forward to Aleksander telling her about last day’s events, “is it true? Is Alina truly the Sun Summoner?”

“She is.” He said, taking his place on the bed, tucking the bedcover over his bare chest.

“How was it?”

“It was splendid.” He said, his vision lost behind beaming memories. “It was the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen.” He looked at her with an apologetic look on his face. “One of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever seen.” 

“Well, I’m happy everything turned out alright and that she got here unharmed.” Irina smiled. “By the way, why did Ivan and Feydor arrive here so much later? Are they fine?”

“I had Alina ride with me.” He explained. “I figured no one would dare attack her again with me by her side. Protecting her has to be my– our biggest concern now. She’s the answer to all of our problems.”

“Their problem or yours?” Irina said in a small voice, failing to look at him in the eyes. 

Aleksander stared intensely at his wife, taken aback by her comment. It wasn’t usual for her to remark about such a matter. She usually liked to pretend he was nothing but a normal grisha, leader of the Second Army, yes, but mortal. And he was happy to play along, to spare her mind as well as his.

And so he decided to simply brush aside her comment, not only to avoid a difficult conversation, but because he had learnt the bad way how much of a toll it took on him to think about his wife’s mortality, not that he would ever confess that to anyone. He realised he also was the happiest when complying with Irina's little game.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, hastily changing the subject, “ your mother and father have asked us to meet them in the Grand Palace for a small… demonstration of her powers.” Aleksander added, with a small trace of disgust in his voice. He was probably the only person who disliked the King and Queen more than Irina herself.

“Oh, no.” She whined, covering her face with her hands. “Can’t he just take your word for it?”

“Irina, you know I’m the last person whose word the King would trust.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just looking forward to spending the day with the kids instead of having to get them ready for such an event. And I prefer a two week notice before having to meet my parents.” 

“They don’t have to come.” He sighed. “You don’t have to come either, if you don’t feel like it.” 

“I do have to go, I’m the princess and your wife. It’s my one job.” She looked at him. “You’re right, we could leave the kids here, though.” She added, biting her lip. “But I’m just… scared to leave them alone. Even more now with Alina here, knowing how many people are after her. I just feel more at peace when you’re here as well.” 

Aleksander glanced at her with a sympathetic look on his face. “I’ve already told you, even when I’m not here, my guards have strict orders concerning your safety. And, as much as I hate the old bat, Baghra is here too. No one would dare touch them. I’ve made a vow to protect you and them and I don’t intend on breaking my promise.” 

“Thank you, Aleksander.” 

“It’s my job.” 

Irina leaned over to kiss him, an action very much welcomed on his side. He might not love her, he told himself, but he wasn’t fool enough to reject a kiss from the prettiest woman he had ever laid his eyes upon. She left one last kiss on his cheek, and stroked his face with her soft hands.

After that, each turned their lights off and proceeded to try and get some sleep. Irina rolled over and rubbed a hand on his arm, which he grabbed and put over his chest. It was their routine now. One of the small love gestures Irina was very grateful about. Feeling safe, it didn’t take long for her to fall into a deep, dreamfree sleep. 

• • •

Morning was a typical affair for Irina. Aleksander was no longer in bed when she woke up, as usual. She washed her face and put on comfortable clothes just in time to see Eric scuttling towards her. 

“Good morning mayo solnishko .” She greeted him, with a big kiss on his cheek. “Let’s go get breakfast, shall we?” Irina lifted him over her hip and darted towards the war room, where she was surprised to find General Kirigan and his right hand in. The two abruptly stopped talking when they saw her come in. “Good morning.” She said, hesitating on whether to smile or not.

“Lady Kirigan.” Ivan saluted her. He then softened his gaze to look at the toddler in her arms. “Hello there, Eric.” Ivan was a man of few words, Irina knew as much, with a stern face, but he had always been kind to her and her children. He always offered to watch over them whenever she was busy planning an event, and for that she was very grateful. 

“Hi.” The little boy answered with a tiny voice. 

“Someone’s shy this morning,” Irina chuckled, “you must be sleepy still.”

“Lady Kirigan, do you want me to call for breakfast?” Ivan offered. 

“No, that’s all right. I’ll go down myself, you don’t need to worry. I don’t want to interrupt your business. Please,” she said, “go on.” 

Irina had barely exited the room when she heard Aleksander’s voice. “Make sure Genya arrives at Alina’s bedroom early. I want Alina to be perfect today.” 

“I thought Alina wasn’t in control of her powers yet.”

“She isn’t. But she has me.” General Kirgan answered, smugly. “Make sure to tell Genya she has a black kefta made. Not for today’s demonstration of course, but I doubt this is the last one she’ll have to do.”

“But sir, no one else is allowed to wear that colour.”

“Because no one else is the Sun Summoner, Ivan.” He declared. “I want her and everyone else know that I’ve finally found an equal partner.”

Irina felt her stomach twist at her husband’s words. ‘Hunger’ she thought. That she was probably just hungry and that’s why her stomach felt so upset. Embracing Eric with a little more strength than before, she headed towards the kitchen.

• • •

After making sure all of the kids were playing under the safe care of Lilia, a healer that occasionally babysat her children, Irina went towards her room to change into a proper attire. 

She was stunned to see her husband already dressed, ready to go to the Grand Palace. He was wearing his black kefta, and he looked as handsome as always. 

“Oh, you’ve already changed.” She commented dryly, glancing towards the dress Genya had left on the bed for her. It was a beautiful, midnight blue gown that matched her eyes. 

“I have to go make sure Alina is ready for the demonstration. I’m escorting her to the palace.” He said, while helping her get out of her clothes. Irina felt that hideous twist on her stomach again. “I’m going down now. Why, is something wrong?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, of course there’s nothing, I just… I thought Alina wasn’t able to use her powers yet. Are you sure a demonstration now is wise?”

“She can’t, that’s right, but it’s not a problem. I’ll be her amplificator.” He answered, stressing that last word in a weirdly alluring manner.

“Oh.” Irina might not be grisha, but she understood enough. And she knew what an intimate moment the amplification could be. She pursed her lips and covered her body with her undergown. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” He asked her, with an intriguing look on his face. It wasn’t like his wife to be so rigid. 

“Of course I’m feeling right.” Irina blurted. She turned to let Aleksander help her button the back of the dress. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re just helping Alina.” She added, in a small voice. 

She heard her husband snort a mischievous laugh, as if he had found something entertaining about her comment.

“What?” She snapped. 

“Radnaya, are you jealous of Alina?” The General asked, with a cocky smile on his face, which made Irina feel her heart flutter. 

Irina tried her best to put on a disbelieving look on her face. Was she? Could that upset feeling in her stomach be due to jealousy? 

“Oh, please,” she lied, briskly smoothing her dress, as to try and hide the unsettling feeling growing on her chest, “you and I both know we’re way past feeling jealousy for one another.” 

“Is that so?” He teased her, letting his fingers linger around her collarbones after putting a beautiful diamond necklace on her. 

“Yes.” She lied again. “You can spend all the time with her attending to her, helping her, whatever. I couldn’t care less.” 

He suddenly stopped caressing her skin, and backed away a few steps. Irina tried to figure his expression out, but she couldn’t put any name on it other than uncomfort. When in fact, he was trying to hide his hurting as much as she was trying to hide her caring.

“Fine.” Aleksander said, upset. What he thought to be harmless and lustful teasing between the two had turned into the first real bicker they’d had in some time. “I’ll go down and escort Alina, if you excuse me.” 

“You’re excused.” She murmured. 

Aleksander left with heavy steps, leaving her all alone with a heavy heart while she put on her heels. How dare he tease her about such a thing? Most importantly, how dare she break the unspoken agreement her husband and she had made all those years ago about caring just enough about the other?

She couldn’t feel jealous. Because being jealous meant that she cared. That she cared more than what she was willing to admit. All those years of convincing herself that her husband could never hurt her, because she would never care enough. But there she was, feeling like a fool for upsetting Aleksander with such emotions that –as unreasonable as she realised they were– had made her snap in a completely uncharacteristic way for her. Was it really a young girl all it took for her to realise she might care more than ‘just enough’ about her husband? 

Thankfully, a knock on the door saved her from dwelling on such poisonous feelings. “Ivan?” She exclaimed. 

“Lady Kirigan, sorry to disturb you. But the General has asked me to escort you to the palace, since he’s busy getting the event ready.” 

“Oh yes, thank you, Ivan.” She stood up and intertwined her arm with the grisha’s. He walked her around the castle, until eventually they walked past Alina, accompanied of course by her husband. They seemed to be eagerly discussing words that she didn’t get to hear. Irina glared at her husband, but she still managed to give a kind and genuine smile to Alina. Poor girl didn’t have to suffer the consequences of her insane –and completely unfair– jealousy of her. “Good luck.” She whispered to her. 

Ivan walked with her towards the Grand Palace, where they announced her arrival, followed by everyone bowing their heads to greet her. She climbed up the stairs to where the King and Queen were sitting. 

“Mother, father.” She addressed them. 

“Hello, Irina.” They saluted back, as she stood behind her mother. “And where is that husband of yours?” Her mother asked mockingly. “Unattending you, now that he has a new toy to play with?” 

“Mother,” she sighed, “yes. He’s escorting her here. As the leader of the Second Army, it’s his job. And she’s not a toy, mother, her name is Alina. And she’s the Sun Summoner. The one that will free us all. Give her the respect she’s due.” 

“Well, I guess we’ll see about that.” The Queen stated, as the main doors opened, to let Alina and General Kirigan, followed by their army of grisha, into the salon. 

Aleksander proudly stuttered alongside the young girl, who was wearing a golden laced veil over her face. The grisha behind them stopped on their tracks while the two of them approached the stairs. Aleksander nodded at the girl, and Alina shoved the veil back, allowing the Queen and King to see her face. 

“I thought she’d be taller.” Out of all the meaner things her father probably had to say, Irina was happy he chose such a harmless one. 

“I thought she’d be shu.” Of course it would be her mother who put the poor girl on the spot like that. Irina glared towards her. “Well, I guess she’s shu enough. Tell her.. Oh, I don’t know, good morning.” The Queen added, motioning towards the translator behind her. 

“I don’t actually speak shu,” Alina said, defensive “your Highness.” 

“Then what are you?” 

Irina could see the confusion and fear on Alina’s face, struggling to find the answer that her damn mother had made her. 

“She is Alina Starkov,” General Kirigan stepped in, in an attempt to save her from the humiliation, “the Sun Summoner, moya tsaritsa.” Irina was happy he had done that, since she felt bad enough for the girl. “She will change the future. Starting now.” 

He raised his hand to summon shadows, immersing the room on what it looked like the inside of a dark veil. The room was so dark, Irina could barely see what was in front of her. But she could see enough. Her husband was so close to Alina, his lips were almost brushing her ear. He whispered something to her, and then offered his hand to her. 

The second he touched her, a thousand beams of light emerged from her, so bright that everyone in the room had to either squint their eyes or cover their face. The two of them were left inside a massive orb of light, so glaring that the King had to stand up to believe his eyes.

As soon as Aleksander dropped Alina’s hand, she stopped glowing and the room was filled with nothing but natural light and a soaring round of applause. “Bravo, bravo!” People were exclaiming. 

“How long will she need?” The King asked eagerly.

“Destroying the Fold will be no easy feat.” The General said, walking around the girl. “She alone may not be able to do it. She will remain with me at the Little Palace to train… undisturbed.” He looked at her wife, so quickly that no one could possibly notice. But Irina did. Was he enjoying making her suffer?

Irina’s stomach twisted again at her husband's words, trying to remain indifferent in front of him. When will she be able to free herself for the monster that was growing in her?

“Then train her quickly.” The King threatened him. “Our wars have been a noble pursuit, but this chatter from the West about becoming a sovereign nation, that needs to stop. The sooner we are one country again, the better.” 

“Agreed,” the General said, “moi tsar.”  He proceeded to grab Alina by her hands and whisper something to her that Irina did not hear. He smiled at her, turned around and stormed towards the exit. 

Irina felt her heart drop. Wasn’t he going to escort her back into the castle? She glanced around, but Ivan was nowhere to be seen. Fine. She didn’t need a prince to help her walk down some stupid steps, damn all the protocols that had made her life miserable since she was old enough to speak. She proudly lifted her dress high enough to stop it from touching the floor and headed down on her own. She kept her vision towards the front, to avoid seeing the pitiful stares directed at her from other members of the court, and gracefully left the Grand Palace. 

Once inside the Little Palace, she stormed towards her shared bedroom, and not even the nanny saying the kids were down in the kitchens making a mess stopped her from facing her husband. Her blood was boiling. She could deal with jealousy. She could deal with him flirting with other women. What she was not willing to deal with was disrespect. They didn’t need to love each other, they didn’t need to do as much as liking each other, but they both would always have the decency to respect each other. They would never make the other one look like a fool in front of others. That was their pact. And he had broken it. 

“You couldn’t even help me down the stairs?” She mumbled, once she entered their room. She hastily threw her heels off her feet, and walked towards him to help him out of his kafka. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I knew you were still upset at me, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“That’s no excuse and you know it.” She spatted. 

“Oh I do apologise, I didn’t realise you needed help walking down a couple of steps.” He hissed. 

“Saints, Aleksander, you know this isn’t about the stupid stairs. Of course I can manage a couple of steps on my own. It’s about the gesture. I’m a princess, my one and only job is to wait until someone holds my hand and escorts me down. You made me look like a fool back there. You couldn’t bother to help your wife back into the castle because you were too focused on helping Alina.” 

“Alina again, what’s your problem with her? She’s the Sun Summoner Irina, of course she’ll get all the help she needs, from me or any other grisha in this palace. Why are you so bothered with that?”

“I am not bothered with that, of course I’m glad Alina is getting help, and I want nothing more than for her to feel comfortable here, I just… I…

“Oh Irina, would it just kill you to admit you’re jealous of Alina?”

“Yes! Yes it would kill me, Aleksander!” Irina gasped, her eyes covered in a gleam that could only mean tears were about to roll down her cheeks. “My whole life I’ve been nothing more than the fool princess who dreamt about a life out of a fairytale. But this is the real world, so instead I am the fool that agrees on an arranged marriage because it is my duty and I am the fool that pretends to be happy about it every single day for the sake of my children and my honour. But I refuse to be the fool that falls in love with someone who will never love her back.” 

Aleksander resented the words coming out of his wife’s mouth. Out of all the things he had ever thought of calling her, the word fool had never crossed his mind. She was fierce, because from the day they were married, she had kept her unspoken bow to remain faithful to her duties. She was a loving mother and a caring wife, and the kindest person he had ever met. She was smart, and unafraid to speak her mind in favour of the ones who didn’t have a voice. She was gentle, yet witty; her words could disarm men with the same agility his shadows slaughtered them. She was uncommonly bubbly and didn’t mind laughing at herself. 

He wouldn't call her perfect, but simply because shadows were the only thing he considered worthy of being described as perfection. At night, however, with her naked body against his, during those blissful seconds when the overload of emotions forced him to be truthful to his thoughts, he considered her to be a pretty good contender.

It started with an unconscious smile on his lips after one of her jokes, with the yearning to see her eyes become half moons every time she laughed, with the sour feeling of loneliness every time he travelled. It wasn’t until he found himself missing her in one of his journeys that he realised he might be falling in love with her. So he quickly made sure to step on such weakening feelings, and he grabbed the word love and locked it away, without realising he had merely hidden it behind the pretence of caring, as an unintended way to protect himself. Because caring led to disappointment, but loving… loving led to losing. And he had learnt the hard way that he didn’t like losing.

“You are so sure of that?” Aleksander said, closing the gap between them. 

“Y– yes.” Irina whispered, letting the tip of her nose touch his. 

“My darling, have I really been such an awful husband you can’t even phantom the thought of me having feelings for you?” He murmured against her ear. Irina closed her eyes, and he did so as well, feeling the wetness of her tears on his cheeks. “Wouldn’t you believe me if I told you that every day I get to call you ‘my wife’ I am thankful for that, and that I am grateful for the children you’ve given us and that there’s no one else I would rather come back to?”

“I do believe all of those things, Aleksander” she whispered against his lips, “because out of all the things you mentioned, you didn’t mention ‘love’”.

“Some words are more meaningful when taken for granted.” He said, brushing his lips against hers. 

‘Not this,’ Irina thought, ‘I really want –no– I really need to hear you say it.’ But it was too late. She had already given in to her husband’s gentle caresses, to his intoxicating touch, as she always did. Because if her husband couldn’t say he loved her, she was happy enough pretending this was his way of showing her.

********

author’s note: thank you for reading! i just finsihed watching shadow and bone and i had to write this! should it become a series? i appreciate all feedback <3

[godlessandwrecked]

the lust in hatred | the darkling

she hates him, his stupid savior complex, and his entitledness. she won’t waste an opportunity to make him mad, but what she wasn’t expecting is that, this time, he’d do something about it.

WORD COUNT: 2,8k

PAIRING: the darkling x fem sun summoner!reader

CONTENTS: NSFW 18+, brat tamer aleks, fem masturbation, a hint of dubcon, some degrading stuff but it’s mild, slight breath play if you blink you miss it

a/n: this was born out of a conversation I had with @morozovastarless where she encouraged me to write the filthiest fantasies I had and not be fucking scared of posting them. although it’s not as dirty as what I have planned for the future, it is a different approach to what I usually write, so hopefully it came out good. the last one I wrote for aleks was kind of pretty, this one’s straight up dirty. here’s to being a dumb whore! cheers x

She’d done it again.

She’d managed to somehow piss him off once more. And as much as she enjoyed getting on the general’s nerves, it was becoming tiring.

Every step she took, she felt like she was stepping on his toes - or more like, tripping over them and making a fool of herself in front of him. Day in and day out. And it wasn’t even her fault.

That awful prick, biggest pain in the ass she’d had to ever endure. If she wasn’t the Sun Summoner and loved her country and its people as much as she did, she would have run out of the Little Palace a long time ago. 

He’d summoned her to his quarters again, surely to give her a piece of his mind and scold her for not sticking to his meticulous plan and ‘getting out of line’. And sure, she’d strayed too far off his original plan, but the tables had turned quickly mid battle and the fight had required improvisation, so she’d delivered. Wasn’t that what he wanted? For her to learn? He sure as hell was not that good of a teacher, then. 

As soon as the fight had ended, she’d seen that all familiar disappointment on his face, and she knew she’d done it again. Of course, he hadn’t said anything in front of anyone, he couldn’t have anyone noticing she wasn’t following his orders and he wasn’t able to get her in check. He always waited until they were alone to take his anger out on her. 

She knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as she stepped into the room.

He’d start off calmly, give her a chance to feel ashamed of herself, which never worked. Then, he’d move onto anger once he realized she wouldn’t give him the time of day, and yell for a while. He’d tell her how she couldn’t follow basic orders and was good for nothing, how she was going to get herself killed… same as always. After that, he’d once again try to make her understand the ‘gravity of the situation’ and that she needed to listen to him for this - whatever this was - to work. So she would put on a fake remorseful face, nod her little head and call it a day. 

It was all nonsense anyway, and she didn’t care about any of it. She just wanted to sit by the lake and have a cold glass of kvas with her friends after their encounter with those damned Fjerdans, not spend the evening being told off by a man who was too dignified and proud of himself.

She couldn’t stand to be around him for too long. She felt like he was walking on eggshells with him constantly, and the fact that he didn’t seem to like her just made her dislike him even more. 

She loathed how he bossed everyone around and walked around like he owned the place, his head held high, giving commands left and right - but what she hated about him most of all was that a part of her longed to please him, for him to like her. She wanted - no, needed - his approval, as much as she despised to admit it. There was something so alluring about his power and his position, and as much as she detested it, she wanted him to trust and respect her. Just like everyone else.

But he hadn’t made the effort to get to know her or understand her since she arrived at the palace, so why was he judging her so harshly? He didn’t care, so she wouldn’t either. Fuck him and his rules. She was the Sun Summoner, even if that seemed to mean nothing to everyone around here. She didn’t have to put up with anyone’s shit, much less his. 

She stared at his door, jet black and carved in intricate patterns, so imposing and staggering.

She considered turning back around and running away for a good minute, but finally braced herself with a sigh and stepped into the room, too pissed off to bother knocking on the door. He was expecting her, and the quicker they could get it done and over, the sooner she’d find herself drunk and laying on a field with grass sticking to her butt.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked disinterestedly.

“Took you long enough.” He was standing over his desk, his back to her. “You know why you’re here.” His voice was dark and brooding, his shoulders tense, and he wasn’t even looking at her. She had really done it this time. “Care to explain why you strayed off the plan, again?”

“The battle required it, so I did what I thought was best for all of us.” 

“You disobeyed direct orders from your general, and it’s not the first time you’ve done it. I’m starting to grow tired.”

“Well, sorry for my quick thinking and improvisation. Would you have rather we’d all gotten killed?” she answered simply, keeping her cool. He was not going to win this one.

He finally turned around to face her. He looked composed, and his expression was serene, but his eyes said otherwise. He hadn’t liked her answer.

He walked closer to her until they were standing eye to eye, and delivered his next words carefully and with intention through gritted teeth, hoping she’d get them through her thick skull once and for all, “I am your superior, you have to listen to me and do as you’re told.”

“My superior? I thought we were ‘equals’?”

“We can’t be equals if you disrespect and disobey me constantly.”

She scoffed, already tired of his recurring speech, but finding satisfaction in his irritation nonetheless. She had to admit to herself that part of her enjoyed riling him up. There was something in his cutting voice and angry demeanor every time she pissed him off that thrilled her, that made her heart race in an exciting way.

“So what? Are you gonna punish me? Give me a good spanking?” she mocked him. 

His jaw tightened at her words, his nostrils flaring. “You think this is funny?”

“I don’t care!” she snapped. “Don’t you get it? I don’t like you. I’m not some puppet you can control, and I can’t fucking stand you.”

There it was. She’d finally said it. 

He walked up to her in big steps and before she knew it, he’d pinned her against the wall roughly, his hand holding her chin, his fingers digging on her cheeks. “Careful,” he whispered dangerously. His face was inches away from hers, and there was a crazy-hazed look in his eyes, his pupils dilating as he eyed her darkly. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again, understood?” 

Her breathing became laboured at his close proximity, her palms sweaty. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. Normally, she’d be repulsed by his mere presence, so why wasn’t she pushing him away?

Her eyes landed on his pink lips, so close to hers. She saw them parting slightly, felt the exhale of his breath against her mouth. Her head was getting fuzzy. She could smell the faint musky scent of the pine woods still lingering on his skin, so intoxicating. Saints, she almost wanted to… wanted to… 

“Fuck you,” she spat, her tone full of spite. 

He spun her around harshly and pushed her against the wall, her back flush to his chest, his hands on either side of her body, caging her in. Her cheek was pressed to the wall, and his lips were grazing her ear. There wasn’t an inch of space between them. “You want to say that to me again?” 

She swallowed hard. Her heart was hammering in her chest, she could hear it pumping wildly in her ears and drowning out all sound. His face moved to the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse as he smiled sinisterly. Her skin prickled up at the sensation. She went completely still.

Just his presence was intoxicating, enchanting, like a drug she hated but couldn’t get enough of. He didn’t even need to touch her. Just his chest pressed to her back, pinning her against the wall, both her hands on the wall where she couldn’t reach back and touch him, was enough to send her into a frenzy.

Her legs were trembling. She couldn’t bring herself to push him away. She didn’t want to.

“Not so brave now, huh? What’s wrong, princess?” he sneered at her. “I’ve given you too much freedom. I’ve let you believe that you could defy me,” he shook his head, his voice filled with spite and disappointment. “If you want to act like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.”

He grabbed her hair harshly and pulled her head back, burying his head on her neck and the skin of her décolleté, placing his lips on her collarbone and kissing and sukcing fervently, breaking through the skin and leaving purpling marks. His other hand was around her waist, keeping her up and pressed against him - like some doll, his for the taking.

His mouth moved up, leaving a wet trail in its path, before finding her lips and shoving his tongue into her mouth mercilessly without warning, forcing her into a rough kiss, wet and sloppy. She could barely keep up with his demanding pace, but she melted into it regardless; into his darkness, succumbing to it and allowing it to swallow her whole.

Her head was hot and her mind was spinning, filled with thoughts of him and just him and his hands sliding down her body and grabbing at places she would have never dreamed of minutes ago. She could feel his whole body against hers; his hard on pressing on her backside, rubbing himself on her, a grunt leaving his lips as the material of his pants brushed against his clothed tip. 

“You need to be taught a lesson. You listen to me, you do as I say. You make me happy, and I’ll make you happy, understand? Tell me you understand.” 

To be fair, she didn’t understand anything he was telling her. She was too lost in lust to truly listen to anything he was saying.

Saints, she hated him. And yet, she was nodding her head eagerly, dying for more, more of anything he was willing to give her.

How pathetic. It didn’t take much of him to have her crumbling in his hands, whining and agreeing like a dumb pup, too desperate for him to think straight. If he asked her to get on her knees for him right this moment, she wasn’t so sure she’d put up much of a fight.

His lips found hers again as his hand frantically pushed past the buttons of her kefta, throwing open the garment and grabbing at her breast. He pinched her nipple in between his fingers, and she moaned into his mouth, her knees buckling as he pulled at it, twisting it slightly, enough to send an electrifying shock of pain and pleasure through her whole body.

“Look at you. You claim to hate me, but your body says otherwise,” he whispered against her lips, his voice dark and sultry. She thought she could hear the faint excitement of arousal in it too, a new addition, and just the thought of it being provoked by her made her stomach jump. 

This was so different to what she was used to. No one had ever kissed her like this before, or touched her like this: so demanding, so commanding, taking everything from her and yet, at the same time, giving her his all. Everything felt so frantic and passionate with him. She hated him, and she wanted more. Her hatred for him only fueled her desire for his flesh, all she could think of was her teeth sinking into his neck as he fucked her dumb. 

“Please,” she said, reaching her hand back and searching blindly for the fastener of his pants. She was well aware of how pathetic she sounded begging for him, but she didn’t care. She wanted him.

He tutted, slapping her hand away. “You’re pleading now? I’m afraid begging will get you nowhere with me,” he said, forcing her jaw to the side so she’d look him in the eye. “You’re a disobedient whore. If you don’t do what you’re told, you don’t get what you want. Now, I’m gonna have my way with you, and you’re gonna take it and shut up.”

What was she doing? She was losing her mind. She felt like putty in his hands. She’d told him she wasn’t his puppet merely minutes ago, but what was she now if not a rag doll in his hold? He was playing her strings, she knew that, giving her just enough so he could keep her on a leash, like an obedient dog - but she didn’t care, not when he was making her feel so good.

His foot moved between her own feet, forcing her to spread her legs further apart, her hands flat on the wall. His fingers moved down her waist to the front of her leg, catching her skirts in his hand before hitching them up, slithering under them to find itself in the sweet spot between her thighs.

He didn’t waste a second before he put his hand inside her underwear and his fingers made contact with her aching core, running his thumb between her wet folds and spreading her arousal around, earning a whimper from her. 

His touches were light as a feather at first, holding her tight against him as she squirmed and shivered in pleasure - but he finally gave in and started to rub tight circles on her clit, rubbing her swollen nub in controlled motions, her head hanging back to find cover over his shoulder.

One of his fingers dipped slightly into her entrance, and as she opened her mouth to moan, he wrapped his hand around her neck, keeping her in place over his shoulder. He squeezed the sides of her throat, cutting her breath intake for a second and making her head dizzy, combined with the teasing of his fingers sending a shockwave through her whole body. 

“If this is the only way you’ll learn obedience…” He suddenly removed his hand from her, making her whine in protest to the loss of contact, but he shut her up by shoving his slick coated fingers inside her mouth, making her taste herself on him.

His other hand snuck under her skirts again, and gave her ass a firm swat that resounded through the whole room, before slipping between the back of her thighs. He eased his long fingers into her core, sliding them inside her in a swift motion that made her breath catch on her throat, gagging around the digits still inside her mouth. And just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore of his sweet torture, he started thrusting them in and out of her. 

In that standing position and with her legs almost closed, two of his fingers felt like too much, too tight, and with the added intrusion inside her mouth, she felt completely full. She couldn’t help but imagine what his cock would feel like inside her, filling her up from this same position.

The filthy wet sounds coming from her cunt as he drove his fingers in and out of her were obscene. They just managed to make her feel like a dirty whore, but she had to admit it was kind of exhilarating. She just needed to sink her teeth into his flesh, feel him on her tongue.

He curled his fingers inside her, grazing all the right spots and moving his hand relentlessly, ruthlessly, at an extremely fast pace, until her legs were shaking from her quickly building orgasm and she felt like something inside her was about to spill over. She was mumbling incoherent sentences, lost in a haze; her throat too tight and sore to swallow her own saliva, his digits pushing down on her tongue, drool dripping off her lips. 

His teeth sank on her jawline, breathing her in harshly as he kept pumping his fingers at an unrelenting and unforgiving pace, his thumb drawing circles on her clit, hitting a particular spot that only managed to pull the knot inside her tighter and tighter before it finally snapped, sending her into a mind blowing orgasm that made her knees wobble and her eyes roll back.

She was lost for a few seconds, that sweet, warm feeling washing over her; her fingers tingling, her arms going numb. He removed his fingers from both her entrances and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back and connecting their lips, pushing his tongue inside her mouth into a sloppy kiss.  

“No one can touch you like this. Only I get to have you, yes?” he asked in a whisper, as commanding as always, while he nibbled on her bottom lip. “If you behave, maybe you’ll get my cock next time, princess.”

If only he’d settled their disputes like this from the very beginning.

“I fucking hate you,” she said, fighting off the grin that was threatening to appear on her face.

He smirked.

So he found her amusing now - good to know.

═════════ ❃ ═════════

[truecobblepot]

OMG I just woke up from a dream about The Darkling holy fuck that was amazing-

I was seeing everything from sun summoner perspective, but it wasn't exactly Alina- I think I'll create oc now✋😭💖

[elleclairez]

The lost Morozova - Nikolai Lantsov x OC x Fedyor Kaminsky

« Everything will be fine Alina. You go to Noviy Zem, and I will fo to Ketterdam so that the Darkling cannot track us. I do hope with all my heart that this isn’t a goodbye and that we will see each other soon. If not I just wish to say thank you, Alina, for being my friend and trusting me and thank you, Mal, for being there for her. I hope to see you both again one day”

Those were the last word Elizaveta has said to her dear friend Alina Starkov before the two had to part ways in order to hide from the Darkling.

The young Grisha did not know how long has it been since she saw the young Summoner or since she left the place she once called home, the Little Palace. Weeks? Months? She wasn’t quite sure. After spending quite some time with Alina on the run and then Mal, the three decided it would be best to part ways so that the Darkling couldn’t find them. Or at least it would take him longer to do it. 

Before not so long, Elizabeth Zimaevsky had everything she could want. Her parents were safely living in Noviy Zem, she was a well respected Heartender, right hand to the Darkling and was engaged to the nicest man in the world, Fedyor Kaminsky. And all of this at the young age of 17.

Now she had nothing. She was a deserter, fled her home to save her newly found friend from the man that she considered once a brother, her family must think that she is dead and Fedyor might hate her or worse, has been killed by the Darkling for her betrayal. The latter idea scared her the most.

Her relationship with Fedyor was so easy but complicated at the same time. While Elizaveta wanted power, to be in a high position, Fedyor wanted peace and a calm life. The two were opposites even though both were heartenders and both wanted to help people, just in very different ways.

But the biggest problem was that while Fedyor loved Elizaveta with all his heart and wanted nothing more than to marry her, the young woman loved the man very much, but she always felt like something was missing, ans yet she still agreed to marry him thinking that the gap in her heart would be filled with time.

Back to the present.

Surviving has been difficult especially since she was so used to just demand whatever she needed, and it would be brought to her. But then again, could you blame her, she spent her entire life (well since she was 6) living at the Little Palace which meant that she never had to ask for anything. 

But luckily thanks to her training with Botkin she knew how to be sneaky and to blend in a crowd. She learned to survive on stolen money or anything of some worth. 

But the young woman had one rule : never steal from the ones in need but only from the rich ones like dukes, merchants, privateers...

On one morning Elizaveta left the tiny room that she was renting to steal some money since her purse was getting too light to her liking.

While walking through the port she saw many people from all around the world. Kerch merchants, Zemeni ambassadors on their way to the capital, Shu travellers. 

Two caught her eyes. Siblings by the looks, the first, a man, huge as a mountain and the other, a woman, smaller but Elizaveta knew better, that woman could take down an army if she wanted to. The Heartender understood that those people weren’t to be messed around.

Seeing the two siblings messing with each other reminded her of her old life in the Little Palace. Her teachers that she respected and saw as parents figures, in all honesty she really didn’t know who she’d be without Botkin’s training or Baghra’s guidance. She worried that the Darkling wouldn’t be too merciful towards his mother after finding out that she let the Sun Summoner and the Second Army’s second most important person go. Elizaveta shuddered at the idea of what he could do to her.

She also missed her friends. Genya with whom she could spend hours talking in her chambers, Zoya with whom she loved to travel on missions and have friendly sarcastic feuds that could go for hours, David with whom she would spend hours away in the library in utter silence and yet if you’d ask the two would their dearest friend was the two would say each other’s name in a heartbeat. 

And then there was Fedyor.

Elizaveta didn’t spend one day without thinking about the man. Would it be remembering how they’d sneak into masquerade balls and spend the night away dancing and pretending that on the next morning they wouldn’t have to be soldiers again instead of a young couple.

The two grew up together, even with their 3-year difference, the two were inseparable since Elizaveta was 10  and no one could keep them apart since that day. The friendship then turned into romance on her 14th birthday and then into an engagement just a few months ago on the woman’s 17th birthday.

The Heartender remember the last time she saw him. It was at the royal ball, Fedyor was to be sent away, and so they spend the evening dancing together and while the man was thinking that their last kiss was a “see you soon” one, Elizaveta wasn’t sure if she’d ever see him again.

The same thoughts troubled her mind all the time.

Did he hate her ? Did the à Darkling kill him ? Did he run away ? The woman didn’t know and that lack of information killed her. Yes Fedyor was a orpichnik but unlike Ivan, the Darkling didn’t favour him and wasn’t happy when he heard that his right hand chose him as her future husband. The Darkling always said that she was meant for greater things than marrying “a simple commoner”. Why did he say that? She didn’t know. She never understood why the powerful man trusted her, even cared for her the same way Baghra seemed to care for her as she was family.

Her thoughts were quickly distracted when a man caught her eyes.

He was quite handsome but something felt wrong about him. His red hair seemed out of place, his nose too broken, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from looking at him.

She stopped her thoughts from wandering too far and focused on his attire. By the clothes Elizaveta guessed that the man was clearly a pirate which meant that he had money. Which meant that he was the perfect victim?

Sneakily like a cat, she got close to the man and waited for the right moment to snatch his wallet that was in his coat pocket. The right moment came when someone bumped into him and that is when the woman went into action, she took the wallet from his coat and walked away as calmly as she could while blending in the crowd to not seem suspicious.

That was easier than she thought, way too easy even. A good pirate would have caught her the second she got close to him.

A few minutes later, Elizaveta was happily counting the money that she stole, walking back to the little building where she was living, tiredness taking over her.

Not using her powers can be dangerous for a Grisha, you become more tired, the natural glow that all Grisha disappear and the natural beauty that the Grisha have become almost invisible. Without using her power Elizaveta looked to pale, her hair didn’t shine as they used, she looked almost sickly and honestly she felt as terribly as she looked. Her head was pounding, and she knew that she needed to lay down as soon as she could before she fainted on the street.

But suddenly someone yanked the young Heartender in an alleyway and pushed her into a wall, hands on both her arms holding her in place. Before she could even react or scream a sweet, voice whispered in her ear.

“As much as I respect anyone who can outsmart and steal from me, I would love for you to give me back what’s mine, golubushka.” The voice sweet as honey but strong as steel at the same time, it held a power that it felt like a storm crashing over the woman. Never was Elizaveta caught, and she didn’t know what to do. Using her powers could be dangerous since people were looking for her, but she knew that she couldn’t fight him hand to hand, she was too weak right now and the hit that her head took wasn’t helping.

The man moved his face from her ear and looked at her face.

He was even more handsome up close but again something didn’t feel right. She couldn’t name what was wrong, but she could definitely tell that the man’s face hid a secret. His eyes were what caught her attention the most. They were a strange muddy green and again she felt like those eyes didn’t belong on that face. They were beautiful Weirdly enough Elizaveta didn’t what she wanted to do more, punch the man and run or kiss him. What was wrong with her?! That hit on the head must have been way too hard on her because otherwise she wouldn’t be thinking such things. 

For a second the man’s eyes travelled under her face, to her neck, and suddenly the man stilled, his right hand let go of her arm and took the necklace that was around her neck. She didn’t understand what was going on. Surely as a pirate the man must have seen plenty of jewels so why would an old simple necklace make him stop threatening her, or whatever he was doing. 

But before she could do anything the man spoke again. And the words that came of his mouth were certainly unexpected. 

“Elizaveta?” 

She wanted to answer. Ask her how did he know her but suddenly the world around became all dark, and she could only feel herself falling but two strong arms caught her in time. 

[visd3stele]

The child of moon and stars

please read the notes here before proceeding

tw: barely implied SA

Chapter 1: One awfully typical wednesday

We are all villains in someone else's stories. Hard to digest, this one piece of truth. But I can't exactly complain. I bet my blood those slavers who just crossed the veil between our world and the next did so not believing me a saint. Shadows still lurked over their bodies when one of the Dreg's man called for me.

"Schatten!" Shadow. The name the town has given me what seemed like ages ago. "Boss wants you in his office. Now."

"Tell him to wait, I've got one more stop for the night," I throw over my shoulder. Kaz sent me to fetch the new weapons and my quick, unplanned fight with a crew of human's sellers already slowed me down. Not enough to be a problem yet, but I had no time to spare for Per Haskell and his crap.

Before the guy could comment on my statement, I curled and flicked my fingers. The shadows wrapped around me, shielding me from prying eyes and I vanished down the street, right past my collegue. The angry grunt he let out, paired with the cursing of my name in both Kerch and Shu brought a smirk to my face. The man is a good gambler, strong in street fights, quick at pocketing the pigeons. Hell! He even stepped in and replaced Rojakke after Inej fired him. But the man was loyal to Pekka. Old generation, following the old idiot out of some sense of honor. In Ketterdam? Delusional.

When I joined the Dregs, however, it was made clear who runs the reins. And even if I didn't have to stick around the better, bigger, brighter guy to survive, I'd still be loyal to Kaz over anyone else. The devilish boy earned my loyalty as I earned his. But that's old news and if I drift down the memory lane I risk too much. Always keep your focus in the Barrel; permit no distraction on a job were the first things I learned in here. And after five years, I cannot allow such stupid mistakes on my part.

I let go of the armour of darkness and lose myself in the crowded street. Until I reached my destination, my fingers fished some wallets out of ignorants' pockets. I took the kruge out and tossed the wallets in other pigeons' coats. By the time they realized they've been robbed, I'd be far and the incriminatory proof someone else's concern.

"Good evening, mister Haal." I mock a military salute as soon as I see my supplier outside a deserted bar. The man sneered in his wrinkled Stadwatch uniform. Everyone has a price, was the second thing I learned, you just need to find it and use it. Poor mister Haal here, for example, has a thing going on with his commander's son. Seeing the modest situation of the Stadwatch officer – a nickle of sand compared to his commander's – the latter wouldn't be too happy to hear about such a sickly sweet rendezvous. Hence the agreement mister Haal had to sign with me.

"Coming from your prince, I take it?" My tease only made him grunt some more. "I'm terribly sorry I had to take you from him. But business is business."

"That's all what this Saints forsaken town is about," Haal mumbled bitterly. My nostrils flared and I felt the muscles in my tight jaws flex involuntarily.

"Yeah," I breathed heavily. "It is. Either adapt or perish, so –" I stretched my arms. An inovensive geture, to be honest. I had no other motive behind it than express the hopelessness of the situation. It is how it is and unfortunately there's nothing to be done. "Which one shall it be tonight?"

Haal stumbled backwards, eyeing my hands in desperate worry. He's right to be cautious, of course. But fear usualy makes people work slower when they have time to think about it. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, actually."

He gulped and nodded, leading me away from the ruined building. The streets in these part are worse than the rest. Defected lamps give way for crimes after crimes, misery and decay. Good people lock themselves in their shacky homes since hours before sundown. Better safe than sorry, because if not, the price is too high.

My breath gets blocked in my throat as my heart fasten its beat. Irregular pulsations either numb my limbs or sent them in a unstoppable trembling. I try to blink away the tears, shake off the dread, the panic and the shame. Nausea makes its way in my mouth along with the same menacing voice chanting in the back of my mind. Should've fight harder. Surrounded by darkness and still failed to protect yourself.

"You coming?"

I called and the darkness answered. I felt each shadow readying for my command. The power under my skin, the feeling in my blood, uniting my being with something so close to nature and its creation. The waves of the shadows, that only I could tell apart from the darkness of the night, gave me a strong sense of comfort. Now I had access to my gift. Now I wasn't defenseless. Haven't been so in years and won't be ever again.

"Yes. Of course." I followed him after a corner, acknowledging the dead end, the leaking pipes I could use to climb up and run if need be and the narrow door at the farther end of the wall on my left.

Haal fumbled with a ring of keys until he found the one he needed and opened the door. "Ladies first," he tried to be a gentleman. In Ketterdam? Useless.

I arched a raven eyebrow, fixing him with two mercury flames guarded by long lashes. "You're stupider than I thought if you imagine I'd step in there before you."

Fear took over his features again. As soon as the door opened I extended the tendrils of my Grisha power, searching the dark room for any threat or trap. None found, hence Haal still breathed fine, if a bit exctatic, next to me. But he didn't need to know exactly what I can do with my shadows.

I think, however, that his thought process didn't differ mine too much. As a Stadwatch, he too would have been instructed. And wouldn't turn his back to a potential enemy. Despite trading weapons for months, at the end of the day I was still Dirtyhands' right hand and he, an officer.

Seeing I don't yield, and no doubt eager to return to his boyfriend before the commander comes home, Haal led the way.

"Where's my stash?"

"These boxes here," the officer was quick to point out when my eyes darted around the room. When I caught wind of his role in the arms importing departament of the Stadwatch, I knew Haal would be perfect to assist the Dregs. Every time a new ship came to shore, loaded with all sorts of weapons, the young officer was to make sure I get my hands on some of each the first.

"You picked them for me?" I asked increduloues.

"I thought it'd save us some time. They're the best, I swear on my life."

A humph left my mouth as I looked inside the boxes set aside. I couldn't be sure until I have a look at the rest as well, obviously, but these seemed to be in the best shape indeed. "What about your boyfriend's?"

"What?"

"You're so willing to swear on your life, but what about your boyfriend's life? Would you swear on that too?"

"Leave hin out of this, Schatten!"

"Sorry, dearest mister Haal. I can't, you see," I turn to look at him, a fake apology in my voice. "Because if you trick me, then I'd have to settle the score. And I can't harm you, it'd create the trouble of finding another one to do your job, so..."

I trailled my voice, giving him the chance to catch on what I meant. To his credit, Haal did. His eyes widened, his fists bowled and he set his burning eyes on me. But as no one dies from a glare, I only bit out a swift laugh.

"Anger doesn't suit you. Now get to work and open the other boxes. I'm not dealing in half done jobs."

[stressed-chaos]

Darkness and Light - Darkling

Darkling x Sun Summoner!Fem!reader/OC

This is to make up for all the lost time! There is no use of a name, so it can be read as an original female character or as a female reader.

Let me know what you think of this one! This is my first time writing the Darkling so I'm nervous.

Warning: My shitty writing, food, mentions of arguing, fire, fighting, canon level violence (not too graphic), the cut being used, mentions of being sick, pregnancy.

If anyone wants to be tagged in any of my continuous daydreaming, they can let me know!

Darkness and light do not fit together. Shadows are scared by the light. Enough of shadows can cover the light, like her soul will be if she stays with him. 

These were the words that traveled everyday in the halls of the Little Palace. 

-

The sun was sinking into the river, relieving the burning water of its agony to rest for the night. Far away from the ice cold lands of Fjerda, in the shadow-fold separated land of Ravka, she was just about finished buying some ingredients needed for dinner. Aleksander had demanded to come along with, but she insisted on having some time for herself, ignoring his growing over protective efforts each day. She was a sun summoner after all, she knew how to defend herself. 

He had not left her side for the past few days, taking her along for meetings and glaring at anyone who dares come close to her. In the night, he held her tighter, mindful not to hurt her, but in a protective stance. She was finally able to coax her husband to attend to an urgent task, slipping away for a while as soon as he left. She appreciated his protectiveness, but she was getting frustrated and did not have the heart to tell him of her misery, even if the pout formed on his face would be a sight to see. He was already taking care of her when she was sick and did not want him to think she was taking it for granted. Despite their arguments on the matter, his stubbornness won and she suspected their loyal guards were already following her from a distance. 

Inspecting a tomato, she noticed a tall and broad presence standing next to her and she made way for them to complete their task. Soon, she moved away to inspect another vegetable but noticed the figure from the corner of her eyes. Were they standing closer than before?

She was prepared to use her powers if needed, but was not wishing to as it was causing more and more of an effort to use them for longer periods. Aleksander had zipped his lips on why that was the cause, but her symptoms supported the claim of it being the flu. 

The person looked Fjerdan, with the tall build and broad shoulders, but she wasn’t quite sure and still keeping a mindful watch, she slowly started backing away, sure they were following her. They had noticed though, and their hands were moving in a Grisha movement discreetly. Her eyes grew wide at realizing it was an unfamiliar Inferni, and they were about to attack her. She successfully evaded the first attack, and tried to call the light with blood pounding in her head, adrenaline filling her body. Before she could respond, however, she heard the slashing whoosh of the cut being released and could only watch frozen as their body sliced in two. 

She looked over her shoulder, seeing Ivan trying to calm her heartbeat, another Heartrender trying to fight the few people advancing towards them. But in the midst of it all, stood her husband, calling upon his shadows near her, to hide her from all the chaos. His eyes suddenly grew wide, looking over her shoulder and she ducked just in time to evade a sword blow. With an adrenaline filled instinct, she blinded the attacker and kicked them for good measure, rushing towards her husband when she was done. The screams of the battle became distant as she questioned her lover about the situation.

He grasped her hands, and silenced her with a quick kiss, ushered her body towards Ivan, eyes pleading not to fight his judgment when he saw her mouth opening. She struggled against Ivan, pleading with him to let her be with him, to not leave him alone in the center of an ambush. Her kicking and screaming was to no avail and eventually Ivan had to slow her heart down enough for her to faint, so he could safely carry her to the place his general had requested.

The sun summoner felt her world spinning, and felt arms catching her before she could fall. Her last words were a curse for Ivan, mixed with another sound of protest. Of course, she couldn’t fight the heartrender's effects and succumbed to the darkness, praying to the saints to keep her husband safe.

-

The exhaustion of the day, which felt like a week, had taken a toll on her and she awoke the next day, panicking when she didn’t recognise her surroundings. She rushed out of the bed with shaky legs, determined to find her whereabouts and her husband. Her world was still spinning but she shook her head to get rid of that and all the negative thoughts that danced in her head. She vaguely remembered a battle, and Aleksander and his request. She had to get to him and help.

The sun hit her face as soon as she opened the door and her hands instinctively went to her eyes, shielding herself. If he was here, he would’ve made a joke about her being the sun summoner and hiding from the sun. His laughing face brought tears to her eyes and she rushed even faster, ignoring the burning sun hitting her foot, urging her to halt. 

-

Aleksander sighed as his army finished arresting everyone that was left alive, though his burning anger was on the verge of exploding and he was on the verge of slicing each of them in half. They don’t get to hurt his wife and be left alive. But he was supposed to be a diplomatic person and with the information he gets out of these people, can help him get more information on why they were planning to capture her. 

But right now, he needs to get to his love.

-

As soon as he heard the word of his guards, he called Ivan and asked her to bring her to one of the safe houses they had built over the years. She was perfectly capable of defending herself but having been sick for a few days, she had not regained her full strength and shouldn’t be draining herself by using the small science even more. 

He set apart the anger cursing through him, which was slowly being overtaken by pure fear. He threw away the negative thoughts and all the what ifs. He will get to his wife. She is safe. Guards are already there. 

Thank the saints, he reached in time. He did not get a moment to imagine what might have happened if he was late, or of anything else. He greeted her as quickly as he could in the midst of a battle and ushered her towards Ivan, pleading for her to be safe. Relief swept through him when she was finally away from the chaos and he went to help his fellow Grisha. 

He left someone in charge of interrogating them, not wasting another moment to rush to his wife. He was led to her room by Ivan and the sight he saw made him sigh happily, she was sleeping and she was safe. He kissed her forehead, “Never scare me like that again, milaya,” and left the room so she could get her much needed rest. 

The news he heard from Ivan made him forget all his wounds.

-

The grand doors to the palace-like place opened but this time she was ready with a ball of light, its fate deciding on the person walking through those doors. The fate was for the ball to die, as none other than Aleksander walked through the doors, freezing as soon as he saw her. His steps faltered, and he stopped, contemplating if he should go to her or not. This choice was made for him by his wife, who ran in full speed towards him, colliding in his arms and kissing him deeply. Black kefta kissed another, reuniting the lovers after the almost heart attack of the ambush. 

They broke apart for much needed oxygen, but did not leave each other's arms. Aleksander buried his nose in her hair, while she hid her face in his chest, smiling, both muttering, “You’re safe.”

She sprang apart suddenly, looking him up and down and he understood, “I’m unharmed, milaya.” 

Seeing as she was about to question, he continued, “I’ll tell you everything, but can we sit first?” He could read her mind. 

She nodded and he gently set her, like a raindrop that glides on a leaf. She lied down, and immediately put her head in his lap, burying her face in his stomach. Their hands were intertwined in a way and appeared as if they were one. She could hear his heart beating out of his chest and her own heart matched that rhythm. After a moment of peace, he began.

“I received a letter earlier. The Fjerdan spies had informed them of your weakness and insistence to go out on your own. It was a planned ambush. They were after us.”

“But there was an Inferni…” she said, confused.

“Those were some who abandoned the war effort and seeked refuge in Fjerda. It was agreed in exchange for them spying in the Little Palace. They were turning against their own people.”

She gasped. “They could’ve chosen not to fight, we gave them a choice.”

“They did not agree with our efforts.”

“I’m sorry, Sasha. I shouldn’t have ran.”

“No, it was my fault too. I shouldn’t have been forcing you to stay.”

-

Moments of peace were what they longed for. With their duties for their people, and dealing with the king, spared them little time for each other. Still their deep love made their marriage work into an example which could be written in romance novels.

Hand in hand, laughing, they were taking a stroll. They had decided to stay for a few days and let other people deal with the issues. It was their sanctuary, untouched by the stress of work, war and the rebellion across the fold. 

She noticed the surroundings, having not given them a second thought before, “This could be a beautiful place to live, Aleksander.”

He agreed, “A perfect place for us…and our little miracle.” 

-

He hesitated. They had talked of kids, but it was more of a one day situation. When Ivan had told him the news, Aleksander was overjoyed, and had personally decided to kill all those alive for trying to hurt his family. When that was settled, he grew worried, Would he be a good father? Would their kid love him if they found out he made the shadow fold? Would they still love him when they find out about the people he has killed?

His worries were taken away by the sound of the door opening and his wife’s silhouette.

-

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Our what?”

“You know what.”

“Don’t you think if it was, I would be the one to tell you, not the other way round?”

“Heartrenders, milaya.”

She gasped. A heartrender could detect the heartbeat of the little kid residing in her belly. If a heartrender says so, there is a minute chance that they would be wrong. Her hands instinctively went to her stomach and were met with her husbands’. She looked at him, teary eyed, “We’re going to be parents?”

“We’re going to be parents,” his words sounded a little distracted, he was frowning. She noticed and tried to calm his worries, “If they are anything like me, they will love their father because of everything he has done for us and his people.”

He chuckled. She knew him so well. 

“I hope they are just like their mother.”

She shook her head, “I hope they are a perfect blend of us both.”

Aleksander pulled her closer by her waist, burying his face in her neck, “I love you, milaya.”

“I love you too, sweet love.”

-

Only a few words echoed with their reality.

Once together, darkness and light are a force that can destroy countless worlds.

They compliment one another and are forever content as long as they are together.

I actually am thinking of it as a prologue for a Kaz Brekker x reader fic (with the same name) I have plans for (he may be slightly OOC...and I'll try to keep it gender neutral, but no plans just yet), but this can also be read as a solo work!

I'm thinking to begin working on it after I finish rewriting my old fic, but who knows!

[findroleplay]

hello! i'm F25+ writer looking for 21+ writers for various fandoms. i'm a literary writer and my replies generally range from 700-1000 words or more, depending on the content of the scene. i don't expect my partner to match my length each time but i'd like someone with a good grasp of writing/grammar/plot! third person past or present tense preferable. i'm fine with nsfw content but all characters must be aged to 18+!

i'm currently looking for lines in the following fandoms - i am mostly interested in playing female ocs but i might be willing to pick up some canon characters so feel free to ask!

hogwarts legacy (sebastian sallow x oc, ominis gaunt x oc) either aged to appropriate age or set after their time at hogwarts until dawn (josh washington x oc) shadow and bone (darkling x oc) stranger things (eddie x oc, steve x oc) true blood (eric x oc) harry potter (draco x hermione, draco x oc) supernatural (castiel x oc, dean x oc) preferably picking up in the earlier seasons i would prefer to write over discord! please like this post and i'll send you a message so that we can work out details!

-

[wesper-ao3feed]

Black Out Days|| Kaz Brekker's sister

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/nOwePcI by XOastorybynatxoxo "Dig a hole Fireworks exploding in my hands If I could paint the sky Would all the stars be shining bloody red? Stay Ey ey ey ah Away ey ah - Black Out Days, Phantogram OR IN WHICH Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason. Those were the words whispered on the streets of Ketterdam, in the taverns and coffeehouses, in the dark and bleeding alleys of the pleasure district known as the Barrel. Kaz always had his reasons. His reason was always his little sister. Brekker Sister OC x found family Words: 517, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: Shadow and Bone (TV), Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: Original Child Character(s), Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Alina Starkov, Mal Oretsev, Genya Safin, Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, David Kostyk, Pim (Six of Crows), Anika (Six of Crows), Pekka Rollins, Tante Heleen (Six of Crows), Jordie Rietveld Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik, David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey & Inej Ghafa & Matthias Helvar & Wylan Van Eck & Nina Zenik, Kaz Brekker & Original Female Character(s), Inej Ghafa & Original Female Character(s), Jesper Fahey & Original Female Character(s), Nina Zenik & Original Female Character(s), Wylan Van Eck & Original Female Character(s), Matthias Helvar & Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Dead Jordie Rietveld, Protective Kaz Brekker, Protective Inej Ghafa, Protective Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker Has PTSD, Ketterdam (Grishaverse), Grisha Jesper Fahey, Alina Starkov is Still a Sun Summoner, Half-Shu Alina Starkov read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/nOwePcI