#Georgiana Dymov

[queen-paladin]

I love you hated female characters. I love you female characters who are flawed. I love you female characters who mess up and try to do the right thing after. I love you female characters who get the undeserved vitriol from fans. I love you female characters who fans completely condemn because of one mistake they made. I love you female characters who fans completely condemn because of one mistake they made as a child. I love you female characters who people blame for ripping apart their ships instead of the larger forces that be. I love you female characters who get all the hate as the male characters who do worse in canon get absolutely none. I love you female characters who get hated on because they told a man “no.”

#feminism #books #female characters #literature #theatre #Amy March #if you can think of any let me know #Sansa Stark #Briony Tallis #cosette fauchelevent #Christine Daae #Lily Evans #nesta archeron #Georgiana Dymov #George Dymov #elain archeron #edwina sharma

[likesomekindofcheese]

Hey! Just recently finished The Great and frankly I’m also upset about Grigor’s relationship between Georgina and Marial, of which I haven’t liked her character since the beginning of the show and can’t seem to fathom why he loves her. Anyways, I can’t seem to find the post where you explain why you don’t like it, and if you haven’t written/posted it, I’d love to see why!

*cracks knuckles*

Hi there! I don't think I made a whole official post about why I don't like it outside of jokes. So let me explain why here. To get one thing over with, it was a personal thing. Gwilym Lee was my celebrity number one husband-boyfriend crush for ages. I began watching The Great for him. And of course I wrote lots of Grigor x reader fics to channel my imagination and lust. So when he became a cheater in season 2, out of nowhere, without any warning...it was a shock. I tried to think through it, justify it, but it never did. It felt like even in my fantasies, I wasn't safe. I wasn't good enough. The minute I slipped up in a romantic relationship, I would be cheated on as punishment. I had panic attacks and couldn't sleep and cried for days. I couldn't even look at the show or images or of Grigor for without crying. It was as if...I was the one cheated on. I literally had to get therapy because it bothered me so much.

Okay, now that this is done, here is my personal take of why Grigor/Marial is bad as a pairing. Also, this is just me being biased and my personal take, so if you ship the pairing...eh, good for you, all the more power to ya. This post isn't for you.

Let's move onto the foundation. I've discussed it a lot with the Queen and legend @ladystrallan but here it is for all y'all. The Big reasons why. Starting with the most important one.

Reason #1) Marial does not actually give a shit about Grigor's well-being and happiness.

Often in fanfics, when Grigor cheats on George, it's because he is sad about George and the OC or Reader or whoever is worried about him. They want him to be happy, wanted, loved, and valued, and chosen. Marial does none of those things. It's never about "how can I help this poor little meow meow feel better?" It's about "what can he do for me" like she's the damn rat from Charlotte's Web.

Reason #2) Marial does not respect Grigor

If Marial did respect Grigor, she would listen to what he says. She would not blab to Catherine about Peter having sex with and accidentally killing her mother. In season 3, when Peter dies- Grigor is sobbing and in a grieving state for his best friend. Marial on the other hand is celebrating his death like the munchkins celebrating a house dropping on the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz. Let's put it this way- if someone who you loved, someone you were very close to dropped dead out of nowhere, would you want to date someone who celebrated the death as good thing? No. If she did respect him, she would support him in his grief. She would keep her trap shut. Even if she personally didn't like Peter...she would still be there for Grigor's struggle of losing his friend. At the end of the day...Marial will betray her bestie to become a lady again. She is only on her own side and no one else's. She gets some Pet The Dog moments with the serfs...but not with anyone else she has interpersonal connections with at court.

Reason #3) The Affair is selfish.

Marial does none of these things. She starts the affair not because she is worried about his well-being, or happiness, or respect or selflessly genuinely loves him...she starts it because 1) he was a former fling, 2) she is rich again and she can, and 3) to spite Georgiana. Grigor kind of wants to feel happy and alive again- but it's bc George is away from him!

I understand that fiction is not reality. We can use fiction to discuss taboo things. Or even admit that we fantasize about things we know are ethically wrong. It says nothing about us. Just because we fantasize it or like it in fiction doesn't mean we like it in real life. But...

Reason #4) The Writers paint Georgiana's affair as bad and Grigor's affair as good.

We have all of season one to see how much it hurts Grigor to see his wife be Peter's mistress. And I'm not going to pretend it is entirely good. But Georgiana does get a few lines in season 1 after the poisoning that she kind of...HAS to be Peter's mistress. That their high social standing and wealth comes from their close friendship with Peter that in no ways should be tampered with. And this includes the complete lack of boundaries with Georgiana, because he is the absolute ruler emperor. Like that line in Six The Musical- If Peter says it's you, it's you. As far as I know, Peter and Georgiana is consensual other than the implied power balance and she's lucky she likes Peter and he's a good lover. In fact, back in the day, men WOULD offer their wives as missteress to the king because you could get a huge castle and lots of lands and money from it! That's what Mary Boleyn's husband thought when Henry VIII made her his mistress. You don't technically have a choice- might as well make the most out of it.

Yet the writer(s) paint Georgiana as bad and frame Marial as good, as something that Grigor needs to heal (it ain't), that she is his true love (blech) all without taking a big look in the mirror. They don't know how to handle a complex woman as Georgiana but they think framing Marial as a girlboss makes it better (yuck).

On a related note...imagine if we switched the genders? If Grigor was Georgette and Marial was Mark, we have Georgette being lonely and swept up in her exes charms. Giving everything to Mark, even when he crosses her personal boundaries. Despite this, she keeps running back to him, swearing she'll marry him even though he hates her recently dead bestie and doesn't comfort or support her mourning.

If that was the case, there would be riots! People would be all "omg you deserve better! My poor baby! Dump his ass, queen!" But...no. Since we have Miss GirlBoss (tm) Marial, this toxicity is apparently okay.

Reason #5) Grigor's love and loyalty to his wife was part of what made his character so endearing in the first place.

It's like if Peter said "fudge" instead of "fuck," but we all fell in love with Count Dymov because he loved his wife so much. That is why there are so many Grigor fics out there. Becuase the depth of love he has not only for Peter...but for Georgiana. It's not the issue that his honor as a man is insulted to have his wife sleep around...it's because he is genuinely heartbroken and sad about it. That he loves her that much. And that he loves Peter that much too. He's crying when he tries to put a pillow over Peter's face to suffocate him. In fact, Georgiana does care about his well being despite the whole mistress stuff. When he gets scruff out of rebellion, she knocks him out and tenderly gives him a shave. They tease and flirt with each other. She sits on his lap. Who wouldn't want a relationship where you are that wanted, adored, and unconditionally loved? In fact, their only conflict was Peter. If it wasn't for Peter, they would have an idyllic, wonderful marriage. Look up The Great on TV Tropes- they are listed as "Happily Married."

So him having an affair on Georgiana, to where he is given an option to KILL GEORGIANA and abandon her for Marial felt egregiously out of character.

This is not why i signed up. I wanted him and Georgiana to heal and grow and triumph in their love, especially as the series went on and Peter focused more on his romantic relationship with Catherine to where that WAS the show.

So yeah...those are my two cents.

#the great #the great hulu #tw: cheating #grigor dymov #georgiana dymov #the great tv show #gwilym lee #phoebe fox #charity wakefield #anti marial/girogr #or #anti marial/grigor

[likesomekindofcheese]

Prayer Circle

🕯🕯🕯

🕯 Grigor/Marial is 🕯

🕯 retconned in S3 🕯

🕯 of The Great 🕯

🕯 And he goes back 🕯

🕯 To his wife 🕯

🕯 🕯

🕯 🕯 🕯

#I freaking hated that subplot #The Great #Girgor Dymov #Georgiana Dymov #George Dymov #gwilym lee #the great #bohrap cast #the cheating trope needs to die #welsh disney prince #Charity Wakefield #Marial #Phoebe Fox #the great season 3 #the Great series

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Eight (The Great Fanfiction Series, Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader)

Summary: You are married to Count Grigor Dymov of Russia to keep an alliance between the Russian crown and your family safe. But you realize you have grown to love him and he has too fallen for you. You are forced apart during the Coup and once you return to the palace, you make a shocking discovery about your husband while you were gone. One that turns your excitement of seeing your husband into feelings of betrayal and heartbreak. But...what does your husband have to say about what happened? Did he really commit such a thing in the first place? What do your allies at the palace have to say about it?

Warnings: Spoilers for Season Two, Bad Mental Health, Y/N being an emotional mess, Swearing, discussions of sex, marriage, and cheating. Being Pro-Georgiana and Anti-M*rial.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!

Part One //Part Two //Part Three// Part Four// Part Five//Part Six

Taglist: @itsametaphorgwil​ @bluesfortheredj​ @grigorlee​ @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joeslee   @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @jamesbuckybarns​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @rhapsodyrecs​ @ladystrallan​​ ​

General Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen​ @queenlover05​ @seraphicmercury

You lay in bed. Hardly seeing or feeling anything. Your eyes were heavy, and your head hurt. Exhausted but unable to sleep. Unable to cry even.

There was a knock on the door. A bird-voiced serf announced rather cheerfully for your present circumstance.

“It’s Grigor…” she began.

“Keep away from me, asshole!” you interrupted.

“Grigory Orlov…” she finished.

“Y/N, it’s me, Orlo!” a familiar voice cried.

“Let him in.”

You turned away from the window to stare at the other side of the room. You heard footsteps and voices.  You were only in your shift, keeping the dark blankets up to your chin. You turned up at least to look at him.

“Hello! I hear you aren’t well, some gossips even suggested smallpox…I see that isn’t true! Thank god! I asked the serfs to make you some chicken broth. And tea…” Orlo offered. The tray was even in his hands.

You sat up. But wouldn’t speak. Only sipping your broth and tea.

“Orlo…the alliance said I had to marry into Russia…” you confessed.

The tan-colored broth made it look like urine. You kept eating it, tasting like another regular soup.

“Yes, it did,” Orlo confirmed.

“Why didn’t I marry you instead?” you asked.

Orlo adjusted his spectacles when he jumped in surprise.

“What!”

“You…you’d be a good husband to me. You’re smart and kind. You wouldn’t hurt me, wouldn’t betray me in any way at all…”

“Y/N, I…I’ve been experimenting, and I don’t think I really like women or men or any of that! I don’t know if I could be anyone’s husband at all! To be frank, if it came to our wedding night, you’d be the most unsatisfied, disappointed woman in Russia! And you’d be stuck to me for life!”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about sex right now… I want someone who…who loves me. Or someone who cares about me, and you wouldn’t…you would never…”

Bitter reality hit you and you put away your bowl.

“Why wasn’t it you who was brought there? Why couldn’t it be you I was betrothed to in the first place?!”

“But that didn’t happen. Peter and Grigor were the guests at your home. And since Grigor was the most available man, he was chosen for the alliance. This, where you are now, is happening.”

The sound of his name made your hands into fists.

“I hate Grigor! I hate him! If he was here right now, I’d take this hot tea and dump it on him!”

“Y/N! Goodness! Did something happen?”

You looked at him, and then down on the blanket, curling up your knees so you could burrow your head.

“Here…I will leave you be…please, feel better. I can ask for a doctor as well.” He walked over to the serfs. You heard their whispers.

“Make sure she is getting something to eat.” He ordered.

“Her husband asked the same of us. Some trays went cold for a few days.”

“Well, now you have my word as well,” Orlo advised before the door creaked to a close. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The door creaked open sometime later. Was it an hour that passed? A day? You hardly knew. You heard the voice of the old man serf.

“Madame Dymov, you have a visitor…”

“Tell my husband I do not wish to see him.” You replied firmly.

“I’m not him” a familiar, feminine voice replied.

“Oh…she can come in…” you answered quietly.

You did not leave your bed or turn your head to look. At least you had the heated comfort of the duvet. Maybe, if you ever laid there long enough, you could replace the shape of…of her body away from it. The thought made your vision blurry with a few tears that you wiped away with your sleeve.

There were heeled footsteps. You kept staring at the wall, only seeing the shadow of Mademoiselle Georgiana.

“Hello there…”

“Hello…” you said weakly.

“I hear you’re…not feeling well…” she began.

“I don’t have anything you can catch. I wish it was smallpox instead…I wish that was the only thing wrong in my life right now…in fact…I wish I was back home. I wish I could see my parents and my brother again. I wish everything was back to the way it was a year ago…”

You felt her sit on the bed by your side.

“Tell me…what’s wrong? What has happened? You were there for me when I Was broken. Grigor has rarely appeared in public here and no one sees you at all. Something is wrong, and I want to know what…”

Her hand gently patted your hair, smoothing it down as if you were a cat.

“Grigor…” you started, stuttering almost. Not believing the words that were coming out. “Grigor has been unfaithful to me…”

There was a deep exhale.

“Y/N…marriage should not be a tomb. A dead thing with no joy or freedom,” George lectured.

“My parents were always faithful to each other. I was taught my whole life to do that. How if I Was unfaithful, that was grounds for divorce.”

“You can’t divorce under the Russian church,” she argued.

“Even with adultery?”

“Yes.”

“I…I wish I could. I don’t want to see him or hear him or anything ever again…”

There was a small sigh from Georgiana.

“Y/N…whores are common here. You know that. He was gone from you for four months. I just returned from a fivesome this morning! This is just…a place where you can let all that old-fashioned shit your parents taught you to rest. Don’t resist anymore and enjoy your life. You can be free like him! I’ll tell you what- I will help look for a lover for you. That’s your key to forgetting this! I’ll make sure he’s the most handsome man I can find and can use his hands and tongue to please you like no other. You won’t be able to leave his side, and you’ll be happy! If Grigor can, so can you”

Clutching the blankets tighter, you felt your breath quicken with your words.

“Do you want to know who his lover is?” you added on, louder.

There was a pause. Turning around you looked into her pretty eyes. You thought you would find confusion. But instead, they hardened with realization. Her mouth opened a little, but she contained her shock.

“You’re kidding.”

You leaned up a little.

“You know…you know about…”

“Marial? Of course, I know about her! I know how they lost their virginities to each other when they were adolescents with copious details!”

She stood up and began pacing. Words flew out of her without caution.

“I knew the moment I met her and saw them together that she would grab him- at the first chance she got! I was so relieved when she was knocked down to serfdom! Back then, her own lover was still very much alive!”

“Alive?” you repeated

“Grigor and I killed him to protect the emperor!”

You sat up more.

“What?!” you cried.

“That’s not important, another time! Anyways-when we were lovers, I had a feeling about her. Something I couldn’t trust. I only spoke with her when I had to. I knew something was up. I asked Grigor to not speak to her. He followed my request then. I…”

You reached out a hand to cut her off.

“Georgiana, I am so sorry I was so awful to you…I thought you were a horrible person and Marial was the one I could trust and… I was so, so wrong-I got it all switched!” you confessed.

“You already apologized for that, my dear…”

“But…that’s not all…he…”

You began to cry.

“He’s so much happier with her than with me. And…he’s going…he’s going to leave me for her…”

“How did you know that?” she asked, walking up closer.

“Marial told me herself!” you explained, getting out of bed.

“She might be a bitch, but she’s not a smart bitch!”

“Like you are, George!” you said.

She laughed a little.

“Yes, I’m a smart bitch. I will admit.”

You lowered your shoulders, eyes down to the polished floor beneath your bare feet and her heeled ones.

“I’m just a bitch wife. I know I should be happy for him. I should let him go and be with her if I want him to be happy. But…I thought…I…I love him, George. You understand. I’m possessive, I’m jealous, I know it. But I can’t bear the thought of him running off to be with…of abandoning me-”

You started crying and this time, she hugged you, letting it out.

“I…I thought he loved me…I thought he really loved me. How could he do this? To the alliance? To me?”

She embraced you, patting your back as you finished crying.

Turning around, she got you out of bed and on the table by the fire. She gestured to a large, dark bottle with a shiny gold bow on it.

“Here, I have a glass of wine. Help yourself! A gift from me-”

She poured you a large, generous glass.

“So she bragged about seducing Grigor to you,” she reviewed.

You began taking a sip. It was dry with a fruity aftertaste.

“Yes, said she would ride him and all that.” Your stomach curled at the picture in your head.

“Fuck!” George replied in disgust.

“I went into a rage and almost slit her throat though.”

She froze.

“Really? Is this Y/N I’m speaking to? The same Y/N who was shaking at her wedding banquet?”

She raised her glass to you and took a delicate sip.

“Yes, I’m me but…I…why didn’t I do it? People kill each other all the time, why couldn’t I? At least I’d have some peace of mind.”

“Yes, and you’d have a body to get rid of!”

The wine hit your stomach. It had been a while and the effects of the glass already made you relaxed. And talkative, Both of you chatted, venting about the situation. You let yourself, cry a little bit and even smile and laugh at the quips George came up with.

“Yes, that! I would bet he’s doing her like horses right now…oh…oh my, I feel exhausted.” You said, getting up.

You yawned largely, stretching your arms.

“Y/N, have you been sleeping well?…” George asked.

“No…I haven’t been able to…but…”

She took an arm around you.

“Go back to bed, dear, take a nice, long nap…”

She led you back to the bed, even putting the blankets and duvets over you and lowering the curtains over the window. Lightened by the conversation and sleepy from wine, your shut your eyes and easily went into a deep, blissful sleep at least. Unaware of the angry footsteps to the Dymov parlor behind you. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ George suspected the situation from the way the parlor was set up when she crossed it to enter the bedroom. A few of Grigor’s things were outside in the parlor and a pillow and blanket were set in front of the fire as if he was Cinderella. Her hands crumpled into fists by her side.

It was worse than she thought. Far, far worse.

Grigor walked up.

“How is she?” he asked desperately.

“Asleep. At last.” She reported plainly.

“Geogiana! What a pleasant surprise! How are…”

He was greeted with a sharp slap on the cheek. She looked at him in the eyes as he shook his head in confusion from the blow.

“Congratulations. You just ascended to a new level of foolishness.”

“Oh, she told you that…I have to tell you, that isn’t-”

She stepped forward; arms crossed.

“You were given the best woman to be the wife you always wanted to have. Fuck, you were given her on a silver platter! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Y/N is a kind, brave woman and far better than half the bitches I have met here. You just traded a perfect wife who loves and adores you for a lover who can’t even be loyal to her best friend. And you’ve broken Y/N’s heart. Permanently.”

She felt little tears in the corners of her eyes but kept her strength up. She walked towards him. He retreated a little.

“Thank god, I said no to you when you proposed. You would have brought whoever was your wife such pain regardless. And you dared to be upset with me and Peter while you sneak off to Marial? Grigor, you’re a fucking idiot!”

“The point is, I didn’t…”

“This is the thanks you give to a wife who actually shuts her legs to other men? And to top it all, you’re going to leave her-leave her alone, frightened, and heartbroken just after abandoning her for the coup…”

“I didn’t abandon her during the coup! If I could join her, I would! I helped her escape! I did it for her safety!”

“You did it for your cock!”

He breathed in deep and waited for a pause.

“George…let me explain what happened…”

He sat her down, grabbing her hands and looking her in her eyes.

“Yes, I was reacquainted with Marial at a party. Yes, I went to her apartment for a drink and to talk. But…she came onto me and kissed me. Then she kissed me again. I pushed her back. She had me backed into a corner. She reached into my clothes, looking for my pants, and…she got out the ring.”

“What ring?”

“Y/N gave me Catherine’s ring to make it seem like the empress liked me so I would be safe with her soldiers. She got it out of my pocket. I stepped forward and demanded her to return it. She said she would if I fucked her. I pushed her away. I remember running fast as I could out of her place, asking the serfs to take me back at once. Every time I step out of these halls, she watches me. She does things to get my attention. Anything. Everything. And still, she will not leave me be. But…here…”

He grabbed a dirty knife from a plate.

“I will make a fucking blood pact with you right now if you don’t believe me!”

Georgiana took it away, placing it on the plate

“Don’t do that! Who knows where else that’s been!”

He looked back at her, repeating the phrase seriously.

“I have not slept with Marial.”

She blinked, shoulders letting down.

“So…you haven’t…”

“You saw what this has done to Y/N. She refuses to let me sleep in the bed and I don’t have it in me to throw her out. So I let her stay in my quarters. Every day I ask to see her and every day she refuses. If Peter doesn’t ask for me, then I’m staying here. Staying here until she says yes. Until I can explain to her what really happened. It’s…”

He teared up.

“She won’t eat. I don’t hear her bathing. Only sometimes does she have visitors. And she won’t sleep. I hear her pacing all night and sobbing and…and just how much pain she’s in, the pain I brought her in! For something that actually didn’t happen!”

“Well, shit…”

She looked over the parlor, thinking everything through, then she looked back at him.

“I’m a woman. I know how women work…here’s what you do if you’re going to resolve things with Y/N…”

#carrie writes #promised #the great #arranged marriage au #tw: mentions of cheating #tw: mentions of sex #tw: swearing #the great fanfic #the great fanfiction #the great imagine #grigor dymov imagine #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #gigor dymov x fem! reader #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x fem! y/n #angst #hurt/comfort #georgiana dymov

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Four (The Great Arranged Marriage AU mini-series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: swearing, food, dogs, marriage, and mentions of sex and some steamier parts

Summary: When Emperor Peter visited your family, his behavior threatened the peaceful alliance between them and Russia. Now in order to fix it, you are betrothed to marry his best friend, the handsome and heartbroken Grigor. 

Part One --- Part Two -- Part Three

The morning after the wedding there was a sealed letter placed on your mother’s table. She nearly dropped it in nervousness.

Something had happened. Something had already happened. The alliance may even be in danger and so was she. Everything was too new now. The blue bed that you slept on in the other room was now empty. Even little Sonya’s trotting and barking was gone as well. She had to face the morning alone. And you, her daughter, her dear child, was now a married woman.

She ripped it open to read the contents with wide eyes.

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

Emperor Peter was about to take his morning as usual- sleeping in late. As was typical for a hangover. Peter laid out on his belly like a starfish, still in his clothes. Georgiana smirked as she entered the chambers. She heard him groaning even in his dreams. Already in her dark robes and nothing else on, she knew he would be groaning for different reasons in perhaps an hour. She knew that after a night of celebration Peter would call on her one way or another to cure the headache he had with her kisses. She might as well be ready. There were worse ways to start the day.

Her eyes trailed down to a sealed letter on the table on the other end.  

It was Grigor’s seal.

Before she could stop herself, Georgiana grabbed a small letter opener and cut it open. She read its contents.

It was short. But enough. She put it down, sitting on the chair and taking in a deep breath. Her lovely ivory face turning red. Tears blurring her eyes as she breathed in the message it contained. As she sat down, she let the waves of grief flow out of her, glad that the emperor was too deep asleep to see it.

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

Your brother and his wife were late risers. So, they were confused by the excited knocking on the doors of their salon while the sky was still pink.

The lodgings given to them were surprisingly beautiful. Large, plush beds that were the color of cream, vases full of roses, and purple canopies over their heads as they slept. And all expenses covered. Your brother gently padded his wife’s shoulder as she groaned at the sound.

“I’ll get it…”

“Thank god for this bed…” she nestled into the pillow to fall back asleep. 

Your brother yawned and crawled out.  He smiled and kissed his wife and she smiled before she returned to dreaming. His eyes were crusted with sleep as the door cracked open but shot awake at the sight of your father.

“Wha…what is it?” he asked.

“I have a letter…it’s from Grigor, Y/N’s husband.”

He tilted his head in astonishment.

“Already? Why? What happened?”

“I don’t know yet…I thought we both should find out…” he commented nervously. “’Sides, my eyes are bad. Can’t read a thing on it.”

Your father handed it to him, and your brother read it out loud.

              “To the Y/L/N Family,

Last night under the sight of God, Y/F/N and I consummated our marriage.

The alliance is now completely secure and may nothing hinder it with our union. You may rest assured everything is now safe. Madame Y/L/N and the Emperor know of this as well.

            Your Son-in-law, as of yesterday,

              Grigor Dymov.”

Your father and brother let out a deep breath. Yet there was a knowing look between them. Your brother looked again at the letter.

“And…she’s his! I can hardly believe it…I barely even know the man myself!” your brother said.

“Well, it’s secure…it’s completely secure…our alliance with Russia is safe.”

As your brother returned to bed, worried thoughts entered his head. Grigor had a bit of vodka and was putting you on his lap and kissing you a lot. You looked so so timid with him. Not to mention Peter. If this man was close friends with Peter then that said enough. Your voice was trembling when you said your vows. You would only speak softly. And you only knew Grigor for so long. The moments before you were led to Grigor’s chambers you looked like a lamb led to the slaughter. And he could do nothing about it.

This alliance came at the price of your torture.

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

As you put the envelope into the pocked of you gown, you heard a familiar yap.

Sonya trotted over. With her ears down, she wagged her tail and reached up for you on the skirt of your robe as far up as she could.

“Hello love…do you like the place?” you asked.

She placed her paws on your skirt as you gentle petted her head.

“Shhhh, be quiet. Please don’t wake pa…him…” you whispered.

Was Grigor now her papa? It felt odd to call him that yet.

Who knew when he would awaken, so you wandered through your new apartment. It was large- three rooms, all with large red walls. You especially liked the outer receiving room with a large, dark fireplace and a nice little brown table with two chairs. There was a tea set properly placed there. Sunlight was pouring in and you heard the chirps of a few robins. The redness looked less frightening. The bathtub gleamed when there was sunlight against it.

Quietly you placed Sonya into your arms and scratched her fur as you admired a few portraits on the wall of the guest room. Eventually she wiggled hard and freed herself onto the floor, shaking in a flurry and then prancing to sniff the place more.

You scurried back into the bedroom. It felt bad to leave Grigor alone once he awoke the morning after your wedding. Especially when you recalled what he said last night.

I used to wake up in the mornings and hate it…because I would be alone…

You poured yourself a cup of the coffee, relieved that it was still steaming hot. This Liza or Beth or whoever timed her gift right. You sipped on it and let Sonya wander by your feet. Whenever she trotted over to the bed, you would shoo her away. You would scold her for yapping, placing a gentle hand over her mouth and saying firmly “no bark…no bark…”

After a few minutes passed, his eyes opened. He groaned as he woke up. His hand began searching your side of the bed.  

Breathing in quickly, you walked forward on cue.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry…I…” you mumbled.

“Nothing, nothing…did you sleep in? You’re not tired, are you?” he asked groggily.

“I…I woke up a little bit ago…” you answered. “I managed to fall back asleep. I think it’s late morning.”

“That’s good.” He said.

Placing yourself on the edge of the bed, you weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss his forehead or take his hand.  You weren’t sure what quite to do at this stage.

“We have a…a gift for us…someone sent us a tray…”

He got up. You were still unused to the sight of his body now in only a simple shift. You looked at the floor. You saw his breeches were still on the floor abandoned. Noticing a black robe over one of the chairs, you went over and got it.

“Is…is this yours?”

“Yes, it is.”

Fetching it, you returned to his side of the bed. Standing on your toes to reach his tall height, you placed it over his shoulders and he slipped his arms through.

“Th-thank you, you’re very kind, Y/N. What are the pastries like?” he asked.

“I…I haven’t tried any of them yet…” you confessed.

“How come?”

“I…I wanted to wait for you…so we could eat them together…” you admitted.

He grinned as he joined you to try the tray. Pulling up the card, he let out a huff of laughter.

“Huh, already she calls us our aunt.”

“Is she your aunt?”

“No, Peters.”

“Oh.”

He smiled. You smiled back. As he sat down and began to eat a strawberry flavored one you noticed a slightly wicked gleam. You looked back and picked a chocolate pastry, biting into it with embarrassment.

You wondered if the intimate moment you had last night would be brought up. Or rather, how to bring it up. What did lovers, much less married couples say after these things? The thing that was unsaid between the two of you now.

“Oh your cock is pretty large.”

“Thanks for cleaning up the mess between my legs!”

“I thought I would kick your head off by accident last night-sorry! I’ll be on top next time!”

There were people who thought men weren’t men, women weren’t women, and children would stay children until they were bedded. You looked at your bare feet poking out from below. It was still your feet. Your hands were still your hands. And even the face in the mirror on the wall across from you was still your face. You were supposed to be a woman now. But you didn’t feel any different than yesterday.

“Th…thank you, Y/N. I appreciate you waiting for me for the food,” he said.

You nodded. “Of…of course…and…about last night…I…”

The words froze in your throat. You were always raised as more of a proper lady. You were able to control any urges you had for other men. Besides, you didn’t want to risk getting pregnant and the difficulties that would bring. Or die in an attempted abortion. Or get a disease. The world of sex had things you heard about. Whispers or a page or two from books that you would secretly read when your parents backs were turned. But actually, experiencing them was something new. Exciting. Frightening. Unknown.

“I…it was…it was nice…” you said. “You were very nice to me…you are very nice to me…and I…I don’t know anything…”

He smiled genuinely and said “I’m…I’m glad. I’m glad it was nice for you…damn, these are good.” He said, chewing on his bite.

You finished your pastry. Little Sonya raced around the room and perking her head at any new sound she heard of footsteps. It was silent between the two of you as Grigor finished his breakfast. His shift was still open to show a bit of the hairs on his chest and his eyes had the slightly dark quality of an hour too much of sleep than one was used to.

“I was so scared about yesterday, I didn’t sleep much the night before,” you commented.

“Y/N…yesterday was very long. Take it easy today, please. You don’t have to do anything today. You can stay in bed all day even, if you’d like….”

“That…that would be nice. My mother is still here, can she come over and visit?” you asked.

“Yes! And…Can I invite your family over…just on a small hunt in the woods. The Emperor won’t be there because that’s his required hours with Catherine…ah, attempting for an heir.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of him. So we can all be together. We’re all a family now.”

“Yes, that…that sounds nice.”

It was a quiet mid-morning after breakfast was cleared. You were grateful for screens to dress behind and as soon as you were ready, there was a serf saying Grigor was asked for.

“Velementov needs your insight on a statue raised for Peter the Great, at once.”

It was a little lonely after he left. You read the fairy tales by the fire, the palace was large enough and you lacked the energy from yesterday to explore it anymore. And interacting with the other ladies of court scared you from what Catherine warned. You decided you would deal with court on a day you were not tired and aching from preparing a long-awaited wedding. Enjoying the silence and nothingness than fitting for your dress or seeing millions of well-wishers or trying not to let your crown fall off your head.

Looking further at your lodgings, the walls and furniture had matching, co-coordinating fabrics. There was a small throw pillow in a chair right by your bed that was the same color and pattern of the walls. You stroked the little pillow and then the walls, feeling the smoothness and bumps of the decorative flowers.

You rang up for hot water and some soaps. The bath was too intriguing to not try. Besides you felt grimy.

It was large. It took several steaming buckets before it was filled and you were left alone to step into it. The soaps smelled like honey and vanilla. There was steam building up in the room from the warmth of the bath. You noticed a mirror on a vanity was fogging up, as well as an oval shaped area mark on the wall catching some condensation. It was odd. Lightly colored. But there were faint dark marks as if a portrait had been on there for a while.

Shrugging off the observation, you peeked over to the side to see a few jars. Opening the porcelain lids, you saw bath salts and poured them in on an indulgent whim to add more flowery scents. Exhaling deep, your aching feet and limbs thanked you.

The perks of being friends with the Emperor of Russia…

You took the sponge placed next to the salts, giggling as you rubbed the soap on it. The sponge seemed about the size of your head. It covered your arms and legs. You were scrubbing on your body, standing up on in the tub to do so, when Grigor entered suddenly.

With a slight scream, you dipped down into the water quickly.

Splash!

You backed into the corner, your arms covering your breasts and your knees together, pulling away. Retreating into a near corner of the bath, you turned your head towards him. He even looked a little pink himself and could not resist a smug smile. He was not in his wig but was in the dark green court dress perhaps for whatever business he had to take care of.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join you?” he asked, half-meaning it.

Though he turned away after the quip and covered his eyes with his hand dutifully.

“N-no thank you! I…I’m sorry…I’m just not used…please don’t gape at me!” you begged.

“Y/N! It’s fine.”

He peeked over and you made sure to duck low enough in the tub. Sure enough, it was safe. The edge of the tub, the soapy water and your limbs could cover anything too private. Only your head, with your wet hair clinging to you was visible.

You placed your hands on your face in shame.

“It’s so silly- we’ve already made love, Grigor…but it’s you…and it’s my body I…and I still feel….” You mumbled out timidly.

“Y/N…it’s alright. I’m not used to having a wife bathing in my room! I should have knocked….”

A jealous image jolted in your brain. Maybe Georgiana bathed in this very place. Maybe that was why he said “wife” and not “woman.” Maybe he was out with her. But…he couldn’t. He just couldn’t…would he? You didn’t love him. You liked him. And he was your husband and you were his wife. That was enough.

He keeled to the floor, seeing you at eye level with the bathtub covering what needed to be hidden. Though when you turned your head around. Only your head, with wet hair clinging to your face, and your neck and shoulders were visible.

“I…I’ve visited your mother. She will be staying here for a week and so will the rest of your family. You aren’t a prisoner in here, Y/N. You can have her up or visit her apartments. Even today if you aren’t too tired…we can host a tea or dinner for her if I’m not busy. Whatever you would like to do today.”

A smile crept up on you that matched his. You noticed his ears sticking out childishly like a mouse’s ears.

“That does sound nice…I’d like it if she came over this afternoon,” you replied. “And…your-er-our apartments are very pretty. Comfortable. I don’t feel like I’m in prison at all…”

He placed his hand in the warm water and tested it, his fingers stroking it. You noticed how long and graceful his hands looked, swirling the soap as if it was some magic concoction.

“Did you know I have a couple manors…and more than one vineyard?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Gifts from Peter to me. If I could perhaps talk to him for a bit…. we would go there. Have a real honeymoon. There’s one near my vineyard in the country in the west. The sunsets are stunning. And the wine’s not bad either. We could watch the sun over a bottle and get away from court for a little while…wouldn’t that be nice?” he offered.

You nodded, “yes, I would love to go there with you.”

“Wonderful. I’ll leave you be.”

He stepped and turned to the next room so you could finish bathing and dress in privacy. Part of you prayed maybe the emperor would listen to sense. If possible. Even one day away in the country drinking wine would be nice. And you could have worse company than Grigor.

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

That afternoon, right as you were dressed for company in a simple burgundy dress and invited your mother to have afternoon tea with her in your new home. She was walked in. Running from Grigor’s side, you embraced her as if you had not seen her in a year. In front of the fire there was a third chair and tea and a few sandwiches. Sonya even barked on her arrival and wagged her tail.

It was just like it was two days ago. Almost.

Until a serf brought in Orlo in a bit of a hurry, his wig disheveled, a slab of some sauce possibly thrown across his jacket. His glasses even looked a little dirty and his hair disheveled.

“The emperor requests your presence immediately,” he parroted, looking at Grigor.

He sighed lightly, but bowed to your mother, gave you a kiss on your hand, patted Sonya’s head, and left.

“Y/N…you seem…you seem to like him,” she said.

“If I was going to be sold for everyone’s sake, at least it’s to a decent man,” you commented. “So many others aren’t as lucky.”

She took a sip of her tea. Sonya kept trying to stick her snout into the sandwiches and you shooed her away. Your mother laughed a little at the puppy’s antics. She even hopped up and tried to eye her for a bit of biscuit.

“Y/N, I received word this morning concerning the…you know…” she began.

Your grip on your teacup went cold.

“That the alliance is secured.” You said firmly. “Totally.”

Your stomach squirmed.

“Yes.”

“I did what I had to for all of us. I knew if I didn’t sleep with him soon, then everyone I love would be in danger. Grigor told me. Besides, it was my duty as his wife…it is my duty,” you said.

She leaned over closer, glancing to make sure no one was listening. She then placed two hands on your shoulders.

“Did he…did he force himself on you, as you feared? We’re alone, you can be honest.”

“No, he waited until I said yes.”

Your mother released a breath.

“Thank heavens!”

Setting down your cup, the emotions came pouring out.

“But Mama…that’s just one night! And were bound until death! There’s going to be so many more! It’s all so new and I just…right before it happens, I get so nervous!”

Looking down, you glanced at your stayed-up stomach beneath your dress. It looked normal. But who knows? You could be pregnant this very minute. Were you even ready to be a mother yourself?

“What can you…tell me about it?” she asked.

“I was…I was relaxed after it was over and I…I don’t even know what to think. I get nervous whenever he looks at me. I was bathing when he walked in and it scared me that he could gaze all over me. It just…it unnerves me!” you confessed. “And I already did it! How can that be?”

“Well, now you’re married, we can be more candid about it. I can finally talk about it. I understand being nervous. The first few times your father and I made love…”

“Mama, please!”

“It’s thrilling and scary. You’re just new. Y/N, I’ll have to go back home, so we better make use of this time but… but…you have no reason to be ashamed of it. Or too emboldened yet. It can be a beautiful act. And it can also be an awkward one…. just tell me what it is that tortures you and what you like and let’s see if I can help…”

You smiled and spoke with deep honesty to her. She advised you. Discussing everything. Far more details than the bits and pieces after your betrothal was announced. Although your ears burned with details of your parents you never wanted to think about, you found yourself learning more and more about your body and a bit of his and what happens and what to do.

The discussion was had even long after the sandwiches were finished in crumbs for Sonya to sneak licks of.

“I will be here for a little bit, we can discuss plenty more…you can also write, my dear.”

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

It was getting dark. Grigor was still not back yet since tea. You were thankful for the long talk with your mother, but she had been long gone and now you were awaiting his return.

The old man serf walked into the room with a tray of food.

“Monsieur Dymov sends his apologies. The emperor is keeping him long. He asked me to send you this,” he croaked kindly.

Thanking him, you accepted the tray. Dining alone as the night sky sparkled out of your window and the red walls grew from scarlet to garnet with the light’s dimming.

The clock from the hallway ticked with the hour as you wiped your mouth and ate the last bite of potato. Opening a cabinet in your bedroom, you found a familiar nightgown was pressed in there and changed into it.

You were knitting away on your bed as the fire crackled. Sonya sat up with you a while and tried to chew on the yarn and then contented herself with sitting at the edge of the bed sleepily. That scarf you were working on still wasn’t complete. You started the project not long before the Emperor called on your home and now…well, things were different now. It was halfway through though. It would take hours of work, but it was still there. Your fingers were still a little sore from being at the task for a while. It still helped you with your nerves of what your husband would be expecting of you.

The blankets over you were a dark green this time, changed so the dark ones could be cleaned. Sonya curled into a ball like a little brown decoration on the bed.

You reached for the brush on top of the chest next to you, placed away the scarf, and began to work on brushing your own hair when you heard footsteps and a few grunts. And it was none of the servants.

Part of you fretted it would be Peter. If you were alone with him who knew what would happen. But you saw Grigor walk inside. He had a white shirt that was open and darker pants with boots.

“I’m here! It too forever-we played tennis for hours! You can’t believe how many noses we could hit on the portraits!” he reported cheerily.

Taking off his boots. Sonya got up and greeted him. He bent down and began stroking her fur. It seemed comical to see such a large man with a squeaking puppy the size of his neck.

“Tennis? No meetings of state?” you asked.

“Not when he wants to complain! He was completely hungover, too. It was almost pitiful.” He added with a spark in his eye. Grinning, you recalled why he was hungover.

“Any vomiting with the tennis?”

“Had a bucket on the corner- poor fellow!”

You laughed a little bit at the image.

Though to your mixed delight and horror, he took off his shirt, pants, and breeches, climbing naked into bed. As beautiful and toned he was, you never slept next to any naked person. Much less a man. Keeping your eyes on only his face, you froze. Then you ducked to look at your hands. On one hand, this was your husband. Your anxieties wondered if any…part of him would awkwardly brush against you in the midst of sleep.

The bed shifted as he lifted the blanket and sat next to you.

“Yes, none at all, Y/N! Why I…oh…oh I….I’m sorry,” he apologized noticing your embarrassed face.

“It’s…it’s fine. I remembered you liked sleeping naked I’lll….I’ll just try to get used to it…”

“Let me…let me put on my breeches.”

He rushed out to shimmy it back on and then hopped back. Exhaling deep, you continued brushing a stubborn tangle in your hair. It till hadn’t recovered from the thousands of pins of yesterday. He paused, looking at you. You had sat up, holding your comb now with both hands and clutching it on your lap.

As you returned to brushing, he laid down on the pillow, watching you gently.

“What is it?”

He took a strand in his hand gently, playing with a wisp of your hair.

“Your hair is lovely. That’s a sight I could get used to- to see you just sit there and brush it.”

You bit your lip.

“Th-thank you, Grigor.”

As soon as you did, you pulled a strand away, revealing part of your neck. He went over to lean closer. You couldn’t help but stare at how attractive the hair on his chest made him. But your palms got sweaty and your heart was racing.

“Do…do you want to…I…” you felt yourself mumbling over as the sensation took over.

“Want to what?” he asked. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked.

“It’s just….I’m…nothing’s wrong!” you insisted. 

You looked up at him with a little sigh.

“You must think I’m a nun, Grigor. I just…I know it’s my duty to…to please you…” you confessed, looking down at your shift, fingers clutched as if ready to pull it up and have it over with.

Besides, wasn’t it true that men were always rabbits in heat? And their wives were bound to lie down and let them at it?

“I…it doesn’t matter what I want, what do you want?” he said.

“You mean…I don’t have to make love to you tonight if I don’t want to?” you questioned, blinking.

“It’s simple as that…” he said with a shrug.

He took both of your hands, gently rubbing his thumb over yours.

“Remember yesterday? I promised you that you have my protection. You’ll always be safe with me, Y/N. Not just with last night. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.”

“Well, I…I’m really tired after yesterday and I…I just want to sleep…”

“May I at least kiss you goodnight?”

“Yes…”

You placed your hands on his face to guide yours and he kissed you sweetly. You could taste his dinner, but you didn’t mind. Though once you let go, he trailed a kiss down to your neck and you felt yourself let out a sound at it. It tickled a little and your stomach was churning again at the feeling of his lips there.

“Grigor…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you…thank you for the tray…I was hungry.”

“Thank you for being patient. He is my ruler, but you are my wife. We can have dinner tomorrow.”

“Alright, I command it,” you joked.

He leaned forward and kissed you chastely with a smile, cupping your face. You smiled into it and when you pulled away, you found you had held your breath during it.

“Alright, Y/N…good night.”

Blowing out the candles, your room was submerged in darkness.

But you fell asleep lying across from each other. Close enough to feel each other’s breath. And without being very aware of it, your hand wandered to his and held it right as you drifted away. But it was nice to feel him next to you and feel him nuzzle at you. Soon your exhaustion won, and you were asleep.

At one point when you woke up in the middle of the night and saw the outline of his bare chest rising and falling slowly.  You nestled closer and placed your head on it, not minding the feeling of his body. His arm reached around for you. Accepting it, you fell back asleep.

The next afternoon was cool and the trees were orange and autumnal. You recognized the rest of your family in a party outside the palace. Everyone had their warmest coats and cornered hats. A couple of wigged serfs carried small brown bags right by their heels.

Grigor and you walked out to the start of the woods in outdoor coats and hats topped on your heads. You rushed over to embrace them at once. They called “Y/N! Hello,” and gave multiple hugs of greeting as Grigor stood aside to let you have a moment.

Though you noticed your brother frowned when he saw your husband. Giving him only a bob of his head.

As your family headed off where the palace ended and the woods began, you felt Grigor brush by you. You shook off a few leaves that fell on your dark blue skirt.

“Is it…is it safe?” you ask.

“I know every pathway. There are gardens and little buildings here and there. I’ve played here since I was a child-It’s more than safe.”

“I must confess I haven’t explored much on my own. The gardens are still confusing to me.  I can’t imagine what the forest will be like…”

An idea struck you and you paused. In the distance you heard a few doves cooing in a tree in front of you.

“Do you think…” you began.

“Think what?”

“Maybe in the mornings, or the late afternoon, when Peter hasn’t called you, we can see more of the gardens and the palace. Even the woods. I’ll bring Sonya on a leash. We can all walk. Together,” you suggested.

He gave you a crinkled smile. Leaning forward so that his grey wig shifted to the side from his head.

“That…that’s a grand idea Y/N,” he replied. “So help me, you aren’t getting lost.”

Picking up your pace, you both caught up with the party. There were bits of conversation to catch up that felt like older times. And you were grateful for the lack of a certain brash emperor to stir feathers. The only feathers that would be stirring were that of the birds spotted in trees. Easy targets. The men reached for the guns near their thighs and began shooting.

Your father was surprisingly excited about it. He managed to get a small robin, and everyone clapped. Grigor was impressive but was better at brighter colored birds than something duller. The servants ran after the birds and stuffed them into the bags.

After some time of fetching, walking beneath crunching leaves, and some relaxed, light conversation concerning your friends back home, there was a yelp from your brother.

“Look there! A big one!” he cried.

You turned your head to look for this mighty bird. It was a crow, cawing in mockery above. Your father reaching up to aim.

“Arh! My blasted eyes! I can hardly see it!” he cursed, moving slowly as the bird hopped between trees.

You followed with your mother and sister-in-law, chin up to where the large back bird was headed. And then you heard a gruff sound behind you.

Urf!

Two figures were missing from the others chasing after the bird. Turning around, you could make out some angry whispers. Walking closer, you looked and saw where. Your brother had somehow grabbed Grigor by the collar and pinned him against a tree with his pistol. His nostrils were flaring and his eyes almost red with rage as he spat onto his face.

“I know you did, you bastard! Secured alliance my arse-you deserve to have your head chopped off!”

“What do you mean?” Grigor insisted, eyes large and his face white.

“You deranged pervert! My sister is one of the best women I know, and you torture her like that!”

“I’ve done nothing!”

“You’re a scoundrel among men! And I don’t know what is stopping me from the pleasure of blowing your brains out!” your brother hissed.

Heart leaping, you did not doubt he would pull the trigger on him.

“I know how you Russians are- And everyone knows how happy Catherine is with her husband, how will you be any better with Y/N! Much less, what you did to her!”

You cry out your brother’s name and he turned to see you. Picking up your skirts, you run in between them, placing yourself in front of Grigor. Your arms reach out to shield him. You feel his breath huffing quickly in nervousness and so does yours.

“Stop it! What did you think happened?”

“Y/N, we got a letter bragging about how he forced himself on you and expects us to congratulate him! I won’t stand for any man who treats you-“

“He did not rape me the other night, I consented!” you interrupted.

A few hairs flew free from your hat. You felt your hands ball into fists. Again your own privacy concerning your body was being tossed around and displayed publicly.

“What?”

“I consented to consummate the marriage. Grigor never forced himself on me. And he promised he would. I know you’re protecting me, but I won’t you let hurt him- stop being ridiculous!”

Glancing back, Grigor’s eyes were the size of robin’s eggs. His jaw was slack and he was frozen in place, but his posture softened from your protection.

“Sir…may I add, is this the way you thank your patron?” he asked.

Your brother blinked. His hand holding the gun relaxed in mid-air.

“P-patron?” he asked.

“Do you know who covered the fees for your travels? The bill for the hotel?”

“It…it was a gift. Anonymous. I thought it was from our tenets or from the Russian court so we could…” your brother responded.

“It was from the Russian court. Because I fucking sent it. I begged Peter to let you come to the wedding and be with Y/N the day we departed for Russia. I had to nag him every day for weeks and weeks. Can you imagine nagging your damn sovereign?! But he finally agreed. I paid every penny just to have you be taken here and have a roof over your head the whole time! It’s because of me you aren’t away at your home wondering if you’d even see her again!” he said in frustration.

It was your turn to drop your jaw and turn your head around.

“You…you did that? But…why anonymous!” he asked

“It was in case Peter fucking disagreed! And he would have if I didn’t spend out of my own damn pocket! If it were that, I would have sent Y/N to the hotel to see all of you.” Grigor explained.

Your brother was aghast, and you blinked in surprise.

“Why? Why all this…for me? For us?” you blurted.

“I didn’t want bad blood with my in-laws! And Y/N your face- the look you had when our carriage was pulling away after the contract was signed…it haunted me. How scared, and miserable you seemed…I had to do something about it. I was practically stealing you away from everyone you’ve loved and known…I thought it would at least make you happy. It would make everyone happy. So, I did it.”

He nodded, looking down at you with his anger flushed out and his features softening.

Ears burning, you nearly clutched his hand as you processed what he did. Your brother sheathed his pistol. 

“Forgive me…. she’s my sister and I…I was scared that I failed to protect her…” he apologized.

You soon heard footsteps and the others following suit. You felt Grigor’s gloved hand clutching yours as you both walked up, your brother in front of them.

“Why, what is it?” your sister in law asked, arms akimbo as she reached him. “We’ve been looking for you for a while!”

“I…uh, saw a rabbit and we raced to catch it, honey…” your brother answered with a quiver in his lip.

She rolled her eyes but got his arm anyway.

“Well, at least you’re safe. I thought we heard a bit of fighting,” she added, kissing his forehead.

Looking up, you felt Grigor walk forward, suggesting.

“Sir… join me after dinner, I have a bottle from Kiev. Let’s crack it open and enjoy a little mano e mano chat…we only need to know each other better. Is that good?”

“Yes that…that’s good,” your brother nodded, allowing his wife to loop her arm around his and lead him away.

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

There must have been a little magic stored in that bottle. You sensed that after dinner you should leave them alone for them to drink and talk it out, especially since guns would not be involved. Though you could not help but place your ear outside the door that led to your apartment.

Though as you sat outside the hall, listening through as Sonya panted in your arms, you heard a clearing of a throat. Turning, you saw Mariol holding a book.

“The Empress asked wanted me to know, have you ever read Rousseau?” she asked sharply.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then she wanted to give you this as a late wedding present. And for me to say that you’re free to visit her to talk about it. Count yourself lucky she likes you,” she added honestly.

Biting your lip, you thanked Mariol and accepted the thin book bound in red. Sonya sniffed at it in your other arm.

As much as you wanted to glance through the pages, you heard ridiculous laughs from your brother. Chuckling as Grigor chatted about a whistle that could summon an army of ducks from the back yard. But it was your brother’s silly, relaxed, happy laughter. The one of the happy boy you grew up with and not the man who almost killed your husband hours ago.

Poking in your head at the crack of the door shyly, you saw that they were enjoying a roasting fire next to them. Heads turned to acknowledge you. You shied away at first, but Grigor gestured you over.

“Ah! My darling Y/N…. come join us, please!”

“Isn’t this a man conversation?” you asked teasingly.

“I can make an exception!” he said, sipping his vodka.

Grinning you obliged, setting down the dog to be at your side and putting the book away. You allowed your husband to lean against you and clutch your hand. The sensation made you nearly feel a little dizzy. Even greeting him with a kiss on the cheek as a thanks for your cup of Kiev vodka. And your brother’s eyes didn’t redden this time. In fact, he gave you a toothy grin like the kind you shared when you ate sweets as children. When he fell asleep that night, you found yourself happy to see him smiling but secretly a touch disappointed. And you knew why.

That next night you waited for him to return from Peter’s request to dine and play who knows what games. Your heart was beating fast as you gave your hair a quick brush through, just as he liked it. Admiring the green laid on the walls in contrast to the red, you heard him mutter something to his servant. But you kept thinking of him- how he kept you safe on that night, how he shared the vodka with you, and the personal sacrifices he made to bring your family to you for the wedding. That and the image of his bare chest rising and falling in the middle of the night made you suddenly burn and ache for him when he left. And you wanted to do something about it.

There was the orange glow of the candles and the rest was taken care of by the night sky.

“Y/N? Y/N, where are…”

You wore your green robe and sat down on the bed at the end. Grigor walked into the room and then froze. Beneath your robe there was nothing else and he noticed.

“Hello, I’m here…”

“Hello…” he greeted. His pupils growing wide.

“I…I want to be yours tonight…if you’ll have me…And I’m just as nervous, but I want you too much for that…”

You walked up in front of him and touched his face gently.

“You…you want me? Do you want me?” he asked, almost in confusion.

“I want you. Now take me, husband,” you said.

He was on you in a heartbeat, his hands undid the knot holding your robe together. And though a jolt of nerves shot through you, you buried yourself in kissing him back too much to focus on it.

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

There was a peaceful week following. Dinners, teas, and visits. Drinks between you, your brother, and Grigor as the alcohol burned your throat and the fire toasted your sides. Numerous visits and talks. And nights where you slowly got more comfortable with yourself and Grigor and connecting through your bodies and not being ashamed of it.

In a blink of an eye, it was a week done. And your mother’s apartment was filled with her luggage.

The other three met you and Grigor in front of the palace as their carriage together trotted up. You embraced your father and mother constantly. You felt yourself cry when at the sound of the hoofbeats. Your father kissed your forehead, “my darling girl, I’ll miss you so much.”

Your mother gave you an extra hug and said “your father and I will always love you, no matter what.”

Your sister-in-law made promises to write and you swore to include details of whatever mischief little Sonya got into with an attempted sketch.

While Grigor shook the hands of each of them he paused before your brother. Hesitantly.

“I didn’t know you well…I hope you will forgive me,” your brother confessed. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did…I love my sister and I was worried for her safety, her happiness.”

“I promise you- your sister will want for nothing under my care.”

“Even if the Emperor…?”

Both of you froze. You seemed to have overlooked it. But your brother’s gaze was serious.

“He’s my friend, she’ll be safe even with him,” he answered. Although a sad glimmer in his eye told you that there was a memory in his head that was saying otherwise.

Now you were truly alone, you thought. And with a ruler who was both a great help but could also be a great threat to you. You recalled the way he oogled you and suggested you come to his bedchamber that first night as a compliment to the royal guest and you felt yourself shrink once the carriage door closed.

Before you knew it, you were trembling, and you started to sob. Grigor took your shoulder and shushed you. He opened his mouth but stopped himself. What was there to even say?

There that coachmen and those horses were, taking your family further and further away. No more reading with your mother. No more eating with your father. No more discussing plays with your brother and his wife or anything. A part of your life. Your childhood. Your adolescence. Your youth. All you had known. All you had been raised with was leaving. That a part of you was dead and a new life with new, wild, frightening people was beginning. This time your mother wasn’t there to squeeze your hand and talk about anything. Your sister-in-law couldn’t make you laugh. Your father couldn’t put an arm around you when you cried. And your brother couldn’t rush a man into the woods with a loaded gun to protect you.

Grigor looked down at you and placed an arm around your shoulder. You leaned into him into a half embrace as the carriage holding your family disappeared in the distance like melting snow.

 Taglist: @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joeslee​ (thank you for your insight when I couldn’t decide the ending!)  @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf

#tw: mentions of sex #tw: light smut #kind of #nothing dirty #the great #tw: swearing #tw: mentions of hunting #the great hulu #hulu the great #emperor peter #georgiana dymov #only she isn't dymov here bc you happened whoops #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x fem! reader #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov x y/n #mariol #count orlo #gwilym lee characters #girogr dymov x fem! y/n #the great fanfiction #the great fanfic #arranged marriage au #carrie writes

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Two (The Great mini-series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! reader

Word Count: 3475

Summary: from an anon request, the boorish Emporer Peter has ruined your families alliance with Russia. The only way to save your family and your people is to go to the Russian Court to marry his best friend, Count Grigor Dymov.

content warnings: mentions of sex and families and weddings, swearing. Grigor being shyer than in the canon show but this is my fic and I do what I want.

“Countess Y/F/N Dymov does have a nice ring to it,’ your mother said as the carriage rolled on.

Rocking back and forth, her eyebrows went up and she nodded in approval at the thought. Though you stayed silent, watching the Russian forests pass by. Your fur lined coat felt too heavy as did your scarf. You saw your mother lift a hand opposite of the one holding her novel to scratch at her own scarf. But the air was getting colder. You were definitely in Russia by now.

You glanced down at the latest letter from the gangly Russian count:

Dear Y/F/N,

I hope you and your family are doing well. Upon reading your last letter, you said you were worried about children. There are a few children here. Count Arkady has a little army of his own running about the halls. Who knows when it might happen, but I am sure you will be a fine mother. You may even make friends here. We have plenty of ladies here you may talk to.  And we have fine physicians here.

Oh god, that was unconnected somehow? Maybe I should scratch that out.

No, I will keep it. I hope it amuses you. It may make you laugh to see what a silly fool I am. What kind of fool proposes marriage to courtesans? Not you, Georgiana, of course.

But children arriving will be a while from now. I am trying to make everything comfortable for you. It will be hard leaving your family and the pets you mentioned in your last letter. When you and your mother arrive here, you must try some tea. Though you might as well enjoy some vodka as well.

Speaking of vodka, Peter had too much last night and spent the morning chapel services vomiting his stomach out…

A jolt from the carriage made both of you leap in your seats. It was no use re-reading the thing for the tenth time for amusement on a long trip. You put the letter away in your reticule.

Enough time had passed between that fateful dinner. Now here you were, on the road, on your way to the court of Peter.

“Did you hear me? Do you like the sound of Countess Y/F/N Dymov?” she repeated louder, leaning forward.

“Yes,” you agreed obediently.

Your mother bit her lip hesitantly. There was a pause.

“Y/N, you are doing a very brave thing. You’re going to help all of us, and a lot of people…I thank you for it,” she said.

Her eyes blinked and you could see a few tiny tears up there.

“At least I’m not marrying the emperor,” you huffed, “the title alone wouldn’t be worth it.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Your grandmother said if you got the Emperor, it would be a nicer ceremony. It would be a grander ceremony, but a miserable marriage after…though no wedding will be as nice as your brothers,” she recalled.

Both of you smiled at the memory. Your mother even set down the novel in her hands to talk to you more.

“He married someone he loves. Now they’re happy together…” you commented.

The past weeks whirled by without the time to savor your last time at home.

First there was a whole wedding to set and celebrate for your brother, then there was studying all the etiquette, customs, and everything you would need for a life in Russia. As well as planning about your own day. A day crawling up that made you shiver slightly at the thought.

But remembering your brother’s childish grin when his bride walked down to greet meet him at the altar, the shivers ceased. How they seemed to fly when they danced with each other. How even their cake tasted sweeter. The fragrance of their flower crowns was still in your nose.

If only your day could be as nice. No alliance. No pressure to go and bind yourself. Just nice.

“It was a wonderful day. She looked very pretty in your dress…do you think the dress we chose will suit the Russian court?” you asked.

Your mother nodded, eyes sparkling at the thought.

“Oh yes, we had to ask every question, but so help me you would at least have a dress you liked! You looked radiant in it- all of the court will love the look of it!” she added.

“It’s very…very elaborate. And heavy. I bet it’s the reason this carriage is about to trip over,” you jested.

You briefly took off your glove to scratch your own neck from a small itch.

“Well, when in Rome…” she said, shrugging.

Having a ceremony with a special dress was one thing, the groom was something else entire. But what of your future husband, Grigor?

Before you could ask about your mother’s analysis of him, there was a sudden whistle from the driver.

Both of you leaned out and stared at the window. The large grey palace was popping in view, distant, but there. Tall, grey, and grand.

Breath hitched, you tried to stare at another thing, a bird flying by or the dirt on the road. But there it was. And your eyes were fixed, like a martyr’s gaze on the burning stake before sainthood.

The place you had to live, where you had to sacrifice your body, autonomy, and soul to a man you only knew for a few days.

Servants rushed in to carry your luggage. You and your mother glanced at each other. Her eyes turned soft and she took your hand and squeezed it as the guards opened the doors and a footman led you up the grand stairs into the throne room.

One opened a chest and your mother pulled out a green portfolio from it, pressing it to her heart.

There was a long hall leading to a sole chair bedecked in gold. The room was dark but sun filtered through windows on the left. Removing your coat and handing it to a servant, you could feel their eyes. Analyzing you in your deep blue dress with white lace on the front tied in a dark blue bow on the chest.

Before the throne, walking out from their peeping, was a line waiting for you was a group of various men as different as a kaleidoscope. One was shorter, dark haired, and bespectacled. One was a priest with a long beard. But in the center was the Emperor Peter and by his side, Count Grigor Dymov in a grey, curled wig.

Walking slowly, you curtsied and kissed Peter’s hand and your mother copied the movement.

Only said man wanted to jump ahead and show you his apartments.

“Your highness, thank you for letting me arrive here and for inviting my mother as a chaperone,” you greeted politely.

From a green portfolio, your mother pulled out a starched parchment and walked to the priest.

“Here is a signed paper from our physician, proving Y/N’s chastity for the marriage. Additionally, I will chaperone her until the ceremony.” she announced proudly.

He looked down, head tilted, but leaning to read it, nodded his head.

Both of you let out a sigh of relief. As awkward as the examination was, it was still a hundred times better with a family doctor then without warning by a stranger.

“Well, cangratu-fucking-lations Grigor. Here is the lady who’s going to suck you cock for life in a week! Go on, greet her!” he half-yelled.

You could feel your mother tense at the vulgarity and wished to disappear.

The hands in front of Grigor that were folded tightened slightly as you walked up to each other, with a slight bow.

He then took your hand, as you placed yours, you could see your own palm tremble a bit. He leant down to kiss it.

“Miss Y/L/N, did you travel well?” he asked.

“It was long, but nice. Lots of forests.” You answered shyly.

He relaxed a little and gave you a small smile. Though part of you felt angry. What if it was the cock sucking comment he was thinking of?

It dropped at you still being serious.

“Well, that’s done. And I’m bored. I’m hungry and want some oysters, goodbye!” the emperor suddenly said, trailing away with the priest and other men behind him like ducklings.

Grigor offered his arm and you accepted it, breath hitching at how close he felt.

“Count Dymov, thank you for the…the welcome. Though look at this place! It’s magnificent!” you mother praised, looking at the details.

He walked slowly out of the room with your mother by your side, admiring the tall windows, wooden walls, and countless paintings and decorations. Courtiers in wigs and wide skirts floated by you like butterflies.

“I was thinking I would show you both my apartment, since it’s where we’ll be living soon, Lady Y/L/N. The palace is huge enough as it is!” Grigor answered, turning to your mother.

“Unless you want a tour of all that!” he added on, gesturing to the bits of gold that glowed in the sunlight.

“It would be nice to see where she’ll be living,” you mother replied.

“The apartment is fine,” you finalized, looking up at his eyes.

It had been a while but you forgot or perhaps never noticed the color. They were the color of the sea. And quite beautiful.

“Besides, I already have a gift for you and it couldn’t wait for after the wedding!” he announced, with an impish grin.

“A gift?” you gasped.

“I’d like us to at least be friends, Y/n,”

“Of course, Grigor.”

After a ten-minute walk with chit chat mostly between your mother and Grigor, you arrived at the apartment. He paused slightly before the dark doors and knocked a few times, a voice replied from within.

Your heart leaped at all the red- red walls, red chairs, red furniture, a beautiful gold bathtub and a large red bed that made your stomach flip and turn warm.

“In about a week, this will be your home…but, the-ah- the gift!” he said, jumping with his eyebrows near the top of his wigged head.

An old man dressed like a servant walked from a corner. Grigor rushed there, gesturing wildly with his arms for him to walk forward. For a minute, the man was under Grigor’s shadow and his large back blocked your view.

As he turned, in his hands was a tiny Pomeranian puppy with brown fur.

Gasping alongside your mother, you let out squeals of delight on instinct. You fell in love at once. It barked and smiled when it saw you. You cooed and even your mother went over to stroke its fur. Its earthy smell came up to your nose and it licked your fingers. Grigor handed the puppy for you to hold, light and warm and smelling of earth. The puppy smiled and licked your nose in greeting and you giggled.

“Seems like she knows her mistress already!” Grigor commented, with a small laugh in his voice.

“I know they will expect us to, uh, have children someday and we might as well practice caring for a living thing. And I did not want you to be here and feel completely alone. Like you told me.”

The puppy looks up at you and tilts its head. Once you set it down, it happily runs around the apartment, leaping sometimes mid-way and then pausing to sniff every piece of furniture. It looks at you, chippering happily, the stub of a tail wagging wildly.

“Grigor, she, she…” you mumbled, close to tears. “She’s adorable! I’ve never had such a gift before!”

“It will be work, of course. And she’ll get big and eat and tear things. But Arkady knows dogs and is willing to help us.”

“Yes, of course…thank you!”

Overjoyed, you walked over to him, stood on your toes, and kiss his cheek.

It was a little out of decorum. You had hardly seen him. But you were overjoyed, and it was too kind. He blushed bright pink at the feeling of your lips and smiled.

“Y/N…you’re very welcome! Oh! I forgot! I also have…have these now…”

Out of his pocket were two small bands, bronze colored.

“Our engagement rings… until we’re official.”

Breathing in deep, you accepted the ring and slid it onto your finger. It was only a little tight. The puppy in your arms sniffed it and then tried to lightly chew on it.

___-------------------------------------------------------------------

The palace tour nearly broke your jaw from how much you dropped it. You kept a leash with the small Pomeranian pup by your side, trotting happily and sniffing everything. If it were not for all the gold and countless portraits, plants, boards, and displays and details in every crack of the wall, your new pet would have distracted you.

How on earth can anyone manage to walk through this? You thought. You had not even reached the gardens yet!

Suddenly, there was a yelp and the thunder of boots.

Peter walked forward with his usual party of men, but by his side was a woman who seemed surprisingly young despite her tall height. She was extremely pale and had light blonde hair up in a bun with a few curls falling out and wore a lovely sky-blue gown.

“Ah, Grigor! Have another meeting, need you there! Now! It’s going to be fucking dull without you!” he ordered.

With a shrug, he bowed and walked away with Peter, but the young woman stayed behind. She waited until he was gone and then turned to you.

“He should have been there an hour ago, people were discussing trade forever and he should have been there to help,” She sighed.

Handing the leash to your mother, both of you dipped in a greeting curtsy.

“Pardon me, but I’m new here. I don’t know what the Emperor’s schedule is like…I don’t know what anything is like,” you confessed.

She raised an eyebrow and blinked a few times. Suddenly a shorter woman with sharp cheekbones and her hair up into a small coif ran up by the blonde woman’s side. A maid.

Looking at you both, the servant seemed to give meaning to the phrase “if looks could kill.”

She scolded, “do you realize who you’re talking to! This is her grace, the Empress! At least be polite!”

Panic flooded your chest and you dipped down to a lower, rushed curtsy.

“Your grace-I’m so sorry! Forgive me! Please!” you blubbered. “I didn’t know who you were!”

“It’s all right! Just a mistake!” she laughed.

Her hands moved forward, and she gestured you up.

“What is your name?” she asked kindly.

You introduced yourself, only looking at the end of Catherine’s blue skirt, shades lighter than your own.

“You’re Lady Y/L/N, the future Countess Dymov!”

“Yes, I am and…your grace, I am so sorry for all the trouble that happened at my house. I tried to resolve but…here I am,” you explained.

She gave a sideways glare to where Peter walked off and turned to you, “it isn’t your fault at all…my husband is… well, you understand.”

“I completely understand!” you blurted with a scoff in your throat.

Her frozen, pale stiffness melted away. She smiled genuinely.

“Empress Catherine, what is it like for women here? I haven’t heard much…”

“Well, there are…tea parties. Ball throwings. Thing like that… But…Lady Y/L/N…”

She leaned closer, speaking quietly.

“I was like you, once. Sent to be married. New to this place. I would hesitate to head there if you are new…things are done differently and the ladies here are, if I must be honest, not nice to newcomers.”

“Alright!”

You glanced at your mother, whose brow furrowed with worry at the words.

“But I shall help you. You have to meet them eventually. Just be careful. Though you aren’t me, you might have hope. They have joy in teasing me since they know I outrank them…if you need help, you may call on me.” She offered, her words rushing at the sudden idea.

“Oh your heighness, it’s an honor!” you cried.

“From one foreign bride to another!” she commented before saying goodbye and twirling off. The maid gave a look at the puppy with wistfulness, and then followed the empress.

But as you headed back, having a few moments of rest on a seat near a window.

“Our chambers are not far, I’ll be there to see if our things are ready!” she announded.

You nodded, giving a last happy pet your puppy and stared as your mother sauntered away.

Suddenly, you heard the click of heels.

“You’re his fiancée, are you?”

You turned to see a pale woman with beautiful dark curls on her head. She wore an elaborate, dusy red dress and her slight frown was not welcoming.

“I am engaged to…to Count Dymov, if that’s what you’re asking,” you answered, getting up.

“I…I thought,” she mused.

“Pardon me, I don’t even know your name…” you said.

“You can call me Georgiana.”

Oh my god…

“Lady Georgiana, I’m Lady Y/L/N,” you replied.

She looked at you, analyzing everything. Your chin dipped low and you folded your hands in front of you, frozen in place. Part of you wanted to run away.

“Miss Georgiana is there anything you want from me?” you asked.

Her lips went tight.

“I just thought that Grigor loved me…but he brings over some unknown woman from nowhere!” she spat.

You remembered what he said about their history. And her decision. Your mind blanked with Catherine’s warning, what could you even say.

“He didn’t ask me to marry him. It’s to secure an alliance with Russia.” You informed her plainly.

Getting a little bolder, you looked back at her unamused face.

“Just know, however your marriage goes, it’s me he really loves and…”

She paused. Then smiled.

“And I’ve fucked him too.”

She stuck her nose in the air as your mouth opened a little in shock.

“That’s how mad he is for me. I know every trick that will keep him returning to me. You’ll just pop out an heir for the Dymov’s and then he’ll be done with you.”

Your face turned hot and your breath felt short.

“Why…why are you telling me this?” you asked quietly.

“Because, we all know I am the one he loves and will always love. And I know how to please him in every way,” she threatened, walking closer.

“As sure as you please the Emperor,” you retorted boldly.

Georgiana stopped, her eyes widening. Her face screwed up. Though her head nodded a little in slight acknowledgement.

“Georgiana, I don’t want us to be enemies,” you pleaded.

“I don’t want you to make him miserable. You may think you know him: he seems like a nice man, but he is only two steps away from Peter. He loves parties, drinking, fun, revelry and all things wild; are you ready to have that as your husband?”

“I didn’t even choose this match. I don’t even love him- I only met him a month ago! And he offered you his hand and you couldn’t accept it! I did not have a say in the matter to be with him! Live with your choice and I’ll live with one that wasn’t even mine!” you yelled, your cheeks feeling hot.

Her nostrils flared and she walked away, flouncing like a peacock.

Sinking back onto the seat, you cursed your temper and tongue for getting the best of you.

How could you make peace of this conundrum? Even if the Empress liked you, it seemed no one else at court would now. Especially knowing the kind man who gifted you a dog spent his nights in wildness…and maybe in Georgiana’s arms.

 Taglist: @queenlover05​ @stardust-killer-queen​

The Great Taglist/Promised: @stardust-killer-queen​ @itsametaphorgwil​ @freaking-nix​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @grigorlee​ @themficsilike @simonedk​ @deck-heart​ @staradorned​  @writeroutoftime​ @kiainspace​ @gwilymleeisbae​

#the great fanfiction #carrie writes #the great huu #the great hulu #arranged marriage au #gwilym lee #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov x fem! reader #grigor dymov x fem! y/n #18th century #emporer peter #catherine the great #georgiana dymov #mariol #the great imagine #grigor dymov fanfiction #grigor dymov fanfic #the great fanfic #grigor dymov imagine #nicholas hoult #elle fanning #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x y/n #gwilym lee x fem! y/n #gwilym lee x fem! reader #grigor dymov fluff #grigor dymov angst

[likesomekindofcheese]

Duties (The Great Oneshot)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x servant! Reader

Word Count: 1797

Anon Request/Summary: I wanted to know if you could write something like giving grigor a bath when he’s upset about Georgina and peter. And maybe some cuddles after. Love your writing😁

A/N: Awwww, thanks so much! And I love writing for this exciting and phenomenal new show! (and giving Grigor much needed happiness!

Warnings: mentions of sex and cheating, swearing, mutual pining.

 Another day, another order

“Go to the Dymov household, they should be back from the Emperor’s hunt. Take care of them, Y/N, they’re probably exhausted and starving and need another dozen cakes to stuff themselves,” Mariol suggested with a snarl at the image.

It was sometimes something to get used to here. Receiving an order and not being told no.

You did not have a choice when you were assigned to work in the small staff for the up keeping of their living quarters of the Dymov couple. You did not have a choice to sometimes wake up at dawn to make sure their fires were lit, and their breakfast served.

But you wanted to have a choice. You wanted so badly to say “no, I won’t!”

Because you did not have a choice the way your heart fluttered at the sight of Grigor. His wife, Georgiana, was polite towards you, at most a little cold, but still polite.

But Grigor was different. He asked after you. He made sure you had water and enough food. He called you by your name. There were numerous small conversations you both had. He was warmer than his wife. Friendlier. Easy to talk to.

You had no choice over how you felt every time he spoke to you.

Sometimes you both would look up as you did your duties and your eyes would meet. How he would smile.

And the other day, when you entered with new clothes just distributed for the servants, he said you were a vision. He. He in his fine cuffs and curled wigs that cost a fortune and you in your servant’s garb.

You could not control how your stomach tightened at the words. And the way it sank when he took his wife’s arm and escorted her out.

“Yes, Mariol, I’ll go there,” you answered, walking there with the towels in your arms.

Once you reached there, placing the towels on a nearby desk, you saw Grigor alone on the small chair next to the fire. He was still in his jacket and shirt and wig, but his heavy coat was scattered on the floor.

“It’s me…” you greeted shyly.

Scurrying in, you picked up the crumpled coat and put it on the knob.

“You normally hang it up, sir…” you commented.

“Y/N, could you call me Grigor, please? If you do not mind?” he asked, looking at you.

Sadness clouded his features.

You nodded, “yes sir-Grigor.”

He stared out into the fire, crackling away merrily as if laughing at its companion.

“Do you know what else isn’t normal?” he queried.

“What sir-I’m sorry, Grigor, what is it?” you asked.

He looked back into the flames, how they curled and retreated over each other.

“It isn’t normal for your wife to kiss the emperor in front of you and leave your chambers for his?” he said bitterly, his lips pursing.

“Oh. It isn’t.” you answered dutifully.

You could hardly believe it. The times Emperor Peter came in, your ears bled with shock with his lines of what food he placed where on Georgiana and what she did with his parts as well. You stared at the floor to avoid anyone up there seeing your jaw going slack at the words.

To think he would even talk about this with even the staff in the room! No, not talking- bragging!

Stepping forward, placing your hands modestly in front of you, you began to attempt consolation.

“Grigor, you seem so…so…”

Nose curling up, you caught whiff of the hunt leftover.

“Ugh!”

“I seem Ugh?” he repeated, turning his eyes to look at you quizzingly.

“No! I mean, well- have you bathed? You look exhausted…and I still smell the sweat from your hunting! But no, uhm, I meant, heartbroken,” you corrected yourself.

He gazed at you, barely blinking from the smell comment “I haven’t bathed and…I guess I am heartbroken. Wouldn’t you be, Y/N? And if it was a friend?”

“I would…”

Opening the door a few feet ahead and wandering into the next room, you noticed how the tub was set out in gold. There was even a large bowl of water that seems fresh and warm. Perhaps a previous servant, most likely the old man who painted everything, brought it out.

“You need to take a bath, Grigor,” You said.

“I’ve been wanting to bathe but…I can’t stop thinking of how they kissed in the woods today in front of me…” he confessed.

You walked back, grunting with the weight of the large bucket, and poured it in the tub. Returning to the fireplace, you took him by the hand. It stayed flexed and then his fingers curled in.

“Just walk with me to the bathroom…” you offered.

He let you lead him into that next room. He stood, staring at the water. His face still grey and gloomy, staring blankly at the water.

“And just…just remove your clothes…” you began, feeling warm and a little embarrassed.

You led his hands, tracing almost to where the buttons of his front waistcoat were. Your hands shook a little as you popped them open. If any other servant or person saw you undressing him alone, who knew what would happen next. And God knew how the Emperor would react. You could hear his voice, almost.

“Well, Grigor, fucking servants then? Do they wipe off their faces before you stuff your cock in them? Hahhahahhaha!”

He bent his knees a little and dipped his head down so you could remove his wig. His forehead sparkled with sweat and his short brown hair stuck around like a porcupine.

“I’ll be in the next room, I’ll…I’ll turn my head away so you could finish dressing. Would you…would you like help bathing?” you asked.

He looked at you, a bare wisp of a smile on his face.

“Yes, I would.”

Walking out, you waited a few minutes, not daring to peek.

“I’m in, Y/N,” he called out.

You walked back in. He is a tall man, yet he looks small in that bathtub. Child-like.

You even see some sweet-smelling salts and oils by the tub. You pour them in, filling the room with the scent of lavender and lilac. He breathed in deep, taking in the heat and the smell. You noticed his shoulders relaxed and his head tipped back. He closed his eyes. Indulging yourself, you stared up, taking in his profile, his nose and lips, his oddly muscular biceps, and the beginning of his chest. He looks like the statues you see of Greek gods, and you secretly long to be a nymph or a chosen, lucky mortal.

Taking a sponge, you dipped it in the water, not daring to look down and answer your lust tinged curiosity. Scrubbing the sponge a large block of soap until suds appeared. He let you wipe his arms and neck. You remained sitting (so not to see the clear water and his body in it), staying gentle as you rubbed it against him. You even poured some oil and messaged the top of his head, seeing how the strands of hair moved with the suds.

“Y/N…I…thank you…I think I can wash the rest of myself from here, could you get me a change of clothes…please” he said softly.

His hand caught yours, gently catching it before you could scrub him anymore.

“I will, Grigor.” You answered.

He took your hand in his, removing the sponge from your grip. He then set the sponge into the water to let it float. Both hands were carried under your own and he raised your palm to his lips and kissed it. You nearly froze.

“Y/N…you’re worth more than half the court put together. And…you are not a servant. Not to me. You’re far dearer…I hope, I haven’t worked you too hard, or that I’ve been cruel…”

“You haven’t! You have been so kind to me! I love…”

Freezing at the slight burst, you put your hand over your moth and then added on.

“I love talking with you.”

“Me too…”

Excusing yourself, you leave to get him a change of clothes. Breathing in deep, you open his chests and pick out a fresh white shirt and some loose pants used more for playing kettle ball in the hallway.

Once you fold it on the bed, you shake your hands, almost brimming with the thrill and danger of all this and pacing with nerves, unaware that the footsteps in the next room, once done washing and drying, were pacing with nerves as well.

Knocking on the door, you handed over the fresh clothes looking away and felt them lifted away with a sincere thanks from his voice.

He returned changed.

“Is the smell better, I must’ve been like a dog!” he cursed, running a hand through his short hair to check how dry it was.

“It’s much better!” you answer, lips curling to smile.

Both of you are quiet for a moment. Then he walks forward and embraces you. You embrace him back. He then kisses your forehead.

“Would you lie with me?” he asked in a flurry of words.

Electricity shot through you and you felt dizzy. You almost could not see him because nerves made your vision blur for a second.

“Grigor I…I’m not ready to do that yet! I don’t want to get anything and…” you blurted

“I mean, not…let’s not fuck, please, let’s not,” he cut off, shaking his head.

You never saw him look redder in his face or fumble more with his hands. It was adorable, you had to admit.

“Let’s just…I just want to feel you by me…to feel like I’m not alone,” he stuttered.

You lied down on the large bed, full of red sheets. The canopy towers over your head. His bare feet were touching the worn slippers on yours.

The long day was wearing on you and your eyelids felt heavy. The bed was soft. Far softer than the straw cot waiting for you below.

He laid down opposite you and moved close. Placing a large hand on your waist, you gasped a little from the feeling.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I won’t hurt you…if you don’t like me touching you there, I’ll-”

“I haven’t had anyone touch me like that in a while, I’m…I’m just not used to it,” you confessed.

Smiling, you placed a hand on his chest and moved closer to kiss his cheek.

“I can start though, for you most of all,” you finished.

He smiled, pecking your lips, and leaning closer to rub his thumb on your hips. You nestled your head against the crook of his neck, and he wrapped his arm further around you, as if cocooning you.

“Anything for you, darling,” finally letting the word roll out between you both.

The Great Taglist: @radio-hoo-ha​ (thanks for encouraging me to post this and not try to make it “perfect”! I love ya!), @themficsilike​ @queenlover05​ @deck-heart​ @silverrose02​

#the great hulu #carrie writes #the great #grigor dymov #gwilym lee #georgiana dymov #george dymov #charity wakefield #emporer peter #nicholas hoult #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x y/n #angst #fluff #mutual pining #cw: mentions of sex #cw: mentions of cheating #cw: language #grigor dymov fluff #grigor dymov hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort fic #the great fanfic #the great fanfiction #the great oneshot #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee x y/n #gwilym lee x reader

[likesomekindofcheese]

can i request just a comfort piece with someone hurting grigor's lover because they aren't royalty and him being all huffy and angry because what's the use of being the emperor's right hand man when his lover gets to be maltreated

Hello! I like this idea a lot!! I finished episode 8 of The Great and I’m deep in my feels for Grigor so I’m 🥺😭🥺😭🥺😭

Anyways, here you go! And in this version, Reader is kept neutral and their gender can be whatever you would like! 

You were so honored to be there in the first place. The palace halls were beautiful and every day your head kept turning, noticing the women painted into the doors, the gold on the walls, and even the curvy patterns on the ceiling.

And you were excited to go to the parties and everything. You tossed your ball with the ladies with extra enthusiasm and breathed in the air of every feast, ignoring the retching, and screaming in the back.

Today had been the latest little party: a science party. Experiments and wonders that worked like magic before the masses. And here you were, champagne glass in hand, to see it all.

But before you could glance at an experiment with electricity, the pastel skirts of Lady Svenska and Tatyana blocked your view.

“Hello there, Y/N, where have you been last night. We were putting ink on our noses to look like badgers!” Tatyana asked.

Biting a smile, you answered, “I was...I was drinking wine alone in my quarters. I was tired and wanted to relax.”

It wasn’t a lie. You didn’t have to tell them, especially if George was present, that you were not alone.

“We were just wondering; you’ve been here for a bit...what is your families name?” Tatyana questioned.

“That is, you’re with the Emperor’s party all afternoon every day, is it some connection? I know you said it, but we keep forgetting it.”

Her face leaned closer, her wig barely holding onto her head.

“It’s Y/L/N.”

There was a pause. Lady Svenska blinked and smirked her dark eyes.

“Oh...that family. I’ve heard things, is it true they are crown coveting, gold digging apes?” she asked.

Your breath stopped.

“No, we were lucky and there was a great fortune. Our hard work paid off. My parents even still garden every day.” you recalled, that was what their last letter said.

“They dig and plant their own vegetables? They touch dirt? How could a bunch of farmers rule a country then?” Tatyana asked plainly.

Your grip tightened on your glass.

“I...I don’t...we aren’t farmers and I don’t give two shits about the crown or the title or whatever, any more than you both do.” you say, swallowing your more brutal feelings towards them.

“A farmer will always be a farmer...even with a wig on, then” Lady Svenska answered.

“Ladies, if that is all you want to say to me and you have nothing else of conversation, I do not wish to speak to you today,” you finished, but not without hearing them burst into giggles.

As you fled away, tears threatening to come up, you drank your champagne in one gulp and put the glass away. But several voices behind you made oinking noises that spurred you out of the room.

Flying away, only when you shut your door in your own apartment did you let yourself cry heavier. Not polite little light tears, but big tears that stained your face like a rainstorm.

Laying on your bed, you let yourself cry when suddenly...

Knock knock

“Tatyana, I don’t want to speak to you!” you snapped angrily. In no way were you ready to forgive her.

“I’m not Tatyana,” a soft voice answered.

Gasping a little at your mistake, you replied, “it’s unlocked Grigor, you can come in.”

Hearing his heavy footsteps, the door shut, and the lock snapped shut behind you. Turning around, you saw his tall form. His face was smiling, smiling brighter than you had seen it in ages, a kind of smile he only began to show once you were in court.

You always secretly admired Grigor the day you entered court. But one day you found him alone, sobbing. He told you about how he truly felt about his wife and Peter together. You gave him empathy, which led to a kiss, and before you knew, there were more sneaking off to corners with more kisses.

In his hands was a white vase full of white roses.

“Hello darling, I brought this for you,” he offered.

You got up from your bed and walked up, taking the vase in your hands. But he noticed the tear stains across your face. Wiping with your sleeve, you accepted the roses and set them on the desk near your window.

“Y/N... why have you been crying?” he asked gently, sitting on a nearby chair.

His eyes look soft and worried.

Walking forward, you sat down on the floor and set your head on his lap like a child. He petted your hair gently as you explained everything.

There was silence. Only the faint ticking of the clock in the far corner could be heard.

“I can’t believe it…those…those…” he muttered.

Looking up, you saw his features had turned dark.

“Have I done anything wrong?”

“No! Not at all, Y/N! I should have been there. If I said two words to Peter right there, they could have been punished,” He cursed.

He stepped out of the chair and stared out the window as the afternoon faded to the blue of evening. You followed him and took his hand.

“I’m fine now…”

 He huffed, his nostrils flaring. You nuzzled into his shoulder.

“And who knows what else they’ll say or do to you after this…”

“I’ll survive it. They could never kill me,” you try to comfort him.

He turned, cupping your face in his hands.

 “Y/N…I just want to be sure I can protect you…” he sighed.

Softly you leaned to kiss his hand and then embraced him.

“You are protecting me…you’re protecting me this moment…but you are someone here who care for me…you don’t care about my family or my title or lack of title, you see me as I am…and I love you for it,” you answered.

Mouth melting into a smile, he moved his face down to kiss you. Both of you embraced for a little bit, watching the birds fly past the windows. His fingers went teasingly to the edges of your clothes.

He began to kiss you deeper, longer, and more passionately. You put a finger before the next one on his chin.

“Besides, you could always tell the emperor about them whenever you want…” you added in.

Grinning childishly at the gesture he took your hand kissed it, moving onto your neck.

“I’ll do that later, Y/N, I want you right now…”

Taglist: @silverrose02 @itsametaphorgwil @deck-heart @grigorlee @themficsilike @queenlover05

#the great #the great hulu #hulu the great #the great fanfic #the great fanfiction #lady svenska #georgiana dymov #emperor peter #grigor dymov #the great imagine #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov x y/n #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #grigor dymov angst #grigor dymov fluff #grigor dymov hurt/comfort #grigor dymov comfort #carrie writes #carriewrites #hurt comfort fic #gwilym lee #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fanfic

[likesomekindofcheese]

Charity Wakefield replied to one of my comments on her Insta!!!!!!!

Like, girl I love you!

You’re not gonna like the things I’ve written about your character in The Great-

But I love you bb.

#chairty wakefield #the great #the great hulu #dymov #georgiana dymov #hulu the great

[likesomekindofcheese]

One day, to get it all out of my chest, I will make a long post about what I don’t like about Grigor’s arc in The Great Season 2 and why I don’t like or really support this…new development.

“I could go into heavy detail…and I will! I WILL go into heavy detail”

#gwilym lee #the great #Grigor Dymov #grigor dymov x you #Grigor Dymov x Reader #grigor dymov x y/n #Grigor Dymov x you #Grigor x George #Grigor x Georgiana #The Great #The Great Hulu

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Ten

Word Count: 5K

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Summary: You are married to Count Grigor Dymov of Russia to keep an alliance between the Russian crown and your family safe. But you realize you have grown to love him and he has fallen for you. You are forced apart during the Coup and once you return to the palace, you are tricked to believe Grigor betrayed you for Marial. You are heartbroken. Only for Georgiana to reveal the truth- Grigor has resisted Marial's seductions for you. However, she is desperate to have him, at any cost...

Here it is! Continuing after that cliffhanger! COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED! IF YOU ENJOY IT, PLEASE REBLOG OR COMMENT.

Warnings for the chapter: swearing, mentions of violence, discussions of sex, and cheating. Some spicy stuff but nothing too explicit except for one sentence. IDeas I stole from other mediums lovingly or hatefully.

Part One //Part Two //Part Three// Part Four// Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven//Part Eight//Part Nine

Taglist: @itsametaphorgwil​ @bluesfortheredj​ @grigorlee​ @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joeslee   @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @jamesbuckybarns​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @rhapsodyrecs​ @ladystrallan​​ ​ @0x0spunky-monkey0x0

General Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen​ @queenlover05​ @seraphicmercury

Nothing's gonna hurt you baby As long as you're with me you'll be just fine Nothing's gonna hurt you baby Nothing's gonna take you from my side- "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex

Peter was delighted and surprised by the sight of his best friend rushing into his chambers as he was greeting and petting the new truffle hunting dogs.

“Ah! Grigor! What a delight I-“

His friend looked pale, and his lower lip quivered. He fell on his knees, pleading before his sovereign.

“Peter, please forgive me, but very soon- I have to leave…”

Peter blinked, glancing over at Arkady, who tilted his head until petting the soft fur of the dogs.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

Grigor got up and grabbed his friend by the shoulders.

“I need to leave…Peter, please assure me…you will be absolutely fucking  safe! I couldn’t live with myself if you or Y/N were in danger and…for her safety, I must leave for a while. Please promise me all is well with you and you will be safe and happy even!”

“Well, shit-I will be! You’re not some fucking prisoner here- you’re free to leave with your wife, Grigor! And You won’t believe it, I’m eating Catherine’s pussy nightly!”

“Your talents are paying off, of course! Great! “Wonderful! Be safe and do nothing stupid!” he pleaded his friend.

“When do I? Peter replied.

They hugged each other before Grigor departed like a deer being hunted.

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

You had reread the letter again, making sure everything was correct. It couldn’t be true. It seemed too good to be true. That this all was a lie. That Grigor never betrayed you for another woman. That he wasn’t about to leave you for her. That such things never happened in the first place. Part of you laughed with slight embarrassment over your actions from the past few weeks. The other part of you couldn’t help but smile. You pressed the letter to your heart and sank to you knees in your dress.

An absent-minded Catherine entered. Her face warm and hazy from how heavy she slept and her beautiful blonde hair in disarray.

“Y/N… hope you didn’t mind! I didn’t sleep well last night, and I was tired…”

You shook your head, happy tears welling up.

“No…not at all, empress…I…I just got a very…very good letter.”

As Grigor ran, he saw her. The very last woman in the world, no, the last person in the world he wanted to see.

“Made up your mind?” Marial asked, arms akimbo.

He tried to run but she stepped to the side and blocked him.

“So, you have an obvious choice. Would you rather by a hen-pecked husband chained to Y/N and be a widower…. Or be happy and free?” she asked.

Grigor looked down on the ground, thinking it through. That is, For three seconds.

Then he looked up with a smile.

“Hen pecked husband. Any day.”

He quickly shoved her aside and kept running. Not stopping until he reached Catherine’s apartments.

“Oh!” Catherine gasped. “I see…what does the letter say…”

“The laws about adultery, empress, you need do nothing about them. You can forget them, even!” you said with a laugh.

“How come?” she asked, tilting her head. She reached down to help herself to more tea, bending over her big belly and coming up to delicately hold the saucer.

“I received good news; I have been a fool forever. I learned a truth, a happy, happy truth and I…I feel so relieved I can’t stand it.”

“I’m glad you are happy! What is it, Y/N?”

“I received a letter from Georgiana, and it said- “

Before you could finish you were cut off by a sudden rush of footsteps. Before you stood a very shocked and desperate looking Grigor. You stood right up.

“Empress, I hate to cut your meeting short, but I would like to speak to my wife back in my apartments immediately, please…” he said worriedly.

“Why, of course you can.” Catherine confirmed.

“Thank you.”

He ran up to you, his eyes were the size of planets, and you could see his hands were shaking.

“What, Grigor, what is going-“

“Excuse us, empress!”

Before you could say another word, he bent down and swung you over his back like a sack of potatoes. Seeing the floor and a bit dizzy, he began to run quickly down the hall.

“Wha…what is happening! Grigor, tell me what’s going on!” you demanded.

“No need! No time, Y/N!” he replied. You saw the shuffled feet of courtiers he pushed aside in his rush to go back.

Despite your constant kicks and questions and protests, he kept running. You keep trying to talk to him, but he ran fast. Some people gasped and giggled at the ridiculous sight.

Once he arrived before the Dymov apartment he yelled for the guards.

“Let us in- lock the door and be armed!”

Once he got you into the parlor of the Dymov place he brought you down. He kept looking around the room, pacing wiilldy. Then after looking in every room and opening the door of every wardrobe and cabinet, he turned to you.

“Y/N…I have something you need to know now…” he began desperately.

You put a hand in front of him to stop him.

 “So do I…” you brought out the letter. “George has told me…told me the truth…”

He blinked and then looked down at it, smiling. The air stilled except for the sounds of the birds outside. You thanked your lucky stars for George. Who would believe one of his ex-lovers would bring you closer together?

“I want to hear you say it…and now that I’m not that heartbroken thing I was at first, I want to hear it from your lips…so this whole time…You never fucked her?” you asked.

“Yes” he nodded.

You gasped in joy and clasped your hands in front of your mouth.

He looked down to read its contents again. He then folded it delicately and placed it in your hand. You pushed it to be inside your reticule.

“And every word of this is true?” you asked.

“Yes. I haven’t fucked Marial…I kept trying to tell you. Every day I kept trying to tell you the first day and every day since.  Do you believe me this time?” he questioned.

He blinked and you could see tears in the ducts of his eyes Despite his teary exhaustion, his eyes were gentle when he looked at you. He gently cupped your face. You reached out a hand to touch one of his.

“I believe you…” you confirmed.

“The day we were married, and I promised you…that I won’t ever, ever hurt you. I swore you that until I die, Y.N…I will never betray you for any woman in the world…” he recalled.

“I promised to do the same…, I’m so relieved! I don’t even have words!” you mumbled.

You both begin to laugh with relief and happy tears. The misery was only a nightmare and you had awoken to the pink, dewy dawn of a new day.

“But…we can discuss more of this later…” he cut off. He reached down and clasped both of your hands, leaning in closer and speaking softly.

“Y/N, we don’t have time to lose. We must leave. Immediately.  you are in danger right now!” he warned.

You blinked. Your chest suddenly getting tight.

“Danger? But the coup is over…” you questioned.

“You were just threatened by...”

Suddenly there was a LOUD bang that interrupted him.

“Oh fuck! She’s fast!” Grigor cursed. His eyes went wide, and he threw you behind him.

“Where the hell is he?” a familiar voice roared. “Is THIS the place of Monsieur Dymov?”

“Yes- but-“the guards voice were quickly cut off.

“That doesn’t sound like a she…” you commented.

The door was kicked open. Your bother burst through. His face lost its color, his hair was unkempt, he smelled bad, and his eyes were wide with circles beneath/ He had lost sleep in a rush to be here. The guards were behind him, struggling to restrain him and failing. In his hand was a pistol.

“Y/N, thank God I got your letter, you poor thing!” your brother wailed as he went up to you.

Memories of your first torturous reunion came to you both and of the threat you made returned.

“You actually sent it?” Grigor asked turning to look at you.

“…I did.” You confessed.

“Get AWAY from her…Scoundrel!”

Your brother ran to Grigor and shoved him from you, gun flailing as he began ranting before your frightened and amazed husband.

“You worthless bastard of a man! Can’t you keep your cock in your pants for a minute?? Do you see this letter?”

From his pocket he pulled out the very letter you wrote and mailed out to him. Right on the first disastrous day you returned to the palace after the coup and believed Marial’s manipulations.

“It’s stained with her tears! I am here and I am taking her home, away from you and your whore!”

Grigor dodged a literal bullet and you let out a screech. Your brother then turned to you.

“Y/N, we will make sure that there is a divorce…if I don’t make you a widow right away. And you will be home safe, and so help me, next time you will be married to a decent, FAITHFUL man! Do you understand the pain you brought her through? How you insulted and humiliated a good woman and a good wife for you? You’re a demon among men and don’t deserve to even look at her!” he vented.

Right as his arm went up to try and shoot again, you managed to smack his arm, tossing the pistol across the floor. Despite being disarmed, your brother then tackled Grigor outright, punching him and shaking his shirt, getting close to strangling your husband with his bare fist

“Stop!! Stop right now!” You screamed, pulling the men away with all your strength.

 You looked your brother in the eye, tugging him up by the collar.

“Please…I was misled. Grigor was never unfaithful to me!”

“What!” your brother gasped.

“The letter had false information! I misinterpreted what she said to me-I sent the letter before I knew the truth!” you explained.

You briefly explained what happened as Grigor pushed himself back up

“Is it…is it true?” your brother asked

“It fucking is!” Grigor replied in exasperation.

The three of you looked around, panting from the near-death experience of the week. Your brother slouched, his hands dropping and panting.

“Oh, thank God…thank God…Y/N, so you aren’t miserable with this man! He isn’t cheating and abandoning you?”

You shook your head with a small smile.

“This family reunion is very nice, but we must go- Y/N, you are in great danger- now!” Grigor pleaded desperately.

He gestured at the guards to shut and lock the doors and to wait outside.

“What? What do you mean?” you asked.

“Marial says she is going to kill you!” Grigor blurted loudly.

“What!?” you and your brother repeated.

“You mean…the lover in the letter?” the brother asked.

“Yes! She’s about to be forced to marry someone. She must marry to maintain her status and She’s desperate to have me…. I refused her and she left with an ultimatum. Either I could leave Y/N, you or she would murder you.  can’t stay here a minute longer. She will make me a widower so she can have me…and that is why we must leave…” he explained.

The clock in the parlor clicked contentedly. Feeling the blood rush through you, you looked to your brother who put a protective arm around you.

“Could Marial kill someone?” you asked.

You knew she was a bitch and she embraced it. Betrayal, adultery, neither were beneath her  but actual, cold blooded killing?

Your husband gripped your shoulders and he looked you right in the eye.

“Yes! She did! Marial killed Lady Svenska this morning and she is after you next!”  

“Lady Svenska? Dead! Oh…oh god…” you responded.

 You felt cold and your stomach turned to nausea. The room seemed to spin. It was hard to breathe. You grabbed onto Grigor’s  arm to keep from the anxiety overtaking you and your brother took your other one to keep you from collapsing.  Catching onto your feet, you stood back up and looked at the men.

“But we don’t have time to lose. As far as we know, she could be on her way!” Grigor urged.

 Their knees were bent and their faces wild as if ready to charge. You stepped forward, commanding with a quiet but resolved voice.

“Grigor, where are you pistols?”

“In the large cabinet in the parlor.”

“We will each get them, we will be armed, all three of us. I also have my two guards still here from the vineyard, we will leave with them. We will go there. She probably won’t now where it is.  We can travel under another name until we arrive there. We can take a different carriage so no one will think it’s us…”

There were footsteps down the hall. All three of you froaze until they passed by. You continued with a new idea.

 “We will ask our serfs. Ask them to grab any spare clothes we have.”

“Clothes?”

“We can wear peasant clothes to disguise ourselves…and take their pathways. No wigs or silks, just plain clothes. Make ourselves look like the serfs. She is soft for them. If we disguise ourselves in this attire, she will be less likely to recognize us or even want to harm us. And word won’t spread about the count and countess fleeing somewhere if we are not recognized.”

“But Y/N…She could see a carriage through a window…” Grigor argued.

The three of you looked towards the open windows, curtains drawn and daylight spilling through your red apartments. Damn, he was right. And there were many windows in the palace.

“Let’s have it drive the back path, and quickly and then reroute toward the vineyard. Get into the woods and then turn around. We take a different carriage than the Dymov one. A plainer one.”

You turned to your brother.

“But we need someone to stall for time…Do you know what she looks like? She was the empress’s maid at our wedding…” you asked him.

“I can’t recall.”

“Look for a small, pale woman with curly auburn hair or ask for her.”

You gestured down to the pistol in his hand.

 “I need you to find her. Confront her even, distract her, that will buy me and Grigor time to escape.” If she could strike any moment, we don’t have time to lose,” you instructed.

Running out to the parlor, you got two pistols from the cabinet and hurried back, giving one to your husband. Grigor turned to the desk, getting  a piece of paper and a quill. He  quickly wrote something out. He handed the paper to your brother.

“Here is the address of the vineyard. You can meet us there. Memorize it, then burn it. Make sure Marial never even knows you have it.” He ordered.

“Understood.”

You and Grigor looked at each other, then clutched hands. Your brother began to scrutinize the paper, then took off his boot and stuffed it into his sock before putting it back on.

“Then I will meet you there…you have to be willing to die for her…” your brother said.

“For Y/N, Without question”

They tapped each other on the shoulder, a small half smile with a sense of familial fondness minus the previous struggle minutes ago.

 You and your husband ducked your heads out the door to your rather confused looking guards. The hall was quiet. Hardly anyone was there.

“We are…we are going to the serfs’ quarters, follow us. And ask nothing until we are out of the palace.” You instructed.

The guards nodded obediently.

Your brother ran out on his mission. Once he was out, you and Grigor ran to the back door right where the serfs’ quarters lay. He would know where his own manservant slept. And ringing a bell for them would cause attention. Your guards followed you as you could tell from their grunting breaths and heavy footsteps. In your right hand was the pistol- you were unused to the weight of it. You were never raised to shoot a living thing. But you knew your choice. Be ready to kill or be killed.

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

There was a sudden gust in Marial’s apartments as a serf ran before her.

“Miss, there’s someone here to…”

“Enough of the formalities.”

Your brother ran in immediately, lightly pushing the serf away to face her.

 Looking at the woman, she was exactly as described. She was decked on her couch lazily, a pastry in one hand and a dog on her lap. She took the dog to the ground and shooed it away. She looked him up and down and gave him a devilish smile. Though beautiful of face and body, the ugliness and cruelty of her actions overpowered her attempt at seduction.

“Sir what are you….”

“I am from the Y/L/N family. Familiar? It should be…my sister is the Countess Dymova.” Your brother cut off.

She clenched her jaw and her eyes hardened. He tensed his fist and spoke directly to her.

“What were your intentions with the count?” he asked quietly.

“Say again?” she asked, in half denial.

“You attempted to elope with Count Dymov and threated to kill my sister, is that so?” He questioned sternly. His voice was raising.

The dog retreated to the next room. She reached over the sicky cakes on her tea tray and downed a bite.

“Why the fuck should I answer any question addressed to me in that tone?” she replied with her mouth full.

His face lost all color. He charged forward, grabbing her by the collar of her dress and lifting her up, slamming her against the wall angrily.

“Did you seduce the count and make him abandon his wife?” he began to bellow.

“The Count Dymov?”

He shook her violently.

“DID YOU SEDUCE THE COUNT AND MAKE HIM ABANDON HIS WIFE?” he screamed.

She froze and replied with an odd calmness and directness

 “Seduce him? He wants it. That’s Nothing new. Grigor always wanted me. Grigor and I fucked….”

“Recently?”

She froze. She spat in his face.

“No, we haven’t recently, for your prying information. But we will. He loves me and I love him.”

“He is already married and in love with Y/N!” your brother argued. “I’ve seen him with her. I’ve read her letters. Including the last one she wrote about you!”

“Grigor fucking loves me He just needs to remember who he is and that it’s me he wants. I’d be better for him.”

“Then why isn’t he fucking married to you?” your brother roared.

She took the cake tray and threw it at him. He ducked as the rich pastries and icing spilled onto the floor.

“He’s mine! He always was! And he tires of Y/N, he just has to admit it.”

“You didn’t try to make him you after they were engaged or before their wedding!” Your brother argued.

She regained her composure, straightening her posture to look right at him with a devilish smile again.

“He was forced to marry her. And she’s a frugal little cunt for him, might as well put her out of her misery.”

“You BITCH!” your brother screamed.

He gave her a solid punch in the jaw. Once she was down, he grabbed a vase, ready to smash her face in, towering over her.

“Give me answers, honest answers or you will die right here…has Grigor made any promises to run off with you?” he asked.

“I…I made him promises and offers…and he never gave an answer I even asked him in person. And he said no, but I know his eyes say yes.. He has been refusing me with his words. He wouldn’t have refused me like that in the past.  He is blinded by her. But he wants me, I can tell. His cock always gets hard around me in a silk dress.”

“You have not fucked him recently.”

“No, I haven’t! God, why won’t he already! She’s making him like her and It’s been fucking maddening!” she replied angrily.

He set down the vase. Your brother began to pace a little, then glared back at her.

“Don’t you Understand that because of your actions, my sister has suffered. Immensely,” he continued.

“I don’t give a fuck what your sister thinks. Or what anyone thinks!” she replied.

She stood up, soothing her gown. Your brother began to lecture her angrily.

“Have you thought that there are people other than you who deserve to be happy. That you can’t always get what pleases you all the time, especially at the price of someone else’s peace?  You  are ruining two lives just to amuse yourself. Amuse yourself with free men. Then you are within your right. But to seduce a happily married man from a wife who loves him. A man you KNOW is married. To encourage him to betray his wife. To deceive, to take their love and joy away…don’t you understand that’s as cruel as beating a serf or a dog!?”

“Well, I don’t fucking know about that! And I don’t want to!” she answered, disturbed. “Don’t you know everyone sleeps with everyone here! It’s the way it fucking is and always will be in this court! But you abuse me…how dare you treat a lady this way…I will have you avenged….” She stepped forward to him, glaring.

Looking down, your brother saw a knife under her couch and the outline of a pistol in the pocket of her dress.

“If you lay a hand on my sister, I swear I will kill you.” Your brother threatened, getting closer.

“They will arrest a stranger.  And execute him for killing a noble lady.” She retorted.

He reached into the hilt beneath his long coat.

“You’re a not a lady, you’re a monster.”

She whipped out her gun but so did he.

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

The serfs’ clothes were surprisingly warm and comfortable. The pistol was kept securely in a trunk inside the carriage so no accidents could trigger it to go off and harm anyone. The carriage drove fast and rickety. The shawls and gloves over your hands were welcome against the chill as the snow began to settle down. You had only a cotton cap over your head and a plain brown dress with an apron. Grigor wore no wig dusting with powder. Instead, he had stained white shirt with a plain brown cravat and a long coat. On his brown head was an old black hat instead of the fine tricornered hats so in fashion for the noblemen of Russia. Both of you wore old, tattered boots shivering from the cold air.

 It all seemed so peaceful outside in the forest with leftover snow sitting on the ground and on the branches of trees despite the terror of your situation. Both you and Grigor were silent for most of the beginning of the carriage ride. Your hearts were racing, and you wanted to know the plan would work. So far, nothing had happened. But that didn’t mean something wouldn’t strike any minute.

Lowering your head- you felt dizzy again. It became hard to breathe from how tight you felt in your chest.  You let yourself begin to cry a little from fear.

You felt his large hand on your back. He leaned you to sit up again and began to comfortingly rub your arms.

“Are you…are you afraid, Y/N?” your husband questioned.

“Yes, I…I’m very afraid….what will happen to me? I…I don’t want to die…” you confessed.

You had to gather your strength to fight and flee your way out of the palace with a good plan. But you could no longer deny the terror of such a threat. Now you could let it out safely.

“It’s alright, sweetheart… you had a brilliant plan that’s going to help and I’m here…I’m here beside you…You’re safe now…” he said sweetly.

“May I rest my head on you?” you asked.

“Yes.”

He pulled you closer, letting you rest your head on his scratchy, brown wool cloak. He wrapped both arms around you. Like how your mother would hold you when something scared you.

It eventually got too dark to carry on. Once an inn with rooms available was in sight, both of you walked in. The guards and carriage driver excused themselves to their own separate rooms.  Grigor spoke with the innkeeper- an old man with a mustache and a dirty white apron.

“I am Monsuier Molotov. The lady is Mademoiselle Sobakin.  We need Two rooms…”

“One room…” you stepped in to correct.

Grigor’s  brow furrowed and his jaw dropped as he stared at you in surprise. The innkeeper tried to keep from a lascivious smile.

“Are you certain?” your husband questioned.

“Yes, One room…please…”

Once you were led to the room, Grigor began a fire. Both of you slumped, warming your hands and even taking off your semi-tattered shoes from the warmth.

“I wanted…I wanted to respect your wishes for the past time. I knew you didn’t want me to sleep by you.” He explained.

“I…I would feel much safer with you by me…especially for tonight” you said.

“Then I will stay with you.”

Both of you went down to fetch the meal provided and returned to your rooms to eat. Better to be seen out and about as little as possible. It was just bread, some meat, and soup. It was humble fare compared to the feasts back with Peter and Catherine. You both quietly sipped the ale served in a tin cup rather than vodka in gold trimmed glasses. You didn’t speak much. You were relieved for the bit of safety and  Exhausted form the journey. And it was starting to get late in the night.

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stacked the plates. You took a last sip of the ale.

“Y/N…I know it was brief but…I love you. I actually do love you” he confessed.

The fire crinkled in response. You gave him a tired smile.

“It makes me so humble to be your husband.  I…I just want to be enough for you. Your tears were my greatest torment. Now…I swear to you, I will…”he began.

But his eyes teared up again.

“If I were not me, but the fucking  best, purest of men I would ask you to love me and to have your hand this instant.” He confessed.

You reached out both your hands and took his. You were in awe of such a confession.

“Well, we’re already married.” You reminded him.

“Still, I would. Thank God for Peter. Who knew he was a matchmaker?”

You began to play with his thumbs and he yours. You touched his face sweetly again.

“I hope you forgive my anger…I was only so angry and shrewish because of how much I love you…and…in the past I…”

You sighed, your breath hastened as you clutched his hand, looking into the fire to recall the painful memory.

“About a year or so before I met you, I had a suitor. I met him at a church. I thought he was the handsomest man I had ever met. He was good with children, intelligent, easy to talk to, and even devout, if you can believe. He wrote me the most beautiful letters and gave me flowers. He spent hours together and he even swore he loved me. It was like a dream. My family and I were certain he would propose any day…”

Turning to Grigor, your hands started to shake, and your throat tightened, threatening tears from the recollection.

“Then one day, I fell very sick. I was bedridden. They all feared it would spread so I Was kept to my rooms, and he could not visit me. After a few days, the fever broke, and I felt well enough to walk. I walked outside in the forest near our property and…”

Your heart raced and your stomach soured, your hands shook, and Grigor squeezed them.

“I found him, the man who said he loved me, fingering another girl against a tree as she pleasured his cock with her hands too…”

“Holy shit” Grigor swore.

“I froze where I was. I could hardly think or speak. My stomach hurt more than ever. I remember running home and vomiting onto the floor, crying more furiously than ever. Our servants and my family rushed to clean it up and help me. I demanded to see him the next day. It was the handsomest I had ever seen him, and he begged me to take him back. Despite the yearning I had for him, my heartbreak overpowered anything else. He claimed that it was a quick slip-a slight mistake- as if he had just spilled over a glass of water and not went and fucked another woman. He said that he was lonely, his body wanted mine, and could not have it. He thought I would be dead within days.  He begged me to take him back. I yelled at him with tears and insisted he leave. So did my family. He protested that he loved and adored me and that she was just a quick fix but she was nothing and that he wanted to marry me. My brother threatened to decapitate him if he set foot on our house again. I never returned to the church where we met and mourned him forever. Since then, until you arrived, I was hesitant to accept any other suitor after….”

You let out a deep breath.

“Y/N…what a fucking nightmare.”

He hugged you and you clutched onto him.

“I was so afraid you would be just like him. That you would promise your love and then hurt me. That I lost you, forever. That it was happening all over again.” You explained.

“But…that’s the past now, Y/N, I’m right here and you’re safe. It’s over. I swear to you, I won’t be anything like that dick. You’ll always be safe and loved with me.”

You let yourself relax into his arms and looked up at him.

“After everything we have been through and…I adore every bit of you. Even the parts that keeps getting drunk on vodka…” you teased.

You both laughed lightly.

“The fucking Ale was like water compared to the court’s vodka! But…Y/N…you have survived so much and came out stronger. A horrendous suitor, the betrothal, the coup, and this…and here you are, so much stronger and alive. I’m proud of you-holy shit, I really am! I’m actually…happy…Thank God…you’re alive…you’re alive and you love me…”

“I love you and I’m alive…”

“Please…Y/N, free me from my torment…tell me you forgive me.” He asked.

“Grigor, there’s nothing to forgive. Georgiana told me everything that happened. That nothing happened other than kissing that…you…in a world like court you…you resisted her…for me…he wouldn’t have done that…”

You began to cry, and he wiped away your tears with his thumbs.

“I wouldn’t want to do anything else. I would do anything for your happiness.”

“And…and I for yours…”

“Y/N, I ask you, free me from another torment if I’m so selfish…let me kiss you.”

You reached up and kissed him. He tasted of your dinner and his lips felt soft.

“God, I missed this…” you confessed.

“You have no idea…”

He grabbed your face and kissed you more intensely. You found you both were laying on the floor, he was grabbing your skirt bunching it up. You ran your hands to around his back in an embrace. Four months away from each other and He kissed and touched you like the starved man he was.You stopped his hand right before he could bunch your brown cotton skirt up access what you knew he wanted. Not that your body didn’t pine for him. Quite opposite in face.

“Please not on the hard floor…” you said with a giggle.

“The…the bed then?””

“The bed” you confirmed.

The wind howled as your last petticoat and shift was thrown off.  It began to snow when you came together. There would be noise later. Loud, filthy cries and moans as well as chidish laughter fileld the room. Not that either of you cared for disturbing peace.

 Afterward, you both ordered another glass of ale. It tasted a little stronger. Grigor pulled the blankets over each other, recalling little conversations, and in-jokes, and you laughed softly like an adolescent or a drunkard from the stories he could tell. You both fell asleep entwined and facing each other, an undeniable smile on both faces with the warmth from your bodies and the blankets.

#promised #carrie writes #the great #hurt/comfort fics #whump #the great fanfiction #the great imagine #girogr dymov #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x fem! reader #girogr dymov x fem! y/n #girgor dymov x you #girogr dymov imagine #arranged marriage au #tw: cheating #tw: swearing #tw: mentions of sex #tw: mentions of marriage

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Five (The Great Mini-series, Arranged Marriage AU)

A/N: Here it finally is!!!! Sorry it took forever, life happens.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: When the Emperor’s behavior gets your families alliance with Russia in danger, you agree to marry his best friend Grigor in order to make sure the alliance does not fall apart. You’re tossed into the Russian court and into the arms and bed of a Russian count, dodging his jealous ex lover, trying to survive the unpredictability.... but...what about yuou two? Are you and Grigor finally...feeling something for each other?

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, mentions of sex and nudity, marriage, and an in universe reference I couldn’t resist.

“Come here Sonya! Come here!” Lady Svenska cooed, wiggling her fingers.

The puppy trotted to her and she squealed in delight.

Tatiana bent her knees, her lime green dress bunching below her like icing on a cake as she did.

“Sonya! Sonya come!” she gestured.

With a happy trot, Sonya waddled over. She reached up, her tiny tail wagging.

“Oooo, good girl! Good girl!”

You had been invited to a tea party with the other ladies. Although you had gotten closer to the empress, you feared if they would see you as an enemy. Especially hearing of Catherine’s last tea party with them. So walking in, you brought your secret weapon. And it worked.

The only woman it seemed who was not having the time of her life with what was happening was Georgiana. Dressed in her purple gown and largest wig, she sat a little slumped on the couch. She was sipping her tea every now and then but crossing her arms. She stared daggers at the dog and how it trotted. She preferred any small circle that came over to obsess over the latest scandalous affair, but even then she kept one eye on Sonya as if the dog was a wolf ready to attack. She didn’t dare say a word to you. And you didn’t say a word to her. But if there was nothing said, then nothing bad could happen.

Smiling, you helped yourself to a red macaroon, delighting in the crunch and cream of it’s taste. Lady Svenska walked over to you and asked.

“Can she do tricks?” she questioned.

“Almost. She’s getting better at walking. She used to pull and run a lot, but she’s better at being obedient.”

“And she doesn’t tear things up?” she asked.

“Only sometimes. I have to watch where my dresses are stored,” you answered.

“Ah! She’s such a good dog! How lovely of you to bring her here, Madame Dymov!”

Georgiana’s eyes went dark.

“Will you come to our ball throwing this evening! It is most fun! Mine might go another inch!”

“I’d be delighted to! And be sure to tell me more about that maid with the baron old enough to be her grandfather too! And with copous details!” you added on.

“Oh! I do like you! And what of the Empress?”

“Well, we read. And we chat…”

“But all that reading!? Isn’t it time consuming!”

“A little. Her books can take time. I reread pages over and over…but in the best way. I suppose. It keeps her happy.”

“If you have any gossip about her, please share!”

“I..I, uh, will!” you promise.

“First of all, have you any plans or gifts to give her on her birthday, it’s coming up in about a month!”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you mumbled.

At that moment your husband entered the room. He seemed a little uncomfortable with all of the flowers and pastel dresses, eyeing birds singing ditties in shiny cages and macaroons piled to his chest on platters.

“Oh, Y/N…where is Y/N?” he asked to one lady in a pink dress and grey wig.

She pointed in your direction and he smiled.

As he walked by, he passed the couch where Georgiana was sitting. Her shoe tapped his calf and he turned.

“Hello, Grigor…” she said with a faded grin.

“Hello, George,” he replied politely. Somehow, your blood felt hot. But yet, the marriage was over, so what if they even talked? He probably just enjoyed you talking with him and occasionally sleeping with him. But no, they had to be soulmates. And it was better not to disturb them. After all, despite the suddenness of the marriage, it would work. He would be happy.

“How is the party?” he asked, hands placed behind the back.

“Going perfect. We’re being introduced to the loud, hairy creature that lifts her leg when she pisses. Her dog is there too.” She quipped with a surprisingly relieved smile.

You froze. Little Sonya recognized Grigor and ran up to him, oblivious to how white his face was turning. A few fans were spread, and you barely heard feminine whispers of “…quite bitchy…” It got a little quiet. Even with the string quartet in the back was playing at a piano as if they wanted to hear what would happen next to.

Getting up, you turned around to leave them alone. Let them take it out. Let him laugh, Let her smile. Maybe even fuck against the wall like you noticed the odd couple doing on a night of reveling in the palace, no matter who might see or hear.

“George. I can’t control what you do on your own. But when you are with me, you will not speak about my wife in that matter.”

Pausing, you turned around. A couple quiet tears fell down your cheeks.

“You’re an esteemed lady of the court with the world at your fingertips. She’s a poor creature thrown into an arranged marriage, stolen from another country, and little to never to see any of her family or friends again while you just lay down and let Peter put fruit in your pussy and drink champagne.”

Wiping away tears with your hands, you stood still, not sure what to say. Grigor continued, truly angered and passionate.

“I didn’t marry her because of you. And she didn’t marry me so she could have my cock when you couldn’t. I did this so that we all- we all-“ he gestured to the people in the room “won’t be fucking ripped apart by Swede’s in a fortnight thanks to her families army. You will show her what little compassion you have in your tiny heart. You could even show her an ounce of gratitude for the sacrifice she and I made for the safety of everyone here, including yours. Or else I could have said no and let the swedes stab you in your tits when you’re asleep in the emperor’s bed. And I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it too. But I did.”

She froze. There was even a couple of gasps.

Scooping the tiny dog in his arms, he turned ot you promptly.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I…I am…” you answered. “But I’m tired, let’s go home and play cards.”

“I agree.”

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

 A week later, Grigor had partied so much with the Emperor last night, wrestling and playing with some man named Leon or whoever. You peaked in the door, and yawning, retired to your own apartments to sleep even if alone.

Waking up briefly in the grey air, you felt him crawling into bed at four in the morning. So you let him sleep in as you took Sonya on her morning walk. Besides, she would pout and whine if you didn’t walk at her certain time.

“Here you go, I know, Papa can’t be there-but I will,” you assured the dog.

You made your way through the halls into the gardens. Sonya was already getting bigger. The collar and leash made for her a while ago was getting snug on her fluffy body.

Enjoying the forest, you heard the rhythmic crunch of the leaves and sticks beneath Sonya’s prancing paws. The cold air stung your lungs in the best way. The sky looked clear and crisp.

Sonya pointed her snout in one direction. She began pulling and barking.

“What is it? Some sort of creature!” you thought, walking forward.

It wasn’t a mouse of squirrel, there was a person slumped against a tree, sitting on the dirt. Walking closer, you made out a dark green skirt and a hat, but a head of dark, curly hair made loose. She reeked of vodka and beer. Her face was pale to where she seemed ill, rather than the lovely cream color of her skin. And beneath her eyes there were several bags.

“G..Georgiana…”

She turned her head to you, squinting.

“Yes…” she grunted.

“What are you doing here?”

She began to laugh a little, bitterly.

“I could ask the same…what are you doing here?”

“I’m walking Sonya…she needs to be exercised so she won’t get into trouble from being bored,” you explained, gripping the leash.

“Huh, I know sometimes…sometimes Grigor goes with you…” her voice was deep and throaty, far from her usual speaking tone. As if every word was choked up.

She seemed so pitiful you didn’t have the heart to chafe her.

“Yes, yes he does…”

Her exhausted eyes wandered forward into the grove of trees. She kept speaking to you.

“Sometimes we’d walk together. Only if it was nice. We did everything together. Walking. Eating. Dancing. Bathing together. Did you know…I even got my portrait painted and he kept it in his room! Right next to his bed…he…he cared for me so much to where I was right there with him every morning even when I wasn’t next to him and now…now he hates me…”

She began to sniffle, and a few tears worked up.

“No. No, I don’t think he hates you at all…”

“Why did he speak to me that way?”

“He just…he got emotional. And he has been emotional because he loves you. He’s every bit as sad as you are for not marrying…”

Sonya walked over to the crying woman. Alerted by the sounds, she walked over and sniffed at her wet face. She broke out  a smile.

“But the truth is…in this court, there’s plenty of women who’ve fucked Peter. More than half. That’s just a fact of life. But I… I love it. I love having men want me, being worshipped, loved, is that wrong?”

“It’s normal,” you admitted. “it’s normal to want to be loved.”

“And the things it gives you. It’s not the least bad. I have all sorts of things. Dresses. Hats. A high position in court. Security. Comfort. Occasionally I can change laws and save lives with just a word-imagine that! And jewels. Jewels I used to dream of having. And I get to enjoy making love to a man who’s skilled at it. It might be the only way for a woman here to move up. That’s the way it is, is that wrong? Is it wrong to enjoy fucking and love a man too? For them to be separate men? They do it all the time and no one bats an eye bit when I do…”

She finally fell down into sobs.

“And he just...he couldn’t accept it. He claimed he loved me, and I… I love him, I still do, he just couldn’t accept me as I am and this world as it is…I thought he knew me…and that I knew him…”

She began to cry more; Sonya reached over and began to lick her face. She laughed at the ridiculous feeling of a dog’s tongue right on your nose and you began to laugh too.

“Georgiana…I’m so sorry I yelled at you that first day…I saw you as a threat and didn’t stop to think what you would feel. How I would feel if I was in your shoes…”

“Ugh, you’re…you’re as saccharine as…as…I don’t even know, Y/N. I’d put you in my…my mouth and my blood would rush, and they’d have to let it out with slugs.”

Taking out a handkerchief, you began to wipe her tears from her face.

“I’m not the one in tears…but…he used to keep a portrait of you…” you questioned.

“He did…is it there? Maybe….”

“Not anymore…” you explained flatly.

So that explained the circular area on the wall next to the bed.

“I know you really do love Grigor. And you care for him…but loving someone is hard. I love my family and friends back home, or unless I wanted to make all of them suffer or even get killed, I had to let them go to come here…sometimes, there are things you have to let go and move on from…” you assured her. You aren’t a bad person for wanting those things. You’re a smart person for figuring out how to get them. I admire you for it.”

“I just keep wondering…I keep wondering what would happen if he said yes…if he agreed to the terms…we’d be so happy…”

And he would see you with Peter and be miserable. Then god knows what would happen you thought.

You took her arm and helped her to her shaky legs.

“But there’s no use in that. Here, let’s get you back to the palace. I think after you get some water and some sleep, you might feel better…”

“But Y/N, Grigor I think…he’s in denial how Peter works here. If a woman needs anything in court, and if Peter picks you…he picks you. And, well, there’s nothing you can do about it…”

Your stomach lurched.

    “Grigor might want a faithful wife. He might’ve thought he got that with you but…defying the Emperor is a risk. Too huge. Why say no? After all, he’s a genius at fucking so it could be worse…”

“You need water, Georgiana. And you need to clean up. Then you’ll feel better…” you interrupted, trying to mother her away and ignoring the fear in your gut.

 But as you were strolling later in the week, returning from another one of the Empresses’s private discussions, you saw a few ladies eye down at the book. Perhaps they judged you. Perhaps they were jealous. But one bespecaled face saw you, smiled, and then hurried up.

“Orlo! How are you?”

“Y/N-er-Madame Dymov! Enough about me already- I heard the Empress gave you a copy of the Rousseau! What do you think!?” he asked excitedly.

His dark eyes glittered at the book in your hands. Holding it up to him you let him inspect it.

“I was…I was shocked at first. His ideas felt like…like a blast of cold wind. But I…he made good points. And I found myself agreeing after some time…” you explained with a shrug.

“He’s one of my favorites, and tehre’s so much…so much inside there. But I…I wish I could explain it all…”

“Let’s go to my place, I’ll call for a plate...” you offered with a shrug and a smile.

Introducing him to the drawing room, he settled down shyly on the seat in front of the fire. You brought in some tea with a strawberry cake and wound up talking for a straight hour. He got his own turn to pet on little Sonya as she licked his fingers from the cake crumbs. You discussed Rousseau, then he went on to talk about Voltaire, Plato, Paine. Ideas stretched you and you found yourself talking about things you could never imagine debating about with anyone. About people. Power. Faith. Life. Death. Purpose, if there was one at all. Your cup became cold and you had to reheat it by pouring some liquid into it.

Orlo glowed as he explained it all. He was not condescending. In fact, it felt like being in school with  a good teacher. You understood and appreciated it even more. You were amazed with the depth of knowledge he had. Beneath his mousy exterior, there was a brilliant mind. Perhaps even genius. You were amazed in him. Strands of his hair loosened out and he smiled more, seeming relaxed and confident. Far more confident than you ever knew him to be in public.

“But out of all of them, I think my favorite is…”

The door creaked as it opened.

His head turned and you saw Grigor walking in. His face was pink, and his eyebrows crossed.

“Hello Orlo, what are you doing with my wife?” he asked, his lips tight and his voice firm.

“I, uh…” he found himself blubbering. His posture slouched and his hands retreated.

Standing at once, you walked up to Grigor with as much poise as you could.

“The empress gifted me with a book and Orlo was asking me about it over tea, nothing more…” you explained plainly.

“It’s fascinating. Isn’t it!” you added, throwing back a look.

Orlo nodded shyly, getting out of the seat like it had spikes.

“Very.”

“Oh, alright…” Grigor replied quietly.

Once Orlo thanked you for hosting him and shuffled out, Grigor’s eyes never left his steps.

 He was quiet over dinner. You had to ask questions about his day and have Sonya’s begging fill the silence. Later, you changed into your nightgown to see Grigor was already in bed.

You saw him curl up to the other side. Not turning around, holding the blanket over his shoulders and leaving your side disproportionally cold.

With a huff, you placed your hands on your hips.

“What is it?” You had a guess, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong” he said in a tone that said something was definitely wrong.

“What is it…tell me…” you wheedled, sitting on the bed and leaning closer to him.

He turned around.

“I understand we agreed to follow orders to marry. Not for us. Our countries, the safety of your family and for their workers and tenets to not go hungry, for protection, the alliance, and for Russia to succeed against the Swedes… but I know you didn’t choose to marry me…if you…if you…are in love… then I guess it would make it easier…but you will at least be honest with me and not play around when you fall in love with some man!”

“In love? With Orlo?!” you added.

His head snapped back at the sound of his name.

“If you love the prick, then that’s fine! It will make you bear being here better- it’s all fine!” He if it will make you bear this, bear being married to me…”

“I’m not in love with Orlo!” you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away.

“What…you aren’t? Both of you always talk together.”

 “I always talk with the empress, and Tatyana and everyone else too. They’re my friends. He’s my friend as well… and…I…I promised you I won’t hurt you. That I will do my best not to hurt you…and you’re obviously hurt…” you reasoned.

The clock chimed the hour in the back.

“I…yes, I was…I had memories of when…you know…” he muttered out, looking down.

You folded your arms and turned away from him.

“Well, have you ever kissed Georgiana since our marriage? I guess you can run back to her, like I’m apparently running to Orlo. Should I be worried about her?”

“Uh-no! Not at all! We’ve barely talked since the betrothal! I talk more to Sonya than I do to her in a fortnight!” he said, pointing to the dog curled asleep on her pillow.

You crossed your arms and started to laugh a little. A smile cracked on his thin face as well.

“If I have no reason to suspect you of anything with George, you have no reason to suspect anything of me and Orlo!” you reasoned with a shrug.

Leaning forward, you pulled more of the cover to your side. He relented.

 Both of you were tense. Words left your voice.

“Just dinner and drinks with your friend, nothing more. Perfectly normal.” You assured.

Even if it meant eating in his chambers with large portraits all over the wall and a big green bed on the other side. Peter stood up and greeted you both. His arms were wide, pearls dangling from his neck.

“Ah, hello! Join me!” Peter cheered. “Grigor-make yourself at home! There’s already some food.

You carefully walked in, placing yourself on the couch and folded your hands in front of your lap. Unsure of what to do or say. A finger nudged you.

“Here, Y/N…here’s the seat for you!” your husband said, taking his large hands around your waist and picking you up as you let out a smile.

Grigor placed you on his lap, like he did on your wedding. Smiling, you accepted the feeling of him nearby and settled your weight. The closeness far more natural than ever. Grigor’s arms were warm as they passed dishes around from one man to the Emperor. A serf poured a Kiev vdoka and you enjoyed yourselves.

“I tell you- fucked a horse! It’s just a rumor-but can you believe it!” he said.

Laughing in spite of yourself, you shook your head insisting “no, I don’t!”

Smiling. Laughing. Everything felt normal. You laughed so hard you almost snorted your drinkand covered your mouth, laughing more at the dirtier humor. Years ago, your mother would have become so uncomfortable at such words she would excuse herself and complain about it later. Laughs held back were finally released, you jaw uhrt and your cheeks felt hot.

“And that’s what hapoens when you use the duck whistle on the balcony-“Oh, Grigor! Have I fucked your wife yet?”

The drink you were sipping almost spat out of your mouth and you coughed it out. Both of you froze again. You felt Grigor tense up. His breath quickened. His face turned white and then red and then white again. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Turning your head back, you began to give a charming smile at the emperor, even giving the little half smile you noticed to do. You decided if the subject came up, you would be prepared.

“Your highness, of yes, of course we’ve fucked. Several times!” you said.

Where he couldn’t see, you kicked Grigor’s leg to alert him.

“Oh, really!” he said.

“Ah! What a Casanova you are, Emperor! Losing track! But…”

You circled the rim of your glass, and then added on.

“I have an eternally dry pussy, can’t suck cock to save my life, and an ass so tight that deflects any object near the hole so it’s been rather disappointing. It’s a miracle my husband tolerates me. He’s hardly been able to finish the job!”

He tilted his head, pondering it with a hmmmm. Glancing at Grigor, you quickly mouthed “play along.” His eyes bright, he nodded at you, and then to the Emperor in agreement.

“Yes! Fucking Y/N is a total disappointment. Remember her place? They’re boring, plain people even when fucking.”

Peter nodded in agreement, his eyes up to the sky as if thinking about the fake experience. Not that it was to think.

“Humph. I…I think you’re right. It was disappointing. Grigor, if you need me to order you a whore, let me know.”

You kept your hand on his and you saw his eyes dart in confusion and realization, his brain thinking a hundred thoughts.

“Please pour me another drink…” you said, holding your cup to a serf.

“Besdies, Catherine…she’s been having all these ideas about art. And I saw a portrait and I…I cried! I fucking cried-can you believe it? I never knew she could..could even make me feel like that!”

 As you left the chambers, you squeezed his hand. Both of you let out a breath and continued some nervous laughter until you were both home.

“That was brilliant!” He praised, sinking in relief in the chair. There was already a fire crackling, drawing warmth into the chilly room.

“I knew he would bring it up, soon. So, I might as well. Now you don’t have to worry about anything…at least for now…” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, but the party tomorrow…you’ll be careful. I think people will be very merry and he might…get carried away…”

“Just give him a galloon a vodka then, he’ll won’t be able to stand.”

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

As the party the next night raged on, it struck you that it was Grigor who was well on his way to drinking a gallon of vodka. The rooms glowed yellow orange with all of the candles. Stringed guitars played out dancing tunes with throaty Russian lyrics where although the words were hard to understand, you had to tap your toes. Women walked by with snakes draped over their necks and you stared in frightened awe at the creature, as if in Eden. Your own gown was a pale pink with bows on the stomacher, a ruffled skirt beneath the first one, and you hair done up in flowers and feathers. You even agreed to wear a beauty mark of a small dog on your cheek. Girgor himself had a grey wig and his finest, deep green suit. He eyed plates of vodka, reaching for two small glasses and downing them…and supper would be served in an hour.

You noticed and Empress and Emperor dancing. She swished her pale pink skirt and he twirled in a black skirt, carefree. It was almost like watching a fight, how they were both powerful yet matched each other.”

“Come on, you sad bastards!? Why aren’t you dancing!? Dance! I command you!” Peter cried out in joy.

“Y/N! Y/N- we haven’t danced too much-let’s dance! Dance with me!” Grigor insisted, pulling you further down.

“Grigor, that’s the vodka talking!”

The musicians were warming up for the next piece in the corner.

“I…I don’t know the…” you mumbled in a panic as other couples filled the floor.

“Oh no-just follow me!” He said with a big smile and his face flushed.

  Still you ran out with him, mimicking hand movements and your feet trying to keep up with the steps. If you felt him leading you somewhere, you followed. If you sepearted in lines, you kept an eye on him.

“Girgor…do the trick! The trick!” Peter insisted, running up in the middle.

Eyes wide, you saw your husband grab hold of your body.

“Here. Y/N! I can do it- hold on! Jump up.

He lifted you up in his arms and twirled you up, his arms adjusting to hold you up so that he held you up by your legs, your stomach to his face. You could hear him muffling beneath your clothes.

“We need smof practif…”

But Peter laughed and you heard loud applauding as faces turned to look at you. Even George’s own face had a smile, albeit a sad one.

He set you down.

“Let’s try it again, put your leg on my shoulder…now your other leg..ooof! Now, this one is better!”

He lifted you up so high, you realized you were on his shoulders, and emabarrasingly his head was near your crotch. The court applauhded and laughed and huzzahed. It was so fun you almost forgot your fear of being dropped. you laughed as you held onto his shoulders for deaer life, thrilled to see everyone smaller before you. As if they dhrunk or you became a giant. The chandeliers dripping with diamonds were easy to your touch, your fingertips grazed one as Grigor walked in a circle.

“Ha! I knew you could do it good chap!” Peter applauded before asking.

Grigor placed you down with a smile, he placed his hands on your cheeks and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, then his eyes wandered to some vodka and he took another shot.

 He was singing as the party ended late in the night. You struggled to support him over your shoulders.

“Grigor…be careful…”

Once you got into the room, Sonya woke up from her nap and barked, jumping at your feet. Staggering, you brought him to your bedchambers.

“Let’s get your clothes off…” you said, pulling his coat off and placing it on the floor.

“You wish to see me naked, you could’ve asked, darling…”

Sighing, you poured the hot water into the golden tub.

“If you don’t bathe, then you’re sleeping with Sonya…”

He leaned down in his shift and breeches to the wagging tail beneath him.

“Oh….hello doggie, cute doggie…good doggie…”

“To bath, Grigor!”

Eventually, you got him to bathe enough to where he didn’t reek of alcohol. Once he dried off, you pushed his breeches onto him.

“None of that tonight with you drunk off your head!”

“Can’t I at least kiss you?” he complained childishly.

“Fine, but it stops at kissing!”

Once you finally settled within your own sheets, legs and feet sore from dancing, you barely put the blankets over you when  you felt two large arms wrap themselves around you and hug you tight, pulling you close. He laughed a bit before kissing you on top of your head. You smirked and let him obloge. Then you felt him relax.

“Y/N, I love you….”

You froze solid, your stomach dropping.

“What?”

He took a hand and placed it on your cheek again, before it sloppily fell down.

“Y/N, my sweet angel…I love you…”

Shaking your head, you pulled the covers above you both.

“That’s the vodka talking, now go to sleep….”

He went back to holding you, turning you so that your back was turned to him, you felt and smelt his breath as he kept speaking.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m falling in love with you this minute and…I’m fucking terrified…”

You let his arms settle.

“Don’t wanna…get hurt, get shat on…but every day I’m….falling more in love with you…and it makes me both so happy and scared I could fucking scream…that was why Orlo fucking scared me, and Peter, that wonderful, bastard. I love him, but if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god…”

“Grigor…you need to sleep. You’re drunk. Only time will wear it off.”

Besides, it was better to not get your hopes up.

‘I can’t believe I’m fucking falling in fucking love all over again…never thought after George that I would….never would let myself…thought ”

“But Grigor…you….”

“I’d like to see you…see you happy. See your smiling face before I sleep.”

You gave him a small smile and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Grigor…do you…do you love me….do you really love me…”

You gave him a small smile. He then rolled on his belly, spread like a starfish. He was snoring deeply in minutes.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you too…” you wanted to say.

taglist:  @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joesleee   @grigorlee@itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @rhapsodyrecs @sebastiistan​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @gwiilymslee @isitstraightvodka​ @cherry--coke​

[likesomekindofcheese]

Do you have zodiac headcanons for Orlo or the Dymovs?

Oooo, that is a good question!

From what I know about the Zodiac (and my knowledge is limited) I would say....

If you agree or don’t agree, leave a comment below! Or even another character! What sign do you think they are??

Orlo himself would be a Virgo. He is practical, reliable, thinks of others. Some may underestimate him or think him weak...but just wait until he has his determination set on something. He has both a natural intelligence and a heart for other people, which is definitely something Virgos do.

For Grigor Dymov, I get some Cancer vibes from him. He is an emotional person beneath his harder, party goer, vodka drinking shell. Plus Cancer’s get attached to people and can become jealous...as is the case with Grigor. Cancer’s can be intuitive and caring but at worst moody and vindictive and that seems to fit him for me.

Lastly, for Georgiana Dymov, I see her as an Aires. She is of course a bit firey, cheerful, and extremely determined. Aires can sometimes have a high sex drive which is why she’s not ashamed to be a bed hopper (oops). She is also very direct to the point of bluntness in her approach with other people, another Aires trait.

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part 3 (The Great Mini series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Word Count: 8K (more on the thicc side. So be ready)

Summary: You are bethrothed to the Russian Count Grigor Dymov in order to secure an alliance for your family and people with Russia from breaking. The day has finally arrived, your wedding day and night and all that entails

Part One//Part Two

Smut Scene for this Part (18+ only please)

Warnings:  Typos!!!! mentions of sex, marriage, family, swearing, dogs, Emperor Peter being Emperor Peter, drinking, drunkenness, weddings, and religion. The fear of rape is briefly discussed.

A/N: It’s finally here! Yay for wedding fics! For a few notes, I based the wedding ceremony from Russian Orthodox practices (since that is the religion obviously in the show of the court) so if I get something wrong about anything sacred, please drag me gently. Second, the gift mentioned in the middle part is, fun fact! An actual historical practice between couples! (I just though it would enhance the story). And third, I decided not to include a smut scene for those reading this fic underage...that part will be worked on and published separately. Fourth, I am thrilled and overwhelmed with all of the love shown for this miniseries. I am having a ball writing it! Enjoy!

Russian Wedding ceremonies were making your head turn. Already there were so many things to do you wondered if you could remember them by tomorrow. And this was the only rehearsal you had.

The tall priest, who you found out was called Archie, stood before you both. He practiced speaking a monotone blessing and made the sign of the cross over you.

“Next, you’ll be given candles…” he advised, waving his hands out.

Two men walked by to hand you both a candle (“for the ceremony, they will be lit, but they aren’t. So just be careful.”) You recognized that Arkady gave Grigor his candle and the bespectacled man you have seen greeting you when you entered handed you yours.

“Thank you…uhm…sorry, I’ve seen you around, but…” you asked.

“Count Orlo, Lady Y/L/N”, he greeted, with a polite nod.

“Thank you Orlo,” you muttered.

“Of course! Well, welcome to Russia! If you need any-”

Archie glared at Orlo icily until he scurried away, head ducked in embarrassment.

“Now let us continue…”

He said a line of scripture in a way that seemed mystical, close to ecstasy, his eyes closed and hands open to the sky. After a while, the droning lost its magic pull and became dull.

You and Grigor glanced at each other, making sure Archie wasn’t able to notice in all his holiness.

“We have to practice the puppy after this- would you like to see?” you whispered.

“I’d take watching paint dry over this, of course I want to see!” Grigor replied.

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

“Just give her a bit of chicken,” Count Arkady advised.

You and Grigor nodded. You leaned down to stroke the fur of your little gift. She had trotted over cheerfully when either your or Grigor said “come,” prancing as if she was the one who owned the little apartment you and your mother were staying in. Arkady handed a gold bowl of cold, roast chicken meat that you tossed to the puppy every time she did as you said. Yout mother sat in a corner, silently watching everything, but present to make sure nothing inappropriate was going on.

“Very good…now, what is your little one’s name again? I can never remember,” he asked, politely ducking his head to sneeze into a handkerchief.

The puppy looked up at you and smiled.

“I’m calling her Sonya. It’s the Russian version of Sophie, our Empresses old name. And she was the first friend I met here. Besides, it’s a Russian name and she’s a Russian dog,” you explained.

“Very well, Sonya- sit!” Arkady ordered, his handkerchief falling delicately from his free hand.

He held up a small bite of roast chicken clear enough where she could see it. She sat again. He handed it over to you and you tossed it to the floor. Wagging her tail, she ate it up.

“Good girl, Sonya! Good girl!” you praised.

So far Sonya had not caused too much trouble. The servant for Grigor had often took her out to do business when she needed it. She did bark, chew on everything, and leave droppings on the floor sometimes. But the first night in your apartments, you had trouble sleeping in this strange new place. Little Sonya hopped up on the bed and curled up next to you as you laid awake. Her warmth and licking kisses on your face were welcome when your anxious mind was trying to make you awake. And soon you slept with her little body nestled on top of your stomach.

“Keep this up, and soon you will have a trained dog. The secret is to reward them every time they’re good and be careful with discipline,” Arkady advised.

Grigor nodded. He leaned down to pick up the Sonya and scratch her head. You could not help but notice that the party man Georgiana warned about had a kind smile to the little animal. Maybe she was exaggerating to scare you.

Arkady walked over to where a serf held up a laundry basket and got rid of his handkerchief.

“She hasn’t been a bother, I hope,” Grigor turned to ask, seeing how your teacher was distracted.

“You’ll soon find out…I’m joking, she has been fine. Energetic, but fine. Nothing out of normal for a puppy,” You answered.

Arkady took it to the next serf, advising him on kinds of ways it should be cooked for the notabilities’ dogs next time. The serf sighed and nodded before leaving. He turned around gracefully, clapping his hands, and rubbing them loudly.

“How are you both feeling!? You do know what is happening tomorrow…” he teased.

You could not forget. And you wanted to. The wedding was already tomorrow.

“Yes, well…we’ve already rehearsed the ceremony this morning and…we’ll…we’ll be ready!” Grigor said.

“The candles? The crown? Hopefully, you are prepared to kiss in front of all of court, they’ll ask for that! My Tatyana and I kissed fifty times at ours!” Arkady added on sheepishly.

You put your hand to your face to hide it in embarrassment. The days past mostly consisted of eating at small dinners and teas at least with you, sometimes Grigor, and your mother or walking through the gardens with some small talk between the three of you. His arm was offered for you to hold when you walked together. But that was the most of touching you both had done. Those and the chaste, formal kisses on the cheek or hand.

“We’ll be ready, for everything,” Grigor answered.

He went over to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in slight worry at your silence. You felt a slight dizziness from how soon everything would be

Arkady dismissed himself and left, and your mother got up from her seat in the corner to see him out. You turned to Grigor, face feeling warm.

“Are we ready to…to kiss in front of everyone? Perhaps we can make it work…”

Although you bit the inside of your cheek and folded your hands, eyes darting from the floor to his face and back again.

“I…I don’t think I am…” he said. “It’s been, uh, a little while.”

He was careful to not mention or talk about Georgiana unless prompted and you thanked your stars for that. It felt like being a mouse under the eye of a hungry hawk with her walking by in corridors.

“I know we can make this work, at least for everyone we know and the alliance,” you said. “Maybe we can…practice. At least for the ceremony.”

As your mother turned around to see you both chatting, Sonya went up to her, to greet her with a bark and a wag of her curling tail. Grigor stepped forward to her.

“Lady Y/L/N, can I have your consent to kiss Y/F/N? I’d like to do it before dinner, so I don’t reek of onions,” he offered.

Your mother looked at you both, then nodded.

“Alright, I don’t see why not. But no tongues.”

You turned to him, a little unsure of what to do. Your mother and Sonya watching closely.

“I don’t know what to do with my arms,” you confess.

He took both of your hands.

“We can just hold hands for now…” he advised.

“Then you have to lean forward, right?” you asked.

“Right.”

Leaning your face forward, you could make out the dust of freckles across his nose. He paused a little. You kept still. Then looking at each other’s eyes, he gave you a slight nod and both of you went in for a peck on the lips. It was so quick, so light, it was like gulping air.

Your hands immediately relaxed and let go. A rush of exhaling air left both of you.

“Alright, would you like me to ring for tea? After dinner, you both cannot see each other until after the ceremony,” your mother offered.

She scooped the puppy in her arms and carried her over one shoulder.

“That…that sounds nice,” he added.

“Shouldn’t you be with the Emperor? Weren’t you going to drink with him?” you ask.

“He can wait. Velementov might be with him.”

Once the tea set arrived and all of you had a sip, you all began to talk, and not just about what the weather was like. He made jokes and listened to your mother. He broke off part of a plain biscuit to feed it to Sonya. She even hopped up to the couch and slept beside him as he stroked her fur.

“Well, tomorrow’s the big day, I bet you’re tired of hearing that.” Your mother sighed, setting down her empty plate.

“But…I’m still jittery, I have to say,” you said, taking a last sip of your sweet tea.

Suddenly you looked at Grigor and he took his hand and wrapped it around yours. It wasn’t in the sweaty awkwardness of having to practice kissing, but it was dry, soft, and comforting.

“I’m jittery, too, I guess. But…if it helps Russia, we’ll do it,” he added. “Y/F/N is a brave woman to do this, and she has a gentle soul, the way I’ve seen her with little Sonya. I could do worse.”

Smiling lightly at him, you muttered a thanks. His hands heat was slowly becoming comforting. The shots of adrenaline from his touch were slowing down through you.

“And you Grigor…you’ll do, I guess,” you responded quietly.

The clock struck for the late afternoon. Grigor looked at it with wide eyes.

“Oh shi- no. We have a meeting with Archie about church laws and Peter wants me there until dinner. Can I leave?” he asked.

A part of you stifled a laugh from the suppressed swearing. At this point you were almost desensitized to it in the Russian court.

Your mother nodded, “you may.”

“And can I kiss your daughter one last time? I just want to be ready for the ceremony?” he asked in a hurry.

She nodded again, raising an eyebrow revealing her actual thoughts.

He leaned down and kissed you, putting in a little bit of pressure. And something…different. It did not feel like a polite kiss, or a practice kiss. It felt like a lover’s kiss. You closed your eyes, feeling it linger for just a bit. Then finally, he let go and said his farewells, leaving with a slight hop in his step.

It was as if a ghost on your lips was still there as he walked away. It was the nicest kiss you have had so far in your life.

Even before you went to bed to try to sleep before the big day with your mother in the other room, you found yourself tracing where it was.

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

The next day, the hours dragged on throughout. You saw only your mother since the wedding would be in the early evening. You found yourself staring at the clock a lot, sweating with each tick of the hands. You wished you could run to Grigor and just vent about your worry, but your mother told you it was always bad luck before the ceremony.

And a marriage like this could use a little less bad luck you thought.

By two hours time before the ceremony would begin, Mariol arrived with the ribbons and decorations to start doing your hair.

“I’m here, the Empresses treat!” she announced, but waving her hands and shrugging as if it was the same dull task as sweeping. She held a wooden box under her arm.

“Oh, oh thank you! How splendid!” your mother said, taking your hand.

Mariol put the wooden box on your vanity and opened it, revealing feathers, pearls, and other little accessories.

“Want a bow?” she asked.

“Not for me,” you refused.

Selecting a white ribbon, you clicked your tongue for Sonya to trot to you. Leaning down, you tied it lightly around her neck with a bow in the back.

“She has to look her best too…”

“But she’s not the bride. Come on, Y/N…it is time we fix your hair. Not going to have walk down looking like a pigsty.”

All the twirls, tucks, and pins in the world managed to be shoved in your head by the time you were through. You wanted to groan, but when Mariol heard Sonya’s yapping, her pulling in became gentler and her head turned.

“There you go! And for a bit of makeup…”

“Can I hold Sonya as you do it?” you asked, turning from the vanity.

Mariol’s eyes went wide.

“Wha-yes! Please!”

Amidst the small dabbing of rouge, she cooed in a high voice at the little puppy, sniffing your face curiously. Your mother sat in the back, admiring Mariol’s work and nodding in admiration, with a little compliment here or there.

But you could hardly breathe your response to the face you saw in the mirror when there was a knock on the door.

Sonya leaped from your lap and trailed Mariol as she opened the door. A familiar face poked his head in.

“Hello Y/N!” you father announced, putting away his tri-cornered hat.

With somewhat of a scream you and your mother both ran up to him. Behind him walked in your brother in a nice emerald suit and his new wife in a pretty golden dress.

You called their names and embraced all of them, fighting the urge to cry.

“What…what are you doing here? I didn’t know I would even see any of you again!” you asked.

“We managed to receive lodging near…we didn’t want to miss your wedding!” your brother said, leaning in for another hug.

Sonya yipped and jumped before your sister’s wife. She leaned down and petted her.

“Oh, when did you get this precious thing?” she asked.

You put Sonya into your arms and held the dog before everyone.

“She was a gift from Grigor,” you explain.

“Your…your fiancee?” your brother asked, eyebrows raised up.

“Yes! He…he’s nothing like…like you know who. He’s a good man. In spite all of this…” you explained, getting a little dizzy at the thought of being bound to him until death in an hour.

“But, what of the emperor? He approved?” your mother asked

“I spoke with him yesterday and asked to attend, at least I wanted to walk you down, and he agreed,” he answered. 

He walked over to Sonya to feel the top of her head as well.

“We didn’t want to miss it either,” your brother chimed in.

“Well, we’re about to dress her. So, the men better head out. The ceremony is in an hour!” Mariol interrupted, she brushed her arms to shoo your father and brother away

Your mother leaned into your father.

“This palace is the size of the moon-you don’t know the way to the chapel!” she retorted she placed her hands on her hip.

She was wearing a blueish-green dress with only a few embellishments of lace here and there, along with a large lace fan that befitted the mother of the bride. You had to admire her. For a woman who never insisted she was beautiful and would call herself the reverse, this look proved the thought wrong.

“I thought I’d follow you! Just let me give her away! Please!”

She batted him lightly and shooed the men away.

With a gulp you let Mariol remove the buttons of your light day dress and set it away. With stays tied on and panniers attached, only the dress needed to be put on now. Then the gown waiting in your chest met its long-awaited fate.

She slipped it over your head. After a few touches to your already done makeup and hair, a few minutes passed in awed quietness. Your father and brother walked back in, astonished. Giving one of a dozen “you’re beautiful” compliments until you found yourself believing them too. They noted how elaborate the lace went along the opening of the skirt. That there were a few small pearls and jewels in the skirt here and there, especially with your pearl necklace, earrings, and a wedding veil attached to the top of your head. Mariol let the long lines of the veil fall over your face. The world you saw was now covered in a thin layer of white.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Y/N. No matter what happens after this, know that I love you,” your mother said, embracing you one last time.

It warmed your heart. A little. Even though the nerves still shot up your arms.

The hour struck six o clock. The door opened outside to see all of court looking at you.

There were a few murmurs of appreciation. You chose a nice white with faint hints of silver in a shade that was flattering to your skin. Little details-barely beads, but shinier- sparkled in the light. (you heard that Russian ladies were elaborate in dress and your visit and observations here were proven right).

Mother walking forward, you took your fathers arm and you headed through the palace. Your brother and his wife walked behind, walking Sonya on a small leash. Your view of the palace was blocked a little bit and you were glad of the guidance of your parents. Eyes and countless wigs turned as you both walked past.

At last you reached the chapel doors, full of gold and with saints gently looking down before you. There standing was Grigor and Emperor Peter, decked in cravats and with Peter wearing every medal on his coat you could count.

Grigor wore a wig that you could still smell the powder from. His coat was richly colored in a dark blue. He looked very striking and he turned to face you. There was a slight smile and he blinked rapidly.

Your father handed you to Grigor, and you took his hand. You both took one step into the chapel and paused as you saw the elaborate art and statues that covered the walls. Paintings of saints staring down between rows where even more courtiers sat to watch. You recognized Catherine and Georgiana from a brief glimpse. But you forced your eyes to stay on the black robes and beard of Archie at the altar.

Orlo and Arkady scurried forward with now lit candles. You nodded a thank you to Orlo who nodded back. You were both given a lighted candles and multiple prayers were said before and several bits of scripture. Then came the time to share the cup. The candles were set aside for now. Archie motioned to Grigor and he lifted your veil gently.

You looked up at him with…well, you did not know. And you could not describe the way he looked at you. It was soft, sweet, with reverence. Your eyes were beginning to water a little bit. But why were you crying? You liked Grigor, but…you were not sure how much. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, and everything seemed like a dream.

You both shared a cup of dry communal wine, and then Archie took a long golden piece of cloth, wrapping it around your joined hands.

Taking in a deep breath, Grigor began the vows, but he looked right at your eyes.

“I take you as my wife to be with you always-in wealth and in poverty, in disease and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death separates us.”

He seemed like he meant it. It took you aback. You almost forgot your own vows but repeated them, albeit in a soft, shaky voice.

The vows said, Arkady and Orlo walked forward with two gold crowns that were placed on your heads in front of everyone watching. You both walked around the area of the altar in a circle. The cloth still tied with your hands together. Grigor and you took slow, careful steps.

Once the cloth was removed you were both given rings placed on each other’s fingers. but Grigor’s hands were gentle as he slipped the band into your finger. A tiny diamond sparkled in its center.

Archie read a last piece of scripture- a long and extremely dry one for a wedding. Breathing in a bit, you turned your head to look up at Grigor. His eyes shining and his mouth a little open.

He turned to look back at you and gave you another smile. A beautiful one. And this time you smiled back. For a few seconds you forgot the dreaded day you both signed that contract a month ago.

A final benediction was placed, and Archie finished. The crowns were removed from your heads. He made the sign of the cross over both of you and then turned to the crowd watching.

“Welcome to our court, the Count and Countess Dymov. Count Dymov, you may kiss the bride.”

As practiced, you both tilted your heads, leaned forward, and kissed. There was a slight spark to it and almost felt his free hand wander to your back to press you tighter.

It was done. Your family’s future, your people, and the alliance were safe. Part of you let out a small breath and looked over to your family with a knowing look, until you felt Grigor nudge you and you both walked out. 

There was uproarious applause. The emperor was smug but Catherine beside him looked genuinely happy. She was dressed in a light yellow that made her seem a flower among all these over the top wigs and laces. Your brother and his wife clapped with the sweetest smiles on their faces. But the same could not be said of Georgiana, dressed in deep orange with the mark of a heart on her cheek and giving you a glare every time your eyes accidentally wandered to hers.

Both of you walked through the halls, hand in hand, among more applause and a few tossing of flower petals. You turned and he kissed your lips lightly.

“I’m not an eloquent man but you look like a fucking snowdrop with all this gold in the palace,” he whispered.

You stuttered, still grasping  his hand, “th-thank you. You look very handsome as well.”

He let out a little smile as you both walked to a smaller room. A few trusted courtiers put a piece of parchment on a desk before you two. Both of you signed the marriage contract and waited for a serf to summon you to the dining room where the celebration would commence along with the dinner.

As the contract was rolled up by an old man as round as a peach (it may have been Velementov, Grigor taught you so many names it was hard to remember) and brought away, both of you were alone for a few minutes. There was an odd silence, then you turned to him.

“Grigor, I know you have had your heart broken recently and…I want to tell you, I’ll try to be a good wife to you. As possible. I’ll try to be understanding and I… won’t hurt you. Because I know how hard being hurt for you was. I might make mistakes, but I don’t want to hurt you,” you confided.

He shook his head a little.

“I don’t want to hurt you either…”

But speaking of hurt, there was the unspoken ghost in all this wedding talk that needed to be addressed. The one event you secretly dreaded the most. Clutching his arm and turning to him, you tried to think of a way to say it now that you were alone.

“Grigor…” you began, “Now we’re alone, we can talk. For…for uh, tonight, uhm…uh, I…”

You did not get to finish before a serf ran in. Without warning, he half pushed the both of you out. The Emperor and what seemed half of court was seated in the dining room. There was a flurry of huzzahs.

Emperor Peter jumped over the table, knocking over plates and silverware. You leaned out of the way of his flurrying and grabbed Grigor by the shoulder, with a pat on him. You took your seat close to the front and he made his way to your side. Peter leaned back in his chair which was always in the center. No matter what event was going on.

“Well, Grigor- you got yourself a girl at last! hope she gets every penny worth from you tonight!” he bellowed.

“Every penny worth?” you repeated.

He looked at you with a toothy smile and gulped down half of his wine.

“Oh, you should know! The Morgengabe! The Morning’s gift!” he cheered.

A serf poured you water and wine separately to begin with and a few musicians started playing, getting louder and louder.

“That what?” you asked over them.

“The morning, Gift. Its a German idea. Grigor, your wife is a bit of a dolt. At least her tits are decent,” he said.

“What’s the Morning’s gift?” you questioned.

Food began to be served on your plate, but your appetite was starting to decrease. You had a terrible guess at what it referred to. And you had to be sure it was right.

“It’s…uhm…” Grigor began, then he took a deep breath and turned to you, speaking so that you could understand every word.

“After we signed the contract when we were betrothed, there was a word between me, Peter, and your father. The dowry itself was covered. You’re not entering this union as a pauper and should you become a widow, you will have financial protection but…we all had to be sure the marriage was…”

He bit his lips, took in a breath, and continued.

“I gave over some money as promised by your father. It’s being kept with me. That money will be given to you the morning after the marriage is…uh, consummated. That way the alliance will be totally secure. Your family and Peter will know you weren’t just being thrown into a sham marriage that would make the contract weak. If it wasn’t complete, the alliance wouldn’t go through.”

“And the sooner the better!” Peter added, sticking his head between the two of you.

He looked at you and wiggled his eyebrows bawdily with a swirl of his goblet.

“I may just, you know- destroy your home country and chop off your family’s heads just for fun tomorrow because you haven’t fucked your husband!”

He leaned down to see your shocked expression and laughed.

“Well, money and a large cock, you have a lot to look forward to! Huzzah! Now where’s the vodka?”

As he gestured serfs forth to pour vodka into his goblet, you looked over at Grigor.

He took your hand and squeezed it.

“That’s the way it is?” You sighed.

“That’s the way it is here.” He confirmed, noting the worry on your face.

More guests came in. By the dozens. You could hardly even eat a bite or sip some wine or water because they kept wanting to talk to you. You were gladdened by your family and the few you were familiar with.

Then Orlo walked forward. Under his arms were a few books.

“Oh, here he comes again!” Grigor dismissed, rolling his eyes.

You lightly touched his arm, “no, let him speak!”

Orlo gave a slight bow in greeting.

“Why, hello there, Count and Countess Dymov! I’m here because I just wanted to give you a wedding gift…can you read, Countess?”

“I can,” you confirmed.

He handed you each two books.

“It’s mythologies, fairy tales…childish things. But since you are new here, you might find it entertaining to learn a little bit more about our culture. And so might Grigor.”

Grigor flipped through a few pages. He rested on one of a young girl walking through a forest with a branch that had a skull lit with a fire.

“Well, why read about an adventure when you can live it!” Grigor explained.

But you took the books gently and smiled at him.

“That’s very generous of you, Count Orlo! I’m sure my husband…” it was a new word with a taste as strange as their wine… “he would rather I read these to him for his entertainment than annoy him all day,” you teased, leaning over to look at the pictures as well.

“No, I don’t think you could! You’re not the type to annoy, Y/N” he replied. He smiled as he accepted a glass of vodka.

He nudged you and then hissed, “this is our tradition- watch!”

He stood up, but took your hand for you to stand up with him. Heads turned and noise was softened.

“To my new wife! And to my marriage! Huzzah!”

They all yelled “huzzah” back and you felt as if you could glow.

But he downed his vodka and threw his glass on the floor in a swift movement. The other members of court followed suit. There was a splatter of shattering glass like that of hail drops.

Occasionally there were yelps for a kiss. As if being actors on cue, you and Grigor would peck each others lips to their cheers. But not as many as Arkady said would happen.

As your family walked forward to hand you your dog, they had to tiptoe past broken glass as carefully as possible with lifted skirts and on their toes. Empress Catherine even walked from by her husband side to offer you congrats.

“You look very lovely and the ceremony was simple…”

“Oh, we only had a week to…”

“Oh no! I love simple ceremonies! Simple everything! They just mean more! And…are those books? You can read?”

“Yes, a wedding present from Orlo!” you nodded.

Both of you looked over the pages and stories, Catherine filling in with what she knew as you took bites of your dinner with relief. Serfs scurried with brooms to clean up the broken glass. A few dances were thrown and mingling was allowed. Knowing it was safe, you put Sonya in your arms and walked around.

Soon she barked and leaned forward, jumping out. She scurried, catching a bit of a dusky orange dress and chewing it with such passion, she shook it back and forth in her mouth with joy.

“Stop that!” the dress owner cried.

“Hey!” you cried, but right as you leaned down to stop her you recognized whose it was. And you froze with horror.

Georgiana looked as if she could see red as she analyzed you. Sonya panted happily in your arms, but you leaned away from her, as if to shield the creature from anything the Emperor’s mistress might do.

There was a solo violin striking up (Peter attempted to play).

“Well, look at you!” she said with a huff. She seemed only somewhat sad.

“Mademoiselle,” you acknowledged, head down in a curtsy. “Please, do not think me your enemy.”

“You are no threat to me.”

“No, how could I be? You are only our beloved Emperor's favorite. You hold so much prestige here. The ladies all prattle on how envious they are of you. I’ve heard them. I honor you, tremendously.” You started.

She looked at you straight in your eyes, expression unchanged from your words.

“You’re sweet. But so were your wedding cakes. And what do people with cakes? They chew them up into tiny pieces until they spit it out or ingest it until it’s nothing,” she spat.

“If you hurt me or my dog or my family, I will tell my husband about it. I am under the protection of the Dymov house.”

“And I am under the protection of the Emperor.” She replied.

The violin picked up and the Emperor called for a dance.

“Forget it. Let’s move past being like this. I’m not in love with Grigor. I’m only following my family’s orders.”

“That’s not what I see when you kiss him,” she finished as she strutted away.

The Emperor lead a brief speech for Grigor’s honor and to congratulate the marriage and the alliance it entailed. But your husband was having another sip of vodka, face flushing. As you returned to your seat he pulled you close.

“No, no, no…sit here, wifey,” he suggested. He put his hands on your waist and pulled you with immense strength over to his seat to sit on his lap.

You squealed at the closeness, feeling his breath and the outline of his body against yours. But he wrapped arms around you, beginning to kiss your cheek.

“Here, have some of these cakes, darling,” he offered, handing you one of the hundreds of small wedding cakes served for dessert.

Taking a bite, you could make out the density and the perfect amount of sweetness and flavoring.

“They’re…they’re scrumptious! Who made them?”

“Hmm, maybe the cooks. I just wanted to see your reaction to them,” he answered.

His pulled you a little closer, nuzzling into your head, neck, and shoulder area.

“My sweet wifey is soooo cute when she’s sooo happy!”

“Are you sure that isn’t the vodka talking, Grigor?” you retorted cheerfully, noting his glass.

He looked at you. Although his eyes were dilated from drink, he wasn’t a lost cause, at least not yet.

“If I’m not passed out on the floor, Y/N, I’m not drunk!” before taking another sip.

After a little bit longer, there were more songs. He was sobering some, the vodka wearing off as you offered him some water. He drank it as you stayed on his lap.

The songs were getting slower. Plates were clearing. And guests were drifting away. You balled your hands into fists and grabbed the skirt of your gown, trying to slow your breathing.

Your brother, sister-in-law and father excused themselves to take Sonya’s leash and lead her to Grigor’s apartments.

Oh, they’re our apartments now you silently corrected yourself.

Catherine and your mother came by. Grigor perked up and gently led you off of him.

“Y/N, Catherine offered to be with you when we lead you there,” your mother began.

Thanking with a curtsy, you left Grigor and followed them slightly behind to Dymov’s room. But looking behind, you admired Catherine glancing back at you with a smile and making small talk to her about books. She seemed so young despite the grandeur of her title. It was like she was just a friend of yours attending your big day.

They walked you over to the Dymov apartment. It seemed ominous with it’s red and the nighttime darkening everything thought the windows. The little dog barked and skipped in happiness when you walked in.

“Hello Sonya!” you said.

She wiggled her tail in greeting, little fuzz ball. Mariol walked forward, smiling. She seemed to look lighter and happier, spending time with little Sonya.

Your mother and Catherine unbuttoned you and pulled you dress over your head and removed the rolls from your hips. Mariol began to unlace your stays from behind.

“I…I’m so nervous I can hardly even think!” you confessed.

“Y/N, you have nothing to fear, really.” Catherine assured.

“It will be fine,” your mother assured, taking your hand.

“But…what if he…he hurts me. What if he…he rapes me. I’ve heard about that happening on wedding nights and…that’s what scares me the most.”

Catherine took your shoulder and squeezed it.

“You can tell me, and I’ll punish him. The Emperor won’t know and if you’re in danger, you can run to me. Wake me up in my chambers. I don’t care.”

“Does it…hurt when it happens?” you ask.

“When you’re new, sometimes. Especially when they are more...enthusiastic. But just a little. And not everyone feels pain the first time.” Your mother informed you.

Stays removed, Mariol began to undo your hair and wipe off what makeup was there with a cloth. You felt your hair fall down. Part of you wanted a blanket or a robe. You were in the Empress’s presence with only a shift on.

“What if I can’t…please him?” you asked.

Georgiana’s voice from earlier this week had haunted your mind considering tonight. If you did not perform well or even perform at all, you might be considered a failure to Grigor and even to your family, you feared. 

Yet, why did the thought of Grigor, no, your husband scorning you for his past lover make your stomach burn with envy?

“Don’t worry, it will be alright. Just tell him ‘no’ or ‘yes’, be firm and clear. You don’t have please him…just enjoy being with him, getting to know him,” your mother directed.

“It will be okay,” Catherine repeated. 

She guided your hand and you both sat on the edge of the bed. She grinned at you and you shyly smiled back.

A few minutes ticked by. Then male voices were right outside. Your heart leaped to your throat and you felt your legs freeze. Your hold on Catherine turned to a grip.

Then came the fateful sound.

There was a knock on the door.

The three of you jumped almost.

“Who is it?” Catherine asked.

“It’s Grigor, and the Emperor.”

Taking in a shaky breath, you said “you may come in.”

Grigor walked in next to Peter, who was flushed and stumbling a bit in his walk. Catherine handed you a deep green robe to wrap around yourself for a bit of modesty, seeing how embarrassed you already were at people seeing you in your shift. The three of you curtsied and the two men bowed, Peter staying low and then swaggering over to a chair. He flopped down on it, leg over an arm, and started blowing a little bird whistle.

You noticed Grigor was still in his wedding outfit and held a glass decanter of vodka and two large glasses

“Only a little while ago you were playing that,Grigor, when I was fucking the Empress on our wedding night, remember! Now we…we’ve fucking switched and now here we are!” Peter announced, blowing another shriek that erupted in spit across the floor.

Grigor walked forward and kissed your knuckles in greeting. It only struck you how handsome he was. He had a charming smile and the dark colors flattered him. He put an arm protectively over you and turned to the small group

“Thank you, everyone, it was a lovely ceremony,” he began.

“Count Dymov, do you need us to do anything?” your mother asked.

“No, mother,” he added, “and you may call me Grigor. For now, I hope you think of me as if I was a member of your family too.”

She grinned in return and addressed him by name.

“Phlah! Names shames,” Peter mocked, twirling the whistle with his fingers. Catherine looked at him with eyes wide and eyebrows down.

“How about we all have a toast to today!” Grigor announced, Holding up the decanter.

He handed a glass over to the emperor and then a glass between you both.

“I say our Emperor goes first, as our ruler and sovereign,” he suggested, pouring an extremely generous amount of vodka in the cup while giving his own only a dribble.

“I say yes! Hu—zaaaaah!” Peter cried, sucking up the vodka in a heartbeat. Grigor shared his glass with you so you could have a sip of the stuff before he finished it up.

Looking up at him, he gave you a glimmer in his eye. And you caught on.

“And let’s have a toast to the alliance! And our beloved Emperor for allowing it to happen. Huzzah!” you toasted, raising your glass.

On cue, Grigor poured another heap of vodka into Peter’s glass which he raised and swallowed down as if he were a thirsty beggar.

“Huzzzahhh f-for meeeeee,” Peter mumbled.

His face became even redder and he struggled to get out of his seat.

“Shit, w-why is everyone spinning! I order you to-to stay still!” he barked.

Everyone was already perfectly still. Catherine walked over and supported him over her shoulder.

“Let’s retire, shall we?”

“N-no! I want to…I want to watch G-G-Grigor f-f-f-uck her so I c-can…can have a good wank at it, a-at least, and m-m-maybe get my turntofuckher….ohmyfuckI’m going to vomit,” Peter announced. He ran out in a heartbeat and you heard him retch in the hallway outside.

And then the noise of his body falling on the floor.

“I will take him to his chambers,” Catherine offered.

Her eyes were alight and her pink lips tight from holding back laughter. Mariol placed an arm over her mouth as well and scurried out behind the empress. There were several footsteps and the huffing of serfs and you knew that Peter now had to be carried unconscious-and far away.

“I believe I must retire as well, good night,” your mother said.

They dismiss and leave. Now you were both alone. Your heart was racing, but you smiled and turned to Grigor in gratitude.

“That was brilliant.” You praised.

“I did have a feeling he’d want to do that. So I decided to do something about it. The vodka did get to me a little earlier,” he confessed. “But It’s worn up.”

You nodded, “yes, of course. I can tell.”

“Do you…need anything? Some water?”

“Of course.”

He walked over and got you a fresh glass poured from a crystalline pitcher. You washed away the bitter sting of vodka from your mouth and so did he. Both of you sat across from each other on the two chairs before the fire. At first all was quiet.

“Y/N…I know all of this had not happened the way we thought but…you have the support. My support. The Russian Crown. And my house and of the Dymov family, as well as our protection. You’re…you’re one of us now, it’s your right as a countess,” he promised.

I’m not Y/F/N Y/L/N anymore. I’m Y/F/N Dymov. You thought. Still unused to it.

“Thank you. I know I was quiet, but so much has been happening, today. I don’t know quite what to say,” you replied.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

You finished your water and he finished his. Another silence.

“You looked very handsome in your coat today, you’re a lovely man,” you complimented. He looked especially lovely with the fire’s glow against his face.

“Thank you, but I’m starting to get…a bit uncomfortable. May I take dress down to my shift?” he asked

“You may.”

He opened the door and brought the old man serf. The old man took away his shoes, stockings, coat, shirt, wig, and everything else, setting them away, until he was only in his shift and a pair of white breeches.

Though you stared away from him, focusing on the empty glass in your hand. He walked forward as soon as the old man set away the clothes and exited.

“Y/N…you’re tense. Are you…nervous?” he asked, kneeling down to be at your level.

You nodded, not even looking at him.

“Yes. I was scared you would…force yourself on me,” you voiced. “It’s what I was going to tell you earlier.”

He walked forward to you and put two of his hands on your shoulders, but not heavily.

“Y/N, I won’t do that…you can’t please a woman by forcing yourself on her and I…I didn’t want to displease you. I told you earlier, I don’t want to hurt you.” He reminded.

Your shoulders relaxed.

“I didn’t want to displease you either. Its just…I…I’ve never slept with anyone before. You’ve probably seen the file form the doctor we gave to Archie. There. The proof. And I…I’m just…I’m just nervous.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous as well,” he comforted.

You thought of the Morning gift, of your duty …but you noticed the outline of his body through the shift. And every time you found your eyes go to his face, they would go back to his body.

Your eyes noticed that the books from Orlo were on a desk in the corner.

“What about these?” you said.

Grigor brought them to you. You passed a bit of time flipping through them. The illustrations, even he admitted, were lovely. You both studied it, asking which tales he was familiar with, and what stories you knew of. The tiredness got to you slightly and as you both sat on the chair as he sat down beside you, you laid your head against his shoulder a little sleepily.

Sonya slept deeply in the corner. She laid down on a soft pillow, her belly full of roast chicken from the feast, and legs twitching as if chasing something. Then she woke up a bit and wandered over to the next room to sleep.

Grigor closed the book and raised your chin to meet his face.

“I think I’d like reading more if it was with you, can we…we move to bed? You seem a little tired,” he said.

“We can.”

Both of you settled into the sheets. You sighed at the warmth of the blankets over you.

“Russia’s every bit as cold as you said,” you jested

“Then can I hold you, to keep you warm…just to make you comfortable.”

“You can.”

He wrapped his arms around you. The fire cackled in the distance and you could make out a ticking clock somewhere else in the room. Both of you laid down on your sides, looking at each other. He felt nice compared to the cold air everywhere else in the apartment.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N? I guess for…for duty. Nothing else has to happen until you’re ready.”

“You can. For our duty.”

He kissed you passionately, deeply. Something inside you made you grab him. You didn’t feel like you wanted to push him away. It was a tight embrace. You liked kissing him. Kissing him had set you on fire, something in your was waking up suddenly. You put your arms around him to deepen it.

Then you let go. You were almost afraid of this wanting. You liked touching him, almost too much. You could notice the top of his shift moving around, showing a bit of his chest.

“Let me kiss you two more times, please…for the alliance’s sake.”

“I’ll let you,” you said.

He leaned down for the first one, but instinctively rolled on top of you. You gasped.

“I…I’m sorry…am I crushing you?” he asked, shrinking away.

“No…it just surprised me. It’s not bad…”

“I don’t know what came over me.”

Then you smiled, and there was a new voice coming out of you.

“That was still one kiss, though. You own me another one.”

He kissed you again. Your hand went to his chest, lightly touching it.

“I…I’ve seen statues, but I’ve never seen a man in only his shift before…” you admitted.

“You can explore, you can touch me” he smirked.

You hands explored his neck, his shoulders, and then began tracing his chest again, and one to his back.

“Grigor…it’s for Russia but…I want you to touch me…”

His head tilted and he blinked rapidly.

“To touch you?”

“I… I…I trust you…”

“Well, if it’s for business…I will.”

You began to trace him more and he let his hands wander over you as well. You traced his neck down to around his shoulder and arm, feeling how each place rose up and went down. When you got to his hands, you put each of your fingers into the crooks of his- hands interlaced. He moved from kissing your lips to your cheeks, and then your neck. It was new and strange, tingling. But you liked it too much to push it away. And when he shifted to be more on top of you-but not his full body-you liked it too much to not stop it either. And every time you felt a small touch or kiss end, you wanted more.

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

Once it was over, he rolled off, both of you lazily staring at the ceiling and catching your breath.

Then you looked at him with swollen lips, undone hair, and wide eyes. And he looked at you. 

You began to laugh. And he laughed too in tandem.

“I was terrified of that! What was I thinking!” you said, looking over at him. The previous fear had melted away.

“It’s always terrifying when you do it first, even with a new person. But…you’re…you’re good.” Grigor commented.

The air from around felt cold. The fire was dying down and who knew what hour it was. Your two shifts remained crumpled on the floor like ghostly puddles.

“Could you…could you hold me?” you asked coquettishly, leaning towards him.

“Hmm, let me think about that...”

“Please? It’s getting cold.” you added, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles.

He leaned over to pull you close. He felt very warm, and sweaty. But you did not mind.

“I…I think we might find a way for this to work…” he murmured.

“Yes, I…I agree.”

He pulled you into his chest. Your eyes saw the small hairs and the rise and fall of his breathing.

“I remember…when I would wake up in the morning, and…I’d hate it,” he recalled, looking up at the ceiling again.

“Why?” you ask.

Tracing his chest, drawing little figures into it. He let you rest your head on his arm. It was getting darker and darker, the candles in the room were dying and giving out bit by bit.

“I’d just feel…alone…” he confessed. He looked over to you, eyes a little dark from the memory.

“Not anymore, Grigor. I’ll make sure of it. You won’t be alone with me.”

It is quiet and peaceful. You both fall asleep deeply.

At one point you wake up briefly, only to see Grigor talking to the old man serf, but he turns to you and shushes.

“It’s early-get some more sleep, Y/N. It was a long day yesterday,” he whispers to you. You see some tiredness in his eyes as well.

You lay your head back down without a word. You fall back asleep.

The light of a later part of the morning fills up the flat when you open your eyes again. Turning around, Grigor is wearing his shift, but still, fast asleep. He must have woken up, put it on, and then drift back into dreaming.

Watching him for a while, it seems he won’t be waking for some time. Even though sunlight is coming out of the windows with the strong glare of mid-morning.

You pull on your shift and your old green robe, you move over to where a tray was set with complimentary coffee in a fancy porcelain set and certain pastries with a note of congratulations from someone’s Aunt Elisabeth or other. But before you can even pour a cup or try a crumb, something catches your eye.

There is an envelope on the tray and when you open it there is some money.

You had forgotten about the morning gift completely.

  Taglist: @foxinaforestofstars @iwritefanficnotprophecies @itsametaphorgwil @queenlover05 @simonedk @panagiasikelia @grigorlee @fueled-by-novocaine @stardust-killer-queen @xviiarez @vintage-and-hypnotic @raerawrrae  @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night(if I forgot to add you please alert me asap!!!) @always-a-fairycat @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @im-an-adult-ish @marshmxllowfluff​

#arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #the great #the great hulu #hulu the great #count orlo #mariol #empress catherine #catherine the great #grigor dymov #emperor peter #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov x fem! reader #grigor dymov x fem! y/n #wedding nights #friends to lovers #grigor dymov fanfiction #grigor dymov fanfic #marriage fanfic #wedding fanfic #wedding fics #the great imagine #the great fanfiction #the great fanfic #grigor dymov angst #a bit #nervousness #promised

[likesomekindofcheese]

You're taking grigor requests? Can you do some blurb (or longer if you want idc lmao,) of falling in love with him but reader is a servant and both sneak out of the palace to be together for good cause they're tired of sneeking?

Hello, there anon! I am so sorry this took so long (Secret Santa Season hit). But here is the blurb! I hope you enjoy it!

tw: swearing, mentions of sex, angst that ends in fluff.

He was a kind man, he made you laugh, he was smart, and he loved you. 

He was also married. To the Emperor's mistress. And you just changed his firewood.

Scrubbing the floors a little harder, you noticed the redness on your knuckles. The skin was rough. Blood seeped out. All that soap and water wrecked your palms. And the emperor often left a mess in every room that you had to clean up. 

And whenever she walked by, her red silk skirts training after her with the click of her heels down the green hallway, you couldn’t help it. You looked. Right at her hands. Smooth and white from not a day of hard work. A hard day's work that included drinking wine, tossing balls onto the grass, and spreading her legs to the Emperor with a smile on her face as you held her crying husband in the other room.

Grigor was miserable. Obviously. And you were miserable here. 

The other day Lady Svenska insisted on making blush by pricking your finger with her sewing needle. Blood dribbled out and you tapped it on her cheek, biting back the tears of pain.

You had chamber pots to empty. Instead, you ran to the Dymov apartments. The second you saw Georgiana leave, you knocked desperately at the door.

Grigor always greeted you with a kiss. He led you to a chair and handed you a towel.

“This…this is ridiculous…” he mumbles. “They can’t treat you like this.”

“But I’m…I’m just a serf…” you mutter. You were just another pair of working hands to wipe asses and be tossed into a fire when a plague broke out.

“I used to think serfs were just…just there, but you! Y/N- you’re sweet and good and brave! I used to be so…so miserable here all the time, now I just wait for you to appear!”

Eyes getting watery, despite the sting of the cloth on your hand, you smile up at him.

“And I used to be miserable here until I met you….” you spoke lovingly.

“I can’t believe they did this to you…” he continues. The white cloth he wraps tenderly around your hand seems to contrast the red walls of his room.

“I can’t believe your wife doesn’t regret fucking the emperor,” you retorted boldly. It was on your chest.

He looks ghostly white at the mention of it.

“I’m sorry, it…it’s just this place…everything about it and I keep seeing…how miserable you are with her. Why can’t we do something about it?” you asked.

“He’s my Emperor, he won’t let her go…and if he lets her go, she’ll find a way to run back to him…” he said. You hear giggles and a smashing of glass outside. 

You huffed, both of you held onto each other, hearts slowing. Clinging as if for life.

“But…” he mumbled.

“But what…” you asked. You bite your lip and stare down at your hands. The prick mark is dimmer. Still present, but weak.

“It doesn’t…have to be this way. It’s always in this palace, this place….what if we…changed location…to a place where we don’t have to hide when we’re...together like this...” he suggested.

“I…I have some family. And…I clean Archie’s room every week. I’ve noticed certain documents…”

You looked up at him.

“The right ones…ones that end marriages...” you confess. A wicked smile crawls up your face and his.

A week later, Grigor crept up from his bed alone. It was the early part of the morning where the sun was present, but barely, Peeking out from the edge of the sky. He left his wedding ring and a signed paper of divorce for the Dymov couple. He folded it up, wrote Georgiana’s name along with a brief, angry letter saying goodbye. With a deep sigh, he slipped the ring off of his right hand, placed it on the desk in front of the fire, and walked out.

Meeting him, you put on your grey cloak. You left no letter. You had no real friends here. None you would trust this with. In the stables, you both greet each other with a squeeze of your hand, and only a few belongings in a small bag.

Hopping onto a small, discreet cart, Grigor snapped the reigns on the horses and both of you went away. He kept urging the horses to run as fast as possible. Baskets of vegetables from the kitchen were stuffed in the back. No one would think that vegetable farmers would be a Count and Servant eloping.

Your heart was pounding. That large grey palace slowly grew smaller…smaller…and smaller. You were far away by the time the sun rose and the rooster cried.

Partway through, you shivered from the cold Russian air. Grigor glanced up at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Nervous. Excited.”

“What did your family say?”

“They’d like to witness the wedding. It won’t be big. We will just say ‘I do’ and that’s it. There is an extra room where we’ll live…it will be so different than your life Grigor.”

He looked at you and smiled.

“If I’m with you, how could I ever be unhappy?” he said.

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek. It was a long time and a long drive. Your appearance prevented suspicion of any connection to royalty. You hugged your family and cried, introducing them to Grigor. Both of you thought you would never reach home. But there was no time to waste. It had to be finalized. Soon.

Reaching the church, your hands began to shake. Your dress was dirty and Grigor smelled like the horse. Both of you knelt before the altar in front of the priest as he prepared to begin the nuptials. Noticing the tremor, Grigor took your hand and you accepted it. It was just a quick, peasant wedding with a small peasant home awaiting you both. No parties with elaborate gowns and wigs. Only the odd festival with aprons and cloth hats. No more rich dining on oysters and vodka. Now you had to settle for bread and milk you got from the goats you milked.

But you didn’t need the rich clothes, balls, feasts, lavishness, and misery. You had each other. And a new life where you could be together.

Taglist: @queenlover05 @stardust-killer-queen

The Great/Grigor Taglist: @itsametaphorgwil @sugahunnynoicetea @iwritefanficnotprophecies @raerae27 @vintage-and-hypnotic @xviiarez @fueled-by-novocaine @grigorlee @simonedk (though I know some of you would rather by tagged in just Promised, the Arranged marriage series. Please let me know if I goofed and you just wanna be tagged for Promised)

#carrie writes #servant! reader #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x you #grigor #grigor dymov fanfiction #the great fanficition #the great blurb #grigor dymov blurb #carriewrites #gwilym lee #grigor dymov angst #grigor dymov fluff #girgor dymov x fem! reader #grigor dymov x fem! y/n #grigor dymov hurt/comfort

[queen-paladin]

Hey guys, hypothetically, if you had a spouse or partner cheat on you/have an affair, what would you do?

replying to this⬆️

to be honest i would allow for it to continue as i slowly break away from the relationship emotionally and physically then to be the petty person i am i would air out their dirty laundry but once my partner goes realizes i know it's already too late because im as gone as the wind

that or cry myself to death tbh

Awww, that’s good advice! Thank you!!

It’s been a lot on my mind recently since I have watched the second season of The Great with Grigor’s arc and now especially with Essex Serpent about to come out. I was so hyped for Tom Hiddleston in a period drama and then learned via Wikipedia and TV Tropes that his character has a sweet, adorable wife who

1. LOVES HIM

2. Enjoys boinking him

3. Has three kids with him.

And the second she gets sick with tuberculosis…he cheats on her with the main character.

Why?

Because smart science lady who is new in town makes his dick hard🥲🥲🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃.

So I couldn’t stop thinking about it in addition to Grigor’s arc in season 2 of The Great with the whole M*rial business (yuck).

Being cheated on hasn’t happened to me (so far) but it struck me that I think I have a trigger about it since I couldn’t stop thinking about these and obsessing and getting angry and upset over FICTION. So discussing it and planning ahead helps me, as well as looking up real cases and what happened.

Anyways, if my girls Georgiana Dymov and Stella Ransomme slash some carriage wheels, I don’t blame them at all.

#the great #the great spoilers #Carrie speaks #Essex serpent #Essex serpent spoilers #tw: cheating #tw: adultery