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bohemianboynton · 3 years

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The Deal, part 2 (Grigor Dymov x fem!reader)

A/N: So here is the part 2 to The Deal. Nobody asked for me to write this, but here you guys go. It took a long time for me to complete as I have a lot of personal stuff going on in my life. I might write a part 3 to this because this series is my baby. Sorry if this sucks. Also, guess where I got the name Yelena from? lmao

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: You and Grigor are happy and settling into married life. But there is pressure being put upon your shoulders to take up a big responsibility.

Warnings: mentions of childbirth, children, and pregnancy, swearing (obviously), and smut (not one, but multiple sex scenes, folks!). 18+ only or I will block you.

----

You had grown to dearly love the man you had been forced to marry. And he loved you in the same way. The days were full of bliss and the nights were filled with love.

Today, you decided to have breakfast together. There were imported fruits and cheeses in a bowl between where you and Grigor were laying on the bed. You were still naked from last night’s activities.

You were both facing each other, taking turns feeding each other little pieces of food. The two of you were laughing like children, not a care in the world as you ate and talked. Pure happiness. Just like the mornings usually were.

Your birthday was coming up in a week, and the two of you were discussing plans for when the day came.

What you had so far was this: you wanted to kindly ask Emperor Peter if you and Grigor could visit his-and now also yours-estate as part of the small celebration you two had planned.

And maybe, if Peter allowed it, a chance to visit your family’s new home for today.

Today you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with your husband. But, Emperor Peter would inevitably interrupt you and Grigor’s morning together to take him hunting.

For now though, you were with your husband, feeding him a piece of cheese imported from France.

There was a knocking on the bed chamber doors, followed by the voice of your maid, Nadia. “The Emperor requests entrance into your chambers,” she announced.

“Come in,” Grigor said, a piece of fruit in between his finger and thumb. He popped it in your mouth as the doors opened.

“For fuck’s sake, Grigor, have you been getting so much pussy that you’ve forgotten to spend time with your dearest friend?” Peter had an almost serious look on his face, which disappeared when he laughed. “No, but seriously, Grigor, sex with your wife can wait. We’ve got some things to do today, old boy! I know, resisting the urge to stay in and fuck a woman all day is hard, but there are more things to life than just fucking!”

He did have a point.

“I’ve got to go, darling”, Grigor said to you, planting a kiss on your lips before getting out of bed to change into some clothes.

You supposed it was time that you did the same. You got up and grabbed your robe off of the floor.

While Grigor was buttoning up his shirt, you kindly asked Peter if you could borrow a carriage to visit Grigor’s estate tomorrow as part of your small birthday celebration. And another carriage for today, to visit your family’s new estate.

“That’s quite a lot to ask for, (Y/N). But you are the wife of my best friend and I am a generous Emperor, so, of course. On one condition, however. Show me your tits.” Emperor Peter ordered.

You held back an eye roll and a sigh as you opened your robe and flashed him your breasts. He laughed.

“Grigor, you must tell me, what does a man do with tits like those?”

After Grigor was completely dressed, he and Peter went off into the hall.

You then asked your maid to help you get ready for the day. She fixed your hair, helped you with your corset and gown, and applied your makeup. Then you dismissed her and that was that.

—

“It’s so lovely to see you, darling”, your mother said, waving the family maid away once she gave her the plate of cheese.

“How’s your marriage? Do you and your husband get along?”

“Yes, mother, we do”, you replied.

“How is he?”

“He’s a wonderful man. Always thinking of me.”

“That’s good, dear. Your father and I were worried that the two of you wouldn’t grow to love each other at first. But we trusted the Emperor and his choice of husband for you.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Speaking of your husband, where is he? Why couldn’t he come with you?”

“He had to tend to more important things with Emperor Peter.”

“I see. Well, when you see him, please tell him we said hello.”

Before you could leave, your sister entered the room. “Y/N!” She yelled.

“Darling, she’s about to le-“

“Tell me all about your husband! Where is he?” She asked, practically bouncing off of the walls.

“He’s out hunting with the Emperor-“

“Are any of his friends hot too?”

“Yelena! Watch your tongue!” Your mother ordered.

“Right, sorry.” Your sister said sarcastically.

She leaned in closer to you. “Is he… good in bed?” she whispered.

You pulled away. “Yelena!”

“Sorry”, she giggled.

“Well, it was lovely seeing you both. I wish I could have seen Father as well, but I understand he’s busy right now. Maybe next week I’ll bring Grigor and we can all talk over a nice dinner.” You said as you made your way to the double doors.

“Safe travels!” Your mother called out as you walked out the doors. You could hear her begin to scold your sister as you left. Thank God you didn’t have to suffer her wrath anymore.

The carriage ride home was a quiet and long one. Normally you’d have your dear husband with you, talking and laughing on the way to your destination, but you were alone with your thoughts this time.

It was time to be with your “friends”, the ladies of the court. You always had to plaster on a fake smile and partake in their petty gossip when you were around them. If you could, you’d spend all your time with Grigor. But that would be impossible. You both had your own duties. And spending time with your peers was one of yours, as much as you hated how fake they were.

“What a shame the Empress couldn’t join us,” one of the ladies said, pretending to look defeated. She laughed.

The whole room erupted in laughter.

“What a bitch! She sides with her maid instead of us! Her own fellow ladies! Outrageous!” Another one yelled in disgust.

You didn’t blame the Empress. You’d rather talk to the grass outside than these women.

“Don’t forget about what she did to Lady Svenska!”

“Horse fucker!”

As they spoke of the Empress, you couldn’t help but wonder why you didn’t hear from her that often.

“May I ask you ladies something?” You questioned once the room had gone quiet.

“Of course, Madame Dymov.”

“Why don’t we hear about the Empress? And where did the horse fucking rumor come from?”

“She is only seen with her lover or her maid. She obviously doesn’t talk to us, so fuck if we know what she does. And as for her fucking a horse, we made that up. God, you should spend more time with us! We miss seeing your beautiful face!”

“Oh, I have something to ask you,” another one of the ladies asked.

“Yes?” You hoped it wasn’t another ‘are you with child yet’ question.

“Is it your birthday soon?”

You were relieved. “Why, yes it is.”

“How old are you going to be again? Twenty?”

“Yes.”

“You’re almost past the prime of your childbearing years!”

You felt fury and anxiety rise within you.

“Enough about the fucking childbearing!” You shouted, immediately covering your mouth.

The ladies were all taken aback at your sudden outburst. Some were even angry that you snapped at them.

You all sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, until you apologized.

“My apologies, ladies. It’s just that I get constantly asked about having children and being told that I need to bear some for Grigor.”

“That is actually understandable. It’s an unfortunate thing that happens to us all.” A lady sighed. The others turned their heads toward her, as if to tell her to shut up.

“But, trust us, it gets better once you birth a child!” A different lady chimed in.

You didn’t want to be a part of this conversation anymore. Thinking of an excuse, you looked out the window. It was late in the afternoon.

“Oh, would you look at the time of day? It’s time for me to retire to my apartments,” you said, turning your attention to the women.

“Well, it was nice talking to you, Lady Dymov!” One of the ladies called out as you got up and walked to the doors.

As you walked down the long hallways, you grew increasingly stressed out about the thought of becoming a mother. Could you even raise a child correctly, let alone even at all? And there was also pregnancy and labor. How much pain and misery you would be in during both. You felt like it was too much to have all this responsibility put on your shoulders.

You picked up your dress slightly and began to run.

You opened your apartment doors and hurriedly ran in, shutting the doors behind you and sitting on the chair next to the bathtub. You frantically tried to calm yourself down but you still couldn’t stop the feeling. And the tight corset and layers of your dress weren’t helping.

“Nadia!” You called your maid’s name as you fanned yourself with your hand. Everything was spinning.

“NADIA!” you called out again. Fuck, she wasn’t coming. You needed to find her yourself. You stood up, shaking. Everything was going by so fast in a blur. The ladies of the court. Grigor. Your mother. Babies.

The last thing you saw before you blacked out and fell to the ground was your maid coming into the room and letting out a scream.

You woke up in the bed with almost all of your clothing gone. The only thing you were wearing was a small sleeping gown.

Your eyes darted around the room.

Grigor was at your side, holding your hand with one of his and a damp cloth in the other. Nadia held a jug of cold water and stood at the foot of the bed.

“(Y/N), it’s okay,” Grigor said reassuringly. “You’re alright.”

The sight of his face helped you calm down.

“What happened?” You asked.

“I heard Nadia scream and I came here as fast as I could. She said that she saw you collapse. Chekhov will be here shortly.”

There was a knock at the apartment doors. Nadia set the jug down and ran to open them.

Chekhov, the court doctor, made his way through the bedroom doors and began to inspect you.

“Are you with child by any chance?” He asked.

“No”, you answered. You were 100% sure that you weren’t pregnant. Little bits of anxiety and anger crept back into your head.

He finished the check up. “Just a brief fit of hysteria”, he said.

“Thank you, Chekhov.” Grigor said as the doctor walked out of the room.

“What brought this on?” Grigor asked, his eyes looking into yours.

“I- I just-“ you stammered, trying to stay calm. You took a deep breath. “All this talk about childbearing has been uppermost in my thoughts.”

Grigor squeezed your hand and smiled a little, as if to try to get you to relax.

“I think you might need some rest. You don’t have to come to dinner tonight. Peter will understand.” Grigor calmly said, leaning in to place a peck on your lips.

He handed the rag to Nadia and left the room.

Maybe he was right. The court’s ladies didn’t know anything. All they did was gossip.

You looked up at the ceiling and the mural on it. The beautiful angels and cherubs in the clouds. The whitish blue sky. All so calming.

Your eyes moved to the window and the light which was streaming into it through the curtains.

It was beautiful outside. The ladies were surely rolling balls on the lawn now.

Fuck them.

---

It was a beautiful day outside. You sat by the clear stream of water that ran through the woods with your husband, gazing into his blue eyes and holding his hands in yours.

The estate was truly a lovely place. You were so glad to be here with Grigor. It was a shame you two had to return to the palace tomorrow. But, you could always visit the estate again - with Peter’s permission first, of course. Asking to visit the estate again would likely require more than just showing your breasts to the Emperor, and you didn’t really want to fuck him. Although, to be fair, he wasn’t ugly at all.

You and Grigor watched the sun set, and then you both headed inside your dacha.

Since you would be leaving tomorrow, Grigor suggested doing something the night before you left the estate in the morning. And you knew what he meant by that.

The two of you were in bed, about to go to sleep.

“Happy early birthday, my love,” Grigor said before leaning in to kiss you.

That kiss felt so good. Like really, really, good.

You inched closer to him and moved one of your hands to his chest, running your fingers lightly through his chest hair and slowly down his body. He shivered under your touch and moaned into your mouth, shifting under the covers.

His hand moved to your hip, pulling you closer.

You lifted one of your legs, swinging it over him. He moved onto his back and you positioned yourself on top of him. He was completely naked and you weren’t wearing anything under your gown, so you went ahead and lowered yourself down onto his hard cock. He groaned at the feeling of your walls around him, and you moaned at the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

“Please, darling,” Grigor growled, “go on.”

You pulled yourself off of his cock and lowered yourself back down, the slick friction adding to the pleasure.

You bounced up and down, his hands steadying you by holding on to your hips.

You could tell by his face that he wasn’t going to last long. But neither were you, to be fair.

It was getting increasingly difficult to hold your orgasm back. Grigor moved one of his hands in between your legs, finding your clit. He rubbed at it in circles, with some slight pressure being applied to your sensitive nub. That was enough to send you over the edge, and you came, calling out his name in the process.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock caused him to lose control. He emptied himself deep into you with a loud yell.

You pulled yourself off of his softening cock and flopped on your back onto the bed.

After you both caught your breath, Grigor leaned over to you and kissed you deeply once more.

“I love you so much, (Y/N),” he said softly.

And with that, you both fell asleep.

The day came. Your 20th birthday. Grigor had woken you up with a shower of kisses and gifts - a wig, imported from Europe, and some of the finest jewelry in Russia.

Somehow, Grigor had convinced Peter to allow you both to take a trip to your parents’ home, as long as the two of you came back in time for dinner.

The ride to the estate was a rather long one, and you passed the time by talking to your husband about your life before your marriage. How you and your sister played with dolls as children, how your father told you stories about mythical beasts. And how your mother prepared you for marriage once you came of age. It was a sad reality, but hey, that’s how things were done in Russia.

Grigor squeezed your hand as the carriage pulled up closer to their estate. You could see your parents and your sister standing with their maid in front of the entrance to their home.

“Ah, (Y/N)! How pleasant to see you again, dear! Happiest of birthdays, my lovely daughter!” Your mother cheerfully called out as you stepped out of the carriage, Grigor taking your hand as you put your feet down onto the ground.

All of you sat down at the table with glasses of wine and small plates of cheeses and fruit.

“So- how are things back at court?” Your mother asked as the maid went back to the kitchen.

“Everything is wonderful. (Y/N) and I are as happy as ever,” Grigor said with a smile, his hand in yours.

“Good to hear,” your mother responded.

“Grigor,” your sister asked, “do you have any friends?”

“Of course, Lady Lebedev”, Grigor replied. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason”, your sister giggled.

“She’s going to get married soon”, your father said to your husband. “She’s trying to persuade us to let her marry a man of her choosing. Like this new idea that is floating around in Europe.” He sighed.

You didn’t blame her. You got lucky with marrying Grigor though.

“Oh! Grigor, when do you suppose that there will be any little ones of yours arriving into this world?” Your mother asked gleefully.

Grigor almost choked on his wine.

“Mother!” You yelled across the table, putting your head in your hands. Not this shit again.

Your sister chuckled.

“It’s a bit early to think about these things, isn’t it? I mean, (Y/N) and I have just gotten married-“

“Her father and I got straight to work on bringing her and her sister into this world as soon as we were wed! No excuses!” Your mother laughed loudly.

Your father cleared his throat. “Grigor, how are things at court?” He asked.

“Things are the same, as always. The Emperor is still well loved, we go hunting often, and the dinners are amazing as they always have been.”

“How are things with the ladies, (Y/N)?” Your sister asked.

“Oh, um...” You had to come up with a lie, quick. “Things are great.”

“Bullshit”, your sister said with a giggle.

Your mother slapped your sister on the wrist, causing her to yell out. “Yelena! Language! That is not the way a lady should speak!”

A few hours and many words later, you and Grigor had to leave. It was the middle of the day now.

Bidding farewell to your parents, you climbed into the carriage with Grigor following suit.

“Why is your mother so keen on us having a child so soon?” Grigor asked.

“I don’t know. It’s a mother thing, I suppose.” You replied, looking up at him.

“You know, if you wanted children, I wouldn’t mind raising them with you,” he said.

You forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

“Really?”

“Of course, dearest. I love you. To see you with my child would bring me great joy.”

“But you said that it was too early to talk about raising children in front of my mother.”

“Yes, but I didn’t say that I didn’t want to have any children.” He looked at you with loving eyes, your hand in his.

“What if-” you paused, carefully thinking about what you were going to say. “What if I don’t want children, at least not right now?”

“Then that would be fine with me.”

You leaned back against him with a smile on your face.

—

Tonight’s dinner, as you found out, was to celebrate a win over a battle with the Swedes. Your husband was sitting next to you at the hall table. You looked over at him. He was eating some roast duck. His hair was neatly tucked under his powdered wig, away from his face. On the other side of him were the Emperor and the Empress, and the Emperor’s other family members. Looking around the court, you saw all the ladies and their husbands, and all of the guards and the soldiers that had returned from conflict, all sitting down at the long dining hall table. You began to look back down at your plate to finish eating. But before you could grab a bite with your fork, Emperor Peter stood up to make a toast, the chair making a loud squeak.

“To our troops! For winning a battle against those Swedish bastards. About fucking time.”

The Emperor raised his glass, took a sip, and threw it to the ground. “Huzzah!”

Everyone threw their glasses to the ground, including you and your husband.

Something about Grigor was driving you mad tonight. You couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but you knew that you wanted him badly. In an attempt to stave off your sexual thoughts, you stared down at the floor, focusing intently on the broken glass.

Someone tapped your shoulder. “(Y/N)?” You snapped out of it. Grigor was talking to you. “I think it’s time we go back to our apartment,” he whispered.

“Right”, you agreed.

You took his hand and you both left the table.

His rather sizable biceps. His toned but soft body. The large patch of hair on his chest. His thick, muscular thighs. And his hard, lengthy cock. You would never get bored of the sight.

Grigor made his way to the bed and sat beside you on his knees, hunched over your body.

“Grigor..” you moaned as he trailed his hands all over your body, only to stop at your knees.

He leaned in further and began kissing your neck, down to your breasts, and down your stomach to your thighs.

“Please, Grigor…” you begged him to go on.

He gladly climbed on top of you, and planted his lips on yours, kissing you with pure passion.

He pulled his face away to whisper in your ear.

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too. Fuck me, Grigor”, you moaned with a needy sounding tone.

He pulled his head back, still on top of you. You knew what to do.

With eagerness, you spread your legs and he steadied himself and lined up at your practically dripping cunt.

He pushed into you with a groan. A whimper fell from your lips. God, you’d never get tired of this.

“Always so fucking wet”, he grunted. “And you squeeze me just right every time.”

“Grigor… please..” you moaned, barely able to get words out of your mouth.

He pulled himself almost completely out in an almost painfully slow motion, and then slammed back inside of you with such speed that you gasped in surprise.

He dragged his cock out again, but faster. And then he went back in as fast as he could. He picked up the pace and began thrusting into you as quickly as possible.

One of his hands went to your throbbing clit.

You couldn’t help but moan quite loudly at both sensations. Hopefully you wouldn’t wake up anyone else in the palace with the lovemaking happening between you and Grigor.

You couldn’t hold back any longer, and your walls squeezed around Grigor as you came with a scream.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m going to- oh!“ Grigor groaned before you felt his load spill into you, warm and runny.

Both of you were struggling to catch your breaths. Once Grigor stopped panting, he pulled out and lay down beside you, his face and chest flushed with red. Your skin felt hot, too.

“Good god”, you managed to get the words out, “that was amazing.”

“You’re all red, darling”, Grigor said with a slight chuckle.

“So are you”, you replied with an attempt at a giggle.

He leaned in close to you once more and kissed your lips softly, cupping either side of your face in his large hands.

He moved back again, this time to pull the sheets over both of your bodies. He shifted closer to you, laying on his side, and you moved closer to him, tracing your fingers over his chest hair. And it was like that for nearly an hour, until the both of you were getting more and more tired as a result of tonight’s activities. You shifted closer to him until your head was resting on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around your head, putting his hand in your hair. The sound of his beating heart lulled you to sleep.

The next morning, you and Grigor decided to have breakfast together. A brief breakfast, since Peter would request his presence any time now. And when Peter did request that his friend be out with him today, you stayed in the apartment. You didn’t really have any friends anymore. All of your childhood friends either grew up to be married to men who lived far away, or they died while sick with the pox. If only there were medicine in Russia like there was in Europe.

You decided to take a bath. Nadia ran the water, and gathered the soap for you. You thanked her and she left you in peace.

Lowering yourself down into the warm water, you reflected on your week. Your birthday, spending time with your family, everything was great. Well, aside from seeing those ladies of the court. You sighed and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relax and soak into the water.

Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. You groaned. “Come in”, you said.

“Madame Dymov?” She asked.

“Yes?”

“There is a gathering in the ballroom. Your husband is there. He’s asked of me to summon you.”

After Nadia helped you dry off and put your dress on, you made your way there. The first person you saw was your husband.

“Ah(Y/N)! Darling!” Grigor called out, arms outstretched. “Have some vodka.” He handed you the glass that was in one of his hands.

You took the glass and sipped the vodka.

Count Orlo tapped on Grigor’s shoulder and pulled him aside to talk. About what you did not know, but your thoughts were interrupted when Empress Catherine walked over to you.

You had never actually talked to her before. Not even at both yours and her weddings- you were an unimportant young woman at the time of her and Peter’s wedding, and at yours, she was with the Emperor the entire time, if not talking with her maid and Orlo.

“Madame Dymov!” She said, a smile on her face. “How are things? Isn’t this gathering just lovely?”

“Why yes it is, Empress,” you replied.

“So, I hear that you enjoy the finest foods imported from Europe.”

“Yes, I am fond of French bread and Italian cheese.” You smiled. You had no idea why she was talking about food, but it was better than her being a bitch to you, which was what the ladies of the court kept saying about her.

“Picture, if you will, a Russia in which you could easily have more access to such delicacies. As well as other luxurious goods from Europe.”

That sounded wonderful, but where was she going with this? And why was she talking to you about this?

“That would be a Russia I would enjoy living in,” you responded.

“And, perhaps, an end to the war with Sweden in addition to better medicine. It is rather bleak to hear endless stories about soldiers dying and learning of your friends having been claimed by the pox, is it not?”

“Yes, it is quite sad. Empress, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Madame Dymov."

“May I ask why you’re telling me about these things? I don’t mean to come off as rude, but I haven’t a clue as to how this is relevant to my position in court.”

“Just trying to make conversation. I have heard that you do not roll balls on the lawn with the other ladies. And your husband is the best friend of mine. I thought that maybe we could become acquainted with one another.”

True, you did not particularly enjoy rolling balls with the other women of the court. You secretly couldn’t stand them, but you couldn’t tell anyone that and you had to come up with an excuse to not join them on the lawn every time they asked you.

“Ah, I see. Well, I enjoy talking to you. May I tell you a secret, Empress?” You hoped that she would never say what you were going to tell her next to a single soul.

“Of course.”

You leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I do not like the ladies of the court. They all seem so superficial. And I don’t think they like you.”

Catherine smiled a little and whispered back, “I do not like them either.”

Finally, you weren’t alone. Maybe you and the Empress could become good friends after all.

Just then, your husband made his way over to you once more.

“Greetings, Grigor,” the Empress said.

“Empress.” he smiled.

Count Orlo came back to Grigor’s side.

“My God, Orlo, can you just fuck off? I’ve talked to you enough for today.”

What did he say to Grigor?

“Grigor, I came over here to speak to the Empress.”

“In that case, (Y/N) and I shall leave you two to talk while we retreat to our quarters.” He took your arm in his.

“Have a pleasant day, Empress!” You called out to your new friend as you and your husband left the ballroom.

“And a pleasant day to you too, (Y/N)!” She replied back.

You turned your head to Grigor. “Is it alright if I ask what happened between you and Orlo?” you asked him.

“He was trying to convince me to tell the Emperor something. Something about changing one of the laws.”

Count Orlo seemed like a smart man, and although everyone around you saw him as a weak virgin, you had some respect for him. You weren’t sure why - he just gave off the impression that he was a decent person. Yes, he was different from the other members of court, but surely he must be nice if Catherine is around him, right? But why was he trying to get Emperor Peter to change a law? And why was he trying to use your husband to change Peter’s mind? Didn’t he have a place in court as one of Peter’s advisors? Oh well. Probably wasn’t that important anyway. Grigor didn’t seem to be bothered by this, so why should you be?

Tonight, you felt ill and sore, even though there was no sexual activity that happened between you and your husband. Perhaps it was time for your blood to arrive. You couldn’t sleep either, despite being held in Grigor’s warm embrace. Your mind was once again busy with thoughts about what your mother and others were telling you- that it was time to have a child. After talking about the subject with Grigor in the carriage ride home from your family’s estate, you felt better. But still, the anxiety about pregnancy and childbirth was still in your mind. Would you ever be ready for such things?

You felt something move by your side. Grigor had stirred in his sleep.

Your mind drifted over to thoughts about him. How handsome he was. How much of a loving husband he was. And of your first night together, after consummating your marriage. He had slept so soundly after a good fuck, and you did too. Your fears of marriage and sex had faded away after that.

You suddenly realized something.

Maybe one day, the fears of pregnancy and childbirth would fade away too. You remembered what he had said to you on the carriage ride home. That you two didn’t need to have a child straight away.

You sighed quietly. Maybe not today, but some day, you’d have a baby. And by that time, you would probably be ready to become a mother. And with that, you felt yourself calm down, your eyes getting heavy.

—

Part 1 here: x

#grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov smut #the great fanfiction #the great #gwilym lee #gwilym lee smut

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thewritetofreespeech · 2 years

Text

Grigor x female!reader

tw: miscarriage, mentions of blood, general angst

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He had been hunting with Peter when an extraordinarily brave footman came out of the clearing to give him the news. His wife had called for the doctor, and he must come back immediately.

Peter was obviously disappoint that his rabbit hunt had been cut short, but Grigor was too concerned for his wife to worry too much about Peter’s dampened feelings this time. His wife needed him. A thousand thoughts came to him as he rushed through the hall towards their apartments. She had been fine this morning. What could possibly be wrong.

As he came to their chambers, he slowed as he saw the familiar red coif of Elizabeth coming out. “Oh! Hello my darling.”

“Elizabeth? What are you....“I came to see your wife. She is...unwell.”

“Unwell?” Grigor repeated in alarm. “Is she sick? Has she been hurt? What-?” Elizabeth raised her hand to cut him off again. Softly.

“She is alright. What has happened is quite common actually. You see, she has had a miscarriage.”

“A miscarriage?” His words were so quite they barely reached his own ears.

“It’s when the babe inside you dies in the womb and is expelled out. Alarming, more than anything, and as I said quite common in women of the court. But it is...upsetting to most women. The first time.”

Grigor processed what Elizabeth was saying and felt like a stone had been thrown into his stomach. The baby, his child, was gone. Never drawn breath. Never seen it’s mothers face. Never had a chance.

His hands lace behind his head as he began to pace a little, and his chronic dust storm aliment pricking his eyes. “What um....What do I do?”

“You must be patient and loving with her.” Grigor scoffed at that. Not his best strong suits. “She will be sad, and raw. But soon will look to the future of trying again, when she is ready. For now all you must do is be by her side. As I know you can.”

Grigor stopped pacing to look at Elizabeth. “You really think that?”

“Of course. You are a man of honor and sound mind. I have always thought that.”

“You don’t even know me. This is the first conversation we have had at length since I was....15.”

“Yes, well, you are Peter’s best friend. And as you were coming into manhood and more handsome, I harbor dreams of fucking you. Taking you back to my quarters and teaching that nubile body of yours a thing or two about being with a woman. But, you are Peter’s best friend, and that seemed wrong, so distance seemed more appropriate.”

“I uh...thank you...” His mind was in a daze about the news of his wife’s miscarriage, and this new news of his best friend’s aunt wanting to fuck him.

As usual, Elizabeth just smiled and patted him on the shoulder as she walked past. Her easy confidence sort of a salve for the situation. Painful, still, but soothing to a dull ache.

Steeling himself, Grigor opened the door and went inside. He could tell, as he walked further in, that there had been a flurry of movement in the room. Chairs moved. Bedding shuffled. There was blood on some sheets and rags some serf was most likely to take away at some point, but had left them when they left her alone. Probably at her insistence. [Y/N] hated for people to see her cry. Which she was doing silently as he came closer to the bed.

“Is there...anything I can get for you? Anything I can do?” He asked after a long pause. Not sure if this was the right thing or wrong thing to do, but silence didn’t seem the answer either.

“I’m sorry.” Her soft, choked up voice replied, and it broke Grigor’s heart that he just had to scoop her up in his arms. Again, not sure if it was right or wrong, but it was what he wanted to do.

“No, no, no. Don’t say that. You’ve done nothing wrong.” He assured as he held her close. “These things....they happen.” He didn’t mention that Elizabeth had told him it was common. “You haven’t done anything wrong. We’ll try again. Or not. But never be sorry my love.”

They held each other close and cried for a while. She was indeed fragile and raw for a few days, but Grigor tried to be patient with her. He wanted to take her to their country estate, but she refused to ‘run away’ from this. His wife was strong.

Eventually she did recover and start plans for the future. Grigor was in no rush, but was happy to see that she was alright; and willing to look to the future.

#;pen & paper (fanfiction)#the great #the great season 2 #grigor dymov #grigor #the great grigor #grigor dymov x reader #the great scenarios #the great imagines #tw: blood #tw: miscarriage #female reader #[I write angst and won't apologize]#random fandom #the great elizabeth #aunt elizabeth

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totheempressofrussia · 2 years

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and! i also have a grigor dymov x reader series too:

chapter 1

chapter 2

these chapters are v smutty so be warned

#reblog from fic blog #the great #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #the great fanfiction

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moon-in-daylight · 4 years

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I think it’s very funny how in Hulu’s The Great they put Nicholas Hoult as a lead role probably expecting everyone in the fandom to go nuts over him but instead when you search fanfiction of the show all you find is Grigor ‘the Emperor fucks my wife and I’m tired of it’ Dymov and Orlo “the ugly virgin who everyone mocks in Court”

#Hulu's The Great #Count Orlo #Grigor Dymov #Peter the third #Sacha Dhawan #Gwilym Lee #Nicholas Hoult #Don't get me wrong I love Nicholas Hoult's performance #He made a really great job with Peter #Peter is a more likeable character than what he should be and it's all because of an amazing acting #But I just love how everyone decided to thirst over Grigor and Orlo instead

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likesomekindofcheese · 1 year

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Promised- Finale (Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader, Arranged Marriage AU series)

Series Summary: When Emperor Peter's behavior towards your family threatens the alliance between them and Russia, the only way to solve it from breaking is through an arranged marriage with his friend, the handsome but heartbroken Count Grigor Dymov. A man you barely know.

Previous Chapters: One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//Ten//Eleven

Chapter Summary: You and Grigor enjoy a long-denied honeymoon

Content Warnings: Some discussions of sex and cursing and mentions of pregnancy and babies- don't worry, Y/N isn't pregnant. But VERY fluffy!

Word Count: 1584

A/N: Thank you guys so much for supporting this series throughout! Now I thought was the best time to conclude it! When season 3 of The Great comes out and should I get inspired, there might be a season 2 of this fic like what @ladystrallan did with I Really Wish I Hated You (which, btw, highly recommend if you love The Great Fanfics). Who knows?! But I hope all of you loved reading it as much as I loved writing this series!

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Comments Reblogs and asks and dms about my works are deeply appreciated! So consider leaving one of them if you liked it!

Taglist:

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

Promised Taglist: 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

You and Grigor were planning on returning to court. You both just wanted something denied to you when you were rushed to be married and when there was a coup- a honeymoon. Three whole months of a honeymoon.

The days were never more lovely- lovemaking at night, awakening when one felt like it, the most sumptuous meals, playing cards by the fireside, reading to each other, and you showing off the various songs you knew how to play. You were starting to teach Grigor chords and his clumsy practicing of scales with mutters of “fuck!” at a mistake could be heard. You still kept shooting practice, but you were relaxed, not caring if you missed the odd target.

It was quite warm for Russia the past two weeks. Flowers were deep in their bloom in the gardens, and it was green everywhere. The vineyards seemed to be a far brighter green than you expected. Perhaps springtime was arriving sooner than you expected or maybe it was a warm spot for a few days. You had to wear your lighter silks as opposed to the warm furs to keep one safe from your new home country’s notorious chill.

As you and your husband toured the grounds together that afternoon, there were fruits of light green and dark purple. You would both look at each other, pluck the small fruits, and try bites of them yourself, feeling the juicy sweetness burst on your tongues, as if only briefly. Grigor would wipe the juice off of his sleeve and give you a kiss and you would taste the grape in his breath as if combined with yours you made your own special wine. Grigor was in his favorite deep green. You had insisted he keep a few buttons down so you could see some of his chest hair. You insisted it was absolutely sexy of him when he wore shirts (especially white ones) with a few buttons undone and he took note. Yes, it was the wrong color today, but you didn’t care. Perhaps that could wait for later tonight when you would hop on him like a rabbit until you screamed each other’s names, not caring about disturbing the servants sleeping below. You were in a bright red dress with golden floral patterns all over it and you perfumed yourself with rose water.

You matched and complimented in your dress as had your souls on the inside- each perfect and making only the other look better when beside it.

You emerged from the kiss and wiped your hand on your skirt.

“Could you hold my hand, my dear?” you asked, presenting your hand out.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh abso-fucking-lutely,” he replied, eagerly taking yours.

It was warm and encompassing, the fingers intertwined within each other to feel the pulse of each other. As you both walked back home, the day was fading. The sky turned into a mix of orange and pink and the crispness of evening etched around you. Once you approached back to the manor, the housekeeper greeted you both and assured you that dinner would be ready in one or two hours. Olga, the little servant girl, handed you back your beloved dog and both of you cooed over her.

“Oh and Madame Dymova! Here! Messenger said it’s from Paris! And it’s for you and the master!” she added on, handing over a letter with a familiar wax seal.

Before you could comment on it, Sonya let out a bright bark for want of attention.

“Here Sonya- found this! Here- Good girl!” Grigor offered.

From his pocket, he pulled out a truffle and fed it to the eager and always hungry pup.

“Would you like some wine? There’s a new one they just made here and it’s fucking astounding,” he offered.

“Oh, yes! And ask the kitchen for a plate of bread and cheese and fruit, perhaps?” you asked.

“I don’t see why not!” he replied, giving you a peck on your forehead before going down to the kitchen.

You made your way to the back porch area outside on your white seats and white chairs. You found it had not grown so chilly that you would require heaps of blankets as you have in the past. Sonya lay happily on your lap panting away. Though grown, she still saw herself as a puppy who had to have every last of her needs attended to, or else her mistress would hear her barking and mischief. But you loved her more for it.

You pulled from your reticule an unopened letter from the dress of your pocket. It couldn’t be your family- you heard just yesterday that you were an aunt to a beautiful little niece. Both you and Grigor were already making plans to travel and visit your family and for you to be introduced and be acquainted with his own. So, who could it be? Was it Catherine about her baby or the new education laws? Orlo recommending a new philosophy book to you? Who? You saw the name on it and gasped.

“It’s George! George wrote to us!” you told Sonya, who only tilted her head.

You then ripped it open and smiled, your heart touched by the contents. From the corner, you saw Grigor come out to approach the table. He smiled, holding two glasses of wine, and giving one to you.

“Why thank you, darling!” you chirruped at him.

“No problem at all,” he answered.

A servant immediately arrived behind and held a platter of cheeses, slices of bread, and apples. His blue eyes went to the letter.

“What is that? Who is it?” he asked.

You smiled, handing him the papers.

“Why, it’s George!? Can’t you believe it? She’s in Paris of all places! Oh, that must be wonderful! And here…she said she met someone who she truly loves and who loves her! Oh, I’m so happy for her! We must write back and ask her more about this!” you squealed.

“Why- how good for her! I’m glad!” Grigor wished genuinely with a shrug and a relaxed smile.

Both of you held up your glasses of wine.

“Should we toast to her?” you asked.

Grigor shook his head.

“I have a better one. To what brought us together in the first place. Here, Y/N-to the alliance!”

“To the alliance!” you agreed, daintily clinking your glasses.

Both of you took a first sip.

“It won’t be too long before we return- so much will be different…” Grigor began.

“I’m just glad Marial is in prison…I’ve slept better at night since then…” you sighed.

He did frown briefly. He took a deep drink and set down his glass.

“Well…part of me is eager. Been worried sick over Peter.”

“But you always are, you silly shit!” you teased, setting your own glass down.

He smiled at the words. You thought there was never a more beautiful smile than that of Grigor Dymov when he was well and truly happy. Your heart would always burst with love for him at the sight.

His letters seem fine and happy though…he’s thrilled about the baby. Got a name picked out and everything!”

“What if we have a baby- will we be even ready for that?” you suggested.

So far, your courses were like clockwork and Grigor would spoil you with bedrest and vodka and embraces when the cramps tormented you. But that doesn’t mean the time would never come. In fact, with all the fucking you had been doing it was a pure miracle it hadn’t happened yet!

“I don’t know if we’ll ever be, Y/N…but what about life after the coup? Things will be so…so different. Peter’s not in charge as much. There’s a royal baby on the way. George is in France. Catherine’s changing all the laws to what she wants. Everything is upside down…” he muttered.

“But we can take it…” you assured him.

He clutched his hand onto yours in response and you used your other hand to rest it on his cheek. He relaxed into it, using a hand to touch yours.

“We can take anything as long as we’re together, darling,” he replied.

“Of course, we can, my dear husband…” you cooed.

"Oh, say that again!” he insisted.

You crawled on his lap, kissing his face- his freckles, his forehead, his cheekbones, his chin.

“Dear husband, dear husband, my Grigor, my darling…” you mumbled between the kisses.

“Fuck, you make me hard. Keep it up and I might have to have you on this table before dinner!” he confessed.

“Wait until after dinner!” you insisted with a joking slap on his arm.

“If Countess Dymova requests it, who am I to deny her that!” he gave in.

You giggled and paused. Both of you breathe deeply the warmth of each other and the closeness.

He kissed you with soft lips again, but there was a chasteness- a tenderness to how he cupped your cheek when it happened. You cuddled into his chest as the sun set and he placed an arm around you to draw circles on your back as the dog lay contentedly smiling on the floor with her pink tongue out.

You were happy. After such chaos you had been through- you were completely happy. Dinner was about to be served. You had a home in court and out. You had a precious pup. You had friends. And most of all, you had found a happy, faithful marriage. And a husband who you loved and who loved you.

And this time the wine did in fact not taste like shit.

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ladystrallan · 5 months

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New chapter of This Love!

Read chapter 9 (Back to December) here

#the great #the great hulu #georgina dymov #charity wakefield #grigor dymov #gwilym lee #the great season 3 #the great fanfic #grigor x georgina #g&g #historical fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #read on ao3 #taylor swift #back to december #this love #fucking lemoniest of lemon

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likesomekindofcheese · 2 years

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Promised Series, Part Eleven (The Great Arranged Marriage AU)

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Grigor Dymov

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of sex, use of guns, and some violence, and a major character gets injured. Some fluff and Hurt/Comfort and DRAMA

Chapter Summary: Grigor and Y/N arrive at the Dymova Manor and Vineyards. But Marial is on her way, ready for a showdown...

COMMENTS. AND REBLOGS AS WELL AS ASKS AND MESSAGES ABOUT THE FIC ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED

Previous Chapters: One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//Ten

Buy Me a Ko-Fi!

A03 Link

As you awoke late the next morning. Both of you were smiling and giggling over all sorts of things as you ate your breakfast. A few fellow guests rolled their eyes over their cups and plates, but neither of you cared. Then, dressed in your peasant clothes, you hopped inside to cuddle, kiss, and talk for the rest of the journey.

The carriage kept wheeling by. Both of you were smiling. Your ribs hurt from laughing so hard with Grigor recalling memories and chatting.

“So, you both ate it?!” you cried.

“Yes! And you should have seen Peter’s face hours later! We were both curled up with our stomachs hurting on the floor! That’s what you get when you’re 15 and stupid!” he recalled.

“Well once, I was with my friend, we were about six, and we both snuck into my mother’s closet to try on her dresses until she caught us with them on!” you recalled.

You reached the gates, and they opened. Both of you exhaled deeply as you saw that familiar home.

A young maid was sweeping at the front door. She looked up and the broom dropped from her hands onto the ground, she let out a loud gasp. She ran inside, forgetting the broom, and soon in a panicked hurry, lines of the servants and serfs outside. They got into their lines with big eyes and struggling to smooth their clothes. The housekeeper’s jaw was still dropped as she scurried to her own place at the center.

The carriage stopped before the front door. Grigor went out and then skipped his way to the front and helped you out.

“Here, my lady, take my arm,” he offered

“Grigor! How gentlemanly of you!” you replied.

“On occasion, I have been known to be a gentleman,” he boasted.

“Well, perhaps I should try and press my luck!” you retorted.

You accepted his arm with both hands curled around it demurely. You walked off the step onto the ground to face them. He turned to greet them, his free hand tipping off his hat.

“Hello everyone!” he chirruped.

“Master Dymov!” greeted the housekeeper. There was an echo of “Mousier Dymov, welcome!” among the staff as they bowed their heads.

Grigor cleared his throat and looked down towards you. It was comforting that those many familiar faces were smiling at you, eyes beaming.

“Everyone! I trust you are well acquainted with my wife already!” he announced.

He led you by the hand forward and they all bowed their heads respectfully again, keeping their smiles.

“Of course, we are,” said the housekeeper.

“How is the dog? Where’s Sonya?” you asked.

“She’s quite used to being the sole mistress of the manor now! Spoiled little thing!” The housekeeper joked.

As if on cue, little Sonya ran forward from the house letting out excited whines and barks. You leaned forward and picked her up, cuddling her as she licked your face eagerly in greeting. You laughed from how the little pink tongue tickled your nose.

The staff began to look at the carriage. One serf looked at Grigor with a tilted head.

“Mouseier Dymov, there’s no luggage!? And why are you dressed in peasant garb?”

“There are clothes here! We had to run from the palace- I’ll explain it later before dinner,” he said.

You bent down and released Sonya to the ground where she skipped around, sniffing and wagging her little tail.

“Would you like us to bring you both a change of clothes?” the housekeeper suggested.

Grigor grinned devilishly and then went over to you, scooping you into your arms as you let out a little laugh and smiled ear to ear.

“My wife and I have some catching up to do. And I’d like to test the sturdiness of the antique bed in the master bedroom,” he explained with a wink at her.

With a squeal from you, he ran through the house, passing the servants, with you still in his arms. He went up the stairs quickly and into the master bedroom. He kicked the door behind him and plopped you onto your feet before he began to embrace and kiss you, then he buried his face into your neck to pepper little pecks across it.

“A woman beautiful as you shouldn’t have an inch of clothing on her, it’s a crime,” He said, reaching his arms to undo the buttons behind your dress.

“You say that like it should be a law!” you teased, removing his coat off his shoulders.

“Remember who my friend is. Don’t tempt me more, Y/N,” he countered.

Once it had been only you and contained scenes of both peace and misery, and now as you shred each other’s brown clothes off each other onto the floor.

The next morning, you sighed happily as you yawned and stretched to the morning sunlight. Grigor was propped on his stomach. You turned around just to watch his lovely face and form.

His brow crossed and he let out a groan, signaling awakening. Eyes still closed he began to reach his hand out to tap the other side of the bed only for it to land on you. His eyes shot awake to see you.

“Oh…that’s new…” he muttered.

“Good morning, husband,” you greeted, kissing his cheek.

Just like yesterday, you ate your meals practically huddled together. He would give you part of what he had and him part of what you had. Sonya was on your lap, trying to reach to get bites directly on your plate.

“I missed you so much!” you cooed at the dog, scratching her ear.

You spoiled her with a large portion of leftover ham. Proud of herself, she hopped off you and onto the floor, prancing as she went to a corner to work on eating it.

“My turn,” Grigor said.

He placed you on his lap and was kissing you, both of you just overjoyed to be in each other’s company when there was a knock on the door. You opened it to a young male servant.

“There’s a visitor- he says he is family of Madame Dymova,” he announced.

You shot off of his lap. Both Grigor and you looked at each other. His eyebrows lowered, and he reached a hand up to calm you, clutching yours.

“It’s a male visitor, you have no reason to panic, Y/N,” he assured.

“Be with me…just to be careful…” you asked.

He nodded. He then strided forward as you followed.

You walked downstairs only to see your brother. His hair was windswept, his coat and boots dirty, and there were circles under his eyes. On his face, there were two distinguishable bruises and his knuckles had cuts on them. He gave you a smile.

You let out a gasp and ran up to him. You let him into a large hug.

“You’re alive! You’re alive!” you cheered.

“I am, Y/N, and you’re going to be alright,” he comforted.

“Well- huzzah then,” Grigor said quietly.

The three of you went into the parlor and sat down on the couches. You and Grigor close together and your brother on the opposite side. A servant was rung to offer a plate of sandwiches, water, and strong coffee. Even Sonya was running up to bark at him in greeting, begging to be petted on.

“What happened?” Grigor asked nervously.

“I confronted her. We fought. She got me good. I got her good. But not enough to kill either of us. Guards ran in from the Empress. Said she was passing by and heard a scuffle. She sent them in and tore us apart and she gave us a scolding- she detests violence.”

“So Marial is still alive…” you confirmed.

“Yes she is, but I burned the paper with the address- there’s no evidence where you are. She won’t be able to find you,” your brother said.

But not for forever you thought grimly.

He reached over and began to drink some coffee in a blue porcelain cup. Grigor himself took out a small flask, poured a bit of alcohol into his cup, and began to drink it.

“You may stay here; you will always find a sanctuary with us- you’re my fucking brother now, after all!” Grigor confirmed.

“Thank you- I can’t stay forever. I promised my wife I would return before it was time for her. I’ll stay by for a week, just so my sister can have some peace of mind. And…just in case Marial locates you both…” he said.

You looked outside. Birds were flying from tree to tree. Some snow had melted, as it was now getting to be late winter. The ground was either white or brown and the trees were mostly bare.

“Can we hunt in the forests around here?” you asked.

“Whenever we like, I have guns and grounds here for that,” Girgor said.

“And are there some targets? Or can we have some made?” you asked.

You turned your head to look at the men.

“Yes, that can be done,” Grigor assured.

You took your hands and folded them onto your lap.

“I need you both to teach me how to hunt. How to shoot a gun…” you said seriously.

Your brother choked on his coffee.

“What?”

“You heard me. Both of you. Teach me how to hunt. Teach me how to fire a gun. I’m not suggesting, I’m not hinting or even asking…I need to know how to shoot. How to kill.” You commanded.

Your brother scratched his head. Then he let out a sigh and nodded. Grigor set his coffee down and began to chew on a sandwich.

“Well…Sure thing! We can start this afternoon. We’ll go to the forest and practice with something small, easy- like a squirrel. I’ll show you myself how I load a rifle when I go to hunt, Y/N…will you join us?” he asked, turning to your brother.

He blinked and then nodded.

“Yes…. yes, I do…”

It was your second week back and so far, almost all your free hours were spent either hunting or shooting.

Just this morning, your brother said his goodbyes and began the journey home. He made sure to give you plenty of advice on how to aim. He was a bit hesitant, but you assured him that with this new, developing skill and your husband and servants constantly at your side, you would be safe. You would not be left alone with unwanted company.

One of the serfs, a skinny, short teenage girl named Olga, was helping you out. She flung discs made of clay into the air. You lifted the long, thin rifle and began to aim at them. You pulled the trigger.

FWOOM!

To your delight, you hit it. That was tricky. Only until yesterday were you finally hitting them. The disc shattered mid-air and the pieces rained onto the ground.

“I don’t think most ladies shoot guns or hunt, Madame Dymov,” Olga commented.

“Most ladies aren’t being threatened to be killed by their husband’s ex-lover,” you replied.

She shrugged.

“Huh, hadn’t thought of it that way…” she mused.

She ran over to the grounds to pick up the clay shards like a squirrel collecting nuts.

“I’m going over to the targets, should you need me- just be careful, I’m going to shoot at them,” you informed.

“Yes, Madame Dymov,” Olga replied sweetly.

There was a string of targets painted white with red circles getting smaller until the center. You made sure the servants kept Sonya strictly inside. If anyone was to reach out to you, even if it was your husband, they had to approach you from behind. With all this shooting you were intent on mastering, no innocent would be hurt. Only the guilty.

You lifted the gun and pointed at the first of the line of targets, squinting at the center. You fired. Then, reloading with a bunch of bullets from your pocket, you walked across to the next one, firing again. Keeping it up, despite the soreness of your arms, the muscles developing, you kept walking and firing at the targets. You only stopped once you had reached the end of the line.

Then you looked back, the smoke clearing, lowering your weapon.

A quarter of them had a bullet hole right where you aimed at the center. The timing was off, but you did it. You managed to do it- it was a small improvement. Well, that and the fact that you were able to shoot the clay discs. Any was better than none. It meant you would be ready.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You turned around to see your husband running towards you with a paper in his hand.

“What is it?” you asked.

He lifted up the paper. You saw it was an envelope with a pink wax seal.

“A letter from the Empress for you!” he announced.

“Oh shit! Let me see!” you insisted.

You reached for it, but he kept it high up. He smiled.

“Nope! You’ll have to jump for it!” he teased.

You kept jumping up, but with his tall height, he was able to keep the letter away from you easily. He even laughed a little.

“Nah-ah! Give me a kiss and I’ll give it to you!” he said.

Huffing, you reached forward, grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him down to you, kissing him right on the lips.

His eyes were open in surprise from the boldness of it, his hand voluntarily lowered. You ended it and grabbed it.

“You’re a brute,” you teased, admiring the wax seal.

“And you’re my dear,” he replied.

As you opened it, you read these words. You felt his hands over your shoulders, reading it too.

“Dear Y/N Dymov,

I am so dearly sorry. Please forgive me. These past few months mail coming into the palace has often been tossed and intercepted. Keeping myself, my claim to the throne, and my child alive has been occupying every minute of my time. I never received your letters since many on Peter’s side would toss and burn them at every chance, so I never got word from you. Then one day, a soldier of Peter’s confessed he had one from you saved. I asked him for it and read it.

I am glad that your dear Grigor wasn’t harmed as well as you. And as I am a merciful empress, I will make sure in the future, he will receive pardons for his activities with Peter and be safe, per your wish. Just if he remains no threat to my reign and claim as ruler.

If you have any more concerns, please reach out to me. There won’t be any more soldiers burning letters for war. Just ask, and I will gladly help you.

Sincerely,

Your friend and ruler,

Catherine.”

Grigor blinked. His hand opened and you gave him the letter to read for himself. Then he lowered it, his blue eyes tearing up a little.

“You…you wrote to the Empress…asking her…to spare me?” he asked.

“I wrote to Peter and asked him to keep you safe too,” you sighed.

You reached a hand to cup his face and he leaned into it. You swallowed.

“All I did here was worry for your safety…. I thought any minute you would die, and it tortured me…” you recalled.

He reached his arms around and hugged you, then kissed the top of your head.

“Thank you, Y/N…” he spoke sincerely.

“It never got to her.” You pointed out.

He let out a snort.

“Still! Not the fucking point!” he retorted.

You released the embrace. Then you went inside and at once wrote a response:

“Dear Empress,

I was glad to receive your letter. Your word, befitting our divine ruler, was like that from the angels.

But I must humbly ask for your help again. You will not like it, but you must be informed.

Marial is threatening to kill me to have Grigor for herself. She is being forced to marry to keep her family’s fortune. She gave Grigor an ultimatum- either have her or she would kill me.

She has killed before- Lady Svenska. Even bragged about it to him. She has taken a life and is willing to do so again-specifically, mine. And she won’t rest until I am dead.

We fled the palace safely and are staying in the Southern Dymova Manor.

I must ask for your protection from Marial, if possible. I know that our Empress of Russia is a kind, generous, beloved woman who will grant protection and assistance even for me, her humblest of subjects. At least, a little. Nevertheless, I need your help, Empress. Please help me. Please keep me safe. I am terrified for my life.

Please burn this letter after reading so she does not find it and locate me.

Your obedient servant and subject,

Y/N Dymov.”

You ordered a serf for it to be sent to the palace soon.

You paced around the house for the rest of the day. Conveniently, you found where the stairs leading to the roof were. Once you opened the door, you saw you could even walk around on the roof with a balcony overlooking the Dymov lands. It was not a bad spot for a picnic in the future, you noted.

For extra measure, that night at dinner, you did not use your sharpest meat knife. You brought it to your room in a drawer. That day forward, you always kept it strapped to your leg and bullets in your pocket. Then you asked for a rifle or pistol to be placed in every room of the manor. Just in case.

However, two weeks later, inevitably. It happened. Part of you hoped it never would.

And it began as a normal, if not peaceful day. You were sitting in the room with your beloved pianoforte trying a lovely minor sonata when you heard rapid footsteps across the hallway.

When you turned to the commotion, you saw Grigor at the doorway.

“Y/N! Y/N! Great fuck! We have to flee! Right fucking now!” he begged, his arms wide.

“What, what do you, uh, mean?” you asked.

A pit fell into your stomach. You knew what he meant. But you wanted him to say it.

“She’s here! Her! Marial! She’s outside the doors and she’s armed! Everyone’s rushing to lock and close the doors and windows!”

Despite the wobbliness of your legs, you stood up. You forced your breaths to be long despite your racing heart.

“Grigor…I’m not going to run from her,” you announced.

“What?”

Picking up your skirt, you hurried over to the corner where a rifle was prepared.

“I’m fighting back. And don’t stop me.” You ordered softly.

Before you went to the hallway, you paused and then looked at him.

“Should anything happen, I love you, Grigor. I love you more than I can say. And should I die, tell my family I love them. And I died fighting.”

Before your husband could protest, you ran. Past the panicking servants. You didn’t hear Grigor after you in footsteps or in voice.

You couldn’t live like this. Always running. Always afraid. Cowering in corners with false hope she would show mercy. No, you had to face her.

Attempting to calm yourself despite the lump in your stomach and the shaking in your hands, clutching the pistol as if it was a stuffed toy, you walked up the little flight of the stairs to the roof.

Quietly, you crept over to barely peer out of the balcony on top to the ground below.

You could even smell the vanilla of her perfume up there.

There Marial was. The top of her auburn head was giveaway enough. She was knocking on the door with one hand and waving a pistol with the other.

“Let me in! Let me in! Shit!” she insisted.

Madly she turned from the front door to the windows, eyes forward at them.

Good, you thought.

You squatted, one eye shut and the open one squinting to clear your vision, your aim.

“C’mon, Y/N, come out! What a fucking coward that bitch is! That fucking cunt, Y/N! I’ll kill you here!” she threatened.

You pulled the trigger.

FWOOM!

The bullet hit her skirt and she jumped, falling to the ground and the pistol skittering across the dirt.

“FUCK!” she yelped.

She looked up before you could duck and hide yourself.

“Y/N…you BITCH!” she yelled.

“Two can play at that game, Marial” you replied.

You reached in your pocket and quickly loaded the next bullet.

Before she could reach for it, you pulled the trigger again.

FWOOM! Her hand jumped, releasing the pistol. It fell a distance away from her. You used the time to load in a few more bullets. She tried to scramble, and you kept firing, Marial only niftily dodging the shots. But from how frantically she was jumping away, she was frightened.

Good, you noted again.

Quickly, you put another bullet into the gun and aimed it at her again. Your time with training had paid off. You could see her clearly.

You aimed it right into her heart and fired. Marial lurched one way but then let out a scream in pain.

“FUCK! My arm!”

You heard footsteps from behind and that voice you loved so much.

“Y/N! Y/N! Where are you? Where is my wife? Y/N!? What- holy shit, Y/N!” Grigor cried.

He pulled you close to him, his arms over your body as if to protect your vital organs. But not to restrain you from firing. He peered over to see Marial on the ground below. She held her arm, leaning over in pain and groaning. Then she turned her gaze up, her face turning white.

Without saying a single word, you aimed it at Marial and fired again. This time, it landed onto her leg. She let out another cry.

You felt Grigor’s heavy hands on you, but he was blinking, amazed. Marial reached for the gun and then quickly you shot into her other hand. She screamed again.

Then she finally paused, her injuries causing her to be unable to move. The gun was further away than she could reach and even if she could reach it, you doubted her ability to shoot at you with bullet holes through her hands.

She gazed up at you and you sat down at her. Her jaw lowered and she was unable to speak.

Keeping your glare at her steady, you raised your rifle, aiming at her heart.

Suddenly, there was a loud neigh of horses as soldiers on horseback arrived, surrounding the front yard. The surprise took you out of your aim and your finger left the trigger, not wanting to harm one of them. Right behind them was a carriage that rode up quickly along. It was there before you could even process what was going on.

“Everyone! Stop! By order of the Empress!” a loud voice announced from one soldier.

The carriage screeched to a halt. To your shock, out of the carriage was not only Orlo but also Empress Catherine herself. She got out and let out a gasp at Marial

“What is this? Are you hurt?”

“No, just having a nap on the ground! Of course, I’m fucking hurt!” she replied.

A soldier came by and swept Marial into his arms, but still holding onto her, restraining her. Orlo saw the pistol and ran up to it, he retrieved it and brought it to Catherine. Her pale face turned red, and she stepped forward, the bump of her pregnant belly aimed at Marial like that itself was a weapon.

“Have you threatened Y/N? What…what are you doing?” Catherine asked furiously.

You kept the gun up. Not sure what would happen. Not sure how badly she would be hurt. You couldn’t risk it.

Every head turned up to you. Orlo even adjusted his glasses and squinted at you high up.

“Holy shit!” he cried.

Marial leaned forward and began to yell, so hard, you could see the veins tightening at her neck/

“Grigor’s mine! He loves me!”

You heard your husband yell back from behind you.

“I fucking do not! I love Y/N! How many times do I have to tell you! And aren’t you already married by now?!? It’s done! For both of us! Go back to your husband!” Grigor protested.

He let go of his grip on you and ran forward to the balcony to face her from above.

“He’s a child! And you love me!”

“I don’t. I fucked you once years ago! Get. Over. It!” he spat back.

Marial let out a hiss, she tried to reach for the pistol but the soldier kept her away.

“I’ll kill you, Y/N!” she threatened.

You loaded another bullet and aimed the gun at her head, people ducked.

“Not if I kill you first.” You replied.

“EVERYONE STOP!” Catherine roared.

The soldier carried Marial to sit in the carriage. They began to dress her wounds with strips of cloth.

“Marial…I heard word from Y/N you were threatening her life. I hurried at once! I was going to ask you and her…but here…you already proved what was happening…” she said.

Orlo stepped forward. He handed the pistol to a soldier and then folded his hands in front of her. You could hear the seriousness in his voice all the way below.

“Marial, you are arrested by order of the Empress for the murder of Lady Svenska and for the threat of harm to Countess Dymov.”

“She shot at me! And got me!” Marial protested, attempting to wave a hand up at you.

Catherine looked up.

“Self Defense, Empress!” you protested.

Her lips were tight, but her eyes were soft.

“I see…but this will serve as a warning, Y/N.”

“Yes, Empress…” you agreed.

She then looked again at Marial.

“You are to be brought to the palace and once the physician sees to your wounds, you will be brought to trial. You won’t be able to breathe without a soldier watching you in the palace once you get there. Should you end up in prison, I’ll make sure it is decent.”

Marial’s jaw dropped and she blinked. The carriage door closed on her face. She was screaming protests and banging her fists on the window as it began driving away.

Finally, you let the gun drop from your arms. You felt dizzy. Turning around, you felt your own heart continue to race and felt your hands continue to shake uncontrollably.

“Oh God,” you voiced.

Your husband opened his arms and you accepted it.

“Grigor I…I did it…I can’t believe I did it…I…I almost killed someone-and I got her. I hurt her. I…I’m alive…I was…I was so scared…I thought I was going to die…” you voiced.

You half collapsed into his arms, and he met you there. You were crying a little and shaking and he still held onto you, embracing him like a koala and he embraced you in return. He rubbed your back.

“It’s alright, Y/N, you’re safe…you’re home, the empress is here, she’s gone, and you’re very safe and you’re with me…”

“I always feel safe with you, sweetheart…” you replied.

Both of you let out a huge sigh of relief. You were still embracing when there was an open door. Orlo had ran through, with the Empress right on his heels.

“Mouesier and Madame Dymov! What the fuck just happened?!” he cried.

“Come on downstairs, we’ll all have a drink and I’ll explain everything,” Grigor offered.

You reached over and grabbed his hand, and he squeezed it back. As all of you walked over to the parlor for drinks and to answer the numerous Imperial questions about the threat on your life, Grigor’s hand never left yours.

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