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reinekes-fox · 1 year

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@heliads

Finally was motivated to write sth more for the Grishaverse, hope you dont mind that I @ you!

At first, he thought that he was wearing his kefta. The dark red was so familiar after all. But it clung to his skin and he slowly realised that he wasn’t wearing his kefta after all but a blood-soaked nightgown. He moved his fingers, the cold biting into the exposed skin but he forced it back without a single thought. In an instant he felt everything around him: the broken bodies of the ones he trusted, a grave mistake, he felt their hearts beat weaker and weaker and walked up to one. The uniform of the first army was still recognisable and the woman screamed when he pulled her up. She saw him and grinned, a bloody tongue licking across bloody teeth.

„You will die, commander! We acquired that drug from your own countrymen...“ she laughed and it sounded horrible, fluids sloshing around in her lungs „Ravka will finally free itself from the curse you Grisha put on us. You won’t survive, we made sure of it!“ Even though she was talking about the future, right now he still felt fantastic so he looked her into the eyes, forcing the tiny blood vessels to explode one by one. She wanted to kill him, to see him die? She would see nothing during her own last breaths! He looked around again, but the destroyed camp was nearly vacant of life. Only a few dead Grisha, one that wouldn’t last any longer, did the rest manage to escape? He desperately hoped it, kneeling down besides the one who was dying. He felt the power in every fibre of his being and prayed to the saints. Healing had never been his strongest power, hearttending was where his true might laid and he only picked up the tailoring to alter his appearance. Just change it enough, darken his blond hair a bit and make his eyes brown instead of blue. Just enough so that most people only saw another hearttender, not that this didn’t scare people still, and not a Fjerdan one as well. He always hated looking like the enemy. Now he had seen that the enemy had been his fellow soldiers after all.

„Commander...“ the voice was quiet, wrecked with pain „They didn’t touch Petya.“ he smiled wordlessly and knitted back torn flesh, ruptured organs and broken bones. It felt as easy as breathing.

„No one except me touches Petya.“ he tried to keep his tone light.

„Did the others get away?“ The breathing of the Grisha was a bit steadier now.

„Yes, they were sneaking out to get that stupid cake. The one you baked... why do you even know our birthdays, commander?“ it seemed terribly inappropriate to talk about those light topics while they were both drenched in blood and surrounded by bodies. But what else could they talk about? The horrible betrayal that still lingered on his mind? No, he would snap if they did that.

„I like baking.“ he simply said. Baking was simple, it helped clear his mind and people where less afraid of him when he smelled like cookies. That was something he always tried to avoid: make other people afraid. So, he tried to make himself smaller, tailored his looks to appear non-threatening (he liked to think that it worked), remember birthdays and talk quietly and in a soft voice. Now all his efforts were for nothing he mused while pulling the slowly drying fabric away from his skin, it got cold and disgustingly sticky. „The soldiers,“ the Grisha looked at him, the one who just brought him back from the brink of death, with big eyes, „they gave you a dangerous drug the fjerdans use. They probably hoped the dose would kill you instantly...“

He appeared uninjured but going by the bloody holes in his clothing, and the implication that he had been able to just shrug off bullet wounds, made him shudder. Suddenly the power didn’t feel as comforting but more like a seductive grin in front of his face while he felt the tip of a knife against his back. It would devour him.

He stumbled when he got up.

„You have to go. Run away from me as far as you can. Take Petya.“

„But Petya is your own horse!“ the Grisha said, his eyes wide with fear, his heart beating too fast. But he turned around and ran, away from the danger his own commander would soon become.

He brushed his hair back with a sigh, a part of him wanting to go across the border and kill every Fjerdan he saw. A neigh made him stop and instead he walked to the stables. The draft horse looked at him with flinching ears, it’s mighty hooves setting on the ground surprisingly gently and he suddendly felt exhausted, leaning against the tall horse. Soon he felt the soft head nudging him to move again but he shut his eyes and just concentrated on the calming heartbeat of the mighty animal.

„Am I going to die, Petya?“ he still didn’t feel like it, but he knew enough about how drugs worked. If he felt like he could conquer the world now, how would he feel later? His voice wavered and he slowly climbed on Petya, brushing the fine hair. It moved slowly, as if there was no hurry at all and he saw what he had done. Not one soldier of the first army in the camp had managed to escape his wrath.

When he began to shiver, he tried to chase Petya away, afraid of hurting his loyal steed. But it was his horse after all, it was just as stubborn as him and sometimes, when he regained enough focus he felt its calming presence.

He wasn’t sure when he regained enough sense to try and travel back to the little Palace. The journey was done in the cover of the night, he had heard horrific stories about what happened to the Grisha. He also heard horrific stories about what the darkling was doing. Sleep eluded him, whenever he closed his eyes he felt paranoid, seeing traitors behind every shadow. One time he thought he felt a heartbeat like he used to, but it was just a bird that flew away once he got to close. His eyes followed it and then he was flying through the air, landing on the gravel and stumbling up, still dazed but ready to fight! But there was no enemie and he rushed to Petyas side, the horse looking at him in silent pain and he nearly screamed and cursed every saint and Djell too, trying to calm the doomed animal down.

The small science that he thought had abandoned him, trying to change his damn blue eyes hadn’t worked and when he ran into a peasant, he should have felt long ago he nearly got a heart attack, stirred again. They felt different, like something he once used to know and it came back changed but still recognisable. He felt Petyas heartbeat through his fingertips, in his bones, felt the broken bone, commanding them to repair and they listened to him, sharp pieces molding back together… and gasped pulling his hand away.

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #grisha oc

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beeapocalypse · 2 years

Photo

^ wtf is thaat

#scribbles #grisha oc #i am just drawing images rn. idk man

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roselibrary · 1 year

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𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

The Darkling x OC Brekker/Rietveld (Grisha Character)

Trigger Warnings: none

Summary: the generals night sky was what they called her. She made his world glow and in doing so he promised her anything she wished.

Requests are open!

Kaz Brekker often wondered if his sister missed him. He wondered if she ever reminisced about her time with them before she went away. Before she became Grisha. His memory is faint, but he remembers well enough the bright grin, kind eyes that shone their brightest in the dark, the long dresses she favoured and the tight corsets that he only now understands were used as a means of attracting attention. His sister had adored that. Adored the attention her gift gave her. She shone like the stars she commanded flying fast and free and blinked out of sight in his mind just as they did each night. His sister was a shooting star one that had long since left his atmosphere with no intention of returning.

Kaz Brekker remembered the day they came. The red keftas and the blue all stood fiercely in front of his sister who held her otherworldly glow. Then he came, tall, dark, and fierce; a black kefta that swirled about him just as his shadows did. He brought forth the darkness and Kaz watched as his sister glowed; he watched as the stars filled the man's shadows and encircled them both like they, too, were constellations in the sky. Kaz knew, as he hid behind barrels with his brother, that their lives would never be the same again. His sister had always wanted more and as he saw the adoration, greed and, what he would soon come to understand as, lust take hold of the one they called the Darkling he knew his sister would fly away. She, too, had the same look reflected in her own gaze; two souls connected as one that fateful day on a long-forgotten farm. The darkness embraced the stars and in doing so intertwined two souls who would never be parted.

Kaz remembers the shock in his eyes when the darkness faded, and the sun reigned supreme once more. He saw those in red turn swiftly in his direction taking hold of himself and his brother. He watched as his sister's eyes glimmered with something akin to regret and grief before it was gone replaced with that dazzling glow and ethereal smile as she knelt before Kaz.

“Sweet brother, I must leave now. You understand, don’t you? I have to go and help those who are like me but do not worry I will visit,” poor sweet Kaz could not tell how brittle his saint-like sister's smile truly was, “Jordie will look after you, won't you?” his sister turned her head to his elder brother whom was stock still withholding tears he knew couldn’t fall; lest his younger brother realise the true magnitude of this goodbye. Unable to speak the eldest of the two boys simply nodded his head once and swallowed the lump in his throat. The sister's smile faltered for a moment and a degree of hesitancy took up on her visage - at least it did until the hand of a general grasped her own and the assuredness returned tenfold. Once more turning her gaze to her younger brother she smiled sweetly and embraced him for a final time.

A gentle kiss to his forehead and a whispered promise gone on the wind was the last Kaz Brekker felt of his sister before she was swept away in a swirl of black. Ushered into a carriage and lost in the gaze of a man whose eyes were as dark as the night sky, never to be seen again.

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jahayla-parker · 8 months

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King of My Heart : Nikolai Lantsov x Reader Series

Description: Princess Y/n and Nikolai have known each other since they were little as their families would visit each other every summer. However, Y/n and Nikolai seemingly always hated each other. To make matters more complicated, their parents arranged for them to marry. Will they be able to get along enough to maintain a political marriage, will they truly fall for each other, or will their hatred continue to tear each other apart until there’s nothing but destruction?

Warnings: angst, hurt-comfort, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, pining, crush(es), flirting, dancing, arguments, fighting, insults/bullying, attitude, typical Grishaverse topics and themes, kissing and other romantic behaviors and content, misunderstandings, bantering, etc.

Notes: This is an ONGOING series. When a new part is scheduled for release/to be posted, I’ll update this masterlist with those details. I’m hoping to keep updating it frequently and routinely, but please bear with me if that’s not always 100% the case!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Thoughts on if I should continue?

Taglist: @iambored24601 @nghtwngs @dcmaniac101 @naushtheaspiringauthor @larathebee @hereiamhereigo @lareinaa007 @halfofagayallofaqueer @el-de-phi @kiroshki @caspianobsessed @hauntedenthusiasttragedy @adalia-jaycee @ell0ra-br3kk3r @wonderland2425 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @kateswone @liter4ti @torresbarnes @mischiefmanaged71 @casualladyinternet @im-here-sometimes @moonflowersandsparkles @h-l-vlovesvintage @dinonuggiessss @bubybubsters @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @opheliaofficial07

Nikolai Lantsov Navigation

Grishaverse Navigation

Book Boyfriends Navigation

My Main Masterlist (All My Works) Navigation

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dhampiravidi · 4 months

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the story of darth tenebrous & his chase

Those eyes--

She'd first seen them the day her Master had been killed, the last week she'd been a Padawan. Despite the Jedi Council knowing that the planet of Fjerda was hostile towards Grisha like themselves, they sent their people to aid the Republic-friendly faction against invading Confederates. Jayn saw a Fjerdan, only a few years older than herself, shoot her Master clean through the chest when the woman tried to help the fallen soldier up. Full of sudden rage, Jayn screamed, and a wave of power kicked the soldier yards over. She sobbed, then went to check on her friend, her de facto mother and sister. Just as she looked up to reassess the situation, she noticed the oncoming droids--

And then a dark blur threw itself between her and the droids. It was illuminated by a colored glow, then by the blasts fired. But the blur simply kept moving, until the blaster bolts deflected and destroyed all of the incoming droids. Only when the blur stopped did Jayn see that it was a person, one who gave her a quiet, dark stare before he ran off. Aleksander Morozov, the hero of Fjerda, saved my life.

That was years ago. Since then, Jayn had ascended to the rank of Master, while on the path to becoming a Jedi Shadow. She'd added another blue lightsaber to her repertoire, and she had never taken on a Padawan, aside from volunteering to lead combat training on occasion. She felt lonely sometimes, and she had a few escorts she kept visiting against her better judgment (attachment was forbidden, not sex, after all), but she knew she was fighting for peace. According to the Jedi, that was all she needed to be satisfied. And yet, she was not. The Senate grew more disjointed by the second, Fjerda had joined the Confederacy, and the Confederacy kept upgrading their droids faster than the Republic could learn to counter them with regular soldiers.

The whole time, the Jedi stayed quiet unless directed by the Senate, and it ate at her. She knew that her mother had been killed for being Grisha, because her father had been the one to bring her to the Temple. We aren't doing enough.

The night of the first time she thought that, she dreamed of those dark eyes again. They might be on a glowing advertisement, or on the face of a Wookie, or even in the sky like stars, but they kept appearing, just before she awakened.

Ravka. A group of children had been taken hostage by a gang that had had increased conflicts with the local police. Negotiations were going poorly, so Jayn would go and deal with things herself.

She was just entering the planet's atmosphere, sitting calmly in her starfighter when she felt something strange in the Force.

@starlsssankt

#jlw: thread #star wars au #sith!aleksander #not me screaming #jedi!jayn #my actual jedi OC is so salty but shhh #thinking that a synonym for Force sensitive is Grisha?#hope this is OK!

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simpingcorner · 1 year

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Daughter of the Shadows

Word Count: ~1.3k Warnings: mild violence (stabbing, mentions of gunshots, physical fighting), blood, alcohol, gambling,mention of human tr*****, Pekka Rollins,not proofread, let me know if I forgot something.

Author's Note: First chapter to my Grishaverse fanfic. A reminder this is insipred by my SoC DR so it’ll follow both the books and the show plotlines, there will be changes to the canon characters and their storylines, it’s also a Kaz Brekker x OC. | English isn’t my first language so please bear with me and tell me if there’s something wrong. I hope you like it.

all rights to leigh bardugo, i only owny liith and her backstory (other ocs will be introduced later)

Read part 2 here - Ch.3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6

CHAPTER 1

LILITH

The starless night sky, the waves breaking on the rocks, the muffled sounds coming from the city, the briny autumn air surrounded her, it happened before she could even think of enjoying the moment a voice broke the night silence, the girl jumped to her feet, knives drawn, eyes locked on the darkness in front of her as her legs moved independently, silent movements, invisible to the inexperienced eyes allowed her to move closer to the noise source, as she’d expected a crowd had formed on the pier of the fourth harbour. Their guns reflected the dim street lamps’ light, red rubies shone under the moonlight, “This wasn’t the deal.” said a merchant’s voice, “The deal was you’d bring me fresh meat and I’d set you free.” Pekka Rollins’ hoarse voice echoed in her ears, she watched and studied the scene in front of her, hidden by the shadows, disgusted at the ideas of even more lives ruined by Pekka Rollins.

The smell of blood came before she could even realize what was going on, the pier’s shadows hid her making her even more dangerous than in the daylight, her knives handles now an extension to her hands, her leather gloves blood stained, her legs silents and fast followed a now too familiar pattern, the men surrounded her, guns at her head ready to fire, the girl’s eyes studied the scene as in a book, reviewing every possible outcome, she was surrounded, the men much bigger than her, she gripped the handles of her knives, the material seemed to heat up under the pressure, the lights of the street lamps trembled ready to go out at any given moment, the salty air now corrupted by the smell of blood and gunpowder. “I don’t want to kill you Mrak.” Said the merchant stopping in front of the brunette, a grin forming on his face studying her. “I wish I could say the same.” The girl replied wiping blood from her cheek with the back of her hand, her eyes full of anger, hatred, revenge, but her face was impassive, the scar on her righ cheek illuminated by the lamp post, her lips and jaw tight, her feet and hands ready to attack or defend, the faded tattoo of Emerald Palace was still too visible on her left forearm. “I thought you’d be happy to hear another slaver dead.” The man continued staring at her, “Wasn’t it one of them who brought you here? Who ruined your life?” the brunette knew if she’d attacked the rest of the Dime Lions would open fire to save their leader, “My life was over before I even got to Ketterdam.” she said closing her fists and inhaling before attacking, their moves were draw in her brain like the project of a house on paper, predictable and obvious, during each fight the Dime Lions’d forgot they had guns in their hands, finding themselves fighting hand to hand with their rivals.

The girl’s eyes became watery, a sudden burning sensation invaded her right forearm, the gray sleeve darkened, soaked in blood, but before she could assimilate what happened, the dagger disappeared from her hand finding a new home in the skull of one of the men surrounding her, some had fled, others were on the ground gasping for air or passed out. Her eyes found Pekka Rollins’, her face covered in blood, her left hand gripping her right arm, “Next time I won’t let you free.” said the man turning on his heels and disappearing into the shadows of the pier, the girl inhaled trying not to think about the pain in her arm, the burning had given way to cold and numbness, the brunette put her knives back in their places before walking back towards the Barrel.

Ketterdam was the place to go if you wanted to disappear, a city run by criminals, thieves, crooks, murderers; a city where authorities were nearly as corrupted, if not more, than the citizens; tourists from all over the world came to live without rules, to enjoy the freedom of a city without laws, to distract themselves from the problems of their daily lives, with their money, clean clothes, hot food on the table, a roof over their heads, a warm comfortable bed to sleep in after a tiring day, hot water always at the ready for a relaxing bath; the more fortunate citizens, the merchants, the Council members, the owners of the most famous clubs in the city lived in safe, warm, private houses; all the others, on the contrary, lived from day to day, hoping and praying to the Saints that they’d have enough to be able to afford a common room, a hot meal, or to be able to repay their debts.

The smell of the Barrel invaded her nostrils as she went from roof to roof trying not to be seen, the window to his office was open, a sign that he was waiting for Inej, the girl knew she shoulnd’t have gone in but with her arm injured she wouldn’t be able to open her bedroom window, and entering the front door was out the question. She climbed over to the window and nimbly entered the room, the inexperienced ear would never notice the air shift caused by the girl, but Kaz Brekker wasn’t inexperienced, not when it came to his investments. “I will not do business with a criminal.” The unknown voice filled the room, forcing her to hide in the shadows, her steps were silent, her breath inaudible, “You will find no honest man in Ketterdam.” Kaz replied before dismissing the man and closing the door behind him, “You can come out.” he simply said going back to studying the papers on the desk, the girl headed to the door, her arm hidden behind her back, her face covered in blood, her steps trembling but still too silent and proud, she barely got to reach the doorknob that his cane stopped her, the girl’s eyes fixed on the door, her hand firm on the doorknob, “What do you have for me?” the boy said as he sat down at his desk, the cane resting on his knee in of him staring at her, the crow’s eyes on the handle seemed to study her. “Pekka Rollins has bought other kids.” The boy’s face was stern, unreadable, fixed on the brunette in front of him, “He killed the slaver at Fourth Harbour.” the girl explained. “Okay.” His voice was hollow, the voice of someone who had decided to turn off their emotions, the same voice used by the girl.

The cut on her forearm was less serious than she had imagined, the help of a healer would have fastened the recovery but she didn’t have the money nor the time to find one, she tightened the bandage on the wound and left her room heading towards the bar counter, “Lilith, came to bring me luck?” Jesper’s cheery voice woke her up from the trance she was in, the Zemeni boy motioned for her to sit next to him at the poker table.

The Crow Club was full of tourists and non, whoever was in the Barrel and wanted to tempt fate was there, the girl noticed Rotty and Specht busy gambling away the last few coins they had left, Big Bolliger greeted her from the door before kicking out yet another cheater, Anika stared at her from the counter, while Jesper looked at her with a smile, letting her slip in next to him. “SO how much did you lose?” The girl asked as she sat down and studied the table, “Your lack of confidence hurts me Lilith.” said Jesper betting the rest of his Kruge on the upcoming hand, “Just saying if you don’t pay your debts, Per Haskell won’t kick out only you, and I really like my room.” explained the girl pulling out her daggers and cleaning them, she could feel his gaze on her, he was studying her, the bandage on her harm, a bandage that wasn’t there just a few minutes before, but as soon as she looked up he was gone, the office door closed at the top of the stairs.

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moonlightgrisha · 1 year

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A dance of shadows

Ch. 2 You meet the Black General again, among the chattering of the ball, but he has is mind set on something else. [Masterlist] Previous - Next

He's here.

This is not the first social engagement you have attended since your arrival at the Grand Palace. There's been quite a few, actually, as your distant royal relatives parade you searching for the best match. You are probably being a disappointment, because you spend your time gossiping with other girls, drinking far too much champagne and stomping on the feet of your suitors.

He's the first Grisha you see attending one of these events. He must abide by the rules of the court too and show himself at the Grand Palace, sometimes.

The tsarina introduces you, although he can't possibly be a suitor of sorts. You know a thing or two about Grisha: this man has definitely been living longer than any other in the room and cannot be interested.

He doesn't take your hand, just respectfully bows his head, and suddenly the two of you are alone in the crowd, with nothing to say.

You have something to say, actually. It would be so easy, to just speak up and say: "I can call upon moonlight, take me with you". But your tongue is tied, and when it loosens, you say the stupidest thing in the world.

"Do you dance?"

He barely smiles, seemingly amused. "Not if I can help it".

And now that you have made a fool of yourself, you hide your face in your glass of wine. You need a refill.

"Although I've heard you are quite the dancer", he adds, and you almost choke on your wine.

"Don't believe everything you hear" you stutter. "Or you'll end up with a broken foot".

That's just small talk, and it's making you uncomfortable. You shouldn't be standing next to him, you shouldn't be making jokes at him, you shouldn't be talking to him at all.

And he shouldn't be talking to you. You are pretty sure he's just playing the politics game, so you bow, ready to take your leave, when he casually leans forward and whispers:

"Who are you?"

"You heard the tsarina", you answer, not very politely. "She just introduced us".

His glare widens. He seems to contemplate all the lies you dress yourself with. "But we met before", he continues. "Haven't we?"

"You mistake me for som--"

"Don't lie to me, milady".

You turn red with rage, and get bold. "How dare you--"

"I can't keep myself from wondering what you were really doing on top of that hill above the Little Palace, at the end of night", he keeps talking, undisturbed. He has piercing eyes, and you could get lost in his glare if he weren't what he is. "It's the old story of the rebellious noblewoman? Running from an unwanted fate, perhaps?"

You can't help it. "Or running towards it", you mumble.

Someone comes to your rescue. They see a lady in distress and they just can't resist. A gentleman you've never seen before, never heard of, comes over to ask you to dance.

You turn to your interrogator with a small, triumphant smile. He's the picture of formality, now, but this time, when he bows, he takes your hand. You are wearing gloves, but you feel...

Something is awfully right, or awfully wrong. It has to do with his grasp, his eyes, the evening shadows lingering at the golden windows of the Grand Palace and, damn you, it's a full moon tonight. The Darkling looks at you and now he's smiling, and you don't know who's winning anymore.

You go on dancing, but when you spin around, he's gone.

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 5 months

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Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @ethereal-maia @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly

If anybody else wants to be added let me know :)

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's ptsd references and responses, murder, surgery (suture), blood and gore, violence, homelessness/rough sleeping, death, and implied sa (not explicit).

Chapter 16 - Aimee

Aimee had been at the Tulip Mill for 263 days. She had not been in the shelter for even one day. She had been hiding in the dark corners of Ketterdam for almost two days.

She hadn’t had a chance to change into other clothes before Maya dragged her from the shelter, and crouched uncomfortably in her pale orange silks and an old knitted jumper Maya had stolen and shoved quickly over her to try to keep her from the cold. Aimee didn’t understand. Maya had been so angry, Aimee had little marks on her wrist where she’d gripped her. But then she stole her a jumper.

Aimee wasn’t sure where she’d got it. Maya had made them promise to stay still and stay quiet in an alley in the Barrel before she vanished for about an hour. Princess Aimee could have formulated a plan, could have taken the opportunity to run and find her knight. To get out before she was stuck with a new monster. But Aimee was cold and frightened. She may have been Kerch, but it would buy her little favour in a city she didn’t know dressed in the silks of a girl from the Mill. Maybe they would drag her straight back - surely if Yen was gone another monster had taken up the ugly mantle. And there were other things to think about too. Like Kiada.

Kiada hadn’t spoken in 31 hours. Aimee counted them. When Maya had left them in the alley (1 and a half hours), the Zemeni girl had blinked, sat down, hugged her knees, closed her eyes. Aimee had watched her in stunned silence, no idea what to do to break her from her trance. Maya had returned at 2 1/2 hours and pressed the jumper into Aimee’s arms.

“It’s going to be cold tonight,” she said, as if it weren’t already cold, “This was the best I could get you,”

Aimee had said nothing.

“It’s going to be okay,” Maya whispered, “I promise,”

When Kiada did not move to Maya’s gentle asking, she took her hand and coaxed her to her feet. Aimee thought pain might have briefly flashed across the Fjerdan’s features, but it vanished so quickly she could have imagined it. Kiada let Maya lead her onwards as though she’d barely noticed they were walking. There was nothing else for Aimee to do. She followed.

She was regretting that now.

Maya had found them somewhere to hide in the dark, in a burnt out corner under a bridge, and then revealed that she’d also stolen a surgical needle and black thread. Aimee and Kiada had sat against the wall, watching as Maya removed her shirt from beneath her vest, so her arms and the bloody wound were exposed. She threaded the needle with deft agility, then dug it quickly into her flesh - Aimee supposed so she wouldn’t have time to think about it. It was nothing any of them hadn’t seen before, Aimee suspected both Maya and Kiada had done it themselves at least twice, but it still made Aimee wince to see it. She’d never done it herself - an older girl would always seem to find their way to her when she needed it done - and when her own cuts had been sewn she’d averted her eyes from the process, usually biting into a piece of ripped fabric the girls would give her. Maya clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, but she made no sound. Aimee stared, fixated, at the blood and the throbbing and the shimmer of the needle. Kiada looked blankly at the air, as though she could not see anything at all. 3 hours.

When Maya was finished, she wrapped the needle in her torn, bloody shirt and threw it into the canal. Aimee’s head hurt. Kiada leant against the wall, eyes flickering like she might be asleep.

By hour 10, Maya was angry again. By hour 12 she was crying - she thought that Aimee and Kiada were asleep. Kiada might have been, but Aimee wasn’t sure. By hour 15, Maya had seen Aimee stir and wanted to check if she was okay. She found some strip of fabric Aimee barely registered the shape of and wrapped it over the younger girl’s shoulders. Even though Aimee didn’t think she was safe, she knew that she was cold and tired and confused, and so she let Maya hold her through the makeshift blanket and whisper soft things as she closed her eyes. She didn’t sleep for long; when she did her dreams swam with her princess and her knight. But it was wrong. Off they went on their daring adventures, and everything was normal, then it all came to a sudden stop and a dark drop and Aimee awoke with cold sweat burning on her forehead.

She sat up slowly, breaths shaking, the world coming slowly into focus. Kiada was curled over herself, face shielded from the very beginnings of daylight, and Maya sat a little beyond her.

“What time is it?” Aimee had whispered, as though speaking any louder would be akin to breaking something.

“A little after 5 bells,” murmured Maya, “Try to stay rested if you can. We have a lot to do,”

“Maya what’s going on?”

“Be quiet,”

Maya got to her feet and brushed off her trousers. Her arms were bare since she’d shed her shirt and left her torso only covered by a knitted vest, and Aimee could see the thick black stitches near her collar bone. She shivered.

Maya was erratic - even more so than she’d been last night. Aimee tried to entertain thoughts of a plan, of an exit, of a way back to the shelter. But she was coming up short. She didn’t really know where the shelter was, or where they were now for that matter, and she couldn’t think of any way of safely bringing Kiada with her. She’d tried to get the girl’s attention and she’d flinched away, arms thrown over her ears as she flung her head deeper into her lap.

“We need to move,” said Maya, “I have a little money, we might be able to find somewhere real to stay,”

Aimee didn’t ask why that hadn’t been an option last night. She wondered if Maya had stolen the money, or if it was from the man who she’d said paid her for information. Aimee hadn’t understood everything she’d heard in the shelter, but she was piecing it together. She climbed slowly to her feet, the air cold on her half-bare legs as the makeshift blanket fell away. Her skin prickled and she rubbed her hands along the sleeves of her jumper. Kiada hadn’t moved.

Maya seemed to lean forward to place a hand on the Zemeni girl’s shoulder, then think better of it and pull away.

“Kiada? Come on, we have to go,”

Kiada blinked.

“Kiada,”

Aimee tensed.

“Kiada,” demanded Maya again

When there was still no response, Maya’s questionable patience snapped. She was shouting again and Aimee felt her feet anchor in place as though they weighed a thousand pounds. Maya yelled something that turned to buzzing in Aimee’s ears, and suddenly she’d grabbed Kiada by the hair and forced her closer. Kiada cried out in pain as her braids were almost ripped from her scalp, thrashing to try and break free of Maya’s grasp.

Princess Aimee would do something. She would help. She was strong.

On Day 126 at the Tulip Mill, Aimee had witnessed her first death. She’d lost before, grieved and mourned; but she had not seen the moment itself until Peony, a scrap of a 15-year-old you wouldn’t have thought was older than Aimee, had released a near-painfully loud screech of a scream from the room next door. When there was no rushing of footsteps along the hallway after a minute had passed, Aimee summoned enough courage to creep out of her room and slip inside the next. Peony had stood in the centre of the room, staring blankly at her blood-soaked hands. The man on the floor was shaking violently.

Aimee had later learned that the man had scared Peony so badly that she’d screamed and plunged a knife straight through his stomach. No-one knew more detail than that. No-one knew where Peony had got the dagger. There were ceaseless whispered rumours, passed between walls and partly open doorways.

It was his knife, she’d heard one girl guess, brought it with him so he could gut her when he was done. Can’t blame her for getting in first.

She kept it in her mattress, and was planning on killing Yen with it.

She’d killed clients before; this was just the first time she got caught.

She was deranged.

He was deranged.

He wanted to slice her into neat little pieces and rearrange her like a jigsaw puzzle.

But that all came later. In that moment, on day 126, two girls had locked eyes over a nearly dead body. The man’s blood had gurgled and it made Aimee feel sick, but she could not draw away. Peony sighed, when he died, as if she were glad it was finally over. She looked at Aimee, her eyes feverish and wild and frightened - and protective.

“Hide,” she’d whispered, and Aimee had.

She’d bolted into her room and sat with her back against the closed door; listening. She heard footsteps and shouting and someone screaming again. But she did not leave her room. She heard new voices, authoritative voices she realised with a harsh crack must be Stadwatch. That they would come here, would arrest Peony but not Yen, that they would see everything that happened in this building and not blink an eye until they took one of those poor, pretty girls away killed a tiny little something inside of Aimee. That, she thought looking back on it, was the second death she witnessed.

From her window, Aimee had watched them drag Peony away. And for a second, a barely imperceptible movement as the girl looked up at the Mill, Aimee thought their eyes might have locked again.

The older girls said Peony would swing. No-one ever confirmed it.

Maya dropped Kiada’s hair and let her fall against the pavement. Aimee did not want to hide. She wanted to be brave and strong and she wanted to be able to save herself. She wanted to be able to rescue Kiada. She wanted her body to be as strong as her mind, but it was not. She wanted her actions to be as fierce as her will but they weren’t. More than anything, she wanted to go home. She couldn’t.

Princess Aimee would intervene. She would protect Kiada, find a way to fight the monster with her mind. She was strong. She was fierce. She could argue; stand up for her beliefs. She could. She could. She would.

Aimee opened her mouth, but her voice did not exist.

#Maya Olsen oc #no beta read #grishaverse #six of crows #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #kanej #matthias helvar #kanej fic #six of crows fic #soc fic #fan fic writing #no beta we die like men #grisha

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reinekes-fox · 2 years

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Blizzard

@heliads

How is that my first post about this books?!

This is set sometime between the Fjerdan kidnapping Grisha and Ravka finding a cure, for ultimate drama. It was a while since I read the books since I dont have them with me.

Zoya had lost many comrades and even more friends. Every time she swore to herself to not let it happen again, to become stronger and maybe one day it wouldn’t hurt anymore. But from all the people she knew she had never thought about losing Aaron, the squaller who was so similar to her. At first, they hated each other, but after a while hey became friends and after a few real fights on the frontlines and one journey through the Unsea they became best friends. He knew of her secret, she knew his. His amplifier was just a fake. Big fox teeth, normal bones and a ton of confidence, nothing more.

The message that he went missing on the Fjerdan front was worrying. Sometimes he just did that, he always come back and he always had a good reason. But this time it was different, the giant snow storm was his doing and it was far stronger than everything he had ever been able to do. With the information Zoya got from those damn kerch thieves and Nina she feared the worse. Still, she put on a brave face for Genya, she tried it as well. The lies they kept telling themselves. That they could save him, Nina survived it too. That they could somehow get out of this with a happy end. Zoya knew it was foolish, but she couldnt bear to bring down the hopes of the others.

When they finally found him, she was glad that Genya would never see him like that. She knew what Jurda Parem made out of the Grisha: desperate beings that only craved one thing. Somehow Aaron had managed to keep something else despite the thirst for the deadly drug: hate.

“I knew you would abandon me, Zoya!” he shouted, his voice carried by his wind. She had never heard him like that, she couldn’t imagine him even capable of sounding like that. She didn’t flinch when he looked at her like she was his worst enemy, but she would see his face in her nightmares and his words would haunt her. A part of her wanted to burn all of Fjerda to the ground for doing this to a dear friend, turning normal and good people into these horrible things. Nina looked at her, her face full of pity and Zoya wanted to hit her. She didn’t need pity, it didn’t help with anything. The winds were strong, pulling at her, trying to tear her apart and she mustered all her strength to just keep standing. This was his element now, not hers. He was hovering and the temperatures were dropping quickly. They didn’t have much time. Snow storms had always been his special talent, but he was entirely useless on a real ship, getting seasick as soon as he stepped on one. She closed her eyes at those fond memories, prayed too all Saints to take pity on his soul. Maybe pity did something for the dead after all.

“Do it, Nina.” Her voice was strong, not shaking and she looked at her old comrade. The fox teeth that he had been so proud off, false amplifier or not they were pretty, were his downfall. Ninas power made them alive once more and they dug into his throat. The wind immediately died down, the unnatural cold temperatures stopped and she was at his side where he fell into the snow. His eyes were unfocused and he didn’t even try to stop the bleeding. Instead, his hands were trying to grab something. She closed her eyes, forcing the tears back, when she realized that even in his last moments all he cared about was the Jurda Parem. She stood up abruptly, Nina looking at her worried but she looked as unfazed as always.

“Make him look like he used to be!” her voice was sharp “Genya will want to say goodbye to him. She shouldn’t see him like this.” No one should remember him like that, as a slave to this dreadful drug. In her mind she was already back in her secret garden, wondering what to plant for him. He never told her his favourite flower and she wondered if he had known that himself. Romantic idiot probably liked her own and Genyas favourite flowers the best and now she couldn’t stop the tears from running down her stony face.

#grishaverse #grisha oc #leigh bardugo #genya safin #zoya nazyalensky #grishaverse spoilers

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gingaswag · 8 months

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uh pony-ified my ocs what about it

#my art #ocs #they're so horse #btw grisha/seabreeze is a changeling hybrid!

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cookies-and-music · 3 months

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Greed They both suck. At least they found eachother.

Implied violence.

Anya was an orphan, raised in a traveling company. As a child, lacking any talent, she collected offerings from the audience and learned to pickpocket.

When she was 12, a fortune teller joined the company, elegant in appearance, with a face that maintained austere beauty. She posed as a grand lady, teaching Anya to walk and move with lightness, to eat with refinement and to smile with grace.

Anya observed the noblewomen of the cities, with their extravagant dresses, eccentric hats, and sparkling jewels, and thought that such things would suit her better. Meanwhile, she ate chunks of stale bread.

Anya learned to play and sing, starting her own performances and making her own money.

At the age of 14, Anya asked the fortune teller to read her future. The fortune teller had taken a candle and placed it between them. Anya watched the flame move between them, drawn first to one side and then the other.

"You will be rich, as you desire," She assured her. "You will be surrounded by splendor and have much power, but for every day you spend happy, twice as many sad days will follow."

Anya stopped listening when she mentioned power. Happiness meant little to her. In the end, it was a relative concept, different for everyone; for her, happiness would be wealth.

"How do I obtain it?"

"You must follow a knight clad in black with a serpent's tongue."

[] [] [] [] []

At the age of 16, Anya heard that a group of knights from the second army had arrived in the city where they were performing. In small towns, everyone got nervous about such news; anyone with even a tiny secret feared that the soldiers had come for them.

She felt the same fear while performing on the small stage in the town square, when the soldiers stopped to applaud her song. She smiled in the sweetest and most innocent way she knew while continuing to perform.

Then she saw him. The man in black.

He didn't clap and he didn't smile.

The man in black returned every day at the same time.

Anya performed, and he sat on his horse, watching her.

On the fourth day, Anya made a switch. She let another one of her sideshow companions take her place on stage, and she moved through the crowd with the offering basket.

The man in black furrowed his brow, expecting to see the malnourished girl with the battered guitar. He dismounted.

"An offering for the show, sir?"

He lowered his gaze, finding her in front of him. She was short, with big eyes and curly brown hair framing her face.

He didn't give her more than a glance and tossed a few coins.

"Why are you in town, sir?" She tried to catch his attention.

"Crown matters." He crossed his arms.

"What kind?"

"Private." The man in black grabbed the horse's reins and began moving through the crowd.

Anya handed the basket to one of the kids in the company, watching him pass behind her from the corner of her eye.

"I've seen you here often. Do you like my show?" She pursued him.

"I don't come here for that."

"Then for what?"

He stopped, turning to look at her. Anya smiled. He observed her face for a moment before getting back on his horse.

"Have a good day, Miss," he wished her before leaving, parting the frightened crowd.

[] [] [] [] []

Anya spent the rest of the day asking around about the knights and the reason for their presence. At first, she heard there was someone in town with a heavy bounty on their head; then, they were looking for someone missing but not a criminal. Some said it was the son of a noble, and others claimed it was the missing daughter of the tsars. The latter sounded absurd, but most people insisted it was true.

Many young women presented themselves at the tavern where the soldiers resided, claiming to be the missing princess of the tsars. Anya saw the line extending outside. She shook her head; this was madness.

The tavern had only one entrance and thus one exit the soldiers could use. She saw the line move throughout the afternoon until darkness fell. In the evening, the remaining girls were sent home, and from the door emerged him, the man in black.

Anya rose from the filthy street floor and gestured, "Sir!"

He turned for a moment, sighed, and began walking faster.

Anya chased him until standing in front of him.

"I know why you're here." She reached out a hand between them, as if to stop him. "And please, listen to me."

He crossed his arms.

"I know why you always came to my show," Anya took a breath. "It's because I resemble the tsaritsa, isn't it?"

The man furrowed his brow.

"I have eyes and hair of the same color, the same height—"

"The tsaritsa is much taller."

"I can wear heels."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"You know you're not the tsar's daughter, right?"

"But I could be," Anya straightened up. "I'm the same age the princess would be today, just an orphan raised on the streets, I have no past, which means I can be anything."

"And you would be willing to do anything because you have no future."

She nodded, finding nothing wrong with it.

"Clearly, you seem very determined to find this girl; you'll gain something you ardently desire, otherwise, you wouldn't spend your time searching for a needle you're not even sure exists in such a large haystack."

He stared at her.

"By choosing me, you secure whatever has been promised; otherwise, you could spend years searching the country for someone likely dead, achieving nothing".

They looked into each other's eyes. Anya thought that his were darker than the alley they were in; while Kirigan thought that it could work. And if something went wrong, he could claim he had been deceived.

"You can call me Kirigan." He reached out a hand to her.

"Anya." She shook it with a smile.

"Well, Miss Anya, it seems you and I have an agreement." Kirigan leaned down towards her. "But if one day you regret it, remember that you came to seek me."

She nodded, swallowing, more due to the proximity to the man than his words. She immediately withdrew her hand.

"Tomorrow morning at dawn, we leave."

She nodded again, wrapping herself in her cloak as she walked in the opposite direction.

"Oh, and Miss Anya," Kirigan called her one last time, remaining fixed in the shadows of the alley, "make sure your friends in the company don't become an obstacle for us in the future."

Anya took a deep breath, nodding as she kept her gaze low.

She knew he was right.

[] [] [] [] []

During the night, Kirigan was awakened by a huge commotion and the city bells ringing.

When he reached the center of the town following the crowd, he saw a massive fire engulfing the wagons and tents of the traveling company.

He grabbed the arm of one of his associates, a Tidemaker who had come to help.

"Are there any survivors?"

"Only one, sir, the young one there." The Grisha pointed. "She was the one who raised the alarm."

Kirigan nodded, letting her go.

A few meters away, Anya met his gaze, wrapped in a blanket that someone had brought for her. She looked at him with tear-streaked but totally expressionless, stoic face. In that moment, Kirigan understood that he had made the right choice.

Kindred spirits are indeed drawn together

Hi everybody, this is a one-shot that could become the first of a collection, depending on how it goes. It's a sort of AnastasiaAU (?) but not really, you deciede. English is not my first language, so please do tell me if there are any mistakes.

#grishaverse #the grisha trilogy #shadow and bone #fanfic #Aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x oc #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling x oc #the darkling x sunsummoner!oc #the darkling x sunsummoner!reader

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arillusionist · 4 months

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art summary thing except i barely drew anything from may - december

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jahayla-parker · 8 months

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King Of My Heart : Nikolai Lantsov x Reader Series

Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To?” Nikolai asked with a loud breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Genya laughed and raised her eyebrows at Nikolai.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nikolai merely squinted in response.

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

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

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