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lalexicon · 1 month ago

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Jealousy, Running Rampant

w/KNY (Shinazugawa Genya, Uzui Tengen, Giyu Tomioka, Shinazugawa Sanemi)

Jealous KNY!men, slight angst, Uzui's a bit of a jerk, misunderstandings, fluff, happy endings, proofread what is that a snack

Shinazugawa Genya

He blinked once. Then twice. Rubbed his eyes harshly, blinking up at the sight in front of him. It was no use. You were still there, smile as bright as the daytime sun, and oh, how radiant you were, enough to light the way even for the proverbial blind man stuck in a proverbial cave. But your radiance wasn't directed at him. He wasn't the one to make you laugh that way, with such obvious infatuation.

No, it was a random civilian.

And get this, he touches your fucking shoulder.

It shouldn't have bothered him so much. But it pissed him off. He shouldn't have cared. But his fists were bulging, veins sticking out like venom. It should've been seen as a friendly gesture, with little to no meaning behind such a small, innocent act. Rage boiled dangerously in his blood.

When the man's hand met your shoulder, your head tilted upwards, eyes sparkling in a way that should've only been reserved for him, him alone, only him, and yet–

His heart squeezed, heavy in his chest, nails digging into the palm of his hand. He turned away slowly, but--

Your eyes met his, and you went still, eyes flitting between him and the man, before your lips moved to say a few words to excuse yourself from the conversation.

Even as he heard you making your way over to him, he couldn't find it in himself to look your way. He suddenly felt so ashamed. Ashamed in how quickly his thoughts had spiraled, how possessively he wanted you for himself.

"Genya." Slowly, tentatively, he raises his eyes to meet your gaze. You tilt your head, eyes cautious, observing. "Good evening." And then you smile at him.

He nods curtly, throat bobbing as he swallows. He watches the way your lips purses, brows knitting together, head jerking down in what he can only interpret as concern. "Genya, are you okay?"

He blinks, feeling dumb all of a sudden. "What do you mean?"

"You seem..." you pause thoughtfully. "Mad?"

His mouth opens, then closes shut. No, he wasn't... he wasn't mad. Not at you. He's never been mad at you, and he thinks he never will be. So what was that feeling, if not anger? Why did his jaw clench impossibly tigher, shoulders stiffening imperceptibly?

"No. No, I'm not mad. I just..." his mouth moves before he can stop himself. "Who was that with you?"

He sees the shift in your mood immediately, your head tilting upwards, eyes glinting in understanding. "Genya, were you jealous?"

Heat rushes to his face, eyes suddenly looking at everything but you.

"Jealous? No... no, I wasn't--" his voice cuts off abruptly.

Oh, he thinks, mouth dry, that was jealousy.

He chances a glance in your direction only to find you grinning at him, almost smugly, laughing behind your hand, and he can't stop himself from staring, not when you sound like that.

Cute.

Suddenly the warmth from his face spreads across his chest, and the heaviness lifts abruptly, easily.

"Oh, Genya," you say between quiet bursts of laughter, "you're so cute."

"Wha--" he feels hot, all of a sudden. So, so hot, he doesn't think an ice bath could extinguish this blazing fire within him. "I-- I'm not cute. Dogs are cute. You are--"

When he doesn't finish his sentence, you look up, curious, to find him glancing off to the side, a blushing mess. Your lips curl up into a teasing smile. "What was that? I'm what?"

He exhales softly, and takes a step toward you, something in him melting when you lean towards him. He wraps his hand around yours and brings it up to press against his lips.

"I said... that you're cute," he mumbles against your skin, relishing in your shiver when he brushes his lips against your knuckles to softly kiss, "so don't look at anyone but me, okay?"

Uzui Tengen

Your eyes flit between your husband’s face and the fish he was currently gutting the life out of.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you and him were the only ones out here, catching fish and preparing them for dinner out by the river, with the sun low on the horizon, you’d think he was just mad at the fish for existing in this world.

But no. You knew something was wrong, and had a thought that made your stomach twist, a thought that made your hands wring together nervously, fidgeting.

He was angry at you.

It would make sense, considering he had barely uttered a single word to you during this entire fish endeavor. But you figured it was nothing, that he just needed a quiet evening without having to think, an evening spent enjoying the mild weather and warm water.

Still… still. You had to say something, had to make sure. You bite your lip for a moment, hesitating behind him. Then you speak up.

“Darling–”

The knife slams down on the cutting board, and you flinch back, lifting wide eyes at the back of Uzui’s head.

“Are you, uh, alright?”

He makes a sound, something between a laugh and a scoff, and it makes you shrink impossibly smaller. He glances back, frowning, and looks away, brandishing the knife in his hand again.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” You stutter a moment. “Would– are you sure? You can talk to me if, you know, you’re feeling down.” You can’t help the small smile on your lips, despite yourself. “That’s what a wife’s here for.”

He goes eerily still for a moment, and just when you consider calling out to him, he speaks. “A wife, huh?” He turns to you, caging you with his dark eyes. “You mean someone who cozies up to someone else behind her husband’s back?”

You’re left stunned, shocked into silence. He continues, “someone who goes around touching another’s shoulder, giggling about who knows what?”

You snap out of your trance. “Tengen, what are you talking about?”

His voice lowers, eyes flashing with something dangerous. “Someone who tries to deny it, playing dumb?”

Your defenses raise, arms crossing over your chest. Your voice takes on defiance, trying to keep the hurt from showing. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about. When did I ever– are you saying I cheated on you?”

He scoffs, and it’s not nice. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Your brows furrow. “Tengen. Will you stop your cryptic messages and tell me what all this is about already?”

He’s silent another minute, and your confidence drops with each second that passes.

“That rotten red-clothed scum, with the tan skin and small eyes.” He shakes his head in disgust.

Your eyes blink at the description. And then it hits you. The man you were talking to from earlier when you were shopping around in the market, who had asked you a few questions on the produce from one of the stands. Oh. Oh.

And then you smile, and you can’t help the small giggles that leave your throat. Oh, you could almost cry in relief. Uzui seems to interpret this differently, because his face grows impossibly sour.

“Darling…” you return to your endearing nickname, sighing. “I wasn’t flirting with him or anything, truly. He was just asking for directions.”

His face is unreadable. “Could’ve fooled me, with the way you were…” he trails off. You prob at him. “Were?”

His eyes meet yours, and this time they’re filled with mournful sorrow masked with the heavy set of his jaw. “You were smiling. Happy.” He curses, tearing his eyes away from you, sighing. “You looked… happy. Happy enough to run away with him and leave me forever.” And then he mumbles something else that sounds like, “I wouldn’t blame you,” and it’s enough to break your heart. You coo softly, closing the distance between you two to wrap your arms around his waist.

“I’d never leave you,” you whisper, because it’s true, and you know his tough exterior was only in place to cover up his inner insecurities of someday losing that which he found precious, irreplaceable.

It takes a moment, but then his heavy hand rests on your head, and then he’s leaning down to hold you tightly against his body. It’s quiet for a moment, with the sun now set, and the river rushing softly, and his breaths mixed with yours. Finally, when he speaks, it’s low, and vulnerable, and heavy with emotion.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry.” He takes a shaky breath. “Jus’ didn’t wanna lose you, that’s all. I shouldn’t have said that. I knew you’d never cheat on me.” He hugs you tighter. “Never.”

You smile, lifting your head, before he pushes it back into his chest. Your hand goes up to brush his cheek, and that’s when you realise he’s crying.

“Aw, ‘s okay– don’t, don’t cry,” you plead softly, wanting to find a way to sooth his sadness. “I’m yours, okay? Always yours, and yours alone.”

He nods, and takes your hand in his, finally allowing you to look at him.

“Thank you,” he whispers sincerely. “Thank you.”

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu was quiet. Which, to be fair, he usually was. But this time, it was different. This time, there was something in his eyes that gave you the sneaking suspicion that something was bothering him. His eyes always seemed to carry the weight of the world, and you had tried your best to always be there to pull him out of the darkness, to remind him he was still here, and so were you, and that he was in the present– not in the past.

But today, he seemed to be avoiding you like the plague. And you wondered– did you do something wrong? Maybe you had said something that made him feel bad, or maybe he just decided he needed some time to himself? But no. Whenever he was down, you were always the first person he turned to for company, your presence seemingly enough to ail whatever bothered him.

But he was avoiding you. He was avoiding you, and you didn’t like it.

The first chance you got to confront him, you took. Planting yourself between him and the door he was about to exit through to head out of his resting room, your eyes sought out his, but he wouldn’t meet them. His gaze cast to the tatami floor, he silently asked what you wanted without saying a word.

“Giyu, are you avoiding me?”

His face doesn’t change.

“Giyu.” You shift your weight. “Did I do something wrong?” Before you give him the chance, you speak up, “I’m sorry.”

He meets your eyes then, for the split second before he’s averting his eyes again.

“Listen.” Your voice is softer this time, and when you take a step forward, he looks like he’s one second away from booking it, so you stay put. “Whatever I did, if you tell me… I promise I won’t do it next time, okay? So don’t… don’t be angry. I’m sorry–”

“I–”

You stop, waiting patiently as he seems to hesitate. He takes a breath. “You… did nothing wrong. I just feel…”

His eyes travel up to your face, and this time it stays there. “I was simply being selfish.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Selfish? About what?”

He seems to consider this question. And like always, you wait. You’ll always wait for him, and sometimes you wish he’d understand how much he meant to you.

“About… who… you spend your time with.” He seems slightly unsatisfied with these words, as if it isn’t quite what he wished to say, and his eyebrows furrow minutely.

You bite your lip. “Did I spend time with someone you didn’t like, or… something?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, too quickly, and averts his gaze.

“Oh.” You blink. “Then, who was it?”

“...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You look at him incredulously, and it probably wasn’t the right thing to do, because he retreats into his shell again, and tries to move past you, but you adjust your position, arms out to keep him from leaving. “Wait, wait, wait.”

Something about his expression right now makes you think–

Oh. He’s nervous.

“Giyu.” You frown. “Listen, if you think I’m mad at you, or if you came to another crazy assumption like that, then I’m not. I just wanted to know why you were avoiding me.”

He closes his eyes. “You were talking to someone. Outside Shinobu’s residence.”

Shinobu’s…? Oh. A memory resurfaces, one where you’re talking to Shinobu’s patient with a polite smile, persuading him with your charm to stay and receive her treatment after he vehemently shook his head, mumbling something or another about the ‘terrifying lady with the needles.’

You vaguely remember trying your best to be as friendly as possible, and how he eventually began to ask you, with feigned nonchalance, for your name.

“Giyu…” his eyes trail upwards again, and you smile at him brightly. “I get it now. Don’t worry. What you’re saying is… you were jealous.”

He books it.

“Giyu!” He’s so fast in his escape you doubt you’d be able to keep up with him as he rounds the corner of a building twenty meters away.

“Wait, get back here! It’s okay! Your secret’s safe with me, alright? Uh, Giyu? Giyu?!”

I want to die, Giyu thinks as his face burns with embarrassment.

Shinazugawa Sanemi

Sanemi was pissed.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Sanemi had feelings for you. The other hashira knew it, other corps members knew it, Oyakata-sama knew it, and probably every demon he has ever sent to the afterlife knew it, too. It was as if his blade was swinging out the words I love you every time he fought.

But it seemed someone didn’t know it. That, or else this person was a fool.

He had strayed from your side for a mere moment to join the line of a food stall after a passing comment you made, that looks so good, Sanemi, and when he came back with his purchased goods, there you were, with some dumb piece of filth standing far too close in front of you.

And the worst part? Your smile.

Sanemi liked to think he never cared about your smile, that the reason his heart skipped a beat was because he was suffering from asthma or whatever technical terms Shinobu always drilled into his brain that he filtered out. (He knew some type of condition made your heartbeat irregular, asthma or not.)

But now, with your smile not directed at him, with your eyes not gazing into his, without your presence close to his own…

Yeah, Sanemi was pissed.

But that wasn’t important. Neither was that piece of trash next to you, acting as if he were some kind of royal emperor with the amount of gall he had to even think about approaching you.

Without thinking, he dropped the sweets wrapped in paper to the ground and approached you from behind, and the moment the scumbag’s vile eyes drifted up to him, they startle open, and he sputters some frantic excuse or another to you before scurrying away like a rat.

You tilt your head around, confused, before spotting him there: tall, menacing, and fuming.

“Sanemi– are you okay?”

No, no he wasn’t.

The second he reaches you, he’s quickly, yet carefully, placing his hand on your shoulder and hauling you away.

“Wha– Sanemi, where’s the food you were going to buy?”

“On the ground.”

“Uh, why?”

He scowls. “Shut up and come with me. We’ll get something better in the next town.”

“...Aaand why are we leaving?” “This place is contaminated with a disgusting vermin. It’ll be better elsewhere.” His eyes, sharp and yet so, so soft, meet yours then. “I’ll find somewhere better for us to go. Together.”

#Genya x reader #uzui x reader #giyuu x reader #sanemi x reader #fluff #jealousy #misunderstandings #KNY men are bad at feelings #slight angst

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desiderium-eden · 5 months ago

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@soraeia

Hatius: A dance? Like ballroom?

"Oh. I thought you heard more of that conversation. Well, no. Not like those. Rather--"

"It's basically a striptease."

"... It's more tasteful than that... :T"

#{faebella obscura} royal au #Lazuli IC #Genya IC #soraeia #{Swallow Your Pride} Hatius #Genya: Your Grace. Remember that nations outside Navka have differing levels of ... comfort regarding these things.

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somuchforahobby · 6 months ago

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how many secrets can you keep?

Summary: An arranged marriage to everyone's fav tsar

Part 2: crawling back to you Words: 10K Tags: Fluff & angst Warnings: women used as bargain to win wars ? Gifs stolen from: @goatsandgangsters Read on AO3

The Palace was much bigger than you were told. As soon as you stepped off the carriage you were led to what would be your rooms. On the right was a big bed, a sitting area in front of a chimney and a bathroom. At the end of the room there was a door to the balcony.

You stood on the balcony for what felt like hours thinking about all of this. An arranged marriage, a bitter laugh on your lips. Damned your father to have sold you off to Ravka and damned the King for buying you off in exchange for an alliance with Kerch. The irony of it all would drive you crazy.

“It is a nice view” a voice behind startled you. It was a man in ragged and dirty clothes. “Do you ice-skate?” There was a shit eating grin on his handsome face.

“No”

“Perhaps you will learn this winter” he pointed to the lake, “it becomes a ice rink”

“Does the tsar skate?”

His grin turned into a half smile, “he does, or tries to.”

“Who are you?”

“A friend”

“Of who?” You looked him up and down.

“Hopefully yours”

“I don’t think I’ll be allowed to have male friends” you looked at him again, “not that handsome at least” a blush raced to your cheeks.

“Yeah, you should ask your fiancé” The stranger leaned against the balcony, next to you.

“When I meet him” a disdained sight left your mouth, “do you work here?”

“Yes”

“What do you do?”

“A little bit of everything but first and foremost I’m an inventor”

“Of what?”

“Mmmm” he tapped fingers against his mouth, thinking, “ships, aircrafts”

“Are you part of the army?”

“Yes I am”

“Is it true that Ravka has flying ships?”

He laughed, “it is true, I invented them myself”

“The groom is not supposed to see the bride before the wedding!” A beautiful red haired woman shouted from inside of the room. She was wearing a kefta and glaring daggers at the man next to you.

“Your highness.” You bowed your head slightly to him.

“Please don’t.” He took a step forward, his hands raised awkwardly at his sides, uncertain what to do with them. “Please don’t ever do that again, it is just Nikolai.”

You raised your eyes to see him and nodded.

“You can have all the friends you want” he smirked, “none of them will be this handsome anyway”

You nodded, suddenly ashamed of your bolt of honesty.

“Hey” he lifted your face to see him, “we will see a way to make this work.” He gave you a half smile that told you he was not comfortable with this either.

“I am sure we will.” You gave him one of your own, “Nikolai.”

And with that, his smile was complete.

***

The ceremony was beautiful, you had to thank Genya for all the attention to detail in the decorations as well as to your dress. The white and golden gown worthy of fairy tales had been a perfect choice.

You drank and danced with your husband and guests, and although every single member of Nikolai’s court treated you wonderfully, your smile could not quite reach your eyes. There was an unspoken sorrow in your heart, no matter how handsome and kind your husband was, you did not know him and yet you now had to devote your life to him.

You thanked the servant who helped you out of the dress, walked into your joint bedroom in your nightgown and your heart stomping out of your chest.

Your husband was taking off his jewelry when he spotted you through the mirror, a shy smile on his face.

“Hey” he greeted first.

“Hi” you walked to him, “would you like me to call someone to help you?”

“No, thanks. I can do it.” He continued with the buttons on his jacket. Although the gloves made the task much more difficult.

“I can help you, then.” His hands laid nimbly at his sides as your fingers did the work efficiently. “You looked very handsome today.” You complimented, trying to get the conversation flowing.

“Thank you. I must admit I felt quite jealous, I don’t think I could ever look as good as you, my queen.”

Your face flushed at his compliment, quickly finishing with his jacket and taking a step back, looking down.

“Are you alright?”

You figured it was best to be honest about it. “I am nervous, Nikolai. I have never done this and I hope I can, well, please you.” Your face was crimson by the time you finished the sentence, but his’ was puzzled.

“Done what?” His brows furrowed.

“Consummate a marriage.” You looked away in shame.

He scoffed. “Neither have I, I’m afraid this is my first marriage.”

His joke release tension from you, making you smile, “you know what I mean.”

“I do, but you don’t have to worry about that.” His gloved fingers guided your chin to look back at him. “I have no intentions of doing it tonight, or any other night, as long as you do not want it. I do not find your fear desirable.”

A breeze of relief fell on you.

“I asked for your room to be ready for tonight, you can stay there as long as you like. This thing-“ his hand gestured to the space between your bodies, “will take time, and I have no intention in hurrying it.”

“Thank you. But I know why I am here, Nikolai. If this thing” you mirrored his gesture, “doesn’t work, just know I know my duty.”

He contemplated you for a minute before speaking again. “I will not bring a child product of fear and disdain into this world. It would not make a good king.” He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “Good night, my queen.”

With that, you left his room for the night, grateful that you had not married an ape.

***

“I did not know I had married a little myshka.” Your husband smiled from the door of the library, bringing one to your own face.

“Moi tsar.” You teased, “what a surprise to see you this afternoon.”

He walked to you, hands clasped on his back, looking at the books on the table.

“Ravka’s history and myths.” When you looked up he extended a bouquet of flowers to you. “Thank you!”

“The least I can do for my queen” he sat in front of you, “how are your studies going so far?”

“Good, the life of Saints is a bit confusing, but it is going well.” You took a quick look at your notes, leaving the flowers aside, “Hopefully I can get a good idea soon enough so I can join your court, maybe?”

“Oh” he smiled, “is that what you wish to do?”

“I think so.”

“Why?” He seemed intrigued.

“Well, I was on my way to become a scholar in Ketterdam, I think I could do decent work.”

“I went to College in Ketterdam as well, quite a nice place.”

The declaration surprised you, “Oh? Never saw you there, I think.”

“I doubt we frequented the same places, darling.” He smirked.

“What was your major?”

“Law and politics.”

“Same as me.”

“Yeah but I barely spent any time in classes.”

“Were you a drunken moi tsar?” You teased.

He laughed, “I will not entertain this nonsense of accusation.”

“You were!” You laughed as well. “That is why I never saw you there.”

“You are also younger than me!” He tried to defend himself.

“Just two years, I still could have seen you in some classes.”

He scrunched his nose, “good thing you did not”

“Why?”

“I would have asked you out, of course.”

You scoffed, “I don’t think so”

“Are you joking?” a pretty girl who can do all of my homework? Darling you would have been my number one target.”

It was your turn to laugh, “then good thing you didn’t because I wouldn’t have done your homework.”

He shrugged, “I would have done mine with you, for sure.”

You blushed at his comment, feeling your face warm at the insinuation. “But we did not meet.”

He raised his shoulders, dismissing the missed opportunity.

“So… a law and politics advisor in my council. I like that. Right now it is filled with soldiers, Ravka is in urgent need of a brain there.”

You matched his smile with your own. “I’d be honored.”

His eyes were kind on you, as if he was amazed to hear you want to be part of his life. “Please let me know when you feel ready and or if you have any doubts.” He took a look at his watch and then stood up.

“Nikolai, I do have one question.” He looked back at you tenderly. “What is myshka?”

A sweet smile lightened his face, “mouse, my little library mouse.” He leaned in to kiss the top of your head before leaving you for the day.

***

Time passes so slowly when you are in a trial.

“She bleeds again.” One of you maids said during your second month in the Palace.

“You shouldn’t be running everyday, moi tsaritsa. Your eggs will fall.” the doctor ordered, little did he know you had barely seen your husband.

“It is not her bleeding we should be checking.” Some girl whispered during your breakfast at the patio, while you pointlessly drank all sorts of beverages to ‘help’ your fertility.

“He doesn’t like her because she is not noble” a whisper on your back, “neither is -“ she shut up when you looked.

“Your duty to the Lantsov Dynasty remains” a letter addressed to you from Queen Tatiana was stamped in your brain. You tossed it in the trash when you read it.

“Nikolai wants you to visit the Hospital today and send the ill his regards.” Genya announced with a smile that brought sickness to your mouth at the mere thought that everyone in the Palace knew your husband’s wishes better than you.

Whispers and voices filled your days, until it was nighttime.

Because every night, you had dinner at the quietness of your chambers and then, you would stay awake to listen when your husband came into his room, next door from your own. When he did you counted the steps that accompanied and then waited in the hall to see who and when they left.

Every night your heart sank a little deeper, because every night the same person walked out of his chambers.

And not a single time General Nazyalensky could hold your stare.

***

You were not speaking to him. You were actually avoiding him.

You ran at breakfast time, ate at council time and read in your bedroom. It was not so hard considering he didn't try to find you either and he was away constantly. Away with her, your mind shouted.

A month or so went by since the last time you had seen your husband. Until one night a servant announced the King wanted to have dinner together.

You chose the most beautiful dress in Lantsov blue, simple but elegant, to drag yourself to the dining room. He was already there in his First Army uniform, smirking at you.

“My beautiful wife.” He stood and walked to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips and placing a soft kiss. He helped you in your seat before returning to his. “I missed you, I haven’t seen you in forever.” He complained with tenderness.

You did not answer.

“I just returned from a trip with General Nazyalensky and Count Kirigin, can you believe he is crazy for her?”

You bit down a growl. The audacity of this man, you thought.

“I was hoping you’d join the council soon, how are your studies going?”

You did not answer.

“I am running out of ideas for a conversation here, darling. I think I need your help.” His tone was firm and you finally raised your eyes from your plate to his face.

You sighed, “leave us” The waiters left the room, giving you the much needed privacy. “Perhaps you should ask General Nazyalensky to join you for dinner.”

Every hint of amusement and his signature smirk were gone in an instant. “Why would I?”

“Well if you can’t help to have her in your chambers every night then perhaps you should have dinner with her as well.” Your tone was also firm.

His eyes did not falter, “it is not what you think”

“Then explain it.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me”

“You have my word, dar—”

Your scoff interrupted him. “Nikolai,” your patience thinned, “I would rather you behave like a jerk than keep up the good boy facade while you’re mocking me.”

“Because I am not!”

You covered your face with your hands, it was the lie that hurt the most. “I knew this would happen and I only ask you to be more discreet.” You sighed, keeping your face down, “the whole damn castle talks about it and I am the idiot wife who can’t even do what she was brought to do. I can’t compete with her, Nikolai. She has it all, the beauty, the power, the king’s attention. It’s excruciating.”

“Look at me.” A firm order, your eyes caught his again, only that this time you did not see Nikolai, you were looking at the King. “You do not have to compete with her or anyone else, you are my queen.” His gloved hand captured yours on the table, drawing circles on your skin with his thumb while guiding it to his chest, you could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, “I swear to you, there is no one else, General Nazyalensky is not in my bed. You must believe me. I will do anything for you to believe me.”

“Everything but the truth.”

His heart beat faster. “What can I do to make you trust me? What do you want?”

Tears pricked your eyes, “Your attention.”

“You have it, but now I will make sure you have no doubts about it.” He closed both eyes, then swallowed, defeated. “Would it be ok with you if I paid you a visit every night, and then returned to my rooms?”

“That would be a place to start.”

“Although, the Second Army General will continue to make a brief visit afterwards.”

“Can I be there as well?”

“No.” That was definite. It amazed you how easy he changed from Nikolai to The Tsar.

“This would be easier if you told me the truth.”

An exasperated sigh left his mouth and he stood from his seat, “my word will have to do for now, myshka.”

Removing your hand from his chest, he laid a tender kiss to your knuckles before leaving the room.

***

Later that night he knocked on your door, you opened it widely and he walked all the way to the couch in front of the fireplace. “How was your day?”

You sat next to him, facing the fire, his arm extended on cushions and your shoulders. “It was alright. I have been looking for books or writings about your father’s reign but I haven’t found any.”

His gloved fingers picked a strand of your hair to toy with. “I think I can help you with that, if you’d like?”

“Please.”

“Well, umm” his gaze was lost on your hair, “what would you like to know?”

“Anything a member of your council should know.”

He thought for a minute or two, immersed in your hair, “I do not think he was a good king. All he did was send troops to borders, give power to the darkling and the apparat, I don’t think he cared for the needs of the working class.”

“And do you?”

“Of course. I’d be a fool not to, they’re the only ones who want me to keep my throne.” He gave you a lazy smile.

“Why is it different what your father did with the darkling than what you do with the triumvirate?”

He leaned back, getting more comfortable, as he weighed your question. “Because I am not relying on one person but a council of Grisha, and because they would never do the atrocities the darkling did.”

“Such as?”

“Separating families, sending children to be abused by powerful men, even to the king himself…”

“Nikolai,” you turned your whole body to face him, “that is an awful thing to say about your father.”

He released a hopeless scoff, “good thing I am not.”

Your head leaned to a side at his statement, “so it is true?”

“I am afraid so.”

“Well that is also important information for a political advisor.”

He smirked, “and to my wife.”

“I don’t think she’d care as much as Fjerda.”

“Is that a fact?” He asked playfully.

“A hundred percent.”

He leaned towards you, leaving a kiss on your temple, “That is good to know.” He mumbled against your hair.

“How was your day?”

“Awful.” He looked at the fire. “There are a bunch of people wanting to Sanctify the Darkling and my wife hates me.” He looked at you with what you guessed was some sadness in his eyes.

“I don’t think she hates you.”

The tiniest of smiles tugged at his lips, “no?”

“No. I think she is just insecure.”

“Well she shouldn’t. As a victim myself I would never inflict the pain of lies on someone else.”

“Thank you.” You whispered and his face warmed.

“Trust me, please.”

You simply nodded.

You both sat by the fire for a good while, his arm on your shoulders as you slowly dozed off.

The next morning you woke up in your bed, alone. The other side, as usual, untouched.

***

“It is not up for discussion” one of your maids had said. So now here you were, dressed in a beautiful gown, alone in the balcony while strangers celebrated your Birthday in the saloon.

The leaves on the trees had just started to fall, early signs of the upcoming autumn visible in the palace gardens. The night breeze stirred your arms, making you shiver. A warm jacket fell on your shoulders then, making you turn to find a man standing beside you.

“My apologies, moi tsaritsa. You seemed to be cold.” A tall man with dark hair said. “I am Count Anton Nerenski, your highness.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Count Nerenski.” You turned to the gardens again.

“Beautiful party, I assume that tulips are your favorite?”

Since the whole Palace was filled with them it was a fair assumption, “No. Roses are.”

“Then why haven’t I seen any?” He quipped.

You sighed, “because nobody asked me anything about this damned party.”

“If I had known roses were your favorite I would have brought you a hundred of them.”

You turned to see him, there was tenderness in his eyes, “thank you Count Nerenski.”

“Please, call me Anton.”

You smiled and he matched.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Your Highness, Where is the King?”

You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. He left in the morning and promised to come back before the celebration, yet he had failed his promise. “He is on an important business trip.”

“And how do you feel that he is away?”

Your jaw tightened, your whole body turned to face him, “I do mind your questioning, and I am nothing but proud of the King’s work. As should you.”

“My apologies, your highness. I didn't mean to offend the King.”

“You have spent far too much time on this conversation apologizing, haven’t you?” You pressed.

He scoffed, “I have, and I am further willing to get on my knees if my queen requested so.”

A blush crept your face, understanding the nature of his intentions. “I wish for no such thing.”

“Yet,” his features softened, “but the path you are on is a lonely one, moi tsaritsa, I wish to extend you my friendship if you ever need it.”

You merely looked at him: he was a handsome man, taller than you, his eyes were the color of sapphires, and a full beard filled his face. Black hair fell to his shoulders, which were wide and built like a soldier’s. Was this how your life would be now? Men throwing themselves at you offering an affair to deal with your loneliness?

“Your beauty does not belong to a balcony, moi tsaritsa, you have not danced all night, would you like to change that?” Count Nerenski extended a hand to you.

“As caring as always Anton, but I am afraid I must steal my dashing wife’s first dance.” Nikolai’s voice took you out of your thoughts, your eyes instantly finding him. Your heart swelled on your chest at the sight of him, already taking off his First Army jacket and walking towards you. “I fear other men might try to take her for a swing, forgetting altogether that can be considered treason. Although, I would too forget protocols and loyalties at the sight of her.” Nikolai’s voice was cheerful, yet a slight treat could be found in it.

Nikolai removed Anton’s jacket from your shoulders, replacing it with his own and pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

Anton grabbed his jacket from Nikolai’s hand, “Your Highness” bowed towards both of you and returned to the saloon.

“My savior” you looked up to your husband.

“Would you dance with me?” He offered, his hand lingering on your waist. “I’m afraid I have to remind everyone in this Country who your husband is before they try to steal you from me.”

“Are you jealous, moi tsar?” You teased.

He huffed, “of Count Nerenski? Don’t make me laugh, dear.” His fingers tapped your waist to the rhythm of the background music.

“Then laugh.” You dared, “laugh and take the jealousy off your face.”

“I’d be jealous if you had enjoyed his company.”

“I enjoyed the warmth of his jacket.”

He scoffed, “enjoying another man's warmth, darling please just put a bullet in my head, it would wound me less”

“I am sorry, Nikolai.”

“Don’t be, unless you are actually interested in him?” There was a silent sorrow behind the question.

“I am not.”

“Then I am sorry for not arriving on time.” His gloved hand touched your cheek, you leaned to his palm. “I brought you a gift though.” From the pocket of his pants he pulled a paper and handed it to you. It was a list.

“You bought… nineteen, twentyfiv, THIRTY books?” You looked up to him to find him smiling.

“Well I could not fit them all in my pockets so I figured I’d show you the list. If you want to change them we can go to the bookstore tomorrow morning. The order sails in the afternoon to Ketterdam.”

“Nikolai” tears gathered in your eyes, touched by his present. “You didn’t have to do that, thank you.”

He placed a lock of hair behind your ear, “I might have not known you loved roses but I knew you loved books.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go back in there and give them a nice show, shall we?”

You nodded.

He helped you get your arms through his own jacket, “such a condecorated and beautiful soldier.”

With both hands on your nape, you pulled your hair out of the jacket. “What can I say? I'm a catch.”

He smirked, “of course you are” he guided you towards him with a hand on your waist, pushing your body against his, as you both walked back to the salon.

One of Nikolai’s valets stepped in front of you. “Your Highness, it is against protocol for the Queen to wear a military uniform as it is for the King to have an incomplete one. Also please be aware of the closeness.” The man’s eyes moved between your bodies, clashed together.

“Thank you for your suggestion, Mikhail.” Nikolai pulled you towards the dance floor.

Gasps filled the room when you both bowed before the music started; the King without his jacket and said jacket on his wife’s shoulders must have been a whole show. Anxiety left your body as soon as his hands guided your waist through the waltz.

***

You left the bath in a sheer gown, your hair wet falling on your back after your usual bath post run, and found your husband waiting for you in the same spot he had taken the day before, but instead of toying with your hair, he had one of your books in his hands and his long legs stretched on the couch. At the sight of you he raised his eyes to your body, taking an embarrassing amount of time admiring you before turning away.

“I am sorry I should have-“

You grabbed a robe and pulled it on your shoulders, “that’s fine, you can look now.”

When you saw his face, a faint blush still colored his cheeks.

“How can I be of service, moi tsar?”

He rearranged himself, allowing you to sit on the other side of the couch, nervousness could still be found in him, oddly enough. “I came to ask you to join me at the council today.”

“Yes, sure, when is it?”

He looked at his watch, “In 10 minutes.”

“Oh.” You walked to your wardrobe in a rush, trying to find something to wear.

“Punctuality is important but not mandatory for a queen, myshka. Take your time.” He leaned back and returned his gaze to the book in his hands.

Without Genya or a maid to help you, you put on a dress and dried your hair as much as possible before leaving your chambers with your husband. You had never been to the war room before, and you were just as surprised to see it as the people inside were surprised to see you.

Nikolai held your hand during the entirety of the meeting, drawing circles on your skin with his thumb, what you had now identified as an anxiety tick.

Every time some decision was to be made, he turned to you and asked your opinion, every time you said you’d rather listen this time and every time he announced again you were a political genius to the group. Shy smiles could be spotted between all of them as a blush betrayed you.

Once the meeting was over and everyone had left the room, Nikolai turned to you with the brightest smile you had seen in him yet.

“Thank you.” He placed a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

“Thank you for letting me in. I have so much to learn from all of you.”

“Nonsense.” He hooked your hand on his arm, walking out of the room with you.

***

“I have been wanting to ask you something.” You said after a few minutes of silence.

He nodded, asking you to continue.

“In Ketterdam, there were some places where people had stuff and you could go in and get it for a price.”

His eyebrows furrowed, confused. “Yeah?”

“Every month, my father gave me a certain amount of money for me to be able to get whatever things I wanted.”

Nikolai tilted his head.

“And since I have been here of course I have not yet needed to buy anything, because the Palace has it all.” You started speaking faster, “But I heard there will be an art bazaar downtown and I would like to go. However I do not have any money and I was wondering if maybe you could lend me some?”

“Lend you?” His voice was firm yet confused.

“Yes”

“And how would you pay me back?”

You had not thought about it, “I could send word to my father so—“ his laugh interrupted your rant. He had bent over his stomach laughing while you stared, not sure what was so funny.

“You are the queen of Ravka!” He said between paths, “you do not need to carry money around !” He said it like a dirty word.

“I do not understand?”

He took a long breath to rearrange himself. “You can go downtown whenever you please, you get whatever you want and ask for the tab, then bring it to my valet and forget about it.”

“Oh” you blushed, suddenly ashamed of your question. “And I can do that anywhere?”

“Nearly, yes.”

Now it was your turn to smirk.

“But please measure yourself, do not bring this country to bankruptcy.” He teased.

“You should have thought about that before laughing at your queen!” You teased back.

He sighed and sank deeper into your bedroom’s couch, “either with her beauty or her boldness, but this queen of mine is gonna drive me crazy.”

***

You hugged your legs close to your torso, leaning your face against your knees, watching him as he told you yet another story of his life at Sea. By now the only thing you wish to have done before marrying him was getting to know the notorious Sturmhond.

Nikolai was so passionate about his privateer past, the way he told the tales was so detailed, you could picture them in your head and soon after you could swear you had been there. He talked about Kaz Brekker and the crows, and your mouth opened to know he knew and was friends with your father’s biggest headache, both laughing at the thought of him finding out.

“What do you desire, Nikolai?” You asked after a few minutes of silence and looking at the nostalgia on his face.

“For peace in Ravka.” A well rehearsed answer.

“I asked Nikolai, not the tsar.”

He finally looked at you, “what I desire has no consequence since I am no longer a man but a Sovereign.”

“And if you were just a man again, what would you desire?”

His shoulders dropped with a sigh, “to sleep” he stared at the fire for a long time, then asked, “what would you desire?”

“To hold your hand.”

He grabbed your hand in his, kissing your knuckles before tangling his fingers with yours.

“Without the gloves, Nikolai.”

He did not speak for a while, just looking at your hands intertwined.

“I was cursed by the darkling.”

“I have heard, Korol Rezni.”

He looked back at you with profound sadness in his eyes, “yes, which is why I can not let you see my hands.”

He dropped your hand and stood up abruptly.

“Nikolai, plea—“

“No” again, when he turned it was the Tsar. You kept your place and nodded when he said good night.

***

You had ten people around you, all of them working to get you ready for your agenda of the day. Genya was working on your hair when you realized nobody was working anymore and instead they were bowing. You turned to find Nikolai leant against the door frame, looking at you.

“Moi tsar.” You teased and returned to look at Genya.

“My beautiful wife.” He walked to your line of sight. “Busy day?”

“Yes, I will visit the primary school today.” A bright smile lightened your face.

“By yourself?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Tamar is going with me.”

“Mmmm” he contemplated for a minute, “Tolya will go as well.”

“And what about you?” As much as you appreciated his concern, he could not be left without a bodyguard.

“I’ll be right in front of him the whole time.” He smirked, “if you don’t mind of course?”

You smiled, “I’ll be honored.”

That night you were crying on the balcony when he let himself into your room. The weight of everything you had seen that day was starting to get you.

“Darling?” His voice echoed from your bedroom.

“Over here!” You cleaned your face best as you could hoping he wouldn’t notice, but failed.

“What’s wrong?” There was concern in his voice, “are you hurt?”

You scoffed, “It’s nothing, don’t worry.”

“What’s wrong?” He guided your shoulders to him, then drew your face upwards.

“What we saw today made me a little sad.”

“The school?”

You nodded.

“I don’t think I understand?” His brows furrowed. “I saw children very happy to meet their queen.”

You turned your body towards the garden again, leaning your forearms to the balcony. “I saw boys, mostly. Little girls, that started to be less and less around the age of nine.” A long sigh left your mouth, “they are not in school because they are married, Nikolai.”

“No, that’s”

“What?” You turned to him, his brows were furrowed, he was piecing together a puzzle.

“Illegal” he muttered.

“Just because it’s illegal doesn’t make it undoable.” There was hate in your voice as you said it.

“That is what illegal means.”

“It means nothing if you don’t do anything to stop it!” You tried to regain control over yourself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel for all those girls who will never get to experience their lives because their parents sold them off to the highest bet.”

“Like you.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Panic flooded you, “No! Nikolai, don’t! I am so very lucky to have you!” Your hands landed on his chest, as if you were trying to keep his heart inside.

There was a sad smile on his face as his hands circled yours, “I understand, I often wonder how different my life would be if I had been born a woman, I understand you are upset.”

“Every day I thank the Saints for the luck I have to be your wife, Nikolai. I swear.” You looked him deep in the eye, not a single doubt on your words. “I just grieve for those girls that did not have the luck I had to marry a kind man.”��

He kissed both your hands and then held you into a tight hug. “Then good thing you are the queen of Ravka and can change things for them.” He mumbled on your hair.

***

You had taken your reading to the gardens. The Palace was just too much noise, too many people, so many whispers. You laid leaning against a tree, reading the Story of Saints again, trying desperately to distract your mind from the aura surrounding you.

You stared at the Palace from afar, how could a place so beautiful be so obsessed with finding other’s flaws? No doubt why the royals often went crazy.

“I have been looking for you” Nikolai’s voice startled you, making you drop your book from your hands to the floor. He sat next to you on the grass. “What are you doing?”

You did not turn to him, “just reading”

He took the book from the grass and gave it back to you, “Do not let me stop you.”

“Please do, I can’t even focus.”

“mmmm” His arm rounded your shoulders, “come here” You leaned your head on his chest. “Does that have anything to do with my trip to the Fold?”

“Not the trip, really.”

“The crew.”

You shrugged.

“Darling, I beg of you not to listen to that nonsense.” His hands moved up and down your arm. “It’s not easy when people laugh around me.”

“You could have them hanged for treason, you know?”

You scoffed, “Yeah, that would make me a very beloved queen.”

He sighed, with his free hand, he guided your chin upward to face him, “Then let’s issue a statement.” There was a sassy smirk on his face.

“A statement?”

His eyes fell from your own to your lips briefly, “yeah.”

“what would it say?”

“Have dinner with me today, I’ll send Genya to your room to have you ready at 7.”

You just stared at him, not sure what to say nor what to think.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can say no to you moi tsar.” a shy smile threaded on your lips.

“For the sake of my intentions I’mma say that is correct.”

After a romantic dinner in the garden, he walked you to the main saloon.

When the door opened your mouth did as well. The whole floor was filled with short little candles.

You turned to see him in awe and he merely shrugged like it was nothing. A runway leading from the door to the center was lit by larger ones, where a wide circle was also free of fire. He walked with you through it and once you were in the middle of the room, a quartet of musicians started to play a waltz.

“Would you honor me a dance?” He offered his hand and you nodded.

He grabbed your waist in a heartbeat, like if your body called to him. Your hand on his chest felt meant to be. He swayed you like a doll, like a well rehearsed play. His signature smirk was permanent on his face.

“What is this, Nikolai?” You asked, blushed.

He made you swirl and you caught servants looking from the balconies above.

He shrugged, “a statement.” He leaned to your shoulder, his lips gracing your skin, “may I?”

“I don’t think I can say no to you, can I?”

You felt him smile, “I don’t think you can, no.” He mumbled before leaving a path of chaste kisses on your exposed shoulder.

“Nikolai”

“Mmm?” He mumbled against your skin.

“What does this statement say?”

He raised his head to see you, a gilded smile on his face, “that the King of Ravka is head over heels for his wife and that he would do anything to show her how he feels.”

“And is it true?”

His forehead leaned on yours, not granting you an answer.

“Nikolai?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Like it was an order, his lips found yours immediately. He guided your hand to his neck and his arms moved to circle your waist, his lips evolved into a soft, romantic kiss. He was tender, kind, his lips were begging you for more in the kindest of ways.

Your chest tightened in desire, and you could feel the thread where his control was hanging, you pulled back to regain yourself, leaning against him again.

His breath was agitated, but so was yours, he stole a short kiss and then continued his path on your shoulder.

A few waltz later, he guided you to your room. apologizing for not being able to stay any longer, He went into his chambers and soon after you heard someone else walk by.

The next morning he was gone before sunrise, but your room dawned with a bouquet of fresh roses and a goodbye note from him.

***

Protocols aside, you nearly jumped to hug him when he finally returned. You heard his chest rumble with giggles as he wrapped his arms around you, “Did you miss me, moi tsaritsa?” He whispered in your ear.

Pushing away you answered, looking up to him, “Greatly.”

His eyes were fixed on your lips, “May I kiss you? You know, so everyone sees it.”

“You may.”

He leaned down to kiss you, a soft yet needy kiss for every witness to see how much the King had missed his wife; the tenderness of a devoted husband along with the urgent need of a man. It was a display, yet your heart had not gotten the memo, since it was stomping out of your chest.

He pulled away first, his eyelashes fluttering against your brow, his breath hitching your face.

“I missed you too.” He said before kissing the top of your nose and finally taking a step back.

***

Since he returned, he made it his personal goal to kiss you whenever you were surrounded by other people, he had even said so the first time he did. You found him as you walked out of the library towards the garden, he was leaving his study with the council, and the second he saw you his hands cradled your face and kissed you briefly, for then tilt his head sideways and deepen the kiss. When he pulled away you saw everyone around you was flushed and trying to look away, except for Genya who had a genuine smile on her face. Nikolai then winked at you, and continued his path.

***

When he was focused he would not even look at you. Sitting on his desk and with a thousand papers in front of him, his eyes were reading page after page, immersed in paperwork about the year expenses and needs, you knew this was your chance.

You walked to his desk, until your thighs graced his forearms. Almost instinctively, his hand landed near your hip.

“Yes, love?” He asked, not raising his eyes.

“Nikolai, could you please sign this?” You put the paper in front of him, without hesitation he drew a signature on the bottom of the page and continued his reading.

You bent down and kissed his cheek then started your path out of his office.

“Darling” he called when you were near the door.

“Yes?” You turned with feigned innocence on your face.

“What did I sign?” There was a small smirk on his lips and light amusement in his eyes.

You smiled playfully, “A law.”

“Oh?” His smirk grew. “About what?”

You returned to his side and gave him the paper, he took it with a playful smirk and read it.

“Mandatory school for girls?” He looked up to you.

You nodded.

He stood from his chair, taking you in his arms. He smelled like woods, like sea, like fire, like freedom and class, like a prince from a fairytale. your arms wrapped around his waist briefly before he let you go. “Please see it published first thing in the morning.”

He sat again but his gaze remained fixed on you, a mix of admiration and fondness emanating from him. “And please keep doing this.”

“That you can be certain of.”

“Darling” his hand hovered above your knee, he was not touching you but you could feel the warmth of his skin even through the gloves and the heavy fabric of your dress. He looked up tenderly, “I have plenty of work to catch up tonight, I’d recommend you to get some sleep, I don’t think I can join you today.”

“I understand.” You bit your lower lip and turned to leave the room.

“Think of how you want me to make it up to you.”

You turned to see him again, there was a boyish smirk on his face, and you matched with your own. “I already know.”

“And what do you want, moi tsaritsa?”

“I want you to take me on a date outside the Palace, I want to see Ravka.”

His brows lifted in surprise, a shadow crossed his face.

“Have I offended you in any way?”

He sighed, leaning back on his chair, “not in the slightest. I find it disappointing that I have not done my job courting you properly and I apologize for that.”

“A king does not need to court, your highness.” You teased.

“Not out of need, but of desire. The day I met you I promised you we would make this work, I intended to make it so by courting you and hopefully making you fall in love with me, and look at us: you have to beg me to spend time with you.”

You walked to his desk, a playful smile on your face, “I have not begged yet.”

That brought a slight blush to his cheeks. He placed both elbows on the desk, his gaze intensifying on you “and I am certain you’d look delightful but if I am to make you beg it won’t be for time.” Now it was your turn to blush. “I will take you out on a date, the day after tomorrow. I’ll send you something to wear.”

“You already know where we are going?”

His smirk deepend, “I always have.”

You bit your lower lip to hide your smile and nodded once before leaving the room.

For about fifteen minutes you considered going to Tolya since you felt your heart was leaving your chest right away.

***

Nikolai spent the day submerged in meetings, from one room to another, you heard people passing by all day as you were in the library, which is why you were not expecting him that night. You guessed he was either too tired or still too busy to come to your rooms, and given you were almost certain your hand was injured from all the writing you had done, you made yourself comfortable and dipped your strained hand in a bucket of warm water. That’s how he found you, sitting on the couch, in your spot, with your hand up to the elbow in water while you calmly looked at the fire.

“Are you alright?”

You turned to him with surprise on your face, “Nikolai”

He walked to you, looking at your hand, then repeated himself, “are you alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that I wrote too much today.”

He grabbed a towel and sat next to you, taking your hand out the water and drying it before massaging it softly. “Was it another Law?” With a raised brow he lifted his gaze to you.

You merely shrugged.

“I appreciate your service but not to this point, myshka. Your wellbeing is this country’s priority, do not forget that.”

You pouted at his scorn, leaning against his shoulder. “How was your day?” Your voice was dipping in tenderness.

He sighed, “exhausting” he kissed your hand before extending an arm on your shoulders, you rearranged yourself on his chest. “As much as I wanted to come home to read in the gardens with my wife, a lot happened while I was away that required my attention.”

“Your wife requires your attention as well.”

A dark smirk formed on his lips, “she does?” He shifted, from being relaxed against the couch to sitting straight with his body angled towards yours, a hunter lurking his prey, “And how can I oblige to her needs?”

“Take a wild guess”

“I fear I might take one that turns out to be too wild.” His gaze was fixed on your lips.

“And?”

“Might scare you off”

“Impossible”

He let out a scoff, “Sturmhond would say that you mean improbable.”

“Oh? I wonder what the notorious privateer would do in this situation?” You teased.

An amused sigh left his mouth, “things that are far too scandalous to be even mentioned in front of a queen.”

“I’d suggest not to say them and just do them, then.”

“Even worse.”

“Ummm” you feigned deception, “too bad, I would have loved to meet the guy. I heard he has quite a reputation.”

“Really?” Nikolai’s ego shone through his smile.

“Oh, yes. I’d like to know if what I have heard turns out to be true.” You laid on your back, him following closely.

“And what have you heard?”

“Things that are far too scandalous to be even mentioned in front of a King.”

He was practically on top of you know, his lips roaming yours.

“Then it is probably true.” He was practically on top of you now, his face millimeters above yours. “Please tell me what you want, love.” A jolt of honesty and vulnerability dominated his eyes, pulling the lust and desire away to accommodate your needs first.

“You, Nikolai.”

“Nobody is watching now.”

It screwed your brains that he might think you only wanted him when you could be seen. One of your brows lifted in a challenge, “Then do your worst.”

His lips crashed against yours, but this time his tempo was slow and cautious, not a hint of urgency and need, but a patient lover with all the time in the world. Your hands rounded his neck and his’ supported him while cradling your face.

His legs moved in between yours, applying light pressure in your core with his hips, earning a muffled moan from your lips. He pulled away, his eyes dark with desire and mouth open with adoration. “Tell me what you want”

“I can not move further without the touch of your hand, Nikolai, please.”

A half smile crossed his lips, “you truly are a delight begging” his sight roamed your face, “close your eyes” a firm order, you obliged.

Rough and cold fingers wrapped around your hand, lifting it over your head, while the other set touched your face lightly, you could feel all calluses and scars roaming your cheek, then your neck, and after a brief lack of touch, climbing up your ankle.

“Nikolai” you moaned.

“Shh” he let go of your hand to touch your lips with his thumb, “you’re so soft” you could hear him near, the pressure on your core harder every second. He pushed his thumb in your mouth, a weird taste of charcoal in your tongue as you licked it, he groaned in your ear, “can’t wait to feel more of you” his hand finally stopped on your hip, pulling his thumb out and resuming his kiss. His hands were still cold, but somehow made you feel even warmer.

He was toying with your undergarments, cold fingers stretching the soft fabric and touching all around, except where you needed him the most. You wondered how it might be, cold fingers against your hot core, and it made you dizzier.

It was becoming too much: the warmth of the chimney, his body on top of you and the coldness of his hands. You wanted to scream, to beg him to please take you now, but you could only continue under his torturous pace, kissing him back, your hands roaming his chest and making a mess of his hair, pulling his curls out of its perfect place. A gentle tug of his hair earned you a groan, which nearly pushed you off the edge.

“Can I take these off?” He tugged your undergarments, panting.

“Yes.”

“Beg” he said in your ear.

“Nikolai, please.”

“That is not begging.”

“Nikolai, I beg you to take them off.”

“That’s my girl” he bit your ear while pulling the fabric.

A loud knock made you open your eyes abruptly to see him hide his hands from your sight “close your eyes” he instructed.

You heard the sound of fabric, steps and a door open. “Nikolai” General Nazyalensky’s voice filled the room, “We received correspondence from the Termite, there are Fjerdan troops marching south. The council is waiting for you in the war room.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes”

The door closed and he was back in your eyesight. He sat between your legs again, admiring you for a minute.

“Care to continue?” You teased.

“We’ll have to put a raincheck on that” He said and you blushed at his blunt rejection, turning your face away from him. Suddenly he was on top of you again, his now gloved hands guiding your face towards his’, “because I only have a couple minutes and with you I need so much more than that, myshka.” He kissed you deeply again, it felt like a natural thing now. “Get some sleep, I’ll see you in the morning for our date.” He stood up, extending a hand to help you do the same. You took it.

“Don’t you have a war to attend?”

“It will have to wait for another day.” With that he kissed you again before rearranging himself and leaving with a flirty wink.

***

The smell of flowers woke you up. When your eyes opened you realized your room was filled with roses of all colors. On every surface of the room there was a thick bouquet and on the nightstand a note that read

I am not sure if they are a hundred, but I brought you all the roses of Ravka.

-Nik.

There were more than a hundred, for sure. You stood on your tiptoes, careful not to kick any, as you inspected every single vase, each one had a card sending you regards from the flower shop, each of them further away than the other. How had Nikolai gathered them all this morning, you had no clue.

Minutes later one of Nikolai’s valets left a box with clothes in it. After you changed into them, a plain white shirt, trousers and boots, you met your husband in the dais of the main stairs.

“Dashing as ever” His signature smirk greeted you.

His outfit was similar to yours, way too simple for a king. He escorted you out and towards the lake, where you found a ship.

“Am I meeting Sturmhond today?” You asked with a smile.

“Maybe”

He helped you on the ship, and after putting on a green jacket, he instructed the squallers as the ship caught the air and rose.

A gasp left your mouth in terror and your husband was at your side in an instant, holding you close to him. For a while there was only him, your face buried on his chest, his smell grounding you. Then everything was calm again, and softly he pulled away and guided you to the bow, one hand on your waist and one on the railing.

“You wanted to see Ravka… I thought to show you your whole kingdom.”

Out of words, you explored the frozen woods of the North and the border with Fjerda; the vastness of the city of Os Alta, the desert on what used to be the Fold, all the cultures and colors of the southern cities, the clarity of the shore. All the while Nikolai whispered stories in your ear, his chest pressed against your back and his hands on your waist.

You ate at Os Kervo, where you both had to be tailored to go undercover, his now ginger hair bouncing free.

You stood on the docks, looking at the sea.

“Missing home?” His chin leaned against your shoulder.

“You are my home now, Nikolai.”

He turned you and kissed you fiercely. There, in the docks of Os Kervo, tailored away from your royal faces, you were just two idiots in love. No protocols to respect or whispers to feed; just two lovers intertwined, hypnotized by their most animalistic needs of each other. Sturmhond took risks Nikolai wouldn’t; like pulling your hair and letting his fingers dig your skin, biting your lips and tasting your tongue, he pulled muffled moans out of you like a child takes cookies out of a jar. Your knees buckled, but his strong arms were there to hold you and continue his quest. When he was done, he leaned your foreheads together, gasping for air.

“Such a conqueror” you whispered, panting.

“And I am not done yet.” His threat made your legs weak again.

You barely kept your hands off each other on the way back, but your control was completely lost as soon as you arrived at the Palace.

Your legs were on his hips, and his hands supporting them as you both walked in, the welcoming party waiting for you quickly dissipated as he carried you up the stairs and to your bedroom.

He pushed you against the wall, and once the door was closed and secured, he carried you to the bed.

“Careful with my roses” you teased.

“I’ll plant you a whole new garden”

His body was pressed on yours, both of you working on taking your clothes off. You pushed him making land on his back, straddling him, his naked torso to your bare chest.

“No objection to that” a lopsided grin on his face

You took his hands, touching the fabric of his gloves, your eyes kindly asking for permission. His breath was ragged when he nodded.

Softly, you pulled the fabric from each finger, making them loose enough to pull out the right hand first. His eyes were closed, defeated, ashamed, as you completely removed both gloves. You laid a wet kiss on each one before kissing his palms and then moved to intertwine your fingers to his. They were black and cold, different, for sure, but not worth hiding and definitely better than those stupid gloves.

“Nikolai”

“Mmm” his eyes remained closed, his chest to yours while you sat on his lap.

“touch me”

“I don’t want the darkling’s curse on you.”

“Please”

“Are you not” he swallowed, “disgusted?”

“Not in the slightest”

He finally touched your face, his palm on your cheek felt cold but you leaned to his touch nonetheless.

“Does your night visitator have anything to do with this?”

Nikolai’s head fell forward in shame, “yes”

He remained silent as you pampered his face with kisses, falling back on the bed but now with a defeated aura.

“The darkling turned me into a monster”

“Don’t say that” your head was on his chest, your whole body wrapped on his.

“I wish this was a theatricality, love” You looked at him tenderly. “He literally turned me into a monster, Alina saved me or so I believed, when she destroyed the Fold. But the monster is still in me, it comes back at night sometimes. That is why Zoya chains me to bed every night.”

Your gasp broke his heart in a million pieces.

“That is why I do not sleep with you, I am afraid I might hurt you, kill you, while I am that damned monster.”

You took his hands and guided them to your waist, the cold of his fingers giving you chills. Softly, you left a trail of wet kisses on his ear, his neck, until he undoubtedly lost himself in you again.

The weight of his arm on your waist dulled you to the deepest, coziest sleep you have ever had, until a metallic clac woke you up. There was a slim figure standing on the foot of your bed, as you blinked the darkness away you realized it was Zoya toying with a set of keys. Her beautiful face was pursed, at least she was not enjoying this.

“I am sorry, I must take Nikolai to his rooms.” She whispered.

Nikolai moved next to you, his fingers wrapping on your waist as he laid sleepy kisses on your shoulder. “Mmmm?” He mumbled deep in sleep.

“He is asleep, he won’t turn into a monster tonight.”

“We do not know that, Your Majesty.”

“Zoya?” Nikolai asked, blinking.

“I will be waiting in your rooms, Nikolai.” She turned to you, “good night, moi tsaritsa.”

“I’ll go with you.” You turned to him.

Your husband got to his feet, buttoning his shirt, “No.”

“Nikolai”

He kissed your forehead and left.

***

Nikolai knocked on your door every night for five nights, not a single one you opened.

***

“I know we are not on speaking terms” Nikolai spoke from the other side of the desk where you had spent your afternoon.

You did not look up to him.

“But I have a gift for you.”

You raised your eyes to him, sneering.

“Ouch”

“A gift does not change anything, Nikolai.”

“I do not expect it to.”

You raised one eyebrow, insting him to continue.

He flexed his fingers and a man carrying a machine entered, placing the machine in front of you. It took you a few minutes to see it: it had … buttons? with the alphabet, although it was not in order. It had two rollers behind the alphabet and a paper sheet in between.

“It is a typing machine” he leaned near you to explain, “you can use this to type the laws instead of writing them down by hand and hurting yourself.”

Your eyes were glued on the machine. “Where did you get it?”

“I built it”

You raised your eyes to him again, but this time they were filled with wonder and admiration. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, love” he said looking at the machine, but you knew he wasn’t referring only to it, “everything I do, I do it aiming for that.”

With that, he left the library, leaving you and your typing machine alone.

***

That night he knocked on your door once again, but this time you opened, leaning against the frame, opening just enough for your body to fit.

“Yes, Moi Tsar?”

“I…” he swallowed, “was wondering if I could join you for a moment?”

“You can join me for the night or not at all.”

His eyes closed in annoyance, “love you are taking this too far now”

“Am I? Or am I merely demanding my husband to trust me half as much as he trusts his soldiers?”

He faced the floor, exasperated. “As much as I hate to say this: they are replaceable. You are not.”

A scoff, “I’ll make you wish I was, Nikolai.”

With that you closed the door on his face.

#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #arranged marriage

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sxs-a2 · 2 years ago

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His answer was played differently in her head. She would think he would either shout 'no' and continue to insult her or say 'yes' and completely take charge in organizing their outing. He reminded her of the Wind Hashira, so she expected a lot of talking in either scenario. But this boy barely said anything. Nezuko could not tell whether or not he is interested in her. Regardless, he complimented her, despite insulting her a moment before. So this reunion between the pair ended in a positive note.

Genya's beauty and their interaction distracted her from her appointment with Aoi in the medical ward. The girl ran to the same direction as the other with her footsteps sharing the same rhythm. @blindedbones

The way his jaw hit the floor was comedic. Just full on shock in this poor boys face. Was she trying to ask him out?! Demon slayers can't have romance! That's absurd! But.. she's so cute. What if she cries if he says no?? Genya closed his mouth, worry etched on that scarred face of his. Morally it felt wrong, but.. probably due to hormones, he just blurted.

₊❏❜ ⋮ ❝ Ok. ❞

Genya was still stunned, immediately turning the complete opposite direction. He began to walk off, loud steps echoing through the silent butterfly hall. He still had an appointment afterall, which, Shinobu would beat his ass if he didn't attend. Either way he'd most likely never see Nezuko again, it didn't really matter if he agreed or not right?

₊❏❜ ⋮ ❝ ... ❞

He was almost gone and out of site now, determined to get the hell away from the absolute adorable girl.

#blindedbones #🌸 \\ into the fire breath // (ic)#🌸 \\ i vow to protect the innocent // [v: main]#//genya: i hope not to see her again #//nez: surprise mf!

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call-sign-shark · 7 months ago

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Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: As you're deemed too dangerous and unstable to train with the others, you are assigned special lessons with Bahgra. The situation turns catastrophic but Kirigan is here to save you from yourself.

Words: 7k

TW: reference to prostitution and SA, graphic depiction of violence, eroticism, pinning, shadow play, smut, hurt/comfort

Note: I didn’t proof read it but I’ll do it later. Also next chapter won’t be that long aha. Also: HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Part V - Beneath His Watchful Eyes

Previous || Masterlist || Next

The more days flew by, the more it came off as an evidence for everyone but yourself: now that you had learnt the basic abilities of your Heartrender nature, continuing your training with the other Grisha wouldn’t get you anywhere. The morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy and thick curtains of your bedroom, painting the luxurious walls in soft golden hues.

Dressed in white as always — for you still refused to wear your red kefta —, you were lacing up your boots, letting your thoughts lose themselves in a swirling mix of exhaustion and unease that had become your constant companion in the Little Palace. Lately, the excruciating anxiety you usually felt prior to going downstairs with the others had diminished and this surprising phenomenon was partly due to Zoya’s sudden quietness whenever you were around. Since the incident of the dinner hall during which you had ended up covered in pig’s blood and defended by General Kirigan, the egocentric Squaller seemed to tolerate you. Or, at the very least, to bite her tongue hard enough not to taunt you anymore in the vilest way possible like she used to do. Following this event, a myriad of questions had lingered in your restless mind: was Kirigan’s intervention the only reason why Zoya left you alone? Why did the General decide to protect you from her petty behavior while you were nothing but a new and clumsy Grisha among a hundred of highly trained and skilled soldiers? And, most importantly, why did your usually numbed emotions tend to surge at once whenever he was nearby, as if he was able to trigger something buried deep within you?

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

“Come in,” You called with a neutral tone, standing as Genya Safin entered the room.

The Tailor was radiant as always, her round face reminding you of a delicate porcelain doll while her russet hair caught the light in a way that seemed almost magical. Even though you didn’t exchange much with her, she has been one of the scarce few who showed a bit of kindness toward you. Not directly, but through the form of timid smiles and empathic glances. Masking your natural coldness, you offered her a welcoming grin but immediately noticed that her bright smile was tempered by a hint of apprehension. Like a tamer getting into a tiger’s cage. A White Tigress, Tante Heleen’s shrilling voice corrected in your skull.

“Good morning,” Genya greeted, her voice a warm lilt that contrasted with the frozen desert of your iris, “The General has instructed you to begin the second step of your training today.”

You frowned at such news, your hands stilling and your shoulders tensing, “Training? With whom?” You dared ask, already dreading the idea of getting paired with someone else that Ivan or Fedyor.

“Baghra,” Genya replied with a careful tone, stepping closer but slowly for she knew how sensitive the instruction she had just delivered was. The name felt like a guillotine blade on a prisoner’s neck.

“Baghra?!” You repeated, your confusion deepening and your seraphic traits turning into the deadliest ice again. Obviously you had overheard whispers of the old woman’s brutal methods and reclusive nature. From what you knew, she didn’t bother training young Grisha but rather preserved her knowledge for exceptionally gifted creatures. An attention you weren’t sure to deserve. Nor want. “Fantastic,” You couldn’t help the sarcastic venom that escaped your plump lips.

Genya only nodded before walking toward the window, visibly uncomfortable. “Her hut is at the edge of the grounds. I’ll show you the way. Come with —

“Why her?” You cut her off, your voice edged with a sharp frustration, “Why not train with the others as is the case since my arrival here?” Getting familiar with public training sessions had already been a gargantuan task, so the idea of starting from scratch again left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Genya seemed to hesitate, her gaze flickering away for a moment to regain composure before her focus shifted back to you, “The General has his reasons,” she said vaguely, though her speech lacked conviction and rather suggested that she knew more than she let on.

You felt a sudden pang of isolation tighten in your chest. That was unfair. After all, you had never asked for a special treatment. Quite the contrary, you had tried your best to meddle with the crowd even though it was vain. Even here, surrounded by Grisha who should have been your peers, you were set apart — an anomaly, an outlier. An abomination, “Fine,” You said curtly, grabbing your fur coat a bit more bluntly than expected, which made Genya flinch a little.

The Tailor beauty offered you an encouraging smile before leading you out of the palace. Your steps crunched over the frosted ground as you walked away from the imposing building. The towering structure of the Little Palace looked behind the two of you, like an ancient creature made of stone and adornments. With a last sympathetic grin, Genya pointed you the way to Baghra and retreated, leaving you to face whatever awaited you inside.

“Fuck me,” You mumbled under your breath, pausing at the threshold and gathering your composure, before stepping through the heavy wooden door.

She couldn’t be as bad as they said she was, right?

The small, dimly lit room carried a faint scent of wood smoke and incense. Its walls were lined with ancient carvings of saints and symbols that told the stories of another era. As your pale iris got used to the darkness, you stood in the center of the place with your arms crossed all the while studying the stern old woman who was before you. She hasn’t greeted you or said a single word. Instead, Baghra’s eyes seemed to pierce through you like a free and wise hawk appraising a caged animal.

“So, they think you are powerful,” The old harpy began, her voice a sharp blade in the still, almost suffocating air, “But power without control is not better than an open flame in a forest. I wonder what you are, little one. The wildfire or the restorative water?”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the sting of the comment and the mocking tone that seeped through her every word. Control. You had heard it over and over, and, frankly, the constant reminders of it were starting to get on your nerves, “I never claimed to have control. Isn’t that why I’m here? To learn control from you, since it seems that no one has managed to do so? Or at least that’s what General Kirigan keeps telling me.”

Baghra scoffed, surprised by your boldness and your insolent nature, “Is that what Aleksander told you?”

So, his name is Aleksander, you thought and, somehow, it warmed your heart a little to know what he was called. Maybe because it made him more human.

“Control is only a part of it. What you need for the time being is understanding.” Finally she stepped closer, her cane tapping against the floor and as she came near, you had the familiar sensation of living shadows surrounding you, “What I want to know is what exactly are you capable of, girl? Not just the obvious — what else lies beneath those trembling hands of yours?”

Silence fell on the room.

“Speak!” She urged, tapping her cane more violently on the ground. The echo ripped through the air and made you jump slightly despite not being a scaredy cat in nature. The old hag was, indeed, not very sympathetic.

“Well,” You hesitated a little, your gaze drifting from her to the cane as if you were getting ready to dodge a potential blow from the stern harpy, “I can do what most Heartrenders can,” Your pace was slow for you were carefully choosing your words, “Stop hearts, slow breathing, crush lungs, induce pain, emotion-related changes…” The more you talked, the more your voice dropped to an unsure whisper, “During training I — ”

“I already know all of these. It’s not what I demanded. I want you to clearly explain what lies behind the rumors. What kind of miracles did you perform to get such a reputation?”

A Saint or a Monster.

A blessing or a curse.

Your shoulders slouched down at the inevitable: you had no choice but to talk about what happened during the whole year you were on the run and mention the incidents that unfolded, “I can also heal. Not only wounds but diseases. I’ve cured… Things that should have been fatal. Triggered some too..”

Baghra frowned, her sharp predatory eyes riveted on you, but she remained silent, waiting for more.

“There was this town who had welcomed me for a few days. A little girl would always come and share the little food she had with me. Ana was the name. She told me that she, as well as a small portion of the town, were plagued by a deadly, incurable disease. I just… “ You paused, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to remember the events in detail, “I don’t know how I did it but I cured her. I cured them all. It’s not that I did it consciously you know? It was as if… As if my instincts pushed me to do so and it happened that something inside of me knew exactly what to do. I left the day after because their reactions made me uncomfortable: they had started to bow in front of me and bring me offerings.”

“And then?” Baghra urged. Now her eyes gleamed with a curiosity she didn’t know she possessed anymore.

You continued, your voice growing quieter. Darker. “And then I left, encountered hunters and all went black. When I woke up, five mangled men were lying discarded on the frozen ground, broken in such a grotesque way that my stomach twisted. I remembered two of them throwing up and crying bright red blood. As for the three others… There was something else.” An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine at the memory, the metallic smell of twisted and exposed flesh coming back to you as if someone was gutted alive right here, right now, “They moved against their will, like puppets. They turned — No, I think I’ve made them turn against each other. I was so enraged you see but…” You swallowed hard.

Baghra’s cane came to slam against the ground again, the sound reverberating like a gunshot, “Control of another’s body and mind,” she muttered, fascinated. “Dangerous. Do you know what kind of devastation you could cause with that power? If you lose control for even a moment… Or if it fell in the wrong hands.”

“I know,” You interrupted, faking annoyance while your voice clearly shook, “That’s why I’m afraid of it. Which is even more frustrating considering that I’ve never been particularly afraid of something.” And somehow, that detail, which might seem insignificant to most, bothered you more than you wished to admit. Daring a quick glance at the grey-haired and eagle-eyed Grisha, you noticed how she studied you for a long moment, her traits still holding authority and sternness despite the brief glow of empathy. It lasted just a fraction, but it was enough to conclude that she wasn’t the heartless bitch people talked about.

“Fear can keep you sharp, but too much of it will paralyze you.” She finally said, her words wrapped in an unexpected sense of understanding. “Show me.”

“I beg your pardon?” You almost choked at her firm order. For a moment, you thought she was joking or at least taunting you since humor didn’t seem to be part of her. Yet, Baghra replied to your surprise with a raised eyebrow, full of judgment.

“Show me what you’re afraid of.” As her sharp command broke the silence, panic surged immediately through your being like a destructive tidal wave. Your chest tightened at the idea, each breath shallow and uneven. Not even summoned by a client at the Menagerie did you feel the weight of such anxiety.

You frowned, trying your best to hide your turmoil and keep up with appearances but your voice betrayed you, “On what?” You dare ask, “A chair? You, maybe?” The air around her felt oppressive, pressing against your pale skin.

Baghra, insensitive to your sarcasm, turned toward the corner of the room where a young Etherealki you’d already noticed during training stepped out of the shadow timidly. How long had she been standing there? The woman’s wide eyes darted nervously between you and the old witch, unsure. “Tanya has volunteered,” Baghra’s statement sounded so deadly cold that you felt like you had just heard yourself talk. “She knows the risks.”

Boom. Boom.

Your heart raced and sweat beaded at your temples, dampening a few ivory strands of your long mane. To be fair, you weren't just afraid of failing; it was the possibility of losing control and becoming the mass-murderous monster you had already let out a few times that you feared most.

“I— I just… can’t.” Words managed to reach your lips.

The Etherealki hesitated, not quite reassured by your reaction, then stepped forward, her hands nervously playing with the hem of her blue kefta as she spoke. “I-I’m ready,” she stammered, though her voice betrayed her fear, “Go ahead.”

You felt your whole chest tighten a second time, as though your ribcage was slowly but surely crushing your organs, reducing them to a pulp at the simple thought of what you were asked to do. It wasn’t much about empathy, on which you had always run low, but more about your refusal to face the reflection in your mirror in case she died, “Are you sure?” You breathed.

Tanya nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Baghra’s voice cut through the tension. “Control her movement. Nothing else.” She ordered as though it was the easiest thing to do.

A shaky exhale left your mouth. Carefully, you stepped forward, the cold hum of your power thrumming through your veins. With unsure movements, you raised your hands and focused on summoning your abilities that were impatiently waiting beneath your skin. Slowly, Tanya’s arm began to rise, her movements jerky and unnatural.

It worked. And the Etheralki wasn’t choking on her own blood nor bashing her own head against the nearest wall so far. That was a win. The taste of success didn’t last long though.

“Relax,” Baghra barked, suddenly hitting your fingers with her cane. The wooden stick struck your knuckles with a sharp crack, sending a bolt of pain through your hand that radiates up your arms.

“Aouch! Are you crazy?!” You hissed, fingers instinctively recoiling and the control you held over Tanya loosening. Yet, you forced yourself to stay still. The sting burned like a biting reminder that the old harpy wouldn’t hesitate to hit you again. Relentless methods… Now you understood.

“Your grip is too tight. Her arms were starting to twist in her back.”

Insults would have certainly flown from your pretty mouth hadn’t you been too focused on not hurting the young Etheralki. Instead, you adjusted the pressure and Tanya’s movements became smoother, more fluid, as you guided her to lift one arm, then the other, until they wrapped around her own throat.

A thin trickle of blood ran from one of your nostrils as you maintained the connection and narrowed your focus on the girl’s quickening heartbeats, which resounded in your skull.

Baghra stepped closer, watching with a mix of curiosity and alert when she noticed Tanya’s finger digging into her own flesh, “Good. Now release her.” She intervened because she didn't want to take the risk of seeing you force the young girl to strangle herself.

You exhaled loudly, dropped your hands, and watched the poor Etheralki stumble back. Her palms patted her throat as she gasped for air.

“I’m sorry,” You blurted, stepping toward her.

Tanya shook her head, “it’s fine,” she said, panting, “I’m fine.” To be fair, you couldn’t tell if she was trying to be genuinely kind or if her immediate reply was only motivated by the sheer will to stop you from stepping too close. The way she rapidly grabbed her chapka and left the hut when allowed to do so hinted at the second option. You stared at the entrance from which she departed, absentmindedly wiping the blood from your nose with the back of your hand.

“Heaven.” Baghra’s voice snatched you from your thoughts. Turning around, you saw her approaching you as carefully as if she was coaxing a wild beast, though her expression remained unfathomable, “You’re more than a Heartrender, indeed. I suspected it the moment I saw you but now it’s undeniable.” Her sentence floated in the air for a few seconds, the anticipation of what she would say next adding to the build-up tension, “Your power doesn’t just affect the body — it is the very essence of a person you can break and control.”

You turned to ice again despite how uneasy her statement made you feel, “Is that… Bad?”

Baghra sucked on her teeth before replying, “Not bad per se. But dangerous. You really need to master it quickly, little girl. And by it, I’m not only referring to your little science but also to the rage you’ve been keeping buried for so long. For some reason, you seem to end up losing control and hurting people whenever you use your abilities too intensely. Also, there’s something else…”

“What?” You growled. As if today’s revelation and experiments hadn’t racked your nerves enough, you thought.

An odd silence settled between the two of you, heavy and electric. The old witch’s dark eyes roved over your slim silhouette with a scrutiny that sought to strip away your very skin and reach the fibers of who you were. The elder woman rested her hands on her cane, unmoving, she clung to it as if bracing against a revelation she wasn’t yet ready to voice. You shifted uncomfortably under her stare, but Baghra’s focus didn’t waver.

There was something eerily familiar about you — an echo, a flicker of something she had thought long buried in the recesses of her memory. Back from the time the Fold was created. It laid in the tilt of your chin, the defiance in your gaze paired with that undercurrent of pain… A ghost of another time.

“Interesting,” Baghra muttered to herself, barely loud enough for you to hear. There was no warmth in her tone, only a thread of unease woven through the words. She feared that saying what she thought aloud would summon old wounds to life. Whatever it was — whatever connection the old woman could feel pulsing faintly like a forgotten heartbeat — remained unspoken. In all her wisdom, Baghra knew better than to meddle in such mysteries before their time.

Some destinies were inescapable. She concluded grimly.

“Never mind,” she said finally, turning away. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Now you are requested to leave.”

Harsh and inconsiderate, but you still obliged and, to be fair, you were more than happy to exit her place.

As you left the room, the harpy remained behind, her thoughts swirling like a howling hurricane. General Kirigan… When you had mentioned Aleksander earlier, it had been as if your soul already knew him.

Baghra gritted her teeth and at this very moment, never had she hoped so dearly for her predictions to be wrong.

You had waited impatiently for the moment you could curl up under the soft blanket of your bed after a warm bath and yet, you soon regretted daylight. Rolling from one side to another you had fought against insomnia for hours. It didn't help that the temperature of your room was high, rendering every attempt to relax properly fruitless.

Sleep finally condescended to visit you after you had removed all your clothes and sunk back into the comfortable freshness of the mattress. A few hours later, amid the night when the darkness was the thickest, you found yourself caught in that strange liminal space between sleep and wakefulness.

The sensation was indescribable — your body might have been heavy with exhaustion but your restless mind still refused to let it fully go. Besides, the silence around you grew unnerving rather than comforting. The eerie calm of the Little Palace seemed to press in on you, to the extent you almost wished you could hear the sound of Tante Heleen’s quill scribbling on paper or even the clicking of the golden chain at your neck whenever you moved. But all you were met with was a deafening emptiness.

As you lay there, trapped in such a strange state, the faintest stir of air brushed across your frozen flesh, resulting in a shiver running down your spine.

Your foggy mind was trying to rationalize and blame it on the strong wind outside but the truth was your window was closed and the heavy, thick curtains pulled in front of it. Had the wind been responsible, the curtain would have moved.

Soon after, you felt the thin bed sheet that covered you gently sliding off your body, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. What was that? Your breath hitched in surprise at the unexpected freshness. Shivering again, you opened your heavy eyelids, your arctic blue eyes scanning the odd shadows. Strangely, they seemed to thicken and gather at every corner of the room, growing bigger as you peered at them.

And from the shadows came the irresistible pull.

The sudden sensation crept over you, seeping into your consciousness. A familiar call that sent adrenaline pumping through your veins and turned your pulse into a wild drumbeat in your ears. The feeling didn’t come from a sight or a sound strictly speaking, but rather from something far more primal and instinctive. The frozen meadows of your crystal iris darted around the bedroom again but there was nothing. So why did the sensation remain, coiling in your chest and whispering that you were not alone? That you were watched?

The tendrils of shadow you were surveilling suddenly jumped from the corner with deliberate intent, crawling lazily but dangerously close like a pool of spilled ink. Once they reached the bed, they circled it and rose, devouring each light source. The moon, the candles, the twilight hue... Everything disappeared, guzzled by them until all remained was a pitch-black darkness that kept you prisoner.

If you had managed to remain rather quiet until then, panic definitely invaded you when an odd chill brushed your arm. You stopped breathing: it hadn't felt like the winter air but softer, like a touch. “F—Fuck” You squealed a little as the whisper of a second movement crossed your cheek, just like the graze of invisible fingertips.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Then it kept going, wandering all over you one place after the other and leaving you quaking each time. The darkness touched you again and again, trailing down your spine, and brushing the curve of your collarbone. What had started like a grazing sensation soon turned into the actual caresses of a ghost lover. As though they were the extension of his own hands.

The softest and most caring caresses you had ever experienced.

Your eyes fluttered close when the tendrils of shadow resolved themselves to wander all over your almost petrified body in a languid, intimate exploration. Gripping, electric, your being reacted vividly to them — feeling your nipples hardening, you couldn’t help but instinctively arch toward the phantom touches as if drawn by a force you couldn’t resist. The oddness of the whole experience vanished for an instant as you relished in their gentleness and the perfect knowledge of the most sensitive parts of you they seemed to have.

Heat pooled in your stomach and between your legs for the shadows danced across you, grabbing you by the hips to explore your inner thighs and graze the pearly petals of your already wet slit.

“Al— Aleksander…”

You moaned without realizing it. The name had left your mouth instinctively all the while you threw your head back. Caught in a swirl of pleasure and intimacy, you gave yourself to the darkness and parted your legs. A darkness that felt like the tip of a warm tongue coming to taste your intoxicating and hands cuddling every inch of your gleaming-with-sweat body.

“Fuck!” You groaned again as an electrifying wave of pleasure crashed against you like waves on the shore.

Everything was so real, so sensual, you couldn't distinguish dream from reality. A fire of arousal ignited in your entire being, fueled by lust. More... Your mind begged your hands brutally closing around the bedsheets and trapping the fabric in your small fists.

Heaven.

Your name seemed to echo faintly in the silence in reply, not truly spoken but rather felt.

No, it was definitely fucking real.

Alarmed by such an unbelievable realization, you came back to your sense and fought the pleasurable daze that enveloped you until you were able to turn toward the voice to search for its owner. A voice you had recognized and couldn't mistake for anyone else's. Still, nothing. Just plain blackness. The shadows tightened their embrace around you even more greedily when you moved though, as if afraid you would try to leave them. They curled around your legs and hips in a lover’s caresses, gentle yet incredibly possessive.

Stay.

And all of a sudden it wasn’t just the shadows; it was him. You felt a hand — warm and strong — cradle your face and tilt your head on the side to free the way to your neck. Overwhelmed, you squirmed a little but couldn’t fight the invisible force that was keeping you pinned to the mattress rather firmly.

Stay with me.

You could almost feel his soft lips against your ear, could almost hear his breath as he murmured words you barely comprehend but that made your heart race faster anyhow.

“Come to me…” It wasn't just a feeling anymore, it was a sound, a murmur that echoed in the void. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life…” Those were the exact same words you had heard when the Drüskelle had captured you, seconds before the General came to rescue you.

And then the dream shattered, dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

The intensity of the moment and the brutality with which everything had come to a stop left you awake, gasping, and drenched in sweat. How long did it last? You couldn’t tell, but when you reopened your eyes, the shy morning sun was bathing your bedroom in a soft, reassuring light.

“What the hell…” You panted, dragging your quaking body to the edge of the bed before pulling the white blanket and wrapping it around you. What the hell was wrong with you? Dizzy and shivering, you let out a shaky sigh and buried your burning face in your cold hands. Was it real? Was it a wet dream? Was your mind sick? Was it that damn place that was driving you crazy?

A second sigh resounded in the silence of your room.

Fortunately, the Black General was rather busy lately so you wouldn’t have to suffer fleeting but very embarrassing encounters. At least you hoped so for you weren’t sure to be able to look at him right in the eyes after the obscene dream you just had.

With your pulse still racing, you tried to forget that unsettling experience, shoving it in the back of your mind to focus on the work awaiting you today, even though the tingling sensation from the phantom touches still haunted your skin.

Because no matter how much you ignored it, how much you pushed the inevitable, Aleksander had already made his way through the very fabric of your soul.

If you had to pinpoint your best quality, it would be your ability to adapt to changes quite rapidly. That was probably why you had jumped in this new training routine without complaining too much once you had realized that you had managed to survive the first lesson with Bahgra. While insufferable, the old hag indeed taught you something useful.

Nevertheless, today’s training session had been particularly grueling. You let out a low growl of pain and wiped the blood that was dripping from your nose with the back of your trembling hand, the electric and wild sensation of power rattling against every nerve of your body. While some time had passed since your disturbing and erotic dream, your thoughts kept coming back to it and it made containing your powers ever more difficult.

“Concentrate.” Baghra’s voice sounded as pleasantly as nails scratching a black board. The old woman had been drilling you relentlessly to push you to control it, but the power within you had visibly a mind of its own.

Standing across from Tanya, the brave volunteer who returned to the hut and accepted to be your partner against all expectations, you could feel her unease radiating off her. While you understood that no one in her situation would have played it cool, she did seem particularly tense today. Etheralki's whole being was shivering, her wide eyes wide with apprehension.Could she possibly sense your own fatigue and struggles?

“Control it. Don’t let it control you.”

You nodded briefly but it didn’t keep you from mumbling a few insults under your beard before closing your eyes for a brief moment in order to relax. However, the fatigue that had been building up for the past months was taking a toll on you. The control, the lessons, the loneliness, the General’s growing effects on you… It was getting too much, even for you.

You know, one day you’re gonna crack if you keep sweeping everything that troubles you under the rug. One does not simply ignore what hurts. Fedyor once told you.

Pushing your limits a bit too far, a flood of emotions crashed against you and rendered all attempts to calm more than tricky.

“When are you going to listen to me, stupid little girl?!”

The hag was growing more impatient and even though her frustration was understandable since you had done everything wrong since this morning, the words she had used were the final nail to your coffin. Fedyor was right.

She had barely finished speaking when her frustrated taunt triggered a hurricane of aching memories to surge back. The cold, the violence, the screams, the smell. That disgusting and haunting combination of funfair fragrances, blood, sweat and tears.

Baghra didn’t know it but she had used the exact same words and tone Tante Heleen had used that one night she had got caught stealing food. Obviously, you had been heavily punished for that.

The memory struck like a lash itself, sharp and violent. Almost as brutal as the phantom bite of the whip across your back, the pain searing not just your pale skin but carving itself deep into your soul. Each cruel blow came accompanied by the echo of Tante Heleen’s voice, mocking, mean, and melting with Baghra’s. Stupid girl. Going to listen. Simmering in your blood, your overstimulated power only made it more vivid, to the extent that you could genuinely feel the sensation of the coarse leather against your back. The ache bloomed like a fire spreading across you, a sadistic reminder of your humiliation. Desperation. Of wounds that never truly healed.

LiStEn YoU sTuPiD GiRL.

The bitch scolded again. Baghra or Tante Heleen? You couldn’t differentiate them anymore.

And with the last flash of memory of the whip tearing your skin apart came a scream from your pretty mouth — a banshee’s shriek, haunting, blood freezing, that resounded in the room. So piercing Baghra immediately protected her ears with the palms of her hands. Following your cry, Tanya gasped loudly for your unleashed power burst, uncontrollable, and made her body both convulse and twist under the command of your moving fingers. The room itself seemed to spin as the energy slipped out of your control.

“Stop it!” You had the blurry impression that Baghra had screamed at you but her voice sounded so far away you thought she also, just like the flashbacks, belonged to your past. And all your life you’d drilled yourself to think that all that belonged to the past should be ignored, if not buried six feet deep.

One quick look at the frozen and determined expression etched on your broken doll face was enough for Baghra to understand; you had gone too far and she wasn’t sure she could fetch you back from the dark waters of your trauma. “Heaven, you’re hurting her!” She called your name again but you didn’t hear, the scorching hatred in your eyes turning her blood into liquid nitrogen. The wise woman’s instincts faltered, feeling powerless against the disaster unraveling before her. ”HEAVEN!” She barked, louder, but her voice lacked its usual commanding tone.

Tanya’s final gasp echoed before she crumpled to the ground, blood coming from her nose and eyes. In an instant, the old Grisha feared that you had really killed her.

“No! Tanya!” She cried out, a hint of panic weaving itself with the very tone of her usually neutral voice. Baghra was about to move, her eagle eyes assessing whether she needed to knock you out or bounce on the poor motionless girl in an attempt to push her out of your line of sight. It was about acting rapidly if she didn’t want the weight of an innocent Grisha’s death on her shoulders for she had been the one who had the idea of training you with a living target. When the fatality of the situation fell on her, realizing she couldn’t stop you anymore, Baghra stepped closer, her movements measured but hesitant. She stretched out her wooden cane as if to snap you back to reality, but the aura surrounding you was impenetrable, thick with chaos and grief. For the first time in years, fear crept into Baghra’s calculated resolve.

Then, everything went still. Black. Incredibly peaceful.

In the midst of your chaos, shadows had burst from the corners of the room as if replying to the tragic call of your despair and to the screams of your aching soul. They had slithered on the floor, bypassed the old witch and the Etheralki without the slightest hint of care, only to wrap around you in a cocoon, a bubble of obscurity. Just as they did in your dream.

Surprisingly, these same shadows were tangible, almost palpable: their sensation might have been a bit suffocating, one may even say thick, but they were definitely not oppressive — just agreeably heavy. At least enough to ground you. And when all you could see through the filter of your infernal fury was gruesome red and gold, pitch blackness settled in your mind and, with it, a calm you had never dream of washed over you, like a dark embrace that held you steady despite the storm.

Aleksander.

The recognition of him had been instant and didn’t require one single glance — you could have recognized his aura amongst thousands.

With crystal eyes filled with both fear and confusion, your lashes dared flutter open. The sight of the Black General appearing through black fog welcomed you, his imposing silhouette stepping toward you with both haste and confidence. No matter how terrifyingly deadly your powers were, Aleksander was everything but afraid. The tall darkness reached for you without a word nor hesitation, his arms pulling you tightly against him. Your body posed no more resistance. Quite the contrary, it fell limp against him just like a puppet whose strings had just been severed.

You melted as his warmth seeped into your arctic skin. A warmth that lit a comforting fire inside of you despite the thick layers of clothes which separated your two yearning beings. Ever-so-gently, one of Kirigan’s large hands ran up your neck and tangled in your magnificent long white hair to tug you closer. You shivered when his calloused fingers stroke your flesh. This time, it was real. Your eyelids shut tight again under the feeling of his strength, his body steady and unyielding as he enveloped you so tightly you were convinced that you would merge together.

You didn’t fight it.

You didn’t even want to.

Despite your loathing for unwanted and unexpected physical contacts, your small hands, trembling from exertion, moved instinctively and reached for him too. First and foremost, you touched his broad back, feeling his tense muscles under your moist palms. Your fingertips then brushed over the rich fabric of his kefta, the sensation of the wool slowly pulling you from numbness, before they trailed up to his square shoulders. Your hands rested there for a brief instant before you let your fingers curl through his dark hair, feeling the silken strands slip between your fingers.

Aleksander didn’t pull away during your exploration of him. In fact, he seemed to lean into your touch even more with a low hum of approval rumbling in his chest and his lips barely brushing against your ivory mane. Even though he had been a tad bit surprised by the fact you hugged him back at first especially since he hadn’t displayed any kind of affection to anyone in years, the General rapidly melted like butter under your caresses. His shoulders slouched a little and, with his face hidden from your sight, his traits softened in a turned briefly melancholic. Aleksander, who had thought he would never experience the devastating pleasure of holding someone he loved ever again, found a place he could finally feel bliss: your arms. For a moment, he couldn’t even tell which one of you was grounding the other. Deep down, and even if the goal behind display of affection had been to save you from your mind, it was you who embraced him so hard that he could feel the shattered, broken piece of his cursed soul stick back together. While still remaining an immovable anchor, the commanding figure of the General slipped away momentarily to reveal a glimpse of his real self.

“By the Saints…” The whisper had escaped Baghra’s lips as she watched the scene from outside the shadow. Her son, corrupted by ambition and pain, and that little wild Grisha clinging to each other for dear life...

She was aghast, astonished by the strange quality she noticed in Aleksander’s demeanor — a tenderness she had never seen before except once, with that little Healer from many centuries ago. The old witch clenched her jaw, for what she was witnessing now was the confirmation of the truth she had foreseen the first time you’ve met. And that truth was fate. There was something undeniable between her son and you, a bound that stretched beyond de realm of simple attraction. Yes, it was fate that was definitely pulling you together and you, little Heaven, was the key to whatever it was that Aleksander was becoming.

Aleksander could have released you now that you had calmed down a bit and that any risk of you snapping back to a killing spree mood had decreased but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Rather than stepping away, his grip became firmer and he didn’t stop until he could feel your heart beating against him. He pulled you closer and closer, your small breasts flattened against his chest and your heart catching the pace of his to drum in unison. It surely was a fleeting moment of peace, a moment that made you feel like the world had been lifted from your shoulders, if only for a minute. Barely acknowledging Baghra and the young Etheralki presence anymore, you lost yourself in the warmth, the comfort and the intensity of the moment. A little purr almost left your juicy lips as the General’s fingers tenderly traced along the line of your hair, soothing.

“I’m here.” His tender voice resounded, coming not only from his charming lips but from all around you.

The corner of your lips tugged into tiny, reassured and genuine smile.

”As always it seems…” Your voice dragged, words escaping your mouth before you thought of them because you didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to question what was happening between the two of you, nor why the General had always acted so differently with yours. For once, it was enough just to feel. To let his arms, body and shadows envelop you until you forget everything —the fear, the pain, the doubts. With him you were safe and you knew that if you were to break ever again, he would be there to keep you from crumbling apart.

“As always.” He whispered in your ear before reluctantly pulling back. The comforting warmth that had lulled you faded away cruelly.

He didn’t step back too far though, just enough to grab your chin and force you to look into his eyes. His unreadable gaze was so dark that there was no way to tell where his pupils stopped and where his iris started. You blinked, chasing away the remnants of dream dust from your long lashes as reality started to creep back.

“Are you alright?” He was quiet, almost whispering so that only you could hear. His hands were still resting on you, steady and loving.

You nodded in reply, though your body still felt the tremors of the experience, “I… Think so.”

But Kirigan didn’t release you immediately. In truth, his obsidian eyes lingered on you a moment longer until it fell on your lips, rosy and plump. Almost absentmindedly, as though struggling with his own desires, he simply put one of your long white strands back behind your ear in a gesture so intimate that your legs weakened. “Good.” He commented, before his thumb trailed down your jawline one last time and reached your lips. Heat suddenly flushed your cheeks, the blurry but steamy memories of that odd dream of him jumping back at you. His thumb gently pull at your fleshy lower lips and finally, with a soft sigh, the General let you go. He broke the contact, his other hand sliding along your arm in one last caress.

Cold settled back in his heart. And in yours.

“You’ve got a long way to go, Heaven.” He said, his tone far more soft than when addressing someone but that familiar authority and distance had come back. After ignoring the two others, he shot a quick glance at them to make sure that Tanya was fine. Or, at least, not dead.

You swallowed, teeth clenched, “I’m sorry to disappoint, General.”

“You’re not.” He cut more bluntly than he wished, “I just think that we still need to make a few adjustments to your training.” Aleksander stated, dark pupils surveying the slightest detail of your seraphic face.

“And what kind of adjustments if I may ask?” You hid again behind your fortress of ice, already embarrassed of the vulnerability you had shown to him earlier.

“A few private lessons with me.” The General’s lips curled into a subtle smirk, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but carried an edge of amusement at the surprise you had tried to conceal behind your mask of coldness. The faintest dimple appeared on one side, softening the sharp and stubbled line of his jaw.

Baghra’s whole body stiffened while she watched the exchange quietly, knowing there was more to this suggestion than you realized. Much more. She looked at her son, unapproving, and knew.

She knew that he wanted to keep you, possessive and jealous as he was, beneath his watchful eyes.

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#Aleksander Morozova #The Darkling x Reader #Aleksander Morozova x reader #General Kirigan #General Kirigan x Reader #Kirigan #shadow and bones #ben Barnes #Aleksander Morozova x oc #the Darkling x OC #Grisha #Grisha verse #Aleksander Kirigan #smut #hurt/comfort

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