#aleksander kirigan fic

[carnationworld-writings]

I'm just a jealous guy (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Aleksander Morozova x Grisha!reader

Universe: The Grishavers /Shadow and bone 

Word Count: 1221

Requested: Yes, by my sweet annon.

Warnings: mention of jealousy, shouting someone out, mention death (Luda), making out, a quick mention of sexual activity - it ends before something happened.

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!

Summary: The one where he is jealous. 

Aleksander walked through the corridors of Little Palace, trying to find one of his most trusted Grisha, who was also the person who made his heart beat a little faster. He lived for centuries, hiding his identity from people, always hiding his emotions, and always striving to achieve his goals. But then they showed on his path - a person with great power and strong will. A person who always cared for the people they loved and who found a way to parts of his heart that he’d forgotten. Somehow, they’d ended up sitting together into late nights, talking about everything but plans for Grishas’ training or plans for the army. He allowed himself to open up for the first time since he lost Luda, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel again. He was afraid to call it as it was, but the truth was that he loved them. And they loved him. 

The Darkling walked to the training yard, not minding Grishas, who welcomed him. He quickly knew he was in the right place and finally found them. He first heard their soft laugh and then saw them in the middle of the training yard with Fedyor, surrounded by younger Grishas. He knew that they loved to teach them, and they only showed these kids how to defend themself. But something deep in his mind made him angry at the sight of Fedyor’s hand around them. He watched how he moved his hands to their sides and started to tickle them. They squealed at the feeling and tried to escape from him, laughing loudly. The Darkling watched how close they were and how fondly they looked at each other. The betrayal blossomed in his chest. They gently tapped the Heartrender’s chest, smiling widely. Kirigan couldn’t watch it anymore and turned on his heel, quickly going to his chambers. What he didn’t know, they saw him at the last moment, and they started worrying about his hurried departure. They ended her part of the lesson and asked Fedyor to watch their training when they went after their General. After a few moments, they knocked on the doors of his cabinet. They smiled at the sound of this deep voice telling anyone behind them that he was busy. They dared to open them and snicked in, biting their lower lip. 

“Maybe you’ll find a second for me, General?” They leaned against the door, watching him. They knew that even if he didn’t raise his head from maps, he knew it was them. They smiled at how his black kefta perfectly wrapped his tall body. 

“Make it quick. I have a war to win.” They sighed and came closer to him, gently touching his elbow. When he didn’t change his position, they dared to lean against him, resting their cheek on his arm. They could tell that he was tense, and they hated it.

“I know, handsome, and you’re doing an amazing job. But even you, great General Kirigan, need some rest. And I saw you at the training yard.”

“You saw me?” He said mockingly. “You seemed busy with this Heartrender.” He moved away, taking his arm from their grip, and they looked at him surprised. They laughed breathlessly, standing in front of him.

“With Fedyor? He is only my friend. A very close friend, who was the first one to welcome me here with open arms and who made me feel at home here.” They said with a small smile, which faded when he constantly pretended they were not there. “If you want to accuse me of something, say it aloud rather than shutting me out.” When he heard the sadness in their voice, he stopped moving, and his eyes landed on the war figures in front of him. After a few seconds, he breathed deeply.

“Are they really ‘just a friend’?” He murmured without raising his head. 

“Of course, they are just a friend. If you want to know, Fedyor lately was on a few dates with a person you know very well.”

“With who?” Alexander knew about their love for gossip. With time he discovered that it brought both of them joy, so he started encouraging them to spill a bean about it. He also wanted to be wholly sure that they were only his and that there wasn’t anybody else in their life.

“With your own personal Corporalki.” They couldn’t stop a big smile when he looked at them stunned. 

“With Ivan?” They nodded, carefully watching his face. He started thinking about the latest behaviour of this man. “He was a little strange lately, in fact. Like… Happier.” They couldn’t stop the smile rising on their face, and once again, they tried to slowly touch his forearm. They breathed with relief when he didn’t move away this time. 

“Because they are, both of them. Like I am happy when you are next to me because only our loved one can pull some of the strings in our hearts and make it beat faster in that specific way. So I will say it once again. They are only my friend. It’s YOU who has my heart.” They gently squeezed his arm, and finally, he moved closer to them with a look on his face reserved only for time when they were alone. His hands mindlessly moved to their hips, and in a quick move, he made them sit on the table behind them. They let the squeak leave their throat, making him smile widely at what they started laughing. Their hands slowly moved to rest on his shoulders, and one of them mindlessly started fidgeting with the ends of the hair on his neck. 

“You… You made me happy, you know?” He whispered sheepishly, and they could only smile wider.

“I know. Were you jealous?” They bit her lips to stop grinning, especially when they saw a flush coming into his cheeks. He looked above them, trying to compose himself. Before he could answer, they leaned down and softly kissed his bearded cheek. “Please, don’t deny it. It actually… flatters me, you know? I… I always dreamed of having a person who would care for me enough to do it. Even if there isn’t any reason for that.” 

The Darkling gently squeezed their hips, standing between their legs. His hand moved to their thigh, caressing it gently.

“I do care. Every single look from other men or women is enough to feel jealousy in me. To want to show all of them that you are mine.”

“And I always will be.” They whispered, and General immediately leaned down, kissing them deeply. One of his hands moved to the back of their head, gently moving it to allow him better access while the other kept them close. They moaned into his lips, wrapping one leg around him, wanting to feel every centimetre of his body. They were so lost in each other that they didn’t hear the knock on the door or that somebody had walked in. They were too busy unfastening his kefta to care about anything. Poor Ivan closed the door quicker than he ever opened them. After a moment of shock, Corporalki felt happiness for his General and his friend - even a dark soul like him deserved some light and love in the arms of a trusted person.

Author’s note: Thank you  so much for reading! If it’s not too much trouble, I would love to hear your thoughts about it. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and motivate me to work.

I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.

Klaudia  💜

Taglists are always open! If you want to be added fill this up or send me an ask!

[roselibrary]

𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

The Darkling x OC Brekker/Rietveld (Grisha Character)

Trigger Warnings: none

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

Requests are open!

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

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

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

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

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

[dreamlandcreations]

The Evil Queen

king!Darkling x queen!Reader

Summary: He made you a villain... or at least he thought so...

Warnings: attempted murder, angsty AF, unprotected sex, sappy happy ending

A follow-up to this

tagging some poor souls I traumatized with the first part 😇 @idaoftheburningmind @elsunwantedopinion @kayhi808 @avaleineandafryingpan @marvelmusing @doriangray-lover

As the blade you were pressing to his naked chest penetrated his skin, it felt like you were piercing your own heart. The pain was unbearable but you were not crying because of the physical pain, no. Your emotions, those that slowly left you over the past few months have returned with vengeance. Hurting him hurt you more than anything.

You didn't move, the tip of the blade was still held to him, aiming at his heart but it only scratched him so far. The tiniest drop of blood was the only evidence that you have tried and failed to do the unspeakable.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you emerged from the pit of darkness you have fallen into. You were so distracted by the storm of emotions that you didn't even notice Aleksander took your weapon and sat up until he was holding your face in his palms, thumbs brushing away the tears. He called your name, so gently like he was afraid you would break or disappear if he raised his voice.

"Milaya, tell me what you need!" he begs, though he knows you probably have no idea what's going on.

It takes a moment for you to understand what he's asking and another few minutes of broken sobs later you finally can focus on what you feel. The source of the pain is the very thing that stopped you from hurting him. Your heart.

What was once filled with love was replaced with emptiness and misery, like an open wound and the hurt from it spreads to your entire being now. Something was missing from there. Something you needed more than your next breath.

"Tell me what can I do?" Aleksander asks for the third time, his own tears making his vision blurry and his voice breaking up as he tries to stay strong for you.

"I need you." The sudden desire for him burning you from within until you couldn't hold back anymore and let it loose, tearing at his clothes and your own to get closer to him.

"Are you sure?" Your beloved villain asks between kisses as he rolls over you, looking down at you with a worried expression.

"Aleksander, please!"

He sushes your cries with gentle whispers of "I've got you, I've got you."

"Ah!" you cry out as he impales you on his length without preparation, just as you had been urging him. The pain of it helps you focus on something else.

He tries to wait but you whine and squirm under him, begging for him to move, to claim you again, to make you his once more. "Please!"

"I love you." He says apologetically before complying with your wishes.

"I love you." You answer without hesitation, relishing in the truth of it as the feeling slowly starts to burn in your heart again. "More than anything."

His pace is unforgiving, taking you in frantic snaps of his hips against yours, lips claiming your own as the pain becomes pleasure and your shadows turn into blinding rays of light, tangling into his shadows as you become one with your husband again. He clings to you as desperately you you do to him, your high approaching quickly and taking him down the edge with you.

Aleksander hovers over you, barely able to hold himself up as nuzzles into your neck, trying to catch his breath as you are caressing his back.

When he looks up you pull him into a long kiss like you are welcoming him after a long time spent apart. And in a way it's true.

Then you ask a dreaded question. "What did you do to me?"

"Something unforgivable." He turns away, laying on his back and avoiding your gaze as he answers but you move after him, tangling your legs with his as you rest your hand on the spot where his heart beats frantically.

"That's not for you to decide."

Your instant forgiveness makes your Darkling cry as he realises his mistake.

"You already knew everything."

"Yes." You answer shortly but your sad ghost of a smile says more than your words.

"How? Why didn't you tell me?" He's pressing on as he sits up against the headboard, pulling you along with him until you are straddling him.

"I was waiting for you to tell me."

"How did you find out?" He insisted.

"I already had my suspicions..." you say, pausing, afraid to reveal more of his mother's betrayal but seeing no way to hide the truth forever. "She wanted to scare me away from you."

The change was subtle in his expression but you felt his body go rigid with anger and his power trying to surge to the surface with the intense wave of emotion. So you did as you always had and swayed him with your words and affection.

Capturing his chin in your hand, you guide his gaze back to yours and whisper to him between soft kisses.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"How can you say that?" His voice sounded broken from guilt, the anger quickly turning towards himself.

"I do not care about how we got here. I am yours as you are mine. Forever, if you wish."

Your king returns your genuine smile, pulling you close once again he prepares to make love to you again and again as he whispers his confession against your lips. "That's all I wish for."

[atlabeth]

(i promise) i've felt worse - aleksander morozova

part 1

summary: you begin to adjust to your life in ravka, desperate to leave your past behind. the darkling will not let you forget so easily.

a/n: i have darkling brainrot rn it's unhealthy. cannot stop thinking abt these two so this may become a series idk. lmk what you think.

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): ravkan and fjerdan religion (there may be inaccuracies though), darkling manipulation, not fluff or angst but a secret third thing

title is from starry eyes by the weeknd

The Darkling departed soon after your agreement, leaving you shaken and flustered and confused over anything. 

My Tidemaker, he called you, as if you were something special. As if you belonged to him merely because he found you. 

Yes, you owed him your life and your freedom—if he asked favors of you in exchange for such a feat, you would accept. You wanted nothing more than to be free of your debt, of General Kirigan, so you could work as you were and live as normally as you could.

You were a soldier now—that was your new normal. 

Officially a Grisha, a member of the Second Army, a Tidemaker no longer bound to the shadows. Here in Os Alta, in the Little Palace, you’d been freed. You were Fjerdan only by birth, newly Ravkan in your vows. 

You felt nothing. 

Apart from woefully inadequate, of course, but that was a given. A Fjerdan girl does not become a Grisha darling overnight, but you did not know if you would ever truly grow into your title. 

Soldier. Grisha. Tidemaker. The words felt wrong from your lips, even more so from the mouths of others. 

Tidemaker, your instructor called you. Grisha, the servants would address. Out of all of them, soldier was the only that felt correct—if you were capable of one thing, it was fighting. 

In Fjerda, common folk did not speak of Grisha unless to curse their name. You’d never uttered the word Tidemaker until you got your hands on ancient Ravkan texts and spoke it into existence, when you realized you were the very thing you’d been taught to hate. Anywhere other than beneath sheets in the darkest nights and alone by the lakes practicing under the guise of shadows, it did not exist. 

And now you were in Os Alta, a supposed sanctuary for Grisha, and you were meant to live in the way that your blood called for. You’d signed your life away to Ravka, to the Second Army and the King and the Darkling himself in order to become a part of it, and yet you didn’t feel anything other than a keen numbness.  

Numb because the life you’d signed away was akin to nothing. Numb because you had no one out there that would miss you, that would write every so often asking how you were faring. Numb because you had no choice and he knew it.

But you were alive, and you would continue to live, Tidemaker and Grisha and soldier aside. 

That was all that mattered. 

-

This made it real, you thought uncomfortably.

The room, the clothes— it was real enough, you supposed, but too easy to see it as temporary. A room you were merely borrowing, clothes that had been passed on from your brother who’d outgrown them. 

But the kefta, pale waves spiraling over blue fabric, made perfectly to your measurements by Fabrikators you’d never even met—that was real. It could belong to none other than you.

The Darkling placed the order soon after your vow, and it arrived far quicker than you expected. 

You couldn’t deny it anymore. You were Grisha, and you were going to live like it. 

And so you put on your kefta and buckled your belt and laced up your boots, then you walked out to the beginning of the rest of your life.  

-

You survived your first day, and then you survived your first week, and now you were well into surviving your first month. You were thrown into the deep end immediately, but you managed. You were nothing if not a fighter, after all. 

There were fewer Tidemakers at the Little Palace than you expected, but all of them welcomed you with easy smiles and kind words. One near your age, a girl named Anya, warmed up to you immediately, and you were surprised at how eagerly you took to her friendship. 

You’d been alone for so much of your life, banished by those who were meant to care for you and demonized by your own people, and now you were surrounded by others just like you, ones who held no malice towards you. Who accepted you. 

You hadn’t anticipated how much you would crave the presence of the other Tidemakers once you’d met them, but it certainly helped with your adjustment. 

Anya was native Ravkan, hailing from Kribirsk. She’d been at the Little Palace for ten years, discovered when she was nine. She served with pride and honor, she’d told you, and that she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. 

(“I’ve witnessed the effects of the Shadow Fold first hand,” she’d murmured. “If I can help piece Ravka back together in any kind of way, I’ll do it without question.”) 

Your fellow Tidemakers also included Esen and Batu, brother and sister refugees from Shu Han who had fled into Ravka together—they made their way to Os Alta three years ago, successfully petitioned the Darkling for a place in his army, and they’d been there ever since.

Ivan, a tall man from Polvost, was half-Fjerdan on his father’s side. It was good to have someone in your corner, one who’d gone through some of the same conflicts as you. It was also quite entertaining to see his head perk up everytime someone called for the other Ivan, a Heartrender and one of the Darkling’s favored Grisha. 

…Right. 

The Darkling. 

The man who had saved your life, the man who had brought you into the fold—he was seen as a savior by many of the Grisha you’d conversed with, and you supposed they had a point. He was immensely powerful, built the Little Palace as a place of salvation, and continuously fought for the good of both Ravka and its Grisha. 

You just… you did not know what to make of him. 

You were adjusting relatively well to your new life, that was true, but you knew your feelings towards him would not be so benign if you had come from anything else. If you had a family back in Fjerda, friends in your village, a lover who you would never see again, this would be a much worse fate. 

But maybe that was why so many served without complaint. Countless Grisha here had little to their name, persecuted in other countries or living in Ravka with nothing. Honorable service for your country while living in one of the few sanctuaries with everything provided was a much better deal than a penniless life on your own. 

The Darkling seemed to have some… some strange interest in you, for you saw him in the margins far too often.

You remember your first day of training, when you were fighting against a Squaller—you looked up when your partner was down, catching your breath for just a moment, and he was there on the walkway above the grounds, watching you. 

It caught you so off guard that your partner took you by storm, and a punch to your face and a sweep of your legs had you groaning on the ground. By the time you’d collected yourself, when your partner offered a hand and pulled you up, he was gone.  

When Batu asked what was wrong later that day, you didn’t know how to respond to her. 

You frequently saw him during your walks to lessons and mealtimes, and though you never looked at or said anything to him and always kept a steady pace, you always felt his eyes on you. He stopped you once, and it was so unexpected to hear your name on his lips that you muttered a hasty excuse on being late for training. To your surprise, he let you go. 

Having the Darkling’s eyes on you added more to your anxieties. It was already too much going from Fjerdan outcast to Grisha practically overnight—you did not need him watching you so frequently. 

You were adapting, but it was all overwhelming—too much of everything for a girl who came from nothing.

Perhaps that was why you found yourself in the church. 

You didn’t know the Little Palace had one, but you supposed it made sense. From what you’d read, some of Ravka’s revered Saints were Grisha in life. Legend spoke of the mythical Sun Summoner, who could destroy the wretched Shadow Fold, save Ravka, and bring Grisha salvation. 

If that was not a Saint, you did not know what was. 

You’d always harbored some respect for Ravka and its Saints, even when you were young. You followed Djel like your family did when you were young, but somehow, you got your hands on Ravkan books and learned what you could of Saints. 

It felt… oddly like sanctuary, especially when you first discovered your abilities. Even more so when you went out on your own, the belief that life could be better for someone like you keeping you going. 

You think it was what led you to them in the first place, a shimmer of light clearing the darkness of Fjerdan suppression to grant you the first shred of power that had been in your veins all along.

“I did not expect to find you here.” 

You were jarred out of your thoughts, and though your heart spiked in your chest you didn’t move, your gaze remaining on the tapestry of Sënje Ulla. Sankta Ursula, rather—if you were meant to be Ravkan, you would have to worship like one.

“I didn’t know you were looking,” you responded quietly. 

“I am the reason you are here,” the Darkling said. You heard him drawing closer, padded footsteps across the carpeted floor. “I feel a responsibility to look after you.” 

You huffed, finally turning to face him. His perfection was effortless, with his black kefta and styled hair and dignified poise, his hands folded behind his back. Worlds apart from you, and yet for some reason he allowed you in his presence. He sought you out. “Allow me to relieve you of that weight, General. I’m perfectly alright on my own.” 

“It is not a weight, nor an obligation. I do it of my own volition.” His eyes remained on you, but it was as if he looked past you, through you—the Darkling was an apt designation, for everything about the man was unnerving. “How have you been adjusting? I haven’t had the chance to ask.” 

You shrugged, crossing your arms around your midsection. “Well enough.” 

Again, the smallest of smiles. “I’m glad. Are your accommodations to your liking?” 

“The room is bigger than the house I grew up in, and I’ve spent the past few months sleeping in blizzards,” you said. “They are more than enough, General.” 

“It is what you deserve,” Kirigan said. You didn’t think you would ever get used to his disposition, how he seemed to so fully believe every word he spoke. “You are Grisha—you should get to live like one.” 

You stayed silent. The luxury might have made you uncomfortable, but you were not going to speak against it. This was your life now, after all. 

“I’ve heard you’ve been training frequently with Squallers and your Tidemakers,” the Darkling said. Though he looked unbothered at his role in filling your silence, he would not lead this conversation. 

“Yes,” you said, grudgingly taking the unsaid hint. “It was…” you sighed, allowing the smile to tug at your lips. “It was amazing, truly. To be around others like me without fear.” 

The lines of his face softened at that, just slightly. “Good. Are the Grisha taking well to you?” 

“Well enough,” you repeated. “I’ve found friends in all the Tidemakers. As for the rest, I mind my own. They have no problem with me.” 

Kirigan frowned, and he took another few steps closer. “You don’t need to merely mind your own. You are one of them.” 

“Do not try and force friendship beyond what it is,” you said, voice stilted. “I am content with this, General. I will be housed and clothed and fed, and I’m far from those that wish to hurt me. I never sit alone at mealtimes, and I’ve smiled more this week than I have in many years. This is far more than I could ever ask for.” 

The Darkling looked as if he wanted to object, but you didn’t give him the chance. 

“I’m here to serve Ravka and the King,” you said, “correct?” 

“Correct,” he answered. 

“Then I see no problem.”

He watched you, gaze all-encompassing, stoic as ever. That was what bothered you about the General more than anything—you could not read him, no matter how you tried, but it felt as if he could see right through your every word. 

“What brought you here?” Kirigan eventually asked. “I did not think you would be interested in our Saints when you have a God of your own.” 

“I… have a strange relationship with Djel,” you said after a moment of hesitation. 

The Darkling looked on with interest. “Oh?” 

“Fjerdans believe the world is connected through its waters, that they feed Djel and are fed by Him in turn,” you said. “You can imagine the turmoil I went through when I discovered my abilities.” 

Somehow, the Darkling’s eyes softened. “Split between two worlds.” 

You nodded. “At first, my parents believed it was a blessing from Djel Himself—a daughter able to control the very waters that He provided, a reward for putting up with a girl instead of a second son. And then they realized I was not a blessing, but a curse.” 

“They did not hurt you,” the Darkling said, an unexpectedly dangerous edge to his voice, “did they?” 

Your smile wasn’t much of one, rather a flattening of your lips into a thin line. “No. They merely banished me.” 

His brows knit together. “I’m sorry.” 

“They tried to adapt, but it’s not an easy feat to undo decades of rhetoric.” You shrugged. “They would’ve put a knife in my heart while I slept had I not left willingly, I’m sure. It was not as if I had much choice.”

“Your brother,” he said. “What of him?” 

At that, you could not help but laugh, mirthless and numb. “He had no idea. He was off training to become a drüskelle.”

“You’ve always been surrounded by enemies,” he murmured.

“My family is not the enemy,” you said quietly. “Just misguided.”

The Darkling laughed, something cold and sharp and unsettling. “Yes. The desire to put a dagger in their daughter’s heart is misguided.” 

Your throat bobbed. A part of you still loved your family, despite everything they had done—everything they hadn’t done. You didn’t know whether that made you weak, stupid, or sentimental. You didn’t think you wanted the Darkling’s view on it. 

“Do you find our Saints a worthier subject?” Kirigan asked in your silence. “They’re not a symbol of hatred, so surely they’re held in higher regard.”  

You met the Darkling’s eyes once more, and yet again you saw nothing. Whether he was trying to gauge you or judge you or, for some saintsforsaken reason, truly wanted to know you, you had no clue, and it was frustrating beyond belief. 

“Yes,” you finally said. “If only because I see myself in them.” 

His eyebrows rose. “Oh?” 

“All of your Saints, they were normal people while alive. They walked among us just as anyone else. Only in martyrdom did they ascend.” You looked around at all the tapestries. “It is far easier to connect with someone who used to be just as you rather than a faceless God, whether it hated you or not.”

“Sankta Ursula of the Waves, for example,” you said, glancing back at the woman in front of you.  “We know her as Sënje Ulla. In your story, the Fjerdans believed her to be possessed by demons simply because she worshiped the Saints. They tried to drown her—”

“But she survived. The city was destroyed in her wake,” the Darkling finished. “I know it well.”

When you looked back at him, his jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Just as quickly, the hard lines smoothed out, and you were left back where you started.

“…Yes,” you said. “I feel some connection to her, a woman persecuted for something out of her control. How they tried to destroy her, but it only led to their own downfall.”

“Do you look up to her because it’s something you wish for?” the Darkling asked. “Harm to befall those against you.” 

You frowned, expecting the answer to immediately fall from your lips, but instead it lodged in your throat. 

“It is not a bad thing to want,” he said softly. 

“It is not what I want,” you countered quickly. “Not— not exactly. I want safety— I want asylum. I was raised in a country that wanted me dead. You cannot blame me for wanting the same.” 

“I don’t blame you.” Again, he spoke in that frustratingly level tone, voice irritatingly understanding. It made your teeth itch, your skin crawl. He was too… too nice, for a man of his reputation and standing. 

And so you asked. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice was strained, your unease betraying itself. 

“Doing what?” he asked, and you hated how genuine he made it sound. How he always questioned you to keep his strength and acted as if he merely wanted to know. 

“Indulging me,” you muttered. “You’ve just met me, and yet you follow me around, validating my every word. I am not worth this, General. I don’t understand why you won’t just leave me be.”

“…The same reason that you found yourself here tonight,” Kirigan said. “I am able to connect with you.”

“That is ridiculous,” you huffed. “You’re the most powerful Grisha in the world, and I’m some… some stray that you picked up out of pity.”

“It was not pity,” the Darkling frowned. “You needed help. We gave it to you.” 

“And I’m thankful for it,” you said. “But there is no need for anything more. You could have left after your recruiting tactics and remained cordial, and it would have been the same.” 

“I see something in you,” he murmured, and his words sent chills down your spine. “You may not, but I do. You are powerful, yes, but your potential is… breathtaking.” 

“You act as if you know everything about me, General,” you said wryly. “But did you know that I am afraid of drowning?”

“Most fear drowning because they have no way of escape,” the Darkling said. He’d closed the distance without your knowledge, and when you glanced he was just behind you. “You control the seas themself. How could you fear them?” 

“Do you fear the shadows?” you asked. 

“No,” Kirigan stated. “I control them.” 

“Exactly.” You offered a mirthless smile. “It is one of the cruelest ironies of my life. I do not control the seas. They control me.”

“That is why you are here,” he said. “You will learn to wield the power in your veins rather than fear it.”

“I don’t think I will ever fully conquer that fear,” you said. “But that is a good thing.”

Kirigan’s brows creased slightly. “Why?”

“If I fear the power I wield, I will never use it against those unworthy of its wrath,” you said.

“If you fear your power, you will never be able to unlock your true potential,” the Darkling countered. “If you fear your power, you will lose control even quicker.”

“Fear allows me restraint,” you said. 

“It holds you back.” Kirigan took a step closer to you, so close that you could see every detail in his kefta. His presence was stifling, even more so when he held out his hand. “May I?” 

Blood pounded in your ears. You offered your hand. 

He took it, encasing your hand between his, and you felt the same surge as the other day. Icy fire in your core, the manifestation of your power instantly at your fingertips begging to be let loose. 

Your breath caught in your chest. 

“That is your power,” Kirigan stated matter-of-factly. “It responds to your call. You control it.” 

“How can you do that?” you whispered. It was like your voice wouldn’t go above it, afraid that you would shatter the sanctity. 

“I am a living amplifier,” he said softly. “But all I’m doing is showing you what you are truly capable of, if you can move past the fear that paralyzes you.”

“Please let go,” you whispered. 

The Darkling complied and you pulled your hand away. The air returned to your chest, your power receded back to its depths, but the cold still remained, creeping over your skin like the permafrost in your homeland. 

“Many Grisha struggle with restraint,” he said. “It seems you have the opposite problem.”

“I’ve spent years suppressing myself, General,” you murmured. “It is not easy to undo a lifetime of hatred.” 

“Believe me,” Kirigan said quietly, a tight smile pulling at his lips, “I am well aware. Why do you think I built this sanctuary?” 

“I’m working at it,” you said. “Why do you think I have not run?”

Some form of amusement seemed to pass through his eyes, and he nodded as he withdrew from you.

“I will leave you to your devices,” the Darkling said. “I hope our talk has done something for you. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

You nodded, the motion slightly numb, and he walked out of the church and left you alone. His presence lingered even in his absence; a stifling sort of power in the air, traces of warmth on your hands. 

The most powerful man in Ravka had his eyes on you, believed in your potential so strongly he saved the life of a Fjerdan. You had to meet his expectations, lest he regret the chance he’d given you. 

(My Tidemaker, you couldn’t help but think with unease.)

You didn’t want to imagine what would happen if you couldn’t. 

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback 

[wandawxdow]

Alina Starkov x Aleksander Morozova

fic recs

for you i would ruin myself by fkevin073

a rotten heart by pathrocluss

Like Calls To Like by opheliarose

All The Lonely Ones by i_can_write_in_my_dreams

I’d Never Let You Be Alone by shandy_and_champagne

i should live in salt by larry_hystereks

give you my wild, give you a child by fkevin073

now i’m reflecting light by fkevin073

Vesegda, Always by vuas

The Danger Is (I’m Dangerous) by Ceris_Malfoy

keep the light from passing through by starwarringavengers

You Light Up My World by KrazyKyStHatter

i see the real you (even if you don’t, i do) by Ironblue

[marvelmusing]

An Era of Power

Part One

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your unique ability to manipulate time has always made life difficult, forcing you to live alone for centuries. When the General of the Second Army discovers your power, your life changes forever.

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: this series was inspired by an idea from the amazing @blanchedelioncourt who kindly allowed me to adopt the idea and create this little fic.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

You can remember a time before the Fold. Life had always been hard for Grisha, full of danger and fear of being discovered. When the King had appointed a Grisha as his military advisor, you had a brief glimmer of hope. That this would be the turning point for your people.

It wasn’t long before this hope was shattered. After the war in the North was won, King Anastas turned on his advisor and all Grisha suspected of following him in a supposed coup. Neighbours turned on each other, outing Grisha fugitives to the King’s army.

At the height of this uncertainty, the Fold was created, dividing Ravka with a dark curtain of shadows, and unleashing the vicious creatures - soon named Volcra - that made crossing the darkness almost impossible.

You have been lucky enough to have never entered the Fold, not in the nearly five hundred years since it was created. Your power was easy enough to disguise - discrete enough for you to use it without people’s knowledge but still remain unaffected by the wasting sickness. Your power was unique, a result of one of Morozova’s experiments with merzost when you were young. You were able to manipulate matter, and revert things to their original, or a previous state. Some might refer to it as time manipulation, if you ever trusted someone enough to show them your power. As long as you understood how something had occurred, you could reverse it. Or you could encourage something to develop at a faster speed than it would naturally. This made you particularly gifted in the gardens of the Little Palace.

If a plant had died from a lack of sunlight or water, you could reverse the effects of these ailments and find a place better suited for these plants. If a plant had become diseased, you could revert it to its healthy state. As long as no one was watching you, of course. Living amongst Grisha made you feel at home, but they could never see you as anything more than the Otkazat’sya gardener.

Because of your work in the gardens, you often helped with cleaning the stables and attending to the horses. The General’s horse, Midnight, was one of your favourites. A magnificent, black horse that has been favoured by General Kirigan over the last few years. You have also become rather fond of Midnight.

So, when you hear that he’s been injured, and that the Healers have little hope for him, you go and visit him in the stables.

The place is empty at this time in the afternoon. The stablehands prefer to work in the mornings when it’s cooler. You hum quietly to yourself as you make your way along the hay covered, stone floor. You open up the pen that Midnight’s been enclosed in, and close the gate behind you.

He’s lying down on the floor, and you quickly sit beside him.

“Hello Midnight. Heard you had a fall.” His only response is a laboured huff. Your brows crinkle in concern, and an uncomfortable pain prickles in your chest at the thought of such a gentle, loyal creature being in such pain. You reach out, stroking a hand over his neck and he attempts to lift his head up to meet your eyes.

You stare down at him, feeling incredibly downhearted at the sight of him. You know that in the long run, you will outlive this horse by several hundred years. But you’ve always struggled with staying detached from animals and people.

You lift your head up, peering into the rest of the stable, ears straining as you listen for the sound of anyone else in the vicinity. When you don’t find any, some of the tension leaves your shoulders.

Linking your fingers together, you concentrate on the break in Midnight’s leg. You know how it happened - during a Drüskelle raid the General had required a swift escape which Midnight had delivered at the expense of his leg. Since you know what happened, it makes it easier for you to reverse the break, guiding the fractured pieces back to rejoin the bone and return it to its proper place.

Midnight grunts in pain, before moving away immediately. With his leg healed, he seizes the opportunity to stand. A flood of triumph surges through you, it has been quite some time since you had used your power in such a manner, and you are thoroughly impressed with your small victory. You smile widely at the sight of Midnight trotting around the small pen he had been confined to after his injury. Remembering his lack of appetite over the past few days, you tug a small sack of apples over and drop them to the floor for him to eat from.

You pat his side affectionately, and he nuzzles his head against your body as you retreat to the gate of his enclosure. Living in the Little Palace has made you less cautious. It’s only once you’ve slid the lock into the bolt that you realise there’s someone behind you.

General Kirigan. The Darkling. He steps forward, grasping hold of your arm tightly and pushing your back against the gate.

“What did you do?” He asks in a low voice, his grip on you tightening. Your eyes widen, stumbling slightly as he pulls you back towards him.

“General Kirigan?” He disregards your confused expression, his eyes widening as he looks down at where his fingers are curled around your bare wrist.

“The break was too fractured for a Healer to fix. How did you heal him?” Your face drops as you realise what you’ve done.

“I didn’t, he was like that when I arrived.” You attempt to convince him, but your voice shakes.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You really are a fool. Your mother was right - your kindness would be your undoing. After remaining undiscovered for hundreds of years, you heal the Darkling’s horse and reveal your power to the most powerful Grisha in Ravka.

“What are you?” He demands.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You insist, but you know there is no one more determined than the man in front of you. His eyes remain fixed on your face, a resolute expression colouring his features.

“When were you tested?” You decide to tell the truth, or at least some of it.

“I wasn’t.” He releases your wrist, but you’re still cornered, and attempting to outrun a shadow summoner would only reap disaster. He reaches down to slide his ring from his smallest finger, turning it around to slot on the tip of his thumb.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t be adverse to my testing you now.”

You know how the test works. A prick of pain to release whatever latent power hides under a Grisha’s skin. You’ve never been tested before, though centuries of mastering your power should give you some ability to overlook such a minor wound and remain in control.

But there’s something about the General’s touch. When his fingers curl around your wrist again, sliding your sleeve up to reveal your upper arm, you can’t fight the shiver that runs through you. You’ve met some Grisha philosophers over the years, often working as an assistant for scholars. One of the most important concepts among Grisha theory is that like calls to like. Despite your unusual power, you can’t help but feel a likeness with the General. That, despite your obvious differences, you have the distinct impression that the two of you are the same.

His eyes remain fixed on your face as he presses the claw point to your skin, drawing a faint line down your arm. You clench your jaw, trying to stop your power from escaping. He raises a brow at you, noticing the fight hidden in your eyes. His hold on you tightens briefly, in an almost reassuring squeeze. Then his thumb brushes tenderly over the reddened line left by his ring. You breathe in sharply at the light sting of pain, and your control slips.

The apples on the floor by your feet wobble, and the seeds inside the fruit burst into small sprouts. The apple closest to you grows into a young tree, perhaps a year old. You tug the General aside to prevent either of you from being struck by a rapidly growing branch.

You stare at the small tree, cursing yourself. Not once, in over five hundred years, has your control slipped. But the handsome General pays you two minutes of intense attention and you’re creating an orchard.

A timid expression fills your face as you glance over at the General. His own eyes are wide, staring at the trees before looking back at you. There’s a spark of curiosity, and awe in his gaze and his mouth parts as he looks back at the trees. His voice has softened considerably, as he asks you again,

“What are you?”

[meetmyevilways]

Finish it

Darkling x Reader

The prompts are taken from the-purity-pen's List.

Kinktober Masterlist

Prompt: 14. Temperature Play || Bath/Shower || Swallowing

Plot: You are the Darkling’s personal healer but you’ve both come to care more about the other than intended and he doesn’t handle the best way when he sees you hurt…

Warnings: at the end, so not to spoil the fun, you can search for it with ctrl/cmd+f or scroll down at the bottom of the post

***

Another attempt on his life.

Since the Darkling took over as the king many had tried to kill him in various ways. All had failed, they had no chance to begin with, but they could do some bothersome damage that made him need a healer.

You were chosen many months ago, tested for your power and loyalty before your place solidified by his side. You were there to heal him but he witnessed your talents in battle too. At that time he was impressed, now he was radiating nothing but anger.

Aleksander insisted you get your wounds taken care of before you could tend to him. He was so angry with you for putting yourself in danger that he could barely look at you.

When you entered his chambers, he was sitting in the tub, the water black from his cursed blood.

He didn’t speak as you cleaned his wounds but you could see his reaction to your soft touches as you slowly made all injuries disappear.

When you were done he was still glaring ahead, not sparing a glance at you so you thought it best to leave but he had other plans.

Just as you were standing, half turned to leave, he pulled you into the tub. The scene becoming a mockery of a cherished memory from the beginning of your relationship as you hear his demand.

“Finish it!” He almost growls as he pulls your hips flush to his own, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you feel fear in his presence.

With trembling hands, you find his hardened cock beneath you and pull your gown up to your middle, out of the way. A shaky breath leaves you when the tip nudges at your entrance, followed by a sharp intake and a silent scream as he impales you on his lenght.

You cry out as he takes out his anger on you, he wants it to hurt, you can feel the dark intent to punish you for disobeying his order.

His grip is bruising on your hip as he holds you in place for the painful snaps, hammering his way too big cock into your unprepared body until the pain bleeds into pleasure. His other hand holding you by your nape, his burning stare fixated on you, daring you to look away but soon enough your eyes become unseeing as your orgasm hits you.

The Darkling doesn’t stop at your weak whimpers or even after the next time you convulse around him. His unrelenting pace gets you to come three times after the first and most painful one. Every snap of his hips feels like a stab in your womb, your walls raw and your body plaint because of him but he doesn’t stop. 

He drags out the last one, it feels like he’s been fucking you for hours, and maybe he has, although he doesn’t show any signs of tiredness. The water is cold around you and at least half of it landed on the floor by the way he moved your bodies as he kept using you.

He starts to quicken the pace and then lose the rhythm you know he’s close so you silently beg that this would sate him now as you are not sure you could take any more of this. When he began he was holding you to guide your movements, now he has to hold you up because you had no strenght left to do it yourself. Oddly, you still feel safe with him to let go like that.

You don’t have time to wonder over that because a few, precise, hard thrusts has him coming deep inside you, triggering your own high that makes your body tense and has your eyes rolling back while you helplessly take every drop of his cum that he not only pumps into you but pushes in with a few more punishing push of his still hard length. That triggers another, violent orgasm that leaves him impossibly more wet as your body rewards him for what was intended as punishment.

When you come down from your high, exhausted and hurting all over, he is still inside you and for a moment you tense, afraid he is not done but he holds you gently soothing you with gentle words that almost sound like an apology.

You sit there like that for a while, trying to get over what just happened when he speaks.

“I loved another, a long time ago. She was so much like you. I can't lose you too.” His words were meant to reassure you but they cause more pain than his earlier treatment ever could. He could tell though, the track of thoughts that led you to believe that you were only a replacement for him. 

Aleksander guided your gaze to him by your chin, holding your face in his palms, caressing lightly as he let you see his darkest and most vulnerable state for the second time since you have known him. 

It should have scared you, especially after what just happened but you loved your king too much to care about the dangers. It was rather silly, that the thought of his affection turning out to be insincere scares you more than anything this powerful, dark saint could inflict on you.

“You misunderstood me, milaya. You know I lived many lifetimes before I met you.” It wasn’t phrased as a question but he waited for your nod before continuing. “I loved very few before you,” he planted a light kiss on your lips with a sad smile that did not reflect any emotion in his eyes “a part of me died each time I lost one of them.”

Another long silence as his well-practised mask slips back into place for a moment, then a struggle to open up to you again. “I love you with all my heart, and that’s something you should fear rather than cherish but I’m too selfish to let you go…”

“I’m here.” You interrupt him with a strained voice. For the first time, you return his caress, more confident in your feelings than ever. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

He gives you another sad smile, this time his dark eyes shine with love and grief for you. 

Aleksander is attentive in the next few days, keeping you close through the day and even closer during the nights. This attention only gets more intense after he makes you his queen. 

Some people still call your king a monster but you know the man beneath all that darkness and you accepted all of him, knowing your life will be difficult sometimes but trusting that that passionate and probably little twisted love of yours would be just as eternal as your Darkling.

***

Warnings: dubcon, um… well… not really healthy relationship, blood, injuries, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected PiV, self-doubt, unexpected dark fluff (that's a thing, I just made it so) and happy ending?

[the-jules-world]

"There is no greater a death than dying for something you love," Nikolai said as their eyes met - feeling inexplicably breathless all of a sudden, "No nobler cause, no more righteous nor blessed." He flushed and tore his eyes away, looking down at his hands, "That must sound ridiculous to you," his ears burned. Aleksander reached for him, laying his gloved hand atop Nikolai's, his voice low when he spoke just two words that tore cleanly through his soul, "I understand."

[frost-queen]

What love makes one do (Reader x Aleksander Kirigan)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,   @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07

Summary: You are once more forcefully captured by Kirigan who you once loved. Forced to display your powers in the fold with him, Mal and Alina save you from a certain faith. Being sure of it he was dead, you start having dreams about the fold extending and romantic dreams of him. When face to face with him once more, you argue with him finding it unbelievable how he could've used you while you loved him. Kirigan speaks clearly off his feelings for you yet about using you he remains silent, unsure how to respond to it.

Hooves thumped loud on the ground. Hastened as it rooted earth from the vast ground. The loud huffing of the horse sounding ominous. The beating of a steady rhythm, frightening your heart. A dark rider chasing you. You had a heads-up but not for long. The horse seemingly catching up on you. Panting loud, arms swaying swiftly back and forth whilst running. Looking quickly over your shoulder you caught a blurred glimpse of the dark rider pursuing you.

He called it out, signaling his horse to go even faster. The horse snorted loud, kicking up a notch. Gasping loud you saw more riders approach you from the front. They must have taken a different route to cut you off. Taking a brutal left, you ran into the nearby forest in the hopes of losing him there. If only you had been given more time to escape.

If only someone hadn’t alerted him, you’d had a better chance at survival. The woods were a trickier path to maneuver through. Not only for the horses but for yourself too. Swaying your hands around to move low hanging branches away. You caught one too late as it made a clean cut on your cheek. Breathless you pushed through. Zigzagging between the trees. Never a clean straight path.

You were about to move to the left when a horse came close. It made you stop for a second, freaking out as the hooves went up in the air. Turning around you headed for another direction before the hooves came back down. From between the trees you noticed they tried to cut you off. Clenching your jaw, you carried on. Not far from you was a breach, a gap between two parts of the woods where once ran water.

You took a deep breath, jumping over. Over the edge you stumbled down, grabbing onto the grass to pull yourself up. Gasping loud, you looked over your shoulder seeing him. General Kirigan. The anger in his eyes clear enough from up here. A shadow following him on the ground. Panicking you pushed yourself up, speeding up once more. The jump wore you out as breathing became heavier. Not to mention the sting in your spleen was making itself aware.

Nearly tripping you straightened yourself. You lost track of the other horses, only worrying about General Kirigan. Panting in a panic, you ran down a hill coming into an open space. As you were about to run across, a horse started you from the front. Before you could turn, more came. Looking each way, you watched as they came circling around you. Closing you in. Catching your breath, they kept startling you by running around you.

There was no way you were going to let yourself get caught. Moving your hands in a pattern of movements, light illuminated from you. You were about to blast it away when a wave of shadows came creeping at you feet. Darkening the ground. Startled, you gasped as the light faded from around you. The circle of horses opening as General Kirigan rode in. Swiftly jumping off his riding horse. Determination and anger clear in his expression. – “I am not afraid of you!” – you called out as he approached.

You rose your hand ready to strike him with your light as he grabbed your wrist forcefully up in the air. – “You should be.” – he said coldly. You tried wiggling your hand free, yet his grip was stronger. – “Come now my love.” – he lowered your hand in his grip, moving tenderly his other hand against your cheek. It made you turn your face repulsed away. Kirigan tensed his expression grabbing you roughly. – “In time you will understand and praise me for what I am doing.” – he called out. He flung you over his shoulder as you scrabbled against him.

“No! Aleksander please… don’t.” – you cried out. A guard bringing his horse to him. He strapped your hands behind your back, laying you over his saddle. He then got on it, pressing one hand on your back to keep you in place. – “Aleksander please… do not inflict this on me.” – he had no ears for your plea, riding off back to where the fold started.

You were in tears standing in the tent nearby the fold. Waiting for preparations to be done. You rose from the chair you were sitting in when Genya entered. She lowered her head at your presence. – “I was instructed to…” – she gestured at your face making you touch the cut on it. She approached as you took a wary step back.

She came even closer bringing her hand up. You flinched from feeling her touch on your skin. Genya lowered her gaze, moving her finger to the cut once more. Stroking over it as the cut slowly disappeared. She bowed in your presence before taking her leave. You inhaled sharp through your teeth, spinning around to the mirror standing nearby. Taking a good look at yourself.

You felt disgusted by how he had dolled you up. The ominous thunder from within the fold rumbling loud. Gritting your teeth, you grabbed a chair, calling it out in anger as you pushed it down. Angry at how Kirigan was forcing you into doing this. Using you as a pawn. You turned back to the mirror, looking down at your trembling hands. Nothing could cure the betrayal you felt in your heart.

You flinched back feeling a sensation of a touch go across your bare shoulders. General Kirigan standing behind you when you had turned around in a panic. He stared with hungry eyes down at you, tilting your chin up with his finger. Tilting your cheek a bit to his side to admire Genya’s work. – “Such beauty.” – he whispered. Agitated, you pushed yourself off him. – “You stay away from me!” – you said keeping a hand on your collarbone.

General Kirigan smiling with a soft huff. – “If only you could see I am doing this for you my dear Y/n.” – he told you. – “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask for any of it!” – you shouted at him, fighting back your tears. General Kirigan inhaled deeply through his nose, puffing his chest up. – “Why can’t you see it!” – he responded loudly. He approached you moving his hand up as you staggered back from him. He came to a stop, lowering his hand.

Composing himself for a second. – “You… you will be at my side and rule Ravka as it should.” – he reminded you. – “By fear?” – you spewed out, disgusted by the word. Kirigan slammed his fist against a table. – “Yes!” – he called out angered. – “Soon enough you will see it. How you are meant to be by my side Y/n.” – he turned around, leaving the tent infuriated.

You swallowed nervously when you entered the fold. Kirigan came standing beside you with a smile. You grunted, lifting your skirt a bit up. Showing him the shackle around your ankle. – “Is this really necessary?” – you questioned, wiggling with your foot. He chuckled coming down to whisper in your ear. – “Very much my dear.” – you glared at him, feeling like a caged animal. – “I hate you for this!” – you told him. Kirigan tensed his jaw. – “No you don’t.” – he answered taking your hand forcefully.

Looking up you saw the volcra fly dangerously close. You gasped loud feeling your powers be pulled out of you. Forming a circle of light around you as if you had no control over it. Kirigan squeezing your hand tight as he watched the light grow with each pulsation that moved from your body. Kirigan was looking pleased at the sky. Hunger for power as he had always been. The light kept coming from out of you as you couldn’t stop it.

Gasping loud with each pulsation that vibrated through your body. Extending your reach of light. Feeling yourself get light-headed from using such intense power you didn’t even know you possessed. Behind you, you heard some commotion. Then. A loud scream of agony coming from Aleksander as he let go of your hand. Then everything went black for you. Dropping down with a loud thud.

*

Gasping loud, you shot awake. Sweat staining your forehead. – “Hey… hey… it’s alright.” – Mal called out rushing over to you when you looked in a panic around. He came sitting on the bed with you, moving some hair behind your ear. – “It’s alright Y/n. He’s gone… he can’t harm you anymore.” – he told you. It took you a few panting breaths to steady your breathing. Swallowing nervously, you seated yourself better. – “Where… where is Alina?” – you asked to change the subject.

Mal smiled faintly. – “She’s out don’t worry she’ll be back soon.” – he told you, taking a good look at you. – “Was… was it another nightmare?” – he asked cautiously. You nodded shakily. – “I… I could feel it… the fold… extending… villages consumes… it can’t be right? It sure can’t, can it Mal?” – you answered worried. Mal moved his hands calmly down to reassure you. – “It cannot Y/n. The darkling is dead. Alina and I made sure of it.” – he reminded you.

He had told you numerous times what happened back in the fold when you passed out. How he and Alina fought Kirigan leaving him to the mercy of the Volcra. He moved his hands to your shoulders, soothing you. – “Then why does it feel so real?” – you said concerningly. Mal pulling his shoulders up. – “I am not sure.” – he responded with a soft sigh. Mal and you hugged to show him you were alright, yet deep inside you weren’t so sure.

Mal moved closer to Alina, speaking in hushed tones. – “She’s been quiet all day.” – Mal told her. Alina hummed deep, glancing your way. – “It is the nightmares.” – he continued to explain to her. – “It seems the trauma Kirigan inflicted on her still haunts her.” – Alina responded watching you stare out of the window. Not having moved from your position in hours now. Mal clenched his hand into a fist. Angry at Kirigan.  – “Even after his death, he still finds a way to torment her!” – he said slightly louder as it made you turn your head slightly in their direction.

Alina placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. – “Let us hope it settles down…” – Alina placed her hand against Mal’s cheek. Kissing his lips afterwards. Night fell as Mal and Alina were vast asleep. Your eyes were still open, a bit frightened to fall asleep. You didn’t want to have the same nightmare again. Shivering breathlessly, your chest rose as your eyes closed. Tumbling down a spire whirl.

You fluttered your eyes open, looking around the room. It appeared different. Different then the room at the inn you were staying. You gasped seeing that your sheets had a deep red color with golden ruffles. A sudden voice soothingly shushing you. Eyes widening when General Kirigan came moving over you, having apparently laid beside you. You squeaked loud at the sight of him. Still the same yet his face was different. Scratched and torn.

He shushed you again, bringing his finger to your lips. Moving the sheets a bit aside for him to slide his leg between yours. His finger moving down your lip till your chin, leaving you breathless. He then moved his palm against your cheek, observing your face vigorously. It made you shiver at how real his touch felt. – “You are not real…” – you whispered out. He shushed you again brushing his thumb over your lips to the side.

“I…I cannot be with you like this…” – you mumbled to yourself. How was it despite everything your heart still yearned for him. Aleksander moved his hand down to your chest, feeling the beating of your heart against his palm. He chuckled feeling how it beat for him. – “You cannot forget me.” – he breathed out, looking back to where your legs were. He reached for your leg, pulling it up as the sheet slid of it. Revealing your bare skin. A shiver went down your spin as he brushed his hand up your leg to your thigh.

Your whimpering reaction satisfied him. – “Please…” – you sputtered out. – “Let me go…” – you begged wanting the dream to end. You were screaming at yourself to get a grip. Reminding yourself of what he did to you. Yet all those feelings you had for him unleashed at once. – “I can’t.” – he responded staring hungrily down at you.  He leaned down kissing your neck. You squirmed under his touch, nearly panting as he kept kissing your neck.

A faint light coming from you. Blue and sweet golden bursting out of you in soft waves. – “Aleksander.” – you whispered out, letting your fingers trail up his back. Aleksander moved his head up, whispering your name. You surrendered to him when he kissed you roughly. You kissed him back despite all the pain he had caused you. A part of you could never stop loving him. Even if this was but a dream. You shot awake, nearly causing Mal and Alina a heartache.

Mal jumped out of the bed, rushing up to you. – “Was it another nightmare?” – he begged to know, holding his hand against your cheek. Confused you shook your head. – “I…I…” – you muttered unsure if you could tell them about this dream. – “It was nothing.” – you reassured him. Mal looking nervously back at Alina. – “Are you certain?” – Alina questioned coming to join Mal on the bed with you. You nodded once. Alina wrapped her arms around you.

You stared at the wall over her shoulder, unsure of what to make out of the dream. You helped Alina and Mal pack to continue with your journey. The path taking you further away from the fold. Alina and Mal set up camp for the night. Mal was poking the fire as Alina was seating beside him. You got up as Mal jumped up as well. – “Where are you going?” – he asked loudly.

“I…I just need a moment alone… I won’t go far.” – you told him as Alina pulled him back down. – “Stay in sight!” – he ordered receiving a slap from Alina against his arm. – “What?” – he told her. - “There could be bandits out there.” – he pointed at the woods. Alina chuckling as she took his arm. – “I think she can handle herself.”

You drifted away from your friends, further into the woods. Lost in your thoughts as you weren’t sure what was real and what were dreams anymore. The sudden snap of a twig made you jump out of your skin. Turning around you saw the last of a black cloak move behind a tree. You wanted to look when a sense of someone standing behind you outgrew it. You spun back, staggering back at General Kirigan.

Tripping over your own feet till you fell down on the ground. – “You…you are not real.” – you breathed out in a panic as he came kneeling before you. His face the same as in your dreams. He extended a hand to you. – “I am real Y/n.” – he responded. He grabbed for your arm, pulling you up. Once at your feet, you slapped his hand off you, taking a step back. It felt real indeed. – “How?” – you asked, lip nearly trembling with emotions. – “Did you truly think the Volcra could kill me? I am what they are made off.” – he informed you.

Tensing your jaw, you tried your best to keep your tears at bay. – “Why… why are you here?” – you asked. Kirigan furrowed his brows in sorrow. – “You of course. I am here for you Y/n.” – he responded wanting to approach you, but you moved back. – “No.” – you breathed out loud. – “You don’t get to do that anymore.” – you made clear. – “No more!”

Kirigan inhaled sharp through his nose, composing himself. – “You still do not understand, do you? Everything I do is for you!” – he shouted, losing a bit of his temper. – “Everything what I do to have you by my side!” – he rushed up to you, grabbing your hands forcefully. – “You were meant to be at my side Y/n. To rule a worthy Ravka where Grisha can be save.” – he lowered his voice, nearly begging. – “At what cost?” – you responded heartbroken.

Pushing him off you again. – “I…I… I loved you!” – you shouted at him. – “and you used me!” – you were breathless after those words. Kirigan looking away in agony. – “And why… why would you do that to me?” – moving away from him. He grabbed you firmly by your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. – “My feelings for you were never fake!” – he made clear. – “I…I love you Y/n with every deep part inside of me.” – he pressed his forehead against yours as you wanted him off.

Yet his grip was tight, keeping you in place. – “I hate you!” – you answered ruthlessly. He tightened his grip around you. – “No!” – he said deeply against your skin. A shadow monster appearing behind him. It made you widen your eyes. – “Don’t… don’t say that Y/n…” – he breathed loud near your mouth. – “You used me Aleksander.” – you responded seeing the shadow monster move swiftly behind him.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have used me.” – you pushed him slightly off you. Aleksander stumbled back out of breath. Silent to react upon your words of truth. You turned around, running back towards Mal and Alina. Kirigan slowly lifting his head up. – “I’ll have you as mine once more… no matter the cost.” – he spoke watching you leave.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!    

[dreamlandcreations]

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor-ish AU

"Mummy"!Darkling x reincarnated Shu princess!Reader

The Ravkan General was an outsider in the Shu court but as the princesses manifested their powers, the late Emperor made a plan to use the Grisha to conquer the world.

Unfortunately, he couldn't live long enough to see his plan through but as his heir, you took over his work with your eternal lover by your side. Your Emperor.

Alina, your sister, detested what she was and loathed all Grisha, so she conspired against you to stop you and the Darkling.

Aleksander was looking for true immortality, only Alina didn't know it was for you. She accidentally killed you and then cursed the Darkling and his Grisha, capturing them in clay for all eternity.

Your sister thought she had done the world a favour and took her punishment of eternal life alone in solitude. She wasn't expecting anyone to be able to "resurrect" the Darkling and his followers.

As you were growing up, memories started to return from your previous life from centuries ago. By your early twenties, you remembered everything and started to look for your long-lost lover while the news of a woman who knew things no living being should know reached the ears of the recluse immortals who would join or stand against your followers in this new war.

• moodboards masterlist •

[atlabeth]

another day - aleksander morozova

part 2

summary: general kirigan saves you. but nothing comes without a price.

a/n: yes this is me in my shadow and bone era. what do you have to say about it

wc: 2.2k

warning(s): canon levels of violence, drowning + murder, but mostly in mini flashbacks, typical darkling manipulation. probably ooc but this is my first fic for the grishaverse so give me some grace pls

drüskelle = witchhunter

drüsje = witch

strymakt fjerdan = fjerdan might

You were drowning. 

You were drowning in a storm of your own creation, water filling up your lungs, salt stinging your eyes, screams echoing all around you, you were killing them—

A shuddering gasp tore out of you as you surged up, and haggard breaths ripped through you. You weren’t in water, you were alone, but you still couldn’t breathe, your chest rising and falling as quick as your heart beat. 

Your hands found purchase in the sheets below you, clawing at the rough linen as you pulled your legs up to your chest, each breath quicker in succession. Your eyes darted around, taking in your surroundings—far too nice to be a prison cell, far too warm to still be in Fjerda—and slowly, you began to calm down. 

Perhaps that wasn’t the correct phrase. You’d managed to control your breathing to a respectable level, but you certainly were not calm—last you remember, you were in a fight for your life against some lovely drüskelle, and now you were in… 

Saints, you had no idea where you were. 

But you were not dead, and that counted for something indeed. 

Carefully, cautiously, you stood up from the bed. Your quarters could be considered a room in the barest sense of the word, consisting of a small bed shoved in the corner and little else. You shivered slightly, and you glanced down at your clothes. At least they hadn’t taken the tattered rags you’d been traveling in for ages, you thought wryly. 

Nicer than a Fjerdan prison cell, true, though that didn’t mean you were not a prisoner. Wherever you’d ended up might treat their captives slightly better than your home.

You were dry, though. Both of water and blood, which you realized no longer stained your arms. Your injuries had healed as well, scabs and thin white lines in place of cuts and slashes. 

You could certainly mark Fjerda off your list, then. There wasn’t a single soldier who would have treated you with such kindness. 

That was the strangest thing. You were not dead. 

You were just about to try the door when you heard the lock click, and you stumbled back as it opened. Your heart hammered in your chest at the sight of a man in the doorway, though he had the decency to pause when he saw you. 

“Ah,” he said, his lip curling in the smallest of smiles, “you’re finally awake.” 

“Where am I?” you asked, and your voice was raspy from disuse. How long had you been asleep? 

“I believe introductions should be our first order,” he said, and he closed the door. 

You took a step back, hands clenched at your side. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. “It would be rather foolish of me after all the work I put in saving you.”  

Screams. Your screams, faltering in beats as you fought with everything in you. Ragged, from your very core, because you were going to die. 

“You saved me,” you repeated, little more than a whisper. 

“Do you remember?” the man asked, gaze unmoving from your face. His irises were of pure darkness, black as the loneliest night, and you felt wholly and completely bare in front of him. Another shiver ran down your spine. “You were hardly alive when we found you.” 

Wrenched out of the water, limbs leaden and heart thundering as you were forced to your knees. Exhaustion tore through you, black spots dotting your vision, and the dead men in the shallows gave you no satisfaction because soon you would join them. 

You nodded shakily. 

“Good. That will make this easier.” 

“The drüskelle,” you managed. “What happened to them?” 

“I killed the commander with the knife to your throat, but he was the only one left. The rest of the lot were drowned.” Again, the beginnings of a smile, morbid for the conversation. “By your hand.”

He knew. Saints, he knew, and you were locked in a room with him with no way out, and you’d gotten away from the drüskelle just to die here. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you said. He could hear the beat of your heart, surely, how it wanted to pound out of your chest. “Fjerdan waters are dangerous on their own, nevermind in a storm—” 

“There is no point in lying,” he interrupted pointedly. “You’re a Tidemaker, and a powerful one at that.” 

Your heart sank. You couldn’t escape, not from here, not in your state, not in the driest Saintsforsaken room you’d ever been in—

“I already told you,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe here. You’re in Ravka. Os Alta.” 

You frowned. “Ravka— how?” 

“You’re Grisha,” the man said. “You belong here.” 

And like lightning, it hit you. 

“The Darkling,” you whispered. The step you took back was one of instinct, but your legs hit the side of the bed and they nearly buckled. 

You weren’t the most educated on Ravka and its government, but one learned some things about their homeland’s fiercest enemy. You knew of the Second Army and their Grisha, of General Kirigan— the man that now stood in front of you, the man that had brought you back from Death’s door. 

Sënje Magda, save you now. 

“You have no reason to fear me,” Kirigan said. “Truly, I do not want to hurt you. I’m only here to help you.” 

You huffed a mirthless laugh. “What could you possibly want with me?” 

“You’re Fjerdan,” he said, “correct?” 

You nodded. 

“You’ve survived there all your life as a Grisha without anyone realizing,” he said. “You made it across half the country on your own with drüskelle tracking you for a quarter of it. And when they finally caught up to you, you destroyed their camp and killed the lot of them with nothing but your power.” 

You raised your arms and the sea erupted around you. A tense second of silence hung in the air before you threw your hands down and roared, guttural and primal and broken, and brought the world down upon them. 

Blood pounded in your ears. “I did what I had to do to survive.” 

“And I do not malign you for it,” the Darkling said. “What they do to our kind is barbaric. I took pleasure in ending their commander.” 

“You call us the monsters and then murder all my men,” he spat, wrenching your head backwards by your hair to bare your neck. The blade rested threateningly against your skin, but you were numb to the cold. “I should have ended you long ago, drüsje.” 

Your fingers ghosted up to your neck. You could feel the slightly raised scar. “I thank you for it.” 

“Believe me,” he said with a slight chuckle—you were surprised a man such as himself was able to laugh— “it was the easiest part of my day.” 

“How long was I out?” you asked, the question clawing at your mind. 

“A week,” Kirigan said, and your eyes widened. “It took us time to get from the coast back to the Little Palace, and you hardly even stirred the entire carriage ride. You truly pushed your abilities to the limit against the drüskelle. You were like ice, freezing and unmoving—I believe my Heartrender was the only reason you made it back. You’ve been resting here since then. I’ve been waiting for you to awaken.”

Your throat bobbed. He truly was responsible for your life, for getting you out of your wretched homeland. 

You shivered. You didn’t like the idea of being in debt to the Darkling. 

Kirigan looked at you for a moment more then shed his coat, fabric as black as his eyes pooling around his hands as he offered it to you. 

“Oh,” you began, “no—” 

“Please,” he interrupted. “I want you to be comfortable. You deserve that much after what you’ve been through. I do not know if it’s from your being a Tidemaker, but you are always frozen.” 

You hesitated, but you took it and slipped it on. Your skin was indeed cold to the touch—the rags you called your clothes weren’t much aid—and you had to admit that it helped. 

“You will have clothes of your own soon,” Kirigan said. “And you will get a kefta as well, fit to your measurements.” 

Your brows knit together. “What are you talking about?” 

“You know of the Second Army,” he said, “how the Grisha serve Ravka.” 

“I— but— I’m not—” you stammered, unable to form a full sentence, embarrassing as it was. 

“Yes?” he said, almost patronizing. Your cheeks burned. 

“I’m not Ravkan,” you managed. “I have no place in your army.” 

“That is of no matter,” the Darkling said. “We take in Grisha from all over—Shu Han, Novyi Zem, Fjerda. Many willingly serve, especially from your homeland. I’ve worked with many Fjerdan Grisha and they all prefer honorable service to persecution.” 

“So that’s why you rescued me,” you said stiffly. “So I could serve you.” 

“Officially, you serve the King,” Kirigan said. “But in time, I would like you by my side.” 

You shook your head, tightening your grip on his coat if only from instinct. “I don’t see how I can help you.” 

“Then you clearly know nothing of yourself,” the Darkling said. “Surviving in Fjerda as a Grisha is no easy feat, nor is the journey you’ve made. Alone, at that.” 

“Strymakt Fjerdan,” you said dryly. “That’s what my brother always told me.” 

His lips quirked upwards. “Of course. But you know what you’ve done, the power you hold. You raised the sea and ended those men without any training. Imagine what you could do with Ravka’s resources at your hands.” 

“I don’t want to fight,” you said weakly as you sat back on the bed. “I don’t want this power— I never wanted to be a Grisha. I just want to live a normal life without looking over my shoulder every second.” 

“We do not get the chance to live normal lives,” the Darkling said softly. We, he kept saying, like he could understand what you were going through. As if he was like you, like you had any similarities beyond Grisha blood. “You are a Tidemaker—there is no running from it. Your only choice is what you make of it.” 

The Darkling moved closer in your uncertain silence, taking a seat beside you. He carried an aura of power with him, not just in his abilities but in the way he moved. His assertions, his statements, it all seemed true just because of his demeanor. It was hard to think around a man like him, but you forced through it. 

“You have the chance to be truly great,” Kirigan urged, and it bothered you how much it sounded like he believed it. “You were born Grisha for a reason, with your strength and resolve and bravery for a reason. A Tidemaker forged through the fire of Fjerda. You belong here, at the Little Palace, in Ravka—with me.”

He looked at you with such intensity that it took your breath away. You hardly knew him, he hardly knew you, and yet Kirigan spoke as if he would lay down his life for you, as if he expected you to do the same. 

“Join me,” the Darkling murmured, “and you will never lay at the foot of another again.” 

You stared into his eyes, a lingering abyss that called to you. Your skin itched just looking at him, discomfort and intrigue and a desperate need to know more boiling over inside of you. 

You had no choice. Kirigan knew that as much as you did, no matter how much he presented it as one. 

You didn’t want to fight Ravka’s wars. You didn’t want to serve a king who’d done nothing to help you, to be part of an army that waged terror against your homeland. 

But what else was there for you? You had nothing, no one waiting for you back in your homeland. No family, no lover, not even a bed to your name. If you stepped foot in Fjerda again, you would be hunted to extinction. 

The Darkling was offering you life itself, a chance for another day. Wasn’t that what you’d been fighting for all along? Clawing through Fjerdan winters, surviving at the barest margins every day, losing more of yourself with every body you left behind you—all so you could escape the brand of drüsje and live like any other woman. 

The life of a Grisha was not the life you wanted, but it was life. Only a fool would pass it up, no matter what it entailed. 

You were many things, but you were not a saintsdamned fool.

“Okay,” you rasped, and your throat bobbed. “Okay. I’ll join you.” 

The Darkling smiled, dark eyes crinkling at the side, and you had the strangest thought of his beauty. “Excellent.” 

He placed his hand on your forearm, his surprising warmth shocking against the cold of your skin as he pulled you towards him. Power swelled up inside you even at the slightest touch, and you gasped at the feeling of it, icy fire erupting inside of you. The temperature plummeted inside the room and the frozen chill creeped through your veins. 

“My Tidemaker,” he whispered. "We are going to do marvelous things together.” 

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback 

[idaoftheburningmind]

Dawn Greeting Dusk Falling

A reimagining of the events after ‘Siege and Storm’ and a coping mechanism for the SaB S2 ending we would rather not have…

She had kept a little of his shadow, he enough of her light. This is what made it possible, this meeting at the roiling edge of the Fold where Alina knew she would one day find herself.

Fifty years did he say? She knew it had been more, and still it surprised her as the seasons dragged on that love had endured — the love of so many, and the love of one above all. Even if she had to watch each one shrouded and laid in the ground. Each and every one.

What she means to do here now is neither a reckoning, nor a reconciliation. The moment is simply right. She looks into the shadows, and lifts her hand. The globe of light is muted, as though in a fog; but she knows he will not fail to see it.

“Alina.”

There is no rage in the way he says her name, not even a question. They are past that, she supposes.

One who was too young, and one who lived too long; they were here now, nearly unchanged but for her white hair worn unbound. He did not expect her to come sooner, he knew time well enough. He might have thought he knew her as well.

She did not destroy the Fold.

Thought dead after the collapse of the Chapel, legend had it that her spirit guided skiffs as they made each journey. For not a soul has been lost to the Fold since.

That was how she knew that he wasn’t lost. And the knowledge, when she realized it, caused her that day to weep with joy.

The two of them lived because they could not let the other die; when his humanity was burning away, she held on blindly to what remained and he … she could not name what he did, but in the end she knew he had kept her from falling into darkness.

He had kept — some essence, some hope? Light either way.

And a resolve not to lose her to the void.

What was left of him that day was drawn to the Fold, the only place where he could still exist.

A shadow among shadows.

“You might have left me with a fresh set of clothes. An eternity disheveled is its own unique torture.”

She startles with laughter, the unexpected joy at the even more unexpected attempt at humor freeing the tension in her shoulders. She lets herself smile at him, and his smile is genuine as he smiles back.

“Are you angry?” she asks.

“What is anger for?” is his reply.

Flame sputtering to life in sunlight has more purpose.

A silence heavy as the weight of loss they now share settles between them.

“I could not bear it if you turned from me now.”

He spoke the truth. It was the same truth she would always understand, no matter the centuries left to them, no matter their choices that will always hang in the balance.

She reaches for him with a tendril of shadow.

He holds out his hand in welcome.

————-

A/N: For my AU sister @becauseicantthinkwritings who has been putting up with my not-fun era for longer than she should 😅

[mlsfrvr]

Stop! It’s Darklina Time!  Part 2

Hello guys!

Are you ready for part 2?

Let’s go. :)

Thank you to the wonderful authors of these beautiful stories. You really did a great job! I love reading your work. ❤️

I have indicated the places where there may be spoilers for you, but still read the tags of the dear authors before you open the story.

And if you see🔥you know what it means. :)

Kaleidoscope by Permanent_Reverie: alternative. Aleksander and Alina are getting married.

The CEO and the Helioseismologist by orphan_account: alternative. Aleksander is getting sick.

So Hold My Hand, I'll Walk With You, My Dear by UnderATrillionStars: Alina is visiting Aleksander. if you haven't read rule of wolves, it may contain spoilers for you.

Testament to Time by melfires: Aleksander lets Alina go. 

Start a War by nymja: alternative. fate brings Aleksander and Alina together once again. if you haven't read ruin and rising, it may contain spoilers for you.

Out of Time by destinies: another alternative that i love.

Having You by destinies: Aleksander and Alina are not disturbed in the war room. 🔥

Surrender by aleksandermorozova: alternative. Alina and Aleksander are having a daughter.

Aurora by KoreRosemarinus: alternative. Alina and Aleksander have a son.

for you I would ruin myself by fkevin073: Aleksander returns to the war room.🔥

A cold heart by Weisse_Rose: what happened from Aleksander's pov.

give you my wild, give you a child by fkevin073: alternative. Alina brings up the baby topic. 🔥

keep the light from passing through by starwarringavengers: alternative. Alina runs away and Aleksander chases her. 🔥

I Look Inside Myself (And See My Heart Is Black) by Ceris_Malfoy: alternative. Alina chooses a different path.

My Needy Little Wife Under The Table by orphan_account: alternative. 🔥

Fever by SheepOfIce: Alina is getting sick.

Give Me Love by starwarringavengers: Aleksander is ambushed. 🔥

I'll Stay With You by Nightstorm: alternative. Alina convinces Aleksander to come to bed.

I wish you would (Morozova's version) by stealing_jasons_job: alternative. 🔥

never knew I could feel that much by Stella959: Alina and Aleksander's life in the little palace develops a little differently. 🔥

fool me once, fool me twice by amplifierverse: alternative. Aleksander wants Alina to wear amplifiers. 🔥

No Minor Miracle by orangegreet: alternative. Aleksander can wait another century for Alina. if you haven't read ruin and rising, it may contain spoilers for you.

Only the Dead Have Seen the End of War by 221BB: alternative. Aleksander and Alina are fighting together. 

Conqueror by mardia: alternative. Alina destroyed the fold long ago.

Drunk on the Dying Light by ViaLethe: alternative. Aleksander is having a scar on his chest. if you haven't read ruin and rising, it may contain spoilers for you.

When evening shadows and stars appear by Anuna: alternative. Aleksander is getting sick.

Lightweight by artemisscribe: alternative. Alina is getting drunk

Alone by Anuna: alternative. Aleksander wants to get married.

Brittle Thorns by mzladybird: alternative. Aleksander hires a gardener for his garden. 🔥

Tell Yourself You Can Always Stop by nightowls28: Aleksander sees the scars on Alina. if you haven't read the ruin and rising, it may contain spoilers for you.

Scars by LiteraryFaerie: Alina sees the scars in Aleksander. if you haven't read the ruin and rising, it may contain spoilers for you.

Me and the Devil by esssteee: alternative. Aleksander is back.

Hope Springs Eternal by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks), Irony_Rocks: alternative. Alina is bringing Aleksander back.

[marvelmusing]

An Era of Power

Part Three

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: You begin to feel at home in the Little Palace, and slowly grow closer to the General.

Word Count: 2K

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

Settling into life at the Little Palace comes naturally to you. When you wake in your own room on the first morning, you find a dark purple kefta hung on the folding screen waiting for you. Your kefta is a darker shade than the typical Materialki kefta, and the hem’s are lined with intricate gold embroidery that shimmers in the sunlight.

Genya becomes your friend almost instantly. The two of you initially bond over being different from the rest of your fellow Grisha. She tells you all about the gossip and rumours from the Grand Palace, and informs you of certain Lords and Dukes you would do well to avoid.

You spend a lot of your time in the Materialki workshop, watching the Durasts and Alkemi tinkering away with their experiments, and occasionally offering to help them. Seeing you curled up in a corner with a stack of books from the library becomes a common occurrence for the Little Palace’s Materialki.

Combat training goes better than you first expected. After the centuries, you’ve picked up the general knowledge needed to do well in a fight, and with the daily use of your powers, you find it easy to keep up with the rest of your classmates.

Lessons with Baghra garner less positive results. In all honesty, you had tried hard in the beginning. But it hadn’t taken long before the two of you had lost your temper with one another. Baghra had spent the majority of your first lesson belittling you and your power, making you feel more and more alienated from the Grisha around you. You had stormed angrily from her hut, your feet crunching over the gravel as you made your way back to the Little Palace. You’ve lived for centuries, you shouldn’t have to deal with a crotchety, old woman. However, you continue to pretend that you are as young as you look, which means that you have to deal with lessons like a schoolgirl.

Sometimes you consider telling the General the truth. After all, Darkling’s live long lives. You haven’t asked General Kirigan how old he is, but your guess is that he’s in his mid-hundreds, maybe one hundred and sixty. If anyone could understand your situation, it would be him. But the General is still practically a child compared to you.

You don’t see the General very often. He’s usually managing troops on the frontline, either in the North or the South. It makes you impatient. For the first time in your long life, you feel the importance of being Grisha. That you’re in a position to finally do something for yourself, and your people. Whilst learning more about Grisha, and how different abilities worked, was interesting it couldn’t couldn’t compare to how you felt when you were with the General. He often only returned for a day or less even, but he always found some time for you. Though these brief conversations were nice, you can barely hide your excitement when you hear him call your name as you’re walking through the grounds.

You turn, smiling as he approaches you. He gives you a polite nod, returning your smile with his own.

“When did you return?”

“A few hours ago.” You raise a brow at him, looking at the pathway he had been walking on.

“And visiting Baghra was one of your first priorities?”

“Something like that.”

“I will warn you, Baghra tends to over exaggerate my lack of ability.” A small grin warms his features, and your heart flutters at the sight.

“I find that easy to believe. How have you adjusted to life at the Little Palace?”

“Quite well, I think. Lessons have been… productive.” His lips quirk again, as if he finds your choice of words amusing.

The two of you exchange light conversation as you wander around the lake. Neither of you mention a particular route, but you seem to know where you both want to walk. You’ve always loved the grounds of the Little Palace, surrounding the building with a halo of woodland that seems to shield it from the rest of the world.

It’s only once the Little Palace is completely out of sight, that the General stops. You stand bedside him, head tilted aside as you watch him stare up at a large oak tree which towers over you both, its leaves touched with brown - a telltale sign of autumn’s upcoming descent.

“This tree is around a hundred and seventy years old.” He tells you. The two of you continue to look up at the tree as the leaves rustle with the branches swaying in the breeze. “I wonder what it would have looked like when the Little Palace had been built.” He adds, tilting his head aside as he looks down at you. A smirk curls at the corner of your mouth.

“Is that a request, General?” He mirrors your smirk with a challenge.

“If you believe you are capable of such a feat.” You raise your brow at him, determination filling your features. Taking a deep breath, you shift your focus from the charming smile the General is giving you and close your eyes to prevent him from distracting you.

Bringing your palms together, your concentration fixes onto the components of the tree in front of you. You turn your hands in alternating directions, palms brushing together, and the bark of the tree groans as it begins to shrink. The leaves fold in on themselves, curling back into green buds. The branches retreat into the trunk of the tree, shrinking into fragile twigs. You push further, reducing the tree to a small sapling which dwindles down into the ground.

When your eyes flutter open, you squint in the sunlight now pouring down on you both as the shade of the tree is gone. A frown of confusion crinkles your brows, as you take in the empty patch of grass.

The General steps forward, towards the space where the tree had existed for over a hundred years - a mere fraction of your life. He leans down, picking up a small round object from the ground. It looks hard, and shines in the sunlight. You suddenly realise, it’s an acorn. You had turned an enormous oak tree back into an acorn. A startled laugh escapes your lips, and the General smiles widely at you.

“I can’t believe I did that.” You tell him in an astonished gasp.

You stare down at the acorn in his hand, blinking in shock as he pockets it and continues to walk along the grass.

“Won’t someone notice a tree missing?” You ask him as you pick up the pace to rejoin his side. He shakes his head.

“Very few people venture this far into the grounds.”

You nod in acknowledgement, and the two of you continue to walk through the blades of overgrown grass and tangled wildflowers. You watch a butterfly flutter towards a tall bunch of delicate, purple flowers. Your gaze drifts back to the General. He appears to be lost in thought, his brow furrowed slightly as he watches each of his steps. You swallow hard, before deciding to voice something that has been weighing on your mind,

“Baghra keeps telling me my improvements aren’t enough. As if she knows something I don’t.” He glances over at you,

“Like what?”

“She acts as if I’m working towards something.” He holds your gaze for a long moment, the corner of his mouth wavering slightly.

“You’re quite perceptive.” You shrug lightly before remarking,

“A result of my power really.”

“In what sense?”

“I have to understand how something works before I can alter it. I know how an acorn grows into a tree, so I can reverse the growth. If I don’t understand something, I can’t control it.” You’re both quiet for moment, before he asks,

“Is that why you’re always reading? Because you feel the need to understand everything, so that you can control it?” You turn to look at him sharply.

You’re used to seeing through people, but you often have a hard time reading the General, or understanding his motives. It’s startling for you, to have someone see you so clearly. A small smile flickers across your lips.

“You’re quite perceptive yourself, General.” He mimics your earlier shrug.

“A result of my profession.” Your smile widens at the sound of him mirroring your words. This smile fades slightly as you consider your next words.

“I won’t ask Baghra about it, she either wouldn’t tell me or just confuse me out of spite. But…” You hesitate as you watch the General step over a clump of thistles onto a fallen tree trunk, and he watches your face intently. “I like to think that you would tell me the truth.”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. You wobble slightly as you step onto the tree trunk in an attempt to follow him. He grasps your hand, pulling you up onto the trunk. A rush of certainty floods through you, a result of his amplification. You’re suddenly aware of how close you are, your chest almost flush against his, the warmth of his body barely an inch away from yours. You feel your cheeks warm at the proximity, despite the serious nature of your conversation.

“Shall we sit?” He asks, and you nod.

He bends, sitting down on the peeling bark of the tree, and you settle next to him, swinging your legs as they dangle over the edge of the trunk. You remain quiet, waiting for the General to speak again.

“I have spent the last few months spending whatever free time I had trying to discover what you are.” You hold your breath, terrified for a moment that he’s found you out. That he knows you’re immortal.

“What did you find?” You ask tentatively.

“Nothing. As far as anyone is aware, you’re the first of your kind.”

You knew that. Morozova had no idea what would happen when he altered your abilities with merzost. From what you remember, he seemed like the kind of man to never repeat his experiments, only seeking to find something new to create.

“I have spent my life attempting to repair the damage done by my ancestor. Ever since the creation of the Fold, the Church has prayed for a Sun Saint to destroy the blemish that scars our country.” His voice is filled with doubt as he looks down at the worn grass below you.

“You don’t believe that?” He looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours.

“I used to. Now I believe that instead of fighting shadows with light, instead of finding my opposite, all we need is someone who can reverse his mistake.”

Your face drops. Your thoughts begin to spiral - surely he couldn’t mean you were the saviour of Ravka? His gaze remains direct, fixed on you with an unwavering look of confidence.

“Me?” You ask in a whisper. He nods slowly,

“Yes.” You shake your head before you can even voice your doubts.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The Fold is huge, I couldn’t possibly-“

“You’ve just turned an oak tree back into an acorn. With a more training, the right amplification, you could-“

“No. I would have to understand how it was created in the first place, and Morozova’s journals were destroyed hundreds of years ago.” He pauses for a long moment, before turning back to look at you,

“If we could locate the journals, do you believe you could do it?”

You falter. Logically, you might have the ability to do it. But confidence has never been your strong point. After years of staying hidden, finding the extent of your power has never been a priority for you. You truly don’t know how far your abilities could go. You shake your head again.

“They were destroyed.”

“We don’t know that.” He states. A tiny smile curls at the corner of your mouth.

“You are incredibly determined, General.” He breathes out a small laugh, his gaze losing some of its intensity as he realises you’ve accepted his suggestion. The two of you share a smile, until you look down at the trunk of the tree you’re sitting on. Your fingers trail over the space between you, picking at loose pieces of bark as you avoid meeting his eyes.

“Do you think I can do it?” He nods resolutely.

“I do.” He looks at you with the same unwavering certainty you feel when his fingers brush against your skin. “You and I are going to change the world.”

»»---------------------►

AEOP Tag List: @budugu

[ignyxdaughter]

𝐗𝐈𝐗 - 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍

(𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 /𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 𝐱 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧)

MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

A/N: English is not my first language. I’m gonna mix the books and the tv show to make the story line clearer (I read soc, the grisha trilogy and its tales). I don’t own Shadow and Bone and TO/Legacies characters; they’re, respectively, Leigh Bardugo, L. J. Smith and Julie Plec. Also, this is how I think the Darkling is,and some of the events will be changed due to the story's course!

words: 2873

warnings: mentions of witch/grisha hunt

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They are now cuddled, both their backs resting on the Black Heretic's fountain while gazing at the woods. The witch rests her head on the Grisha's chest, hearing the calming rhythm of his heartbeat. Him, on the other hand, lets his thumb caress her arm.

This is all so new to them, so... peaceful. It seems like a weight has left their shoulders as soon as they found equality in each other, the desire of wanting someone to understand them finally fulfilled.

"So—", Katherine's soothing voice breaks the comfort silence "what made you change your mind?"

Kirigan doesn't take his eyes off the tree he's been looking at for the past minutes. He is still enjoying the fantastic sensation of believing that everything is going to be alright now. "I started to think about what you had said. The Second Army is young, none of them have experienced the Ravka before the Fold. They have the idea that the Unsea is the issue, and that all of Ravka's problems will be solved once it vanishes. However, it is the complete opposite: if we destroy it, things will worsen." She nods, patiently waiting for him to continue. "There is no way to guard the entire border, therefore, Ravka will be exposed to many travelers. The Fjerdans and Shu Hans will take advantage of the country's vulnerability and attack. The drüskelle will have more access to accomplish their hunts too." He turns to the woman by his side, who is gazing at him since he started speaking. "Grishas will be in great danger if the Fold is destroyed."

"The Supernaturals too."

"Ravka will be no more safe haven."

"No, it won't."

"Also—", he takes a sharp breath to gather forces to tell her his conclusion "you were right."

The shadow singer's smile almost reaches her eyes. Oh, how she loves to be told that! No matter how many times that often happens, the pride feeling filling her chest always appears. "Pardon? I don't think I quite heard you."

"I won't repeat myself, Katherine."

"Why not?" Her smirk increases as she sees him scowl towards her. "Your words had such a beautiful sound."

He rolls his eyes. "You are not used to hearing that, I assume."

"Oh, no—", she chuckles. "I am more than used to it. After all, I am always right."

"If people see Alina's powers expanding the Fold, they will label Grishas as aberrations again." He ignores her to continue his line of thought. "Another hunt will be made and, with the Unsea blocking the borders, it'll be difficult to escape. The only way to protect ourselves will be killing all the hunters, which will practically be almost all otkazat'sya."

Ravka will be the stage of a massacre, the unsaid words float through the air. All due to the fight for survival.

"I want my country to be a safe haven, not a remembrance of a bloodshed."

Katherine's gaze softens in compassion. She shares that wish with him; she wants the Grishas and Ravka's Supernaturals to see their country as a secure place where they cannot fear. It would be wonderful if Os Alta transformed into what New Orleans is to many: home.

"Although living now more peacefully, your people still dread, Kirigan. Even receiving all the trainment in the world, there is still the terrifying thought of being attacked by the drüskelle and losing a fight with them. That fear will only grow if they witness a magical imbalance, especially one made by their General. Your Army will work based on dread instead on loyalty, and that is dangerous, because, soon, they will grow tired of feeling this." Her light green eyes are full of worry as she looks at him deeply. "This happened a lot through the centuries, and it always ended with the leader murdered by his own people."

"I know. I searched about those historical revolutions." Her eyebrows raise in surprise to see The Darkling agreeing. "Most of them were because the monarchy prioritized the court instead of the commoners, which were the majority. Only a few people had good life conditions, while the plurality suffered with poor ones. They got sick of injustice and repression, tired of having to survive to make others live. They wanted that possibility for themselves, so, after generations had passed and nothing had been done, they decided to fight for it."

"I witnessed some revolutions and that is what happened, indeed."

"I have lived the conditions of these commoners." Kirigan admits with a heavy chest. Sometimes, he is still affected with the memories of his tough childhood. He used to eat poorly, suffer from the cold, fear the dark when the night came, train for straight exhausting hours in order to learn how to control his powers, have to make new identities in a short period of time, and pass through many other unpleasant experiences. "It was terrible."

The sudden warm hand on his cheek tells him that he is not alone, that Katherine has suffered the same as him and as the many unfortunate people that were part of revolutions. "Survival isn't life, Kirigan. But it is just when you are old that you learn that the change will only come if you fight for it. That's why your Grishas are so immersed in the Fold's utopia: their youthness makes them believe that the time has finally come, that Alina will be the savior to fix all the problems." She offers him a sad smile. "My people are old and are struggling to live in Os Alta poorest area. One of the reasons why they hate your lightscum is this, since she represents all the illusion they had once believed."

"So they are willing to fight for change?"

She nods. "With all of their strength."

"If I promise better life conditions, will an alliance be possible?"

"Only if you guarantee that you have no intentions to destroy the Unsea. Firstly, you have to win their trust, especially the leaders' trust, then you may focus on a deal."

He gently grabs her hand that still is on his cheek. "I think I'll need a bit of your assistance, then."

The witch smirks as soon as she sees the glint on his dark brown eyes. "It will be my pleasure."

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"I swear it was her, Genya!" Michelle stops on her tracks as she hears Alina's voice echo through the room she was entering to clean.

"That's impossible."

"No, it isn't, and you know it!"

The Tailor shakes her head, making many of her red strands fly in the air. "Ms. Anya was playing a dangerous game here, Alina. The Darkling saw her as a threat and sent the oprichniki after her. She's probably dead now."

The Sun Summoner's brown eyes widened in shock. "Dead?"

"Yes." No. Michelle had to restrain a scoff. "I honestly think she was a spy."

"A spy? Really?"

"She knew too much for an ordinary otkazat'sya."

While starting to tie the room where the two Grishas were, Michelle began to make her own opinions. They aren't completely wrong: this specific servant knew too much and was considered by the General himself a threat, which led him to hunt her. However, she is pretty much alive, or better, Katherine Mikaelson is alive. No one knows what happened to Ms. Anya, she just... vanished.

"But, Genya, I swear I saw her today!" The blond's body stills as she cleans a desk. "Are you sure about that all? She seemed so real."

"There's no way Ms. Anya isn't dead, Alina. You probably were tired and hallucinated."

The younger girl looks deeply at the other, brown eyes meeting blue ones. "I know what I saw. Ms. Anya was at the beginning of the woods early this morning. She was hidden, but I saw her looking at Kirigan's chambers."

Oh, damn it, Katherine! You let yourself get caught by a teenager?! Michelle's face instantly turns into a scowl due to the anger she is feeling towards her cousin. By the Ancestors, Kat, you really turn into a fool when you like someone!

The Tailor takes a few seconds to answer her friend, but, finally, she shrugs her off with a hand. "I still think it's nothing to worry about."

I hope so, Genya, because I'm gonna kill Katherine if she drags the family into another trouble with insane plans.

The water singer leaves the Sun Summoner's chambers with heavy steps. As a way to calm herself, she goes to her little room and begins to read one of the books she had picked early in the morning. It is written in French, which eases her off with the thought of being close to her native language, and the author describes actions that may help people who are suffering with memory loss. After all, Michelle isn't certain that a spell will recover all of Agatha's remembrances.

Former lovers who had a long and healthy relationship with the victim may trigger good memories. However, the paramour must reproduce habits that were performed frequently during the time they were a couple.

Her blue eyes widened in sudden realization. There is someone that can aid them.

Of course, she didn't talk to Agatha's ex-lover for decades, but she had a good relationship with her; every Mikaelson — unless Katherine — had. The woman is a mesmerizing person and powerful witch, always willing to help the Supernatural. Michelle is sure that if she sends her a letter explaining about Agatha's current situation, the woman will appear in Os Alta in less than a day.

The water singer closes the book with a smile and immediately stands up. She needs to tell Katherine her new idea, but if her cousin takes too long to arrive, then she will handle the matter in her own hands.

With that in mind, the blond confidently states: "If there's any of Kat's shadows here, tell her to meet me at the Little Palace's library now."

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Hours had passed, and the couple had to go back to their respective places. After Kirigan had just left with his horse, Katherine was almost entering a shadow to go to Praecantrix when she heard Ikatris' smooth voice: Your cousin wants you at the Little Palace's library now. Seemed urgent.

She frowns with the unusual situation and mentally asks the dark figure: Which one?

The spoiled French.

Despite knowing patience isn't one of Michelle's virtues, she can't help but worry, her intuition wanting to alert that something is about to happen. However, as an attempt to ignore this uncomfortable feeling, the witch rolls her light green eyes at the shadow's answer. You know their names, Ikatris. So why do you insist on calling them with these nicknames?

She can almost feel the creature smirking. Because it irritates them.

Katherine can't help but chuckle. Her cousins indeed hate all of Ikatris' nicknames and always tell her to talk to the shadow in order to make him stop, however, it never worked. He is immediately delighted as he sees Hope — manic tribid — sends him a death glare, Michelle — spoiled French — huffs in impatience, Nick — justice alpha — rolls his eyes in annoyance, Agatha — dramatic queen — holding the urge to attack him, and Levi — Kol's counterfeit copy — walking away from him to not get into a fight.

Why don't you give me a nickname too? I have never received one from you.

Because you're Katherine, there's no one like you. You are already unique.

She smiles, a warm sensation reverberating in her chest. Thank you, Ikatris.

The witch then orders her shadows to guide her to the Little Palace's library, where she finds Michelle pacing through the Norse Runes book session. She seems nervous, clenching her fingers on the long white skirt, her blond hair that is usually perfect, is now disheveled. "What happened?"

The French woman turns abruptly and looks at her in rage. "You!" She extends her hands towards the brunette as if wanting to strangle her.

Katherine frowns. "What have I done?"

"What have you—" She seems to be using all of her control to not start yelling in fury. "What have you done?!"

The shadow singer seems uncertain of her actions now. Has she found out about Malyen Oretsev? "Yes?"

"You let yourself be seen by Alina!"

The nervousness began to grow in her stomach. "What?"

"Today's morning she saw you in the beginning of the woods, looking at Kirigan's chambers. Is this true?"

Shit.

"I... I, ehm—"

"Damn it, Katherine!"

"I didn't know she was there! I was focused on a more important task!"

Michelle grabs her cousin's shoulders to make her look straight at her. "She's sure Ms. Anya isn't dead, and now I think Genya suspects that too."

The older woman shrugs as an attempt to exhale confidence in order to calm the blond down. "They don't know much, Michelle. I am sure it will do us no harm."

"You were supposed to be the responsible one who fret about things that go out of control, not me!" She lets go of the brunette and crosses her arms, a pout forming on her red lips. "I didn't enjoy this."

"Well, welcome to my life.”

"It sucks."

"I know." Katherine sighs and slowly approaches her frustrated cousin. "But I also know that you wouldn't call my shadows only to yell at me. What happened?"

Her blue eyes face the light green ones. "I have a plan that may work."

"About?"

"Agatha." She passes a hand through her long blond strands, a habit that she does when is restless. "There is someone that may trigger some of her memories, and, maybe, even help with the spell."

"That is wonderful news!"

"Yeah, but not for you."

She raises an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

The water singer looks away, averting her cousin's gaze. "I just want to know that this is the best for Agatha. I would never do anything that could harm her."

If Kathreine wasn't sure why the French woman was acting like that, now she knows: Michelle did the idea before consulting her, the brain of the family and the mastermind behind the plans. "Michelle—"

"And, maybe, I-I've become a little anxious because I haven't found Hope and it was taking too long for you to arrive."

She clenches her teeth, already predicting the enormous trouble she got themselves into. "Michelle—"

"So I took the matter in my own hands before consulting any of you and sent a letter to her."

"Michelle, who did you call?"

She gives her a nervous smile. "The brightest person in this world."

The shadow singer frowns, though her stomach is currently twisting in dread, since it seems that this someone could be a horrible person. "Who?"

"She is just so full of light, you know." Despite continuing to smile, the younger one  begins to hug herself, as if this would protect her from Katherine's reaction.

The realization sinks at the brunette's chest like an anchor. Soliel Alvarez is a light singer witch that was Agatha's paramour for half a century. She is a woman obsessed with power and very practical: get in her way and you will die. For her, time is precious, so, unless it's necessary, she doesn't waste time with torture ceremonies.

Beyond hating shadow singers for their ability to dim her glow, she also hates her own kind. According to her, light singers are people devoid of character and who do not deserve trust or loyalty. For these reasons, she feels no remorse when draining an equal; in fact, she takes satisfaction in seeing their despair as she senses the victim's power entering her veins and thus making her stronger.

For sharing the same thought as her about lightscums, Katherine doesn't hate Soliel, however, she is always careful towards the woman. After all, light singers aren't trustable. The adopted Mikaelson relationship with her is tense, and only Levi knows that his cousin slightly likes Agatha's ex-lover.

Soliel is a difficult person to deal with, someone that will always try to trick you if you aren't aware of her true nature. In other words, she is a brutalest version of the shadow singer, and Katherine isn't in her right mind to meet her. She is already worried with Agatha's cure, about her affair — is that what they have now? — with Kirigan, with Ravka's Supernatural's current situation and with the execution of the coup. Soliel here will only overwhelm her and worsen the emotional weariness she is still feeling.

"You didn't."

Michelle looks at the ground as if it was the most mesmerizing thing in life. "Her and Agatha's relationship was so healthy and ended so well. They're still friends and see each other sometimes!"

The British woman can feel her breathing fasten. "Please tell me you are lying."

"And the book said that a good ex-lover can help on triggering memories, so—"

"Oh, Michelle!"

"—Soliel's coming to Ravka."

Everything stops. The air in her lungs, the frustration, the racing thoughts in her mind and the nervous twisting in her stomach are all gone. Suddenly, the forces in her entire body disappear too. Soon, her clear vision is replaced by the dark and she falls on the floor.