#daily ravka list

[daily-ravka]

Keeping Up With The Grishaverse

Missed the clips? The interviews?⎮ March 9th, 2023

⚡️IT’S LA PREMIERE DAY

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Video Format

Black Girl Nerds - The 'Shadow and Bone' Cast Find Nice Things About Each Other to Say

DC Film Girl - Shadow & Bone Season 2 Cast Interviews! Jessie Mei Lei, Ben Barnes, Lewis Tan, Freddy Carter & more!

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Reading Format

'Shadow and Bone' Season 2 Soundtrack Reveals Haunting Track "I Can't Lose You" [Exclusive]

🚨Official Content🚨

Season 2 Cast Premiere Pictures 

Season 2 Full Soundtrack by Joseph Trapanese

Others ⎮ Season 2 Premiere Albums

Jerod Harris

Amanda Edwards

Lisa O’Connor

Charley Gallay

Links marked with asterisks (**) may contain plot details and spoilers

✨Need the list of interviews of a specific cast member? Want to know which article your favourite ship was mentioned? Looking for something specific for your edits? Our ask box is open!✨

- Full Masterlist now on our pinned post.

[marvelmusing]

This post made me think of Aleksander's reaction to the Shadow and Bone book in IAL and the idea got its claws in me...

So the book is from her perspective, right? And Alina is an unreliable narrator...

What if, in the future, academic(?) Reader decides to do research on the popular historical work of the Diaries of Sankta Alina, otherwise known as the Shadow and Bone trilogy...

As Reader starts to dig in it becomes more and more obvious that Alina is not only an unreliable narrator but either pretty delusional or making up most of the stuff... or maybe both...

The research takes an even more interesting turn when Reader is able to track down Aleksander who is alive and well and...

(aaaaand I'm not gonna do spoilers in case I ever get to write this 🙃)

I am so in love with this idea

Imagine reading Sankta Alina’s Diaries (the S&B trilogy) and just fact checking all her comments about Grisha and the Darkling using official army documents and public records.

Imagine reading letters from General Kirigan to certain First Army officials and discovering what a delicate situation it was for Grisha. Seeing the almost never ending lists of casualties in battles and the number of Grisha missing (assumed dead at the hands of the Drüskelle).

Imagine reading diary entries from random Second Army soldiers who experience Grisha prejudice on a daily basis and were killed on the front lines fighting for Ravka. Imagine learning that they weren’t the spoilt people that Alina described when she lived at the Little Palace.

And managing to track down Aleksander?!? I’m picturing this as very modern-day Ravka, so is he still living in Os Alta as some sort of Grisha activist maybe? Is he still pretending to be his own descendant? And the reader has deciphered the intentionally complicated family tree of the Darkling (that Aleksander fabricated himself) to find him?

[unrequitedloveletter]

The Fire That Burns Within- N.L x fem! reader Chapter Six

Masterlist

Fic type- angst

Warnings- mentions of death, mention of rape (in the sense that the reader refers to nikolais father as a rapist) possible mention of human trafficking (I don’t know if the darkling gifting genya to the queen counts but the fact that the darkling gifted genya to nikolais mother is mentioned, hence that warning), a mention of poison (the reader mentions that genya did it to nikolais father), a mention of breaking someones nose, a mention of setting someone on fire

“Any other errors?” Nikolai asked you the following day. Part of you wanted to punch him in the face for daring to act like you’d settled back into what had barely become a routine. Another part of you wanted to simply play the part of being resentful, though you were grateful for the return to normalcy. Your heart did not know which way to go with it. 

“Must this dance be a daily occurrence?” You asked, not even trying to hide your disdain. You’d decided to go in a less violent version of the first direction, so it had seemed. “Oh, if it is, let me know now, and my wandering of these halls will cease completely.”

Nikolai laughed. “Why would I tell you whether or not this is to happen daily when I know it means you’ll stop wandering? I quite like to watch you wander.”

“And I quite hate hearing you try to flirt.” you said, sharply turning around a corner. Irritation bit at your mind as you realized Nikolai had still managed to follow you, that he had still managed to keep a respectable distance. 

“Your predecessors have many failings,” you said. “You cannot expect me to list all of them, let alone while the Spinning Wheel is at risk of attack.” There was no legitimate risk as you knew, but it was a war. There was always risk of attack somewhere, especially where the Darkling was a key player in the fighting. 

“It’s not.”

You scoffed. “Something always happens, Prince Nikolai. There is always a crack in the system eventually.” 

“If you’re right, I’ll buy you dinner once all is said and done.”

“If I’m right, you’ll buy me a boat ticket to somewhere I can live in peace and leave me well enough alone.” 

“The deal is the deal.” Nikolai said in perfect Kerch. 

“You sound like a Ketterdam native,” you said. “Given your capabilities as Sturmhond, however, I do suppose that, while I did not know that, it is something I should’ve expected.” 

You turned, caught a glimpse of Nikolais smirk. “There are a lot of things about me that you don’t know.” You wanted to fall for it, you realized. Falling for his smirk, for the way of his words and the way of his charms would’ve been easy.

No, you thought, trying to shake yourself out of it. This is the guy who said that I sound like the Darkling less than a full three days ago. I will not fall for him. 

“I do know, however, that you’ll be terrible for Ravka,” you said. “For the economy. I know that you will ruin countless lives with your constant smirks and relentless flirting.” 

“What else have the Ravkan kings of past done wrong?” Nikolai asked. “Tell me, Y/N.”

“No.” 

“Well, you gave me a solution to financial problems that have weighed down my shoulders ever since I took a look at Ravkas finances. I took your advice into account, wrote up a plan using the information you gave me last night. If Alina survives this–”

“Are you proposing that she is turned into some kind of tourist attraction?” You asked. “Because if so, you’re putting a girl who did not ask for a moment of all that she’s lived through through even more. She did not want to be a sun summoner, she did not want a war with the Darkling, and she’ll back me up when I say that she would probably rather die than be turned into a tourist attraction by a future king, even one so handsome as yourself.” 

“You sound like you can sympathise,” Nikolai said. “Did the Darkling do the same to you?”

“I have been through a lot,” you said. “That is all you need to know about me and the Darkling. You’ve a brain behind those luxurious curls. Use it, strategize, and come up with a plan without my assistance.” 

“You think my curls are luxurious?” 

“Yes,” you said. “That much makes me question your parentage. The old king did not have hair like yours. He was rather bald, if memory serves.” 

You felt guilty the moment the words slipped out. 

You heard Nikolais steps falter. “A jab for a jab is it, then?” Nikolai asked. “You know of the questions surrounding my parentage just as I know of your being one of the Darklings most trusted before everything happened. One insult for another two days later.” 

“I never wanted you to like me,” you said. “I want the opposite. I would be fine if you loathed me, Prince Nikolai. You would’ve noticed, had you been listening to my tone or my choice of words, that it is my preference. If you loathe me, it gives me a reason to leave when the civil war ends.”

“If I liked you, and you liked me in turn, would you stay?” 

You’d thought on it. Had you not resented him, staying in Ravka would’ve been something you had considered. 

Hell, you didn’t like him, and still you were considering staying. “Perhaps.” 

“Good to know.” 

“How public of an event have coronations of past been?” You hadn’t been around to see his parents coronations, and you did not make a hobby of looking into their pasts. 

“A few hundred guests.”

“How many guests can fit in the coronation hall?”

“Six thousand, at most.”

“Do you, or do you intend to, have a royal court?”

Nikolai paused. “Perhaps,” he said. “Though I’m not quite sure if I will.”

“If you do, grant them free entry. Publicise your coronation, open it to people from Ketterdam, from the seaside cities in Novyi Zem and the countryside cities in Shu Han. Send out invoices for tickets and have them list their jobs. Charge the reporters and newspeople double or add half the price of their ticket to the ticket itself–you are to be their king. If they judge you for the cost they will only do so in their papers, and the people who read those papers will denote some kingly expense, like palace renovations to make the palaces more suited to your tastes–and as for those who do not work as reporters or newspeople, you will charge them a fair price. Let the pilgrims in for free, too. It will make you seem charitable.” 

“And if the reporters refuse to come because of the cost of their tickets?” 

“Then let them abandon their king. It means your coronation will spread through word of mouth, and you know what happens when things spread through word of mouth. Each story--”

“Is more wild than the next. If the reporters do not come, they will hear the stories from those who were in attendance and regret not having agreed.” 

“Precisely.” 

“You are a finance genius.”

“I am a twenty year old woman who is regretting every word as she speaks,” you said. “Helping a Lantsov is making me want to rip out my own eyes.” 

“Why’d you come along, then?”

“What?”

“Why come to the Spinning Wheel?” Nikolai asked. “Why not stay on the side of the Darkling if me and my bloodline is so horrendous?”

“Because you, your rapist father and your wretched mother–who had a person gifted to her by the Darkling and accepted that gift, a person who is one of my closest friends in the entirety of this saintsforsaken world–are cretins. Your father is the worst of the fucking worst and I spend everyday since learning it was Genyas doing glad that she poisoned him. Every time I see the queen in a corridor I want to yell at her. I want to break her nose. I want to set her on fire,” you snapped. “I have lived through more horror in seven thousand days than you will live through in ten thousand of them. I am allowed to resent your family and I am allowed to resent the Darkling all the same because when I choose you, I am making a conscious choice between the lesser of two evils and I am picking the side that keeps me alive and away from him.” 

“I’m sorry,” Nikolai said. “I never meant–”

“I am allowed to hate you, Prince Nikolai,” you said. “I am allowed to look at you with disdain in my eyes. I have had enough taken from me, and you will not stomp out my fire. I will die before I even consider allowing it, and you will die with me for even wanting to. I would like it if we did not keep doing this dance, especially knowing that it ends in this manner.”

You moved down the corridor, heading to your room. Nikolai did not follow.

[thefaultinourforcebond]

Missed the clips? The Interviews?

The past 24 hours was a lot. We got you covered.

Interviews with the cast | In video format

‘WOW, Is That True?!': Shadow & Bone Cast See How Well They Know Each Other

Netflix’s Shadow and Bone: Everything to Know Before You Watch | Grishaverse Explained

Cień i kość – wywiad z obsadą i twórcami | Shadow & Bone – Cast and creators interview

New Clips

Jesper and Inej ft. Jespers Guns

The Crows at the Crow Club

The Darkling and Alina at the Grand Palace

The Darkling exposing Alina’s powers

New Stills

New photos of Danielle Galligan as Nina Zenik ft. Fedyor and Matthias [one] [two]

Cast Interviews

Freddy Carter, Amita Suman and Kit Young Talk Bringing the Crows to Life on ‘Shadow and Bone’

Danielle Galligan | Game of Thrones star reveals similarities with new Netflix series Shadow and Bone

Sujaya Dasgupta talks enjoying Zoya in SHADOW AND BONE

Jessie Mei Li, Archie Renaux and Ben Barnes Talk ‘Shadow And Bone’ and How Their Characters Relate To Each Other

Music from the Soundtrack

Ravka (Music from the Netflix Series, Shadow and Bone)

Please note that these are are news for the 13th and 14th April. When I said a lot in 24 hours, i meant it. We are working at a masterlist at the moment.

If you need links to other clips and articles feel free to ask me here or over at @daily-ravka - i have a list now *nervous laughter*

[siriushxney]

⊱┊ searing light | chapter one

— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader

— au ; shadow and bone

— wordcount ; 1.7k

— warnings ; cursing, talks of war, no dream yet but he will appear somewhere in the next few parts!

series masterlist | next

the fold was scarier then you could've ever imagined — it stretched for miles upon miles, casting a shadow down upon where it stood. down onto the land of ravka. for centuries the blackness of it stood tall — no way to get through, under, or over safely. but despite the risks and dangers, with war raging on both sides of the country — you had no choice to go through for resources.

climbing out of the back of the truck, you could feel the rocks digging into the soles of your feet as you walked alongside the rest of your squadron — the cheap leather boots that were supplied to you and the rest of the first army, doing nothing to shield your feet from the rough and jagged ground. but despite the aching state that the boots left your feet in at the end of the day, you reminded yourself daily that it could've been worse. you could have been on the next skiff to enter the fold — the chance of coming back being slim to none.

anything was better than going into the fold.

“Y/L/N, why don’t you keep the move on?” another cartographer bumped their shoulder into your own, knocking you out of your tense state, and urging you to continue moving down towards your new camp.

everyone in ravka knew what the fold looked like — it was hard not to when it stood at unreachable heights and stretched the length of the country. but despite this, you had never been this close. no one ever spoke of the coldness it radiated, bringing a chill and goosebumps to anyone that dared to near it. and the thing that no one could have prepared you for at all was the sounds.

the sounds of the creatures that lived inside of the black barrier, screeching at deafening volumes and with such ferocity that it could send even the bravest of man or woman running for the hills.

with a deep breath and encouragement for yourself running through your head like a mantra, you pushed forward, closer and closer to the fold.

“Y/N!” you stopped in your tracks — the other cartographers passing you with quick feet and watchful eyes. turning, you caught a glimpse of a boy that you knew all too well — wilbur. while he was also in the first army, he was named a tracker due to his brilliant mind and tracking skills — skills that proved to be beneficial numerous times, making him one of, if not the best tracker in all of ravka. “you know, for a little mapmaker like yourself, you sure do have quick feet,” wilbur threw his arms around your shoulders, pulling you to continue walking beside him.

“you know, for an amazing tracker like yourself, you do stick out like a sore thumb — what if you're on enemy territory? they're gonna spot you from miles away, you tree.”

“I’ll have you know that despite my large stature, I’m quite good at blending into my surroundings — that and I don’t wear bright colours like them,” wilbur halted, standing awkwardly as he watched the group clothed in bright purple, blue, and red observed and trained with eagle like eyes — their hands drawn to grasp in front of their body as they waited their turn to strike the dummy.

them — the grisha.

grisha were people, much like you and wilbur, who were gifted with abilities like no other — abilities that could either take, or save a man's life. there were three orders of the grisha — the corporalki, the order of the living and the dead, who had people known as heartrenders, healers, and tailors; the materialki, the order of fabrikator’s who had people known as durasts and alkemi; and then there was etherealki, the order of the summoners, who had people known as squallers, inferni, and tidemakers.

but there was one being that you had heard about — someone they named the darkling. a grisha who did not possess an ability like any other — instead, he had the ability to summon and control darkness itself. a walking horror story with the ability to wipe out dozens if he wished.

he came from a line of them — a line consisting of only his families blood.

“I can feel their ego wafting onto us from here,” wilbur whispered slightly, not wanting any of them to hear due to their nature to lash out at people they considered ‘lower’ than themselves.

“no kidding,” you looked around the area in wonder, before looking down to your hands — a map that the head cartographer had handed each and every one of you before you arrived at the camp, displayed your tent being directly where the grisha now stood. “wait… this is where my tent is supposed to be, is it not?” you spun slightly as if it would magically appear.

wilbur stopped your spinning, and guided you towards a different area of the base. “they moved our tents this way, in order for the grisha to have more room — as if the entire upper region of the base wasn’t enough for them,” he couldn't help but grumble out now that he was farther away from the gifted individuals, throwing one more glare before looking ahead once more.

you casted one more look over your shoulder as you followed beside him — one grisha catching your eye for a moment before she turned away. the purple of her uniform — something that they called a kefta, catching your eye instantly alongside the grey embroidering on it. she was a durast — someone who could manipulate things such as steel and glass.

as much as grisha were dangerous and cold — they had a knack for looking their best at every waking moment, with a style that could kill. quite literally.

—

many of the first army stood shoulder to shoulder as they were awaiting orders — the general standing overhead with a paper in hand that no doubt held the list of names of the unfortunate people that would be ushered onto the skiff that would cross the fold.

wringing your hands nervously, you waited for your name or wilburs to be called, hoping and praying to any saint that would bother to listen. wilbur dug his elbow into your shoulder lightly, drawing your attention to him. “we’re among the youngest batch of the first army — we’re in the clear,” he spoke his words with such certainty. but as much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn't.

“I don’t know… I have a weird feeling, wil,” you gave him a serious look, only to be brushed off with a roll of his eyes. “I’m serious — somethings not right.”

wilbur brought a hand to your forehead, feeling for any sign of heat that could indicate sickness, before lowering it slowly and leaning it. “maybe you should rest — I think all those waffles you’ve eaten are making you fall ill,” while his joke was lighthearted, you couldn't help but sigh.

sigh over the fact that he didn’t believe you in the slightest, and sighing at the fact that you haven’t had a full meal, let alone waffles, in over five years — merely table scraps left over from the grisha’s wonderful and elegant meals they were served daily.

“attention soldiers! tomorrow is the first journey through the fold of this season, and we are taking volunteers!” the room laughed at that, the general included — no one sought out to enter the fold — you were selected and that was final. “knowing that none of you will volunteer however, I have taken it upon myself to select a group of you that will accompany the second army across the fold.”

the first army was full of people like you and wilbur — mapmakers, trackers, and ordinary soldiers that could barely hold their own in a fight. mere children when they entered the army, chosen based on how healthy they were. if you could walk, talk, and breathe normally — you were selected.

the second army however, is what the battles were one with — with grisha only ranks, they dominated against the fjerdans and the shu, two nations that had it out for ravka.

no one could bring themselves to laugh this time around — all too weary and nervous to crack a joke.

“entering the fold tomorrow will be… malyen oretsev, atlas cooper, wilbur soot...” you turned to wilbur in horror. “please come to the docks at 1600 for deployment. that will be all soldiers,” the general stepped down from the stage, leaving a room full of shocked, scared, and relieved soldiers.

he tried to put on a strong face for you, but you could see through it as if it were glass. the man that he was today had retreated into the scared and small boy who could never fight for himself. “wil…” you could only whisper tearfully, knowing full well that this moment could be the last time you’d ever see him.

wilbur slapped on the best smile he could in the situation, and pulled your into a hug. “I’m going to be okay, you hear me? if not you can kick my ass,” he laughed lightly in your ear, not able to hide the way his voice shook.

“I can’t kick your ass if you're hurt,” your mind searched for some way that you could fix this — perhaps it was a mistake? or maybe he could get out of it through faking an injury or a sickness. “what if I shot you in the foot?”

“you have a terrible aim.”

“if it means you stay, wouldn’t you take the chance?”

“I have to go.”

“wil-”

“Y/N,” he gave you a look — a look that you had given him minutes before. “I have to go — I have orders to, you know that.”

an order was an order. there was no way out. no amount of arguing, begging, or offering could buy your way out of doing something no matter what your case was, or what the order was. wilbur swore to follow orders at the beginning of his first army career, much like you had.

“I promise you I’ll come back to you.”

“you better,” your head lowered to his chest once more, basking in the warmth one more time before you had to let him go.

if there was really anything as saints, you prayed for them to watch over him.

he had to come back.

because you didn’t know what you would do if he didn’t.

— word bank

grisha [gree - shah] — unique individuals who have abilities

ravka — a country in the books of shadow and bone

corporalki [core - pour - ral - kee] — an order in the grisha

materialki [mat - eire - al - kee] — an order in the grisha

etherialki [ether - ree - al - kee] — an order in the grisha

fjerdan [fee - yair - den] — the ethnicity of fjerda residents

shu [shoo] — the ethnicity of shu-han residents

[orlissa]

Notes for Life Unfolds in Chapters, Part IV

The political system Aleksander outlines for West and East Ravka is greatly influenced by the Austro-Hungarian Dual Monarchy. Hungary had been under absolutist Habsburg rule as a part of the Austrian Empire since the Turkish times, under which it bristled. In 1848-9, there was an attempt to gain independence by revolution, but it was crushed. However, in 1867 a compromise was reached, the Austrian Emperor, Franz Joseph, was crowned King of Hungary, and thus the Dual Monarchy was established. Franz Joseph’s wife, Elizabeth (Sisi), is often credited as being a champion of this compromise. She was rather fond of Hungary and Hungarians, and we still somewhat claim her as ours.

Alina’s dress from the chapter: Fawn colored day dress, 1882-3

I think I mentioned this during the last chapter, but: the park they first go to is based on the Budapest City Park (Városliget), and the castle on Vajdahunyad Castle, which currently houses the Museum of Agriculture (the exhibits they see there are completely works of my imagination.

They get on the underground at Heroes’ Square, and get off at what is called Deák Square today--both stations existed in the 1890s. Currently, there are four metro lines in Budapest, and three of the four intersect at Deák Square.

Their meal at the restaurant: 

Fruit soup: one of my absolute favorite foods ever. It’s a sweet soup, served cold, sometimes with whipped cream, or even oat biscuits. The most common variant is made from sour cherries, but you can make it with basically any kind of fruit. It’s the perfect summer treat, and so common that sometimes places with daily menus will have two kinds of soup each day: something warm, different day after day, and fruit soup.

Chicken paprikash: I don’t have much to add here, I’m not a big fan, but it’s a very iconic Hungarian dish, so I had them have it.

Dobos torte: a layered sponge cake with cocoa buttercream filling, with a layer of hardened caramel on the top. Very iconic, very nice. My dad’s favorite.

The island park they go to is based on Margaret Island, which, too, functions as a public park in real life. Next to what’s described in the chapter, it has an open-air theater, a pool, a 5K running track, playgrounds, several restaurants and clubs, and even a petting zoo. The “Shu-style garden” is based on the Japanese garden also found there.

Margaret Island is named after a Hungarian saint from the 13th century. In 1241-2, Hungary was under Mongol invasion, which greatly devastated the country. The queen was pregnant during that time, and the king, Béla IV, made a promise that if the Mongols left, he would dedicate the child to God. Well, the Mongols left, so Margaret (Margit, in the Hungarian style--9th child, 8th and youngest daughter) was thus raised as a Dominican nun. She lived her whole life on that island, back then known as the Island of Rabbits. I remember we had to read some stories about her in school, and they were about stuff like how basically she was into suffering and how the lice in her hair turned into pearls, which is… gross.

Chimney cake is the best. Damn, guys, if you come to Hungary, or if you happen to be at a place where it is sold, Do Not miss out on it. It’s basically street food, and I can list like three or four carts in the city from the top of my head where they sell it, for like a buck a piece (although none of those are on Margaret Island. I’m not even sure if you can buy it on Margaret Island, but, hey, artistic licence). Thanks to the caramelized sugar on the crust, it has a very strong, very characteristic (very appetizing) smell, so you can basically find the carts selling it by following your nose :D

[nazyalenskyism]

Share This Dance

Summary: A last dance between a general and her king. A/N: A late day 14 of @spookywafflesandkruge ‘s Soft/Angstober prompt list using ‘dance’ and ‘cry’! I enjoyed writing this one and I hope you like reading it! <3 As always any feedback is appreciated!  Ao3: Share This Dance

“Thanks,” Zoya mumbled, taking a glass from a passing serve hoping that maybe this drink would be enough to help ease the pain. It probably wouldn’t, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying. Across the room, she saw Genya, with David at her side entertaining a group of guests, Tamar and Nadia flirting in a corner, and Tolya stationed a slight distance away from the stage at the front of the room. And then there, in the middle of the dance floor, Nikolai spun his new fiancé around in their first dance as an engaged couple. Zoya refused to let herself turn away. This was a reality. She was the one who had pushed and pushed for this exact result, she didn’t get to feel wary about it now. Her king, her country, her people, this decision was what was best for them all. 

        She wondered if she could leave yet. Maybe she could excuse herself, saying she was unwell, falling asleep until this nonsense was over. But she was commander of the Second Army, a member of the King’s Grisha Triumvirate, a high ranking general, and a woman who would be murdered by Genya Safin if she even thought about leaving less than an hour into the festivities. As if sensing her traitorous thoughts, Genya’s eyes found hers, and she could see the warning in them, ‘if you leave…’ she didn’t want to finish the thought. Giving Genya a small nod, she continued to scan the dance floor, looking for a distraction as the music ended, when he looked right at her. He held her gaze for a moment, and for that second, Zoya thought she saw something flicker in his eyes. Something. Nothing. But sooner than she could think on it, he turned, offering a hand to Genya and pulling her onto the floor for the next dance. Zoya took the opportunity to leave her comfortable corner and stand with David, as she knew Genya would want her to do. She spent the entirety of the next song chatting with the Duke of somewhere and the Duchess of elsewhere, grateful for all the times Nikolai had dragged her along to his meetings with nobles. She had been standing in for the role that Nikolai had now filled, a wife, a queen, who would help with that, and in all other aspects of his life too. The foolish part of her mourned that time now lost as she sat alone in her chambers, finishing her work in a tired silence without the companionship of the last three years to make it bearable. 

        The last few notes of the quick tempoed song ended with a flourish as she assumed people clapped at Genya and Nikolai’s enthusiastic performance, the two best dancers in the palace were also the two biggest show offs. Zoya’s conversation partners hurried off as whispers spread of the next song after the break being a classic for the Lantsov’s parties. Surrounded by Ravkan’s in all their finery, she felt the stone tumbling down the well of loss inside her, they all left her. They always left her. She was as alone as she had always been.                                                                                                                ***

        As Genya scurried off with David in tow. Nikolai took a second to catch his breath, Genya could give him a run for his money with her dancing. Her last words before she pulled away replayed in his mind, ‘I can see the way your eyes follow her.’ He’d brushed it off in the moment, but the more he thought about it now, the more discomforted he felt. She had been able to see something within him that he would never be able to acknowledge again. 

        Whispers filled the air about the next song that would be playing. Nikolai had chosen it to be the third dance of the night, it was nearly twice as long as the standard song, and it carried a significance he couldn’t afford to put into words. Her eyes were closed when he approached, as if she was trying to pause time to take a single breath. Under the brightness of the chandeliers and moonlight she looked like a lonesome saint, in her sapphire blue of her elegant gown she shone in a manner that would put the vault of Lantsov jewels to shame. 

“Commander Nazyalensky,” her eyes flew open, and he thought he saw a spark of anger following her initial confusion. Was she mad at him? Or had he imagined it? Perhaps she was simply irritated that he’d interrupted her quiet. “Commander Nazyalensky, would you do me the honour of sharing this dance with me?” Zoya’s eyes darted to his extended hand, the slight inclination of his head. Her fingers shook near imperceptibly as she slipped her hand into his gloved one and he led her to the dance floor. She carefully placed her hand on his shoulder in textbook position, making sure there was a solid distance between them. 

        “Speak, Nazyalensky. If you keep scowling at me like that, people may think you don’t like me.”

        She rolled her eyes, her posture relaxing slowly as the music began to play. “I don’t like you.” 

        “Three years working together and you can’t praise even one of my many good qualities?”

        “What’s there to praise?” she scoffed, “ even if there was, I couldn’t risk your ego getting any bigger.”

        Nikolai felt himself smile as they swayed across the dance floor, the distance between them slowly getting smaller. Something had changed in the past few weeks. He’d been busy with Ehri and planning for the ball in addition to his usual work, anything to take his mind off of a certain raven-haired storm. Since that night in the fold, he felt like they’d toed a line, but that they hadn’t been able to cross over to either side, so now here they stood, with no choice but to stay faltering in the middle or be torn to either side. She had been perfectly civil in meetings and when they had joint tasks, but he missed having her there in the mornings when he woke up, in the evening when they worked as a team, at night when she locked him away. She’d insisted that none of it was necessary anymore, and she’d been right, they both knew it, but it didn’t ease the heart of the boy who longed for his companion. 

        “So,” Nikolai began, shaking out of his reprieve as the music began to pick up.

        “So…?”

        “Did you know that this song was composed for the very first Lantsov King by Sankt Grigori? It was meant to be the Saints’ gift to the new king.” Zoya nodded, and he paused to spin her, trying to ignore the way his heart lurched when her hand braced on his chest before settling back on his shoulder. “It’s supposed to be a welcome to the new king, a piece reminding him about loss but also a hopeful future.” 

        Zoya hesitated, “so you chose it to make a statement? To celebrate your new engagement, and to usher in a brighter future?” She felt that same jolt of pain she’d felt when Nikolai had announced his engagement. She had no right to feel anything at that. He was not hers, he had done nothing to indicate that he had ever wanted to be hers— and even if he had, they both knew that it would never be possible. But as much as she tried to rationalize it, it still stung. She had always wanted to know if someone like Nikolai could love her— and now she realized, as the moonlight lit up his intelligent eyes, she’d also wanted to know if someone like Nikolai would. 

        Was it the ridiculous emotions bubbling inside of her, or was he drawing her closer? “Lantsov.”

        “Nazyalensky?”

        “What are you doing? Don’t think I won’t step on your foot for your impropriety.”

        “I have no doubt that you would,” he smiled, but she could sense a hint of wistfulness in his gaze as he drew her in closer yet, still a socially acceptable distance but much closer than she’d been earlier. “I just wanted to enjoy this moment,” he whispered slowly, not meeting her eyes. “I thought you might appreciate the meaning behind the song. When I was revisiting it’s history I thought of you.” 

        Her eyebrows furrowed, “you thought of me? Why, because I’m a hopeful future? For what? Ravka, as it’s ‘protector?’” She was truly confused, what was he going on about?

        “Each Lantsov king interprets it differently.” Nikolai drew in her for one final spin as the last notes of the song played out, and she felt his lips brush her ear as he guided her past him. “It’s a song of loss, of what could have been, the hope of a future that we may never see, to me.”

        She felt her feet stumble at his words. She tried to meet his eyes as the song ended, demanding an answer but before she knew it he was pulling away, bowing slightly before kissing a chaste kiss to her hand. He turned, marching back to Tolya while she blindly made her way over to Genya’s side, dumbfounded. 

        She was itching to go to the library, she needed to read about the song, but she still couldn’t leave, not with Genya glowing with pride at her creation. She suffered through hours more of the ball, entertaining dignitaries while watching Nikolai’s gilded hair rounding the dancefloor from the corner of her eye. When the festivities were finally over and the king had left, she broke away to the library, needing to know what that idiot had been prattling on about. Only when she was back in her chambers did she open the book. There, under the passage about the different interpretations of the song was a sentence underlined in black ink, leading to a note carefully calligraphed in the margins. She recognized the writing, she saw it daily. She recoiled as she read the words, sinking back against the door. The words were what he’d said to her before the Saints had taken them.

           “This is the part where the king of Ravka surrenders himself, and the love we never had lives on in ballads and song.”

        Zoya let out a hiss as she felt anger and pain build behind her eyes, blurring her vision. She had wondered, wanted to know if someone like Nikolai could love her, would love her. But the problem was, someone like Nikolai would never be Nikolai.

[thisqueenshallconquer]

Waking Up To The Sound of Birds

Summary:

Home was three boys and one girl. And now, a wolf.

Rating: T

Pairing: Kanej

Link: Ao3

 Inej loves her boat, loves the open sea. The ocean is alive, always moving. Even when it seems quiet, and the waves settle low against the hull of her ship, there is still a sense of excitement, of anticipation. Waiting for the wind to come rolling back in, stoking the water into a frenzy, ready to propel her little warship onwards through the ocean.

They were leaving the openness of the True Sea behind now, pulling towards a familiar port. She could smell Ketterdam before she saw it, closing her eyes to breathe in the mist and fog of industry. Ghazen had been busy in her absence it seemed, its worshippers never ceasing in their endless quest for trade and profit. No one could accuse the Kerch of being idle, even the non-believers of the Barrel worked their fingers to the bone for a taste of success. Inej could at least understand that, after Ketterdam, she could feel no satisfaction in leading a quiet life.

Specht steers them towards the shore. She is the captain of course, but barely a year into this job, Inej is still learning and still relies on Specht's experience. Inej doesn't mind leaning on him when necessary, for someone who sports the cup-and-crow mark of the Dregs, Specht is a surpassingly decent person.

She should not be shocked by his humanity at this point, but after living in the Barrel for so many years, and now, facing slavers on a daily basis, it was easy to forget that there were some semi-honest people in the world. Most of his paycheque went towards supporting his sister, giving him little to spend on the other comforts in life. They had been to Novyi Zem, Shu Han, Ravka and Fjerda, and as long as Specht was fed and given enough time to visit his sister in Belend, he seemed happy to follow Inej wherever she pleased.

They dock at berth twenty-two, their usual spot, tying ropes into place, lowering sails and carrying supplies off-board. She'd be there for a little while, two weeks at the most. It felt like a break, a holiday.

She'd spent a similar amount of time, several months ago, with her parents in Ravka, slumbering in their caravan, speaking her native tongue, helping her mother with the cooking, sitting with her father in the evenings, and performing her old acts on the high-wire during the day. She still hadn't told them everything, so much had changed since that fateful morning the slavers had dragged her out of her bed. But it was enough to be around family. It was the same feeling she felt now as she looked around Fifth Harbour, drinking in the familiar sight of the Barrel.

Inej had hated it here once upon a very dark time in her life, but she was glad to be back, even if she would not stay.

It was home Inej felt as she reached the end of the docks only to be swept up by Jesper. He lifted her off the ground in his excitement, nearly knocking the wind out of her. She laughed despite the shock and the brief lurch of something unpleasant in her stomach, before returning his embrace, only to be joined by Wylan.

Inej slings her arms around each boy as Jesper finally lets her feet rest back against the wooden slats of the dock, grinning from ear to ear as they walk with her, both chattering so quickly Inej could barely keep up. She didn't need to glance up to know that Kaz was there, watching, but she did anyway.

He was standing there, on solid ground, leaning casually on his crow's head cane, looking the same as he had when she'd left him last. Same pale skin, same strange haircut, same tailored black suit. She had the sudden urge to run to him, to slip from Jesper and Wylan's grip and charge at him, wrap her arms around his neck and hear the surprised rasp of his voice in her ear. But she couldn't, for a plethora of reasons.

Instead, she beamed. It wasn't a hug, but the slight twist of his mouth, a brief genuine smile, was enough of a greeting. It made his eyes less harsh, a drop of milk in the dark coffee colour of his irises. By Kaz Brekker's standards, it was almost the height of affection. Almost. She could still remember the warmth of his glove-less hand in hers. He had them on today though, Inej tried to push down her disappointment.

"The mighty Captain Ghafa" he greeted, tone as dry as plaster "nice of you to grace us with your presence." Of course, he knew she was coming, he was Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, The Bastard of The Barrel, he knew all. Even if she wasn't his thief of secrets anymore, he still had his methods. But there was a difference between him knowing she was coming, and him actually limping out of his office to meet her.

"What business, Kaz?" she grinned at him, letting her arms slide from Jesper and Wylan's shoulders. He shrugged, a sharp motion, but his face remained impassive.

He was staring off into the distance, past Inej, in the direction of West Stave. She followed his line of vision but could see nothing through the thick smoke that covered the city like a blanket. It could be that he wasn't looking at anything at all, his gaze was unfocused, the wheals in his head spinning wildly. Saints, she had missed that look.

"Scheming face" she heard Jesper chuckle behind her.

"Definitely" Wylan agreed.

"You've cut your hair," said Kaz, finally snapping away from whatever plan had been brewing inside his brain this time. Inej couldn't help but feel a little miffed at how distracted he was, but at least he was here, even if his mind was back in the Slat.

"You noticed. I'm a little surprised" the corners of her mouth twisted. It had only been a few inches, the harsh winds and spray of the salt water had made her hair unruly and nearly impossible to maintain. Her dark hair now brushed her shoulder blades instead of kissing her lower back. It made life at sea a lot easier.

"I've got to notice these things for myself nowadays," said Kaz, a little bitterly, "my new spider is useless."

Inej rolled her eyes, there was nothing wrong with Roeder, but Kaz was never very good at letting things lie. He'd been determined to hate her replacement from the start. Perhaps it had been too optimistic to hope that his pouting would wear off with time. It's nice to have bee missed though, even if it's only in a professional manner.

"Give the girl a break, Brekker" Jesper claps her on the back, practically draping himself over her shoulders. "You need a decent meal," Jesper continued, speaking just to her this time, waving his arms around animatedly as he went.

"You'll love it, Wylan's servants make the best food –" he grinned, listing off the perks of being waited on while Inej laughed, letting him and the merchling lead her away from Fifth Harbour, leaving Kaz behind.

-

The Van Eck mansion is comfortable and cosy in ways that her ship is not. She still loves The Wraith, her little warship, small but deadly, just like her. But it's a pleasant change to sleep in a proper bed, it eased her aching muscles and rested her busy mind.

It was blissful being able to sleep in, feeling the warmth of the sun streaming through the window, to go downstairs in the morning and sit at the breakfast table with Wylan, Jesper and Marya, and be filled in on the latest gossip from the Barrel. Even better was hearing about Wylan's success in trade and Jesper's progress with his Grisha training, while Marya smiled warmly and offered Inej a second helping at every meal.

Inej liked to watch her paint, sometimes she'd pose for her, it felt strange at first, but she was good at staying still for long periods of time. It gave her mind a chance to wander, besides, it was hard to get bored with Wylan and Jesper sat at the nearby piano, Wylan trying to teach the sharpshooter where to place his hands.

The tender looks that passed between them made Inej's chest ache. She was happy for them, she was, but it was hard not to feel envious. Not of Wylan or Jesper specifically, but of the love that bloomed between them, it was the pure, gentle kind of love, the type her mother and father shared.

"No" Wylan sighed exasperatedly, taking Jesper's hands into his, positioning the sharpshooter's long fingers one more time, puffing out his cheeks as his boyfriend hit the wrong notes yet again, most likely, on purpose.

"Like that?" Jesper asked, grinning playfully.

Inej shifted her gaze out of the window, trying to see what she could of the Barrel through the mist. She watched as a pair of crows perched themselves on one of the visible rooftops, a fresh letter from Nina sitting in her lap. Inej thought of her friend, far across the sea in Ravka, she thought of Matthias and how brutally short his life had been. Inej didn't think that she imaged the sorrow woven between Nina's sentences.

She would write a reply soon, fill several pages with her exploits on The Wraith, of her arrival in Kerch, maybe even a passage about Jesper and Wylan's warm hospitality and sickening sweetness. And Kaz, she couldn't forget about him, even if she tried.

-

On her third day in Ketterdam, it was no surprise that Inej found herself back in the Barrel. She didn't wander the streets, milling through the crowds, instead, she pulled on her rubber-soled shoes and took to the rooftops once more.

It felt familiar and freeing. Inej climbed the rigging on her ship almost daily, as silent and as quick as ever. But to come here, back to where it all began, where she first honed her skills - it was otherworldly.

It was as if she were fourteen again, the peacock feather tattoo of the Menagerie freshly sliced away from her forearm, her blades still new and unsteady in her hands. The wind tugged at her braided hair as she moved like a phantom across the buildings of Ketterdam. This city had torn her apart and pulled her back together again, spitting her out stronger and sharper than Inej's young mind had ever believed possible.

Before the Ice Court, she'd thought she was done with this place, never to scale these buildings again. But she'd come back, for the people if nothing else. For gentle, wonderful Wylan, for energetic, charismatic Jesper. And for Kaz, equal parts terrible and brilliant. She couldn't leave them behind, not entirely.

The Church of Barter had been one of her favourite spots in the city, she'd known every inch of Ghazen's hand and was not all that surprised to find that she still did. But there were unpleasant memories attached to it now, of dust stinging her eyes, of Dunyasha's body smeared against the pavement below. Of the last time she saw Matthias, whole and healthy and alive.

But it was also the place where they had carried off the impossible, six good-for-nothing kids who had breached the Ice Court, who had taken down Van Eck and Pekka Rollins in one clean swoop. Kaz had led them to that victory. He had dragged them into hell but he had also pulled them out again.

She remembered the night they came here to scope Van Eck's house, she'd abandoned Kaz on the roof with his bad leg, unable to follow her without shuffling back down the winding staircase. He'd looked tired and bedraggled as they sailed back to Black Veil, his eyes wild as they always were when he was scheming. But he'd put her worries to rest that night, the toxic, poisonous words Van Eck had forced down her throat while she had been his captive.

"I would come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I would crawl to you."

It was evening when Inej finished reacquainting herself with Ketterdam, the majority had remained unchanged since her last visit seven months ago, but Inej couldn't help the giddiness that rose in her chest when she noticed a new façade to scale or a new spire to climb. The Wraith was back to where she'd been born, and it felt glorious.

Her ship was still her major priority - every dirty deed she had done in this city, every crime she had committed, every life Inej had taken in the name of the Dregs could never rival the satisfaction that roared inside of her as she tore down slaver after slaver. Steeling and killing couldn't match the feeling of pulling women and children from the slave ships' monstrous bowels onto the safety of The Wraith.

She could not stop every single ship, Inej knew that, but she felt…righteous. A word Kaz often liked to use to describe his twisted plots, but that didn't make the sentiment any less true.

-

When she entered the Slat, it almost felt as though no time had passed. It had, of course, and the changes to the once familiar building served as a reminder of exactly how much could change in just seven months. The Slat was bigger now, having merged with the previously dilapidated building next door. Several sets of steps had been added to the original rickety staircase, branching off in all directions like streams from a diverging river.

These interior changes were most likely made to house the fresh blood seated around a few of the tables, laughing and telling stories of the previous night's exploits. They were young, younger than even her. At eighteen, Inej suddenly felt very old beside these baby-faced criminals.

Many looked at her oddly, as if trying to figure out why some strange girl had just waltzed right into Dregs' headquarters. Some reached for their weapons but none acted. Instead, they looked to the more seasoned members at the back of the Slat, searching for guidance.

Inej followed their gaze and was happy to be met with familiar faces, Anika, Drix, Pim, Keeg, Rotty and even Roeder, her replacement, were situated around several small tables, supping down alcohol and trying their luck at low-risk card games. They all rose up from their seats at the sight of her, and Inej could do nothing but grin as they surrounded her, patting her on the back, offering her large flagons of beer and asking questions about her latest voyage. Their greetings were boisterous and a tad too enthusiastic for her taste, but Inej was pleased to be received so warmly.

The sincerity of their welcome had taken her aback slightly, sure she had been one of them, but she'd left, hadn't she? And it wasn't as though she'd ever been a true member, Inej had never taken the cup-and-crow tattoo for a start. But she had bled for the Dregs, and had spilt plenty of their enemies' blood in return. Perhaps that's all it took to create lasting friendships in this particular crack of the Barrel.

She politely waved away their offers of card games and booze, instead, making her way towards the very end of the Slat. She rapped her knuckles on the door of the main office, Per Haskell's old residence, waiting to be called in out of sheer habit before thinking better of it, and pushing the door open.

The old man was long gone, and yet, it was still jarring to see Kaz sat behind the desk, hunched over his paperwork, his lips parted as if on the verge of telling her to 'piss off'. Recognition flickered in his eyes before he could get the words out. Kaz closed his mouth quickly, beckoning her inside.

"You used the front door" he stated, returning to his work. It was not a question, but Inej answered anyway, shutting the door behind her.

"You're on the ground floor now, there'd be no fun in climbing through your window anymore." Inej knew he must still be sleeping in his old office, Haskell's bed had been removed from the adjoining room. This was a space for business, built to intimidate rather than offer respite.

It was grander than his old office, where his desk had been made from a pair of weathered crates and a flat piece of timber, the bookshelves were fully lined, too, the glossy wood of the desk beautiful beneath the piles of paper. It was odd to see actual work being done in this room, as opposed to the construction of model ships or however else the old man had occupied his time. Saints knew Haskell had never put in enough effort to keep the gang afloat by himself, it was inevitable, really, that the Dregs would fall into Kaz's far more capable hands.

It hadn't escaped Inej's notice that most of the older members were no longer around. Per Haskell's old buddies, the washed-up criminals of yesteryear were most likely miles away at this point, still licking their wounds. Wherever they had ended up, they would never be welcome in Dregs territory again, not after Kaz's dramatic coup.

If Inej hadn't seen it herself, she might have believed it just another rumour, another story in the mythos of Dirtyhands, but somehow, one boy with a bad leg and a huge disadvantage had sent Haskell's men scattering like rats to the sewer.

Sometimes she wondered if there was anything he couldn't do...besides touch her.

"My apologies," the left corner of his mouth twitched upwards, his voice as dry as sandpaper. "I'll try and pick something a little more challenging for you the next time I move offices. The ground floor is easier on my leg. Us cripples have to take it easy, you see."

Inej snorted. Kaz had never been an invalid, with or without his cane. And as for taking it easy, that also seemed like a mute point for Kaz. Dark circles hung under his eyes and Inej wondered when he'd last slept.

Inej took her usual perch by the window, the view from the ground floor was practically non-existent, and she couldn't feed the crows from down here. But the sense of normality made it worth it. They had spent nearly three years following this exact routine, him working away at his desk, Inej watching Ketterdam churn onwards from the windowsill, stealing brief glances at him whenever she could.

He was handsome, pale and sleep-deprived as he was. It was a fact Inej had always been aware of, and yet, when her eyes traced his face they never lingered on his high cheekbones or the pleasing slope of his nose, instead, she would focus of the pale silvery scars that marred his otherwise perfect skin.

Inej would often wonder what it would be like to trace the scar that cut across his lips. It was a stupid thought, of course, the by-product of a fifteen-year-old girl with a crush and a saviour complex. But it was one that still plagued her all these years later.

Staring is precisely what she's doing when Kaz finally looks up from his ledger, dropping his pen onto the desk with a clatter, rubbing at the back of his neck and rolling his shoulder as if trying to work out a kink in his spine.

"What business, Kaz?" Inej asked, shifting her gaze out of the window, biting the inside of her cheek as embarrassment unfurled inside her stomach.

"I need a favour, Wraith."

"Oh?" Inej hummed, her lips curving upwards despite herself, she wasn't exactly in the mood for a job, still tired and sore from her last battle on the sea, but she'd be willing to humour him, for old time’s sake. But Inej wasn't prepared for what came next.

"Walk with me" he requested, and Inej nodded dumbly, unsure of how else to answer. Her eyes were glued to his fingers as he peeled off his gloves, leaving them behind on the centre of his desk. Kaz stood, taking up his cane and moving to stand by the open door, waiting for her.

Inej rose, forcing herself to snap out of her reverie. A walk sounded good, Inej definitely needed some air.

-

They walked around the entirety of the Barrel, Kaz's bad leg was stiff from the bitter wind, but Inej didn't mind their slow pace. They made small talk as they went, Kaz told her about the progress of the Crow Club, and Inej filled him in on bits and pieces from her journeys at sea, stories he most likely already knew from Specht. But mostly they walked in silence, it was the comfortable sort that had always existed between them, but Inej felt so many words gathering on the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out.

There was so much she'd wanted to say to him over that past seven months, Inej had lost track of how many times she'd turned around on The Wraith, about to tell him something or make a witty remark only to be met by his absence. Inej bit her tongue and kept pace beside him.

It was West Stave they ventured to last. Inej used to be terrified of coming here, even when flanked by the Dregs. She'd hide behind Rotty or Anika, would tuck herself against Jesper's side, desperate to avoid any flashes of peacock feathers, or worse, those sharp hazel eyes. But she was a pirate now, fearless and ruthless, she had thwarted Tante Heleen before, had stolen that gaudy checker from around her pretty neck, like she was just another pathetic mark, fresh off the boat in Fifth Harbour. Inej was not afraid anymore.

She forced her head high, ready to see the Menagerie, or what was left of it. The Stave was packed at that time, full of tourists and pleasure seekers, ready to enjoy everything the Barrel had to offer.

The two of them were given a wide enough berth that no one so much as brushed against their shoulders as they went. When she'd left, Kaz had been the meanest, scariest thing walking around the streets of the Barrel, and he still was. Kaz walked as if he owned the place, head high, shoulders back despite his pronounced limp. She had to remind herself that he did practically own not just the Barrel, but half of Ketterdam at this point.

With Per Haskell gone and Pekka Rollins currently out of the game, Kaz was the ultimate Barrel boss, the one they all feared. He was a scary story the rich told their children at night."Don't stray into the Barrel or Dirtyhands will get you, there's nothing he won't do".

And perhaps her legend was still alive and well, too, because no-one dared meet her eye, all steered clear of the Suli girl and the cripple as they made their way down the Stave, both so recognisable that even the tourists knew the steer clear. The Wraith and Dirtyhands together again, a partnership that would surely send the rival gangs scurrying.

Inej had almost forgotten about the Menagerie until she realised that Kaz had stopped walking, he stood in place, both hands resting on his cane as he stared at the row of pleasure houses across from them. Kaz didn't have wandering eyes, that was at least something she didn't have to worry about during her long boat trips away, but he did wear a small smirk that spelt nothing but trouble.

Inej followed his line of sight, her lips parting slightly. The Menagerie was gone. Of course, it was, Tante Heleen had been struggling to pay her rent after Kaz and Nina's stunt with the fake plague, but Inej had always believed that the woman would somehow endure, would use those good looks of hers and vile wits to get her own way once more.

Just like Kaz would always be waiting for Pekka Rollins' inevitable return, she would always be waiting for Tante Heleen.

Inej felt nothing but satisfaction as she looked at Heleen's beloved whore house, torn to shreds by thieves, every last valuable item stripped from the building until only the bare bones remained. It was almost unrecognisable. It wasn't enough to sate Inej entirely, perhaps nothing ever would be, Heleen Van Houden deserved to suffer, and this wasn't even close to being enough.

She deserved nothing but pain and anguish for the rest of her days, for the stolen girls who she had bought like trinkets for her collection, renting out their bodies to men more than twice their age, only to beat them bloody when they did not meet her impossible standards.

The tattoo Heleen had marked her with was gone, but the agony Inej had experienced at that woman's hands remained.

"It's Dregs property now" Kaz explained, and Inej's head snapped around to look at the sharp lines of his profile. He continued staring straight ahead at the boarded-up building, but Inej could swear that his eyes drifted to her for the briefest of seconds.

"I thought you might like to see it one last time, before I tear it down." Inej felt breathless, just when she thought she had Kaz Brekker pinned down he always seemed to find a way to surprise her.

"And Tante Heleen?" she asked.

"Fled. I hear it was nasty for her, having that plague grafted off of her face" Kaz's grin was cruel and wicked, but Inej couldn't help but laugh, a free, wild sound that had her tossing her head back and sent onlookers scattering. She thought of Tanta Hellen's beautiful face ruined forever, first by the dead cells Nina had fused to her, secondly by the Mediks helpless to remove them without damaging that flawless skin of hers. Now she'd know what it was like to be marked against her will.

Perhaps she'd find a good enough Tailor to put her right, but most Grisha had fled Ketterdam after the situation with the Shu. If she were Tante Heleen, Inej wouldn't hold her breath. Finally, the outside would match the inside, and perhaps people would finally see Heleen for what she was, a monster.

Kaz often liked to describe himself as such, others did too - demon, beast, monster, Dirtyhands was meant to be the worst of the worst. And perhaps he was, in his own way, but there was good in there too. Kaz never did something for nothing, and yet, he'd freed her from the Menagerie, had freed her again from Per Haskell's contract, had fought tooth and nail to save her from Van Eck. And he'd spent that hard earned money on a ship and locating her parents.

Despite everything they'd been through, Inej found herself waiting for a catch, because with Kaz there had always been one. Instead, all he'd asked of her was for her to return. Not that she'd stay, he wouldn't ask that of her again, but that she'd come back to Ketterdam, back to him whenever she could spare the time. It was a debt she was happy to bear.

Inej is sure he must have paid Heleen a visit, it's the only way Kaz Brekker could know her fate for sure, he was not the type to make random assumptions. He had most likely reached out to the woman the same way Inej had to Pekka Rollins. If he rallied against the Dregs or Kaz again she would slip back into his home and cut his heart right out of his chest.

He'd looked so frightened pinned beneath her knees as her blade dug against his ribs. Inej would not slaughter his child, but Pekka didn't need to know that, the knowledge that she could was enough to petrify him. She hoped that fear made Pekka miserable on a daily basis. He and Heleen deserved all they had gotten. And more.

"Laugh it up, Wraith" Kaz remarked, lips twisting in amusement "what would your Suli saints think of you now, laughing at another's misfortune?"

Inej didn't care how little he thought of her Saints, it was a matter they would never agree on. But perhaps they had acted through him in this instance, or maybe, he had done this all on his own.

"The Saints don't like monsters, Kaz, they would be pleased to see her downfall."

"I better start repenting then" he smirks sarcastically. He didn't believe in her gods, and that was fine, but she knew the truth. Dirtyhands may be a monster, but Kaz Brekker was not.

She rolled her eyes at his words but said no more, watching his bare fingers shift against the head of his cane. If he wanted to carry on pretending to be the thing that lurked beneath children's beds and down dark alleyways, Inej would let him hold onto that particular scrap of armour, just this once.

-

Inej awoke in a room in the Van Eck mansion to find Kaz Brekker hovering in the doorway. Technically, it was her room, Wylan and Jesper had been very insistent on that front, but the plush bed and decorative furniture still took some getting used to.

Inej deeply appreciated their offer, it was reassuring to know that she would always have a place to come back to in Ketterdam. Kaz had given away her bed at the Slat the same night she had vacated it. There were plenty more Dregs in need of somewhere warm to sleep, and Inej refused to allow herself to feel annoyed by it. She had no right to be angry at Kaz, she had known what leaving would entail.

"What business, Kaz?" she asked groggily, her mouth felt as though she'd swallowed sand, her head pounding and stomach swirling as though she were caught on her ship in the middle of a storm. Helping Jesper and Wylan finish off the last of Jan Van Eck's expensive collection of liquors had been a terrible idea.

He shrugged sharply, closing the door and Inej noticed a glass of water in his gloved hand which he placed gently on her nightstand. Inej reached for it, quickly gulping down the cool water without abandon as Kaz perched himself tentatively on the end of her bed.

His movements were stiff, and Inej was sure she could hear his knees creak. She almost laughed at this old man stuck in such a young man's body. But he had saved her from dehydration, the least she could do was not damage his ego.

"Does everything have to be business with you?" he asked, seemingly more focused on maintaining the conversation rather than the actual words leaving his lips.

Inej arched an eyebrow. "That's a little rich coming from you, don't you think?"

"Probably" he returned simply, his gaze focused on his lap.

She felt suddenly nervous. She had never allowed boys into her room back at the Slat, a luxury Inej had not been given at the Menagerie, where male company was forced upon her whether she liked it or not. She brought her knees up to her chest protectively, ignoring how her delicate stomach churned in protest.

Sometimes she still awoke from nightmares. It was always the same, the slavers dragging her by her hair, the sting of Heleens' blows, her tears as her silks were forcibly ripped away from her body. Inej may be the Wraith, a pirate, a captain, the scourge of slavers everywhere, but she still struggled with the horrors of her past.

Inej forced herself to relax, breathing in slowly through her nose and out through her mouth until her anxiety subsided. Because there was nothing to fear, not now, this was Kaz, not one of her old clients. He was the one who had freed her from the awful place, Kaz who couldn't touch her even if he wanted to because of his own demons, the fear that flickered behind his own eyelids at night.

He had nearly fainted when he'd changed her bandages in that hotel room, Inej can recall the image perfectly, of the determined set of his jaw as he pushed forward, desperate to prove a point to himself, and to her. She knew that even if he could lay a hand on her without the nightmares coming, that he wouldn't, not unless she wanted him to. Because Kaz Brekker may have done terrible things but he was not that kind of monster.

"I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker, or I will not have you at all."

They were words spoken out of frustration, and they had perhaps been more than a little unfair. Inej knew better than anyone, how hard it was to move on from the past.

She watched in salience, confused by his sudden presence. Perhaps it was because she was leaving in two days. Kaz has never been good at goodbyes. She watches his profile in the low light, the sharp line of his jaw, the way he seemed to be fighting against himself. She watched as he lifted his hand, slowly sliding off his leather glove, finger by finger before placing the glove gently on the sheets between them, tenderly as if it were an old friend.

His Adam's apple bobs and Inej watches how his hand trembles as he reaches out for her. Inej responds wholeheartedly, raising her hand to meet his, her movements wary, as if approaching a skittish animal. They had done this before, when he'd first bought her ship, but that had been almost a year ago, and the type of damage that ran through them both could not be fixed so easily. Maybe it never could.

"Brick by brick" she heard him murmur, more to himself than her before intertwining their fingers, his thumb rubbing against the back of her hand. It did not matter how long it took, or if it ever panned out at all, because Kaz Brekker was trying, trying for her, and that was what mattered.

-

The next time she returns to Ketterdam, it's with Nina in tow. It had been a relatively smooth journey back from Ravka (only one attack), and it was refreshing to share a boat trip with her best friend where neither party were on their deathbeds.

Inej had been initially surprised when she had first picked up Nina in Os Alta, to find that she was not alone. The white wolf followed Nina like a shadow, its strange eyes always fixed on its mistress. Inej had nearly jumped out of her skin when the large creature had bared its teeth at her. Nina had just laughed and wound her fingers in the wolf's soft fur.

It had taken some getting used to, wherever Nina went Trassel followed, the beast at least soon grew accustomed to Inej to the point where it would sniff her fingers and allow her to pet its huge head. Despite the harsh gash across the wolf's face and its intimidating set of teeth, there was something gentle in the animal's countenance. If she hadn't seen it rip a slavers' arm off with its mouth, Inej would have been tempted to believe that he was all bark and no bite.

"He belonged to Matthias" Nina explained one morning, her fingers scratching behind Trassel's ears as they peered out over the side of The Wraith. The other girl's long brown hair whipped around her face, her green eyes distant in that moment. Inej had rested her head on Nina's shoulder, her hand seeking out her friend's pale one, unable to offer anything more than a reassuring squeeze.

Jesper and Wylan were waiting at the docks again, and if Inej thought her welcome was warm, it was nothing compared to what Nina received. It had been a long time since Nina was home. Home, her old self would have scoffed at the idea.

Home was supposed to be her parents and a Suli caravan in West Ravka. But now it was also Ketterdam, home was three boys and one girl. And now, a wolf.

Kaz didn't meet them at the docks, but when they went to Kooperom for a late breakfast, he was already sat at a booth waiting for them, a round of waffles spread out across the table. They crammed into the benches, Kaz moving to the head of the table where he wouldn't have to worry about brushing elbows.

Nina's wolf slept by her feet, too large and terrifying for any of the staff to offer much protest. Jesper was eating one-handed, his other arm slung over his boyfriend's shoulders. Finance, Inej corrected herself with a smile. That's why they were here after all, for their engagement party.

Nina filled the boys in on her travels in Ravka, telling them about the Little Palace, of Zoya and Genya and Kuwei. She did not bring up Fjerda or Matthias and neither did they. Inej let herself zone out slightly, they were all stories Inej had heard aboard the ship. Instead, her dark eyes travelled over to Kaz.

His shirt was damp, faded pink blotches dotted across the white fabric, traces of what Inej knew must have been blood. He may have tried to clean himself up before their arrival, but the stains and split lip couldn't escape her notice. It seemed Dirtyhands had already had a busy morning. His eyes caught hers, his mouth pulling up on one side.

"You know," Nina said with pursed lips, drumming her fingers against the table. "I have been back nearly three hours and you, Brekker, have barely said two words to me" she sniffed. Inej rolled her eyes, Nina was not truly offended, Kaz was Kaz, it was pointless trying to change that, Inej should know, she had once tried. But the two still had to go through this same routine, acting like squabbling siblings.

"I didn't realise you needed any grand gestures from me, Nina, dear" Kaz rolled back his left shoulder until his joints cracked.

"I don't," she huffed haughtily "but a 'hello' might be nice, maybe an enquiry about my wellbeing?"

"Let's not get carried away, Zenik" Kaz drawled, as toneless as ever. "Will a second round of waffles buy your silence?"

"Bribes are always welcome" Nina smiled sweetly, Kaz's poor manners seemingly forgotten. Nina was quick to forgive, especially when food was brought into the equation.

Inej and the others sat slumped in their seats, nursing their full bellies, watching as Nina poured apple flavoured syrup of her fresh stack of waffles. It was good to have her back, even if she threatened to eat them out of house and home.

-

They all gathered at Wylan and Jesper's place for dinner, minus Kaz, who had disappeared, most likely to finish off whichever poor soul had bled on him earlier that morning.

It was late into the evening when Inej sat down at the piano with Jesper, playing quietly so as not to wake Wylan's mother. Nina had monopolised a plate of biscuits at the table, and Wylan was curled in a cosy, high-backed armchair near the window, scratching away at his notepad.

"How does it feel to be a kept man, Fahey?" Nina asked with a sly grin and a mouth full of crumbs. "Must be nice…"

Jesper huffed at her words, pouting like a child "I am not a kept man, I help with the investments. Don't I, Wy?" he turned to his boyfriend in the corner, seeking reinforcements.

"Yes, dear" Wylan hummed, never so much as glancing up from his work.

Jesper scowled at the redhead. "Why do I like you again?"

Nina snorts "you can't do any better than Wylan, Jes. Besides, you've liked a lot more dubious characters."

Inej couldn't fight her grin as Wylan looked up from his work, pushing his pencil behind his ear, suddenly interested. "Oh? Please enlighten me."

"Well, Kaz Brekker for one" Inej cut in, falling into a fit of laughter that had, undoubtedly, been brought on by the wine. No one was more 'dubious' than him.

Wylan looked flabbergasted. "Seriously, Jesper?" he asked, more incredulous than anything.

Jesper glared at Inej for blabbing on him, "you can laugh all you want, Wraith, but some of us got off that fuckin' crazy train while we still could. What's your excuse?"

Inej merely shrugged, still chuckling.

"She and Wylan just have terrible taste in men" Nina answered for her, grinning smugly from ear to ear until Jesper pulled the plate of biscuits away from her in retaliation. If Wylan's mother managed to sleep through Nina's indignant squawking it would be nothing short of a miracle.

-

Watching Jesper and his father being ordered around by Nina was its own form of entertainment. Nina was sat in a chair in the backyard, fanning herself with her hand, pointing and giving instructions to Jes and Colm of where to place the various tables and chairs. Anyone would think it was her engagement party, but Inej ha to admit that her "vision" is shaping up rather nicely. Too nicely, considering that the Dregs were invited.

Inej eyed the elaborate centrepieces and intricate decorations with trepidation. She had never been to a fancy party before, being denied access to Hringkalla didn't really count in her book. But perhaps it would be fun for them all, to put on their best flash and dine like merchers for a night.

Wylan clicked his tongue disapprovingly as Jesper winked at him through the kitchen window, but Inej didn't miss the pleased smile that played across his lips as he helped her pour drinks for Nina's unwitting victims. It was a pleasant change from his usually serious expression.

"Have I congratulated you yet?" Inej asked, feeling suddenly guilty for her bad manners. "Because I'm really happy for you both, we all are."

"Thank you," Wylan smiled sheepishly "I know it's a bit sudden, and we're still so young, but....life is short." His eyes flickered towards Nina, "I think it's worth taking a gamble."

"You've been spending too much time with Jesper" Inej teased. Wylan's gaze once again fixed itself out the window where Jesper and Nina were now bickering. Inej took the opportunity to study his face, his smooth, unfrowed brow, the large spattering of freckles across his nose brought on by the Ketterdam summer, and the pleased lilt of his lips. It was a look Inej recognised well, Wylan wore the expression of someone who was enjoying the taste of new-found freedom.

His lips twitched and something mischievous flickered in those blue eyes of his, "my father would have hated this".

Inej beamed. What better way to stick it to Jan Van Eck than to fill his conservative home with a raucous band of criminals and thugs? Except, perhaps, by marrying one of them.

"I was thinking about having a bonfire" Wylan continued, wearing that same rueful expression. Inej sometimes forgot, with that angelic face of his, that Wylan Van Eck could be just as sly and cunning as the rest of them. "Those expensive paintings in his office would make pretty good kindling".

Inej laughed, loud and hearty, "just don't tell Kaz how much Kruge they're worth, he might cry."

-

The party is beautiful. Both men looked rather dashing in their tailored suits, Wylan's rust-coloured curls neatly combed out of his face and Jesper, for once, in clothing that didn't clash horribly.

All the Dregs are in attendance, the party loud and boisterous. Pim and Rotty seemed determined to drink Jesper and Wylan dry, while Drix and Anika gave the band a run for their money, requesting song after song between trips to the dance floor, each decked out in their best Barrel-flash.

Wylan's mother was sat in one of the quieter corners, clapping along to the music and talking to Jesper's father, both looking jovial as their respective sons move across the makeshift dancefloor. Well, they don't so much 'dance' as Jesper gropes poor Wylan in time to the music. The boy is almost as red as his hair but happier than Inej has ever seen him.

Inej can feel her own joy rolling off of her body in waves. It felt amazing to see two people she cared so much about so happy. Saints knew they both deserved it.

Inej feels a tad awkward in her dress. It's modest, cutting off just below her knee, but hangs off her shoulders in a way that exposes her collar bones. The deep purple fabric is irrefutably nice against her skin, even Inej is willing to admit that she feels rather pretty tonight. Perhaps she should let Nina pick her outfits more often.

If Inej thought she had been stubborn when it came to accepting to Grisha girl's help with her wardrobe, Nina had hit a hard and unmovable object when it came to Kaz. He stood beside her now, dressed in his usual crisp black suit - same hair, same waistcoat, same cane. But no gloves.

He wore them less and less these days.

"You look like you're going to a funeral!" Nina had tossed up her hands in exasperation when he'd first arrived, looking angry enough to wring his neck.

"We don't have funerals" Kaz deadpanned, sulking off towards a corner where he would most likely brood or scheme for the rest of the evening.

"He has a point" Inej had mused, biting back a laugh as Nina puffed out her cheeks.

"Don't you start!" she'd huffed, stomping off in her Heartrender red gown and heeled shoes, as much of a drama queen as ever.

Whether she had moved to him or he had moved to her, Inej was unsure, but she and Kaz ended up side by side regardless. Inej watched as Nina was swept away from the buffet table by Jesper and Wylan, all three cackling as the girl was pulled into a bumbling, three-person slow dance. It was a relief to see her laughing, Inej had missed the sound.

"You not going to ask me to dance, Kaz?" Inej taunted, casting her gaze to the man next to her. Inej had danced quite a bit herself already, as unskilled a she was. Two with Wylan and Jesper respectively, and one with Colm Fahey who had been nothing but gracious, no matter how many times she'd stepped on his feet.

Kaz didn't blush, he never had, despite her best efforts "That desperate to watch me hobble around the dance floor, Wraith?"

"I'll lead."

"Doesn't really solve the problem" Kaz shook his head, running a hand through his hair in what could only be exasperation. He faltered then, pausing mid-movement to look at her. Inej's brows furrowed as he just stared, bitter coffee eyes unblinking.

"You look nice…" he comments eventually, and Inej has the sudden urge to press the back of her hand against his forehead to check his temperature. She doesn't, for obvious reasons. Instead, she does a good job of not flushing, because a compliment from Kaz Brekker was as crazy and extraordinary as his schemes.

"You look the same as always" she returns, listening to him snort indignantly. "I didn't say that it was a bad thing". Certainly not.

Perhaps in another world they could dance together, in another life where they hadn't been so beaten down by fate that even holding hands was a struggle. But if she had never been taken by that slave ship and if he had never come to Ketterdam, they would have never met. As damaged as they are, it's impossible for Inej to imagine a reality where their lives didn't collide.

Kaz had never offered her safety, and yet she had found it because of him. He had given her the freedom and skills she had needed to become dangerous, to be the thing men feared rather than the little girl who flinched at the sound of deep voices. She had put in the work, had honed her skills with her blades, had used her family's teachings to make herself into the best spider in the Barrel.

But if Kaz hadn't freed her, Inej knows that she would have died in that brothel. He had given Inej her first knife and a sense of hope. Because of that, she could sleep soundly in her bed in her parents' caravan, her blades tucked under her pillow, dozing without fear, because if the slavers ever came back for her, Inej knew that this time, she would be ready.

She no longer had to worry about being manhandled, if someone grabbed her against her will she would cut their hands off. But perhaps it was a cruel twist of fate, Inej thought as she watched Kaz's bare hands twitch against the head of his cane, a punishment from her Saints, that the one man she actually wanted to touch her, couldn't.

The way his eyes dragged over her as Jesper roped her into another dance, left Inej with no doubt that he knew exactly what he was missing.

Perhaps, at Jesper and Wylan's wedding in a year's time, they'd be ready to stumble their way across the dance floor together.

-

Inej finds Nina by the water after the party has already raged on for several hours. Nina sits on the edge of the canal, not seeming to care that her beautiful dress is getting dirty. There's a plate of food in her lap and her loyal wolf is sat like a statue by her side.

Inej seats herself beside her, instantly sliding her hand into hers. Nina doesn't cry, but she takes several shaky breaths as if she might. As much planning and effort Nina had put into making this party special for their friends, Inej knows it must be hard for her, to see Jesper and Wylan, with their whole future ahead of them.

Inej wished that things had worked out differently. They were all supposed to make it back in one piece, they had been so close, and yet, they had still lost Matthias. Inej had wanted so much more for her best friend, had wanted her to be able to return home with her beloved Fjerdan, had wanted them to change the world, get married, perhaps even have a few blonde-haired, green-eyed babies.

Matthias had been good and strong and reliable, he had helped rescue her from Van Eck, had put everything on the line to help a girl he barely knew. He had changed so much over the short rime Inej had known him, turning the hate that had been forced down his throat as a child into respect and understanding. And he had loved Nina, it had burned in his eyes every time he had looked at her. Matthias, for all his flaws, had sacrificed everything for Nina, had worshipped the ground she walked on.

They had deserved a future together, had deserved to die old and happy, surrounded by loved ones. But when has life ever been fair? Certainly not in Ketterdam.

Inej swallows the rawness in her own throat, pushing Nina's soft brown hair behind her ear, letting Nina press her face against her shoulder as the tears started to fall.

"I miss him" she whispers, and Inej's heart breaks for her. She wishes she could take the pain away from her, but love is a complicated thing, it hurts as much as it heals. Inej is well acquainted with the feeling, like barbed wire inside your chest.

"It's stupid," Nina says quietly as Inej strokes her hair, her pale hand reaching out for her wolf. He rests his head in her lap, eyes closing as she scratches behind his ears "but I think Trassel was his way of coming back to me."

"I don't think it's stupid" Inej shook her head, remembering Matthias' final words. It wasn't stupid at all. In the end, all Inej could do was hold Nina until her tears stopped. Her skin was blotchy, her bright eyes wet, but Nina still looked beautiful, even with mud on her dress.

Fireworks exploded above the canal, littering the darkened sky with spectacular splashes of colour. Inej knew Wylan's handy work when she saw it.

"Come on" Inej encouraged, dusting off the skirt of her dress before holding her hand out to Nina. "Let's go get some cake".

Nina nodded, swatting away the last of her tears, fixing Inej with a smile as she let herself be pulled to her feet. "Cake makes everything better" she hummed, linking her arm with Inej's.

-

Later, when all the other guests have either passed out or returned home, the five of them gather around the bonfire in the mansion's backyard and raise a glass to Matthias, their fallen brother in arms.

-

The time soon comes when Inej has to return to her ship, back to the True Sea, to her crew and also to take Nina back to Ravka. But after such a long visit, it made saying goodbye to their friends all the more painful. Nina was ugly crying on poor Wylan, who helplessly patted her back, looking at Jesper for assistance. Inej watched the display on the docks with undisguised amusement.

"It always feels as though you're rushing off" Kaz states, eyeing Specht and the crew loading supplies onto The Wraith. Time always seemed to fly when she was in Ketterdam, from the time she docked the hours felt like seconds and, before she knew it, Inej had to set sail once more.

The air was warm, and Inej closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy it. Her sleeves were already rolled up around her elbows in an attempt to stay cool in the summer heat. No longer did she have to worry about the marks Heleen's tattoo had left behind, especially not in present company.

"You should know, Kaz, you don't stop either," she smiled almost sadly. He never ceased in his work, and neither did she. He should understand her need to be back out there better than anyone. There were lives to save and monsters to slay out on the True Sea, just as there were gangs to crush and money to be made in the Barrel. They each had their own lives to lead and goals to achieve.

Kaz scowled a little, irritable as he always was whenever she was leaving. Perhaps Inej only noticed because knew him so well, Kaz liked to glare at a lot of things, people, places, even the occasional object. But Inej was keenly aware of the subtle changes that danced across his face. She was nowhere near being able to read his mind, but Inej liked to believe she was more fluent in the language of Kaz Brekker than most.

"If you're ever looking to take a break –" she began.

"I don't take breaks."

"And that's why you're going to die before you hit thirty" Inej chides. It's just like old times, as though they are fifteen again and she is scolding him like a mother hen.

"Everyone needs a break, Kaz, even you. If you ever fancy a bit of sea air, you know where to find me," she grins, making to hop down the stairs and peal Nina off of their resident demo expert, but Kaz stops her.

She jolts a little, surprised at the feeling of his bare hand against her exposed forearm. It was a big step, perhaps too big, she could see the struggle in his face, see the walls rising. But then he slides his fingers down to her wrist, pressing against her pulse, his lips moving ever so slightly, eyes closed. He's counting her heartbeats, grounding himself in the present. Surely her pulse must be faster than normal, she's not used to the sensation of his thumb brushing against her wrist. At last, Kaz opens his eyes and Inej swallows.

"I will have you Kaz Brekker," she had told him, what felt like a million years ago. "Without armour, or I will not have you at all."

Even the slightest brush of skin used to send him reeling, but since her last visit he'd been able to touch her hand with almost no discomfort, and now her wrist. Brick by brick. The progress was slow, but it was still progress. Maybe one day they'd get there.

Inej approached him carefully, searching his eyes for any sign of alarm. But he trusted her, with his life and with his weaknesses. Kaz knew she would not force touch upon him, would never purposely make him uncomfortable, not after all she had suffered at the Magnagerie. She pulls down her sleeves, covering her skin and letting him remove his hand from her wrist. Inej shifted closer, slowly resting her head against his chest, ensuring that she was only touching him through his shirt, before encircling her arms around his middle.

He stiffed slightly at first, but then relaxed -they were touching but also not touching. Skin on skin was still too difficult for him, but this seemed fine, more than fine. Inej thought her heart might break through her ribcage with its pounding. Kaz takes a few long seconds to adjust before wrapping an arm around her waist pulling Inej more snugly against him.

He smelt like coffee and ink and worn leather, Inej inhaled the smell, converting it to memory. Her breath faltered, sticking in her throat as she felt am ungloved hand press lightly against the top of her head, Kaz's long, lockpick's fingers smoothing against her hair.

"Is this alright?" he rasped against her ear, and Inej could only nod, words beyond her in that moment. They stayed that way for awhile, until Jesper wolf-whistled at them and the spell was broken. Inej pulled back quickly, fixing her hair, her cheeks burning.

When Inej finally chanced a glance at the rest of their friends they were all staring, Jesper looked as though he were about to make a comment but Wylan stomped on his foot, hard, before he could so much as utter a syllable.

The heat in her cheeks subsided, and Inej took one final look at Kaz. A simple verbal goodbye didn't seem fitting, there was so much she still wanted to say, but Inej doubted she'd ever have the vocabulary in Kerch to ever truly capture it. Perhaps she'd have to teach him Suli.

"No mourners?" she smiled, head tilting slightly.

"No funerals" he echoed, and Inej would treasure that little grin he gave her until the next time she came to him.

Inej gave Jesper and Wylan bracing hugs in farewell, letting Jesper lift her off her feet, before sliding her arm through Nina's. They waved as they climbed the ramp up onto The Wraith, the Grisha's wolf keeping pace at their heels.

"Next time you come here," said Nina, continuing to wave even as Fifth Harbour disappeared behind the smog of Ketterdam, Inej tucked tightly against her side."I think I would like to come with you. I missed it more than I thought I would."

Inej knew the feeling well.

"You mean you missed the waffles" Inej taunts, listening to Nina laugh, trying to keep the mood light despite the homesickness that tugged at her chest. But this was just one of her homes, just one of her safe havens that Inej knew she could return to whenever she pleased.

Freedom was a novelty she doubted she'd ever get tired of.

[readerbookclub]

Book Suggestions!

Ok, so here are the book suggestions XD

I decided to have five suggestions per month, so that each book got a fair chance. At the end of the list there is a link to vote, so make sure to do that :)

The Knife of Never Letting Go, by Patrick Ness

Description: Prentisstown isn't like other towns. Everyone can hear everyone else's thoughts in an overwhelming, never-ending stream of Noise. Just a month away from the birthday that will make him a man, Todd and his dog, Manchee -- whose thoughts Todd can hear too, whether he wants to or not -- stumble upon an area of complete silence. They find that in a town where privacy is impossible, something terrible has been hidden -- a secret so awful that Todd and Manchee must run for their lives.

Uglies, by  Scott Westerfeld

Description: Tally is about to turn sixteen, and she can't wait. In just a few weeks she'll have the operation that will turn her from a repellent ugly into a stunning pretty. And as a pretty, she'll be catapulted into a high-tech paradise where her only job is to have fun. But Tally's new friend Shay isn't sure she wants to become a pretty. When Shay runs away, Tally learns about a whole new side of the pretty world-- and it isn't very pretty. The authorities offer Tally a choice: find her friend and turn her in, or never turn pretty at all. Tally's choice will change her world forever... 

The Future of Us, by Jay Asher and Carolyn Mackler

Description:  It's 1996, and less than half of all American high school students have ever used the Internet. Emma just got her first computer and an America Online CD-ROM. Josh is her best friend. They power up and log on--and discover themselves on Facebook, fifteen years in the future. Everybody wonders what their destiny will be. Josh and Emma are about to find out.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, by Betty Smith

Description: From the moment she entered the world, Francie needed to be made of stern stuff, for the often harsh life of Williamsburg demanded fortitude, precocity, and strength of spirit. Often scorned by neighbors for her family’s erratic and eccentric behavior—such as her father Johnny’s taste for alcohol and Aunt Sissy’s habit of marrying serially without the formality of divorce—no one, least of all Francie, could say that the Nolans’ life lacked drama. By turns overwhelming, sublime, heartbreaking, and uplifting, the Nolans’ daily experiences are tenderly threaded with family connectedness and raw with honesty.

Shadow and Bone, by  Leigh Bardugo

Description: Surrounded by enemies, the once-great nation of Ravka has been torn in two by the Shadow Fold, a swath of near impenetrable darkness crawling with monsters who feast on human flesh. Now its fate may rest on the shoulders of one lonely refugee. Alina Starkov has never been good at anything. But when her regiment is attacked on the Fold and her best friend is brutally injured, Alina reveals a dormant power that saves his life—a power that could be the key to setting her war-ravaged country free. Wrenched from everything she knows, Alina is whisked away to the royal court to be trained as a member of the Grisha, the magical elite led by the mysterious Darkling. Yet nothing in this lavish world is what it seems. With darkness looming and an entire kingdom depending on her untamed power, Alina will have to confront the secrets of the Grisha . . . and the secrets of her heart.

Voting: https://goo.gl/forms/poWoVCIcH30zd6kn2

Note that the voting will be open for three days, meaning that on the 11th, we will have chosen our next read :)

Also, some books did not make it on this month’s list, but don’t worry, I’ll be sure to include them for the coming month.

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, TRIS!

You have been accepted for the role of ALEKSANDER MOROZOVA. Admin Bree: We knew when we decided to include the Darkling as a playable character that he would be a competitive role, and as the character with the most applications for our initial acceptance, he certainly didn’t disappoint, and neither did his applicants. But Tris, you stood out. Your application was incredibly thorough and true to character, both by the standards set by his biography and the very core of who he is in the trilogy, and it’s crystal clear that you understand his motivations and desires, which is all that we could ever ask for in his player—your application was all we were looking for and more. Congratulations! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: 

Tris

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: 

he/him/his

AGE: 

21

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL:  ⌜ EST & 8 ⌟

I’ll be the first to admit that it’s been a long time since I could properly consider myself an active writer. I want to stress that there is no blame to be placed on my daily duties and the schedule of my life; unsteady as it can be, I have learned with age that my shortcomings are all of the self-induced kind. I don’t want to apply for this RP without being honest with everyone involved in the process. I’ve been in a group ran by the admins before, and I know that you’re all aware of how often I have faltered. Admittedly, it’s always been easy for me to lie to myself.

I see a popular RP, and I take notice of how everyone’s buzzing with anticipation and applying for the characters that have won their hearts, and I think to myself; ‘I can do that, right? Surely I can find a character that’s perfect for me and fall head-over-heels for them. I love the plot, and I’m already feeling so excited, so does that mean that this can be the RP that brings me out of my inactivity?’ 

I don’t want to lie to myself this time, so I’m not going to wax poetic and say that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m going to right all of my wrongs. I’m tired of telling myself that a special circumstance is going to come along and fix my issues without even needing to lift a finger. Fixing my flaws has to start with me. It has taken time, but I understand that now.

I don’t want to come into this with false hopes. I’ve done it before, and I’ve slipped many times, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t cautious. I respect RaR too much to pretend like I’m a wholly dedicated RPer who’s going to attack the dash with post after post in the chance that he’s accepted. Of course, I can easily tell myself that there’s a sincere possibility of that happening — and for all I know, it actually could. 

RaR could become the RP that finally breaks my curse. I could find myself being more active than ever before — but I don’t want to get my hopes up. And more importantly, those of others. I have so many friends in the RPC that love and encourage me despite all of my faults — but it’s hard being known as the guy who always gets accepted, then never goes anywhere with the role that he supposedly cared so much about.

RaR is not the first RP to make me feel hope. I’m not going to sit around and pretend like I’ve never felt this same rush of excitement that I feel each time I browse through the main; that I haven’t had this exact same chat with myself before. The one difference between then and now? I’m not sugarcoating anything. 

I’m not going to tell you guys that this time I’m certain I can be a perfect member. I hope against hope that I can be, but all I can do within my power is wait to see what will happen. I’ve been on a break since early April, and while it’s done wonders for my stability and my muse, I’m not going to place bets. I don’t want to let anyone down.

I come to you guys with all the rawness of myself and the truth of my imperfections openly presented. I don’t want to be judged for pretty lies that I tell myself I can back up in the back of my mind. I could list a thousand reasons why I think RaR could become the RP that will help me to get my writing career back on track, but I’d rather show you if given the chance. 

I’ve realized that actions are so much louder than words, and all that I wish to make clear is one genuine thing: for the first time, I’m taking accountability for my consistency. It’s no fault but my own when I fail to post and maintain my initial enjoyment. I desperately want RaR to be the RP that changes everything, that helps prove that I can be a better writer and person, but it has to start with me. I have to learn how to push through my boundaries and try even when I feel like throwing in the towel. Because it’s easy to give up, isn’t it?

I can’t promise you guys that I’ll be active without a single hitch. I can’t say I’m going to last until the end. I have hope, and I want so painfully to believe that things would go as perfectly as I want to believe, but I want only honesty between us. It’s what is deserved between admins and a potential member of their community. The one thing I can be honest about? The only thing that does feel certain to me? Is that I will try. 

For all the risk of repeating my infamous history, I know that at least I’m going to give my absolute all this time. I’m doing this for my love of the Darkling and the RP; not simply because I want to fix myself. If that happens while I’m on the journey with him? Great. The priority will always be Aleksander, however. That’s how it should be. And if I’m given this opportunity, I will do everything that I can not to take it for granted.

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS:  ⌜ here & here ⌟

These are my last two accounts from before my break.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: ⌜ Aleksander Morozova | The Darkling ⌟

Aleksander — Greek;  its meaning is ‘defender; protector of mankind.’ ❨ The name of a peasant, or of a king; he has been both throughout the ages. ❩

Morozova — Russian;  a surname derived from the word ‘moroz,’ which means ‘frost.’  ❨ Heavier than his given name and more sacred than his alias, it is both his treasure and his burden. Grandson of a Sankt, maker of amplifiers and sire of darkness, who could deny that Aleksander was bred for infamy? ❩

The Darkling — his title;  the mononym that has taken place of his true name.  ❨ It came like any shadow. A slow creep that steadily consumed his identity. It’s as much home as anything could ever be; the only constant aside from the Unsea that survives alongside him each century. ❩

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

Connecting myself to the Darkling was a strange process. Not in the sense that it was difficult for me to get a grasp on his character, but because I was taken aback by how quickly I fell for him. After reading his biography, there was just this sudden and overwhelming urge to want to portray him that took hold of me — something that I’d only ever felt for female characters beforehand, and it was surprising to see how attached I was steadily becoming to the concept of being the writer behind him. Away from his title and his ability, I believe the most enticing thing that Aleksander offers is his depth — so much that I’m left with an itch to explore him; the man he was and the man he is and the man that he’ll inevitably become.

There are certain roles that come along and challenge who we are as writers, helping us to grow and find levels of our skills that we wouldn’t be able to reach on our own, and I feel like the Darkling could be that role for me. He offers me something that I’ve never known before; a savagery and a hunger that I’ve scratched the surface of, but never the particular type that he calls his own. I’ve explored the hidden intentions of many shadowy figures and found the secrets lodged between their teeth — and I was never once afraid of being swallowed. No matter how terrified I should be of falling into the Darkling’s abyss, I only find myself being exhilarated. 

I understand him, but I don’t know him. I know what he wants, but he’s never explained why he has those desires to me. He’s touched me and whispered his secrets to me, but all I have when he leaves me are bruises and memories that are blurred. He’s not a character that I can take control of and assert my dominance over; he’s a role that has to be allowed to reign on his own outside of my influence. 

If I’m honest, I don’t believe that anyone could ever truly make the Darkling their own. He shouldn’t be warped by my mindset, or by anyone else’s. I’ve never had someone help me to realize that before; that who we are shouldn’t leave stains on the roles that we’re portraying. That some are meant to remain wholly untouched and to exist as their own entity.

All I want to be for the Darkling is a voice and the guiding hand that gets to uncover him, and I’ll never want to take away from the reality of who he is. I want to learn his secrets and to be told the truth of his plans, but I will not intervene even if I disagree with them. I want to step aside and allow him to follow the path that he has chosen for himself. 

It’s so wonderful and so odd; to be so taken by a character and to want nothing more than to just hold them for a single fleeting moment. The Darkling will never be mine to keep or to claim. He belongs to so many writers and to so many readers, and that’s what fascinates me. That’s what seems so painfully beautiful for me to experience.

A man of many lives, of eternities and endless wars. I just want to be his for one lifetime; just one of his many suitors. And then he’ll be another’s to claim, and I’ll be content with that. The Darkling is someone meant to test your abilities and to help you discover yourself, and he belongs to all of us. That’s what has me so excited. I can’t own him, and no one will ever look at this character and think that he’s mine; who he is will never be mine to create, and what he wants is concrete and beyond my reasoning. 

I want to write him because for the first time a role has offered the chance to find both them and myself at the same time, and it’s amazing. It’s brilliant. I want to share a moment of his infinity. I want to see the darkness and know all of its terrors. And then the light will come; and at the end of my time with him I know that I’ll be more than I was when I started.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

⦁ first — ⌜ development with Gemma ⌟

Something that’s really important to me is the relationship between Gemma and the Darkling. Not in the sense that I believe they’re the most crucial characters of the RP, but because I can tell how important that they’ll be to each other’s development throughout the course of this RP. It’s amazing how many contradictions can be pointed out between the two.

She’s light and he’s dark; he’s an eternity and she’s like a newly born colt just rising up on its legs. How is it that they come together so perfectly, when most assume that they couldn’t be anything more alike? They’re total opposites — or at least, that’s the twist; that they’re actually more similar than either truly knows. Gemma is not Alina and RaR’s Darkling is a different man than the original, so what does that mean for these two?

I have a lot of feelings about the books and their end that I’d love to discuss with Bree in the chance of being accepted, and I’m so thrilled and excited by how unknown everything is. There’s so many possibilities that RaR offers; so much danger to run from and so many moments of a shrivelled heart being placed on Gemma’s lap. I want to know the story of our Sun Summoner and Darkling. I want to revel in its beginnings and I want to stand in awe as it ends. 

It’s almost magical; playing a canon character but knowing nothing that is in store for them. Even better, neither does the character — no matter how certain of things he claims to be. Gemma severed the normality of his life. It all changed when she became the most treasured piece of his hoard. And will he choke on the gold of her, or will he wear her on his shoulders until their lives have ended? A death that is so soon; so far away. Time’s an irrelevant concept to him by now.

⦁ second — ⌜ hunting the amplifiers ⌟

I’d love the chance to touch on him tracking down Morozova’s amplifiers for his cause of strengthening Gemma’s abilities. It was an exciting plotline throughout the books, and while some might view it as central to only the Darkling and Gemma, I could see it being a fun thing for several characters. A team is needed to track and hunt down the mythical creatures, so it’d be an expedition into the wilds in search of beasts that many believe are just fantasy. 

He trusts Gemma and he can see that she has raw potential, but regardless of the fact that the amplifiers are a necessity for her being able to combat the volcra within the Fold, he harbors a secret fear of losing her. He’s never held a disciple as closely as her; never felt the need to brand his name in someone’s skin and hiss at anything that stands too close to them. She is not his to own and she is not his to keep, but he cannot let her go. He does not want to.

Where would she go if she became too powerful of her own accord? Who would he be if he lost the one thing that had evaded him for so long? She’s here now, and he can forgive the absence that had plagued him. She has enough time to make up for it, and he wants to be there. When he looks at her he does not call it love, and he’s long lost the purest sense of the word lust, but she does something for him that no stimulant can do. A man who can use no amplifier beyond himself, but perhaps he’s broken the rules by taking a second. 

They feed off each other like fire and gasoline, and he wants nothing more than to make them more familiar. Their abilities are one thing, but he wants to see himself when he looks at her. He wants to see shadows in her eyes and indifference stretching across her jaw, and he will allow no one else to sit beside him when he ushers in an era of Grisha dominance. If slaughtering three glorified beasts is his only means of seeing that become a reality, then so be it.

⦁ third — ⌜ conquering the Fold ⌟

Last but not least, I have to see the Darkling conquer the Fold. I need to see him make it there and finally right his wrong; not necessarily by correcting his mistake and taking it away, but by finishing the task that has haunted him for so many years. He wants to end the suffering of his people, and he wants to carry them on his shoulders with Gemma pressed safely against his side. 

He can do that now. She can give Grisha light, and he can give their enemies darkness. Together they are damnation and salvation; the sword and the shield. A low growl catches in his throat at the thought of how perfect they are. How all the pieces of their puzzles come together to make one whole picture. Bloody and raw and frayed, but a masterpiece all the same.

Someday he will tell her what her purpose truly is. That it is not on her to save the otkazat’sya; that they are lesser and not meant to be dwelt on. No one is meant to be saved from the Fold. Grisha will be granted safe passage, and the humans will be given to the volcra as offerings. They are not his to claim and they are not hers to control, but whereas they refuse to submit to his will, she is able to ward them off in a way no one else can. She sends them flying away from him and onto the shores of their enemies, and he is grateful for that. 

He’s spent so long being a savior, being a king on a black throne with a dark kefta weighing him down, and he’s happy to have someone switch roles with him. He is hopeful with her. He is safe with her. He’ll take her hand and they will execute torture upon those who believe them to be a species that is second best. Not that she knows the genocide that she will assist with, but soon. He will kiss her ears and he will tell her what her role in all of this madness is. “To save me,” he whispers against her throat. “To damn them.”

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?

Given the plot of the main books, of course I would be! I’m sure that the Darkling has a critical role — although equal to all of the other characters in the RP — in many of your planned events, so I’m more than willing to follow the admins’ chosen route for his character.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE:

He has since realized that his life is lived mostly in cycles. Phases that repeat until sufficient time has passed to allow for changes to the script. Always small, often expected, and rarely able to divert his attention from the worn path ahead of him. He has lived through enough centuries to know that all of his experiences are secondhand. He’s walked through the wilds of Tsibeya to the point of being able to remember a tree just by the curl of its branches, and he knows which of the clouds sliding across the Sikurzoi mountains will be the one to bring rain down upon Ravka’s thirsting soil. When the stars come, he needs only tilt his head upwards to catch sight of the first. He’s had years at his disposal to count them, but instead he only turns away with a sigh. Infinity is more comforting than the harshness of a set number. He lives in stasis until the skies bleed a shade that is foreign to him; until he stops knowing all the answers that he’s had so long to learn.

When word reaches of the Sun Summoner’s existence, the sky remains a hue of grey that mocks him; cast over in a way that proves not all miracles are capable of staining the horizon. He does not question the speed of it, how unceremoniously it arrives after an eternity of skinning his knees to pray for her, and the courier seems almost taken aback by the simple nod of his head at the news. His brow crinkles only barely, the line of his lips flat and his hands steady. 

He wouldn’t expect an otkazat’sya to understand his lack of a display — he’s learned not to scream until the knife has buried itself up to the hilt in his chest. He is a study in restraint. He can stay standing even as the world splits apart. Sankta Lizabeta never fell to her knees until they quartered her and left her pieces to rot in a field of roses. He’ll believe that the end of times has come when there is nothing; when his immortality has been severed.

“A woman?” he breaks the suspended silence with a question for the messenger, tongue scraping against the back of his teeth to apply a hiss to the tone of it. The man in front of him blinks in a justified confusion, so he clarifies the subject before he loses interest in receiving the answer. “The Oprichniki soldier who found the Sun Summoner. Were they a woman?” He inhales through his nose as he waits for the response, watching the human flip through his documents with trembling fingertips and sweat sliding down the length of his hooked nose. After a short pause, the courier lifts his jaw and inclines his head in a sign of confirmation.

“The notice of discovery was issued by a Svetlana Gavrikova, Moi Soverennyi. She’ll be the one escorting the Sun Summoner to camp.” A grin creeps up the side of the Darkling’s face not at the revelation of his guard’s identity, but at how uneasily his title of ‘Moi Soverennyi’ drips off the lesser man’s tongue. This creature is not his to govern and not his to protect; and yet still he submits to the sheer force of Aleksander’s presence. Just because it is the nature of things. Like calls to like — the hungry beg all beasts for a taste of their flesh when they are starving. The dirty wash themselves in anything that could provide comfort from the filth around them. He’s had enough lifetimes to learn that blood is just water by another name.

He doesn’t address Svetlana’s role in the Sun Summoner’s capture after all is spoken, though he places aside the proof of her loyalty for later calculation. When one of his Corporalki attendants steps forward, he does not twist his neck to face her and only clenches a fist at the sound of her clearing her throat. “Moi Soverennyi, should we plan something? For the Oprichniki soldier? A public declaration of her service?” He meets her gaze in that moment, allowing the arch of his eyebrows to sink low as he leans forward in her direction. The human standing before him sinks back with a startled breath, so he flicks his hand in a motion that grants the messenger permission to leave.

“Do we celebrate a farmer when he blisters his hands to reap his harvest?” he speaks to the Heartrender, gravelly and sleek all at once. “Do we praise a Squaller when she sends a skiff gliding safely through the Fold? Do we think anything of the bees in the meadow? Do the flowers thank them for keeping them alive?” The woman looks down and offers no argument against his words, and he sinks back into the cushions of his throne with an expression that is stoic and firm. “I won’t commend my guard for having done her job.” He leaves it at that, and the attendant accepts his reasoning. He does not dwell on the fact that she has no other choice; he has always believed in the natural order of things.

Still, he cannot dismiss his thoughts as he waits for the Sun Summoner to make her entrance. His Grisha soldiers whisper among themselves, pacing about the tent with hushed claims of suspicion and hope, but he does not engage in their conversations. If not for the intensity always buzzing around his form, one could almost forget that he was even there. The wielder of shadows is what he creates; will that be the same for the Sun Summoner?

Will she burn in her power the way that he can hide in his? Will she be the key that he believes her to be? It’s an already answered question. He knows how critical she is to his plans because for all of the possibilities he’s come up with for conquering the Fold, they all end with her. He cannot succeed without her light, and he licks the chapped stretch of his bottom lip like a beggar battling his thirst. She has him on his knees before he’s even had a chance to stand before her — and it must be true that he’s following his ancestor’s name. Sankt Ilya in Chains; Aleksander Morozova in awe.

And when she enters, he does not show any sign of being stunned. He only digs the blades of his shoulders deeper into the padding of his throne, sinking further and arching his neck skyward. This is not to intimidate the girl, however. It’s simply the nature of a hawk to fly. Those without wings cannot covet it for simply living its purpose. And hers, he finds himself wondering about more so than his own. He’s had all the time in the world to discover himself, to know himself and to hold himself and to comfort himself, but the Sun Summoner before him is a stranger. Something he’s wanted for so long that he almost feels her name burning on his tongue, but still he must ask for it.

“Altan,” he nods in greeting to the Heartrender that has brought his salvation into the room — though he gives credit where credit is due by lifting his gaze just long enough to catch Svetlana’s in the crowd. He spreads his right hand in satisfaction at the thought of those who serve him. How wonderful it is to have such loyal men and women at his back; a man that can take and give with a swivel of his wrist, and a trio that can break and burn and drown without any elements at their disposal. His fist closes all the same. He knows that it’s useless to praise them. They exist for a century and then they’re gone. He’s always been his only constant. There was a Svetlana before Svetlana, and there was an Altan before Altan. It’s only him in the end, until another comes to kiss the heels of his feet.

He’s never known a Sun Summoner, however. He sees so many faces when he looks out at the audience, but hers is hers alone. He has never craved a name more. “What do I call you?” he asks more softly than his voice is known for, but there is still a sharp urgency to it. He hears the wet parting of another’s mouth to answer his question, but he lifts a finger to silence them. “I want to hear from her. What is your name?”

“Gemma,” she answers, short and cutting and vague — yet he knows more now than when he started, so he’s grateful enough to smile. He’s felt what it’s like to have the anchor of a surname wrapped around himself, so he doesn’t apply any more pressure to her shoulders by asking for hers. He simply nods and keeps his stare locked to her own, blocking out all the others who are watching them.

“Is it true?” he presses, tone more guttural than he intends it to be. “That you’re the Sun Summoner? That you blinded a man?” She keeps her jaw steady, and for all of her composure, he hopes that the report is true. He could sculpt something out of all her stone.

“Yes,” she replies, and he tilts his head as he waits for the rest of her answer. It doesn’t come, and he has to rise to his feet to bring more out of her. “You know everything that I know.” He snickers, a laugh shooting up his throat and pooling in his mouth. How innocent of her to assume.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he starts, stepping around her to face the crowd of Grisha and silently inclining his head to address their presence. He could allow them to speak their opinions on the matter, but he’s uninterested. If this girl claims to be equal to his knowledge, then none could come close to what she knows. Maybe the two of them have always been destined to suffer alone; together only as halves of a whole. The thought comforts him more than it should. “Let’s settle it. See if the thief is deserving of something more than a severed hand.”

He can see an argument flash across her features, but she represses her rage and keeps her lips tight. He finds himself once again thrilled. “Pull up your sleeve,” he commands, and she stares at him until he repeats it. “Could you pull up your sleeve?” And she does, slowly, and he calms her with a single glance before she can flinch away. “Now hold out your arm.” Like a wounded doe to a hand holding grain, she offers herself with hesitance, but when he brings his hands crashing together, he can feel her go jolting back.

Darkness spews forward, crowding the space with a pitch black ink that absorbs all started cries, and he steps forward and grips the bone of Gemma’s wrist before she can run. “Breathe,” he reassures her in the way a man would a startled horse, and he rubs his thumb along her flesh with an inhale that goes alongside her own. “Do you feel it? Open your ribs and let it out.” He guides her hand upwards through the blackness, making sure her palm is faced forward. “Answer its call.”

And then the light comes, suddenly and wickedly and more devastating than any endless night. He does not gasp with the others, though his eyes widen and he removes his hand from her wrist without her needing to pull away. He has to remind himself to breathe when he turns to Altan. “We have her,” he says with excitement under his breath, before looking to Svetlana. “Ready my carriage. She’ll make her journey to Os Alta immediately.” Svetlana nods obediently, and the Darkling calls after her with a low bark of urgency. “Guard her with everything you have. She is mine in this moment. Give her all you’ve given me.”

He looks at Gemma as Svetlana grips her and starts to pull her away, and he sends a hiss through his teeth that is meant to be a lulling sound. “Go gently, Gemma. Girl who blinds. Girl who steals. I know what you are now,” and he smiles, sharp and cutting and so hungry for what is to come. “When you arrive at your destination, you will know, too.”

And she leaves, and he exhales — and the cycle creaks. It is broken, and someday, he will thank her for what she has done. They’ll have plenty of days together.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

⦁ first — ⌜ what demons we leash; Unsea ⌟

It was meant to be his greatest accomplishment. The king he served at the time believed that it would be a display of his loyalty to Ravka’s cause, but as with most of his actions, the truth behind it was veiled. He cared not for the tension between Ravka and its bordering countries — his only goal was to shroud all enemies of the Grisha in an indomitable darkness; plunging all otkazat’sya into a void that only he had the ability to control. It should have been executed as he had planned for it to be. For all the routes he had calculated that its creation could have taken, he never thought of what would happen the day he tested out his idea on the stretch of farmland west of Ravka.

The tendrils of shadows swallowed the farmers and their houses whole, and just as the king smiled with a beaming pride, so did he. His experiment was a success, and in that moment he confirmed that he had the power to cover a nation in an endless night. He could bring it, but he later learned that he could not take it away. Try as he might, he couldn’t absorb the darkness back into himself, and in the time it took for he and his men to travel into the blackness to look for a way to rid of it, he only barely noticed the sound of flapping. They came upon his Grisha and the king’s soldiers and he watched as they were carried off by creatures he could not name.

Leathery skin and clouded eyes, all he could notice was their screeching. Theirs or the victims’ he was not sure, but they were certainly inhuman. He fought back only long enough to get out of the Fold, and when he saw that they could not follow him into the light, he had never felt more in love with the sun. He fell to his knees and he looked at his hands, at all the destruction he had wrought, and he had never wanted what it became. What happened to the men and women that were corrupted by his darkness was not intentional, and what became known as the volcra were not his. They’d call them the children of the Black Heretic some centuries later, but he would never claim them. They became the one thing he feared. The only things he could not command. 

He was lauded as a monster worse than the beast he was before then, and he had no choice but to flee when word of his mistake spread out across the nations. He was a coward, but he was alive. Ravka choked and sputtered due to being locked by the Fold, and he heard whispers of the causalities that kept rocketing when Ravkans tried to escape the country by crossing the Unsea.  Not just humans; even Grisha. His people were slaughtered just as equally as the abandoned, and he was ashamed. He was frightened. 

He vowed to return and save them, and he’s been trying to. He came back a century later as a descendent of himself, and he worked through the fear he was greeted with to plant the seeds of the Second Army. There the Grisha would be safe, free from the injustice he had only served to further, and he was content for a time. Letting them be soldiers until he could let them be free. Someday, he knows that they will be. He finally has his key now. Ravka and his ambitions will not remain locked for long.

⦁ second — ⌜ hope comes wearing white; Gemma ⌟

When she came to him, it felt as if her first summoning of light had shot through his very soul. He hadn’t expressed it outwardly, but when he took her wrist and brought out what she had been repressing for so long, he felt his chest tighten and hadn’t hesitated with ordering her journey to Os Alta. Suddenly, she belonged to him; and at the same time he knew that he could never keep her caged. They made the trip separately, but he kept running his thumb over the air as if her skin was still there between his grasp. He’d amplified many Grisha before, but none that had ever returned the sensation onto himself. He basked in it. In that dual power and hope, and he left it to cling to his skin; festering and burrowing deep within the marrow of his bones.

He’s spent so long hoping for her that it almost feels like a dream having her so close. He’s waiting to open his eyes and be torn from it, but then he blinks and realizes he’s already awake. He hasn’t dreamt in so long that this can’t possibly be a return to his childhood innocence. He’s still just as cruel a man as he’s always been, with dark intentions and a hunger for destruction, but the difference is that he doesn’t have to run any longer. He doesn’t have to wait. He can send terror raining down, and she can be his shield. He will not harm himself and his followers this time. Only the abandoned.  Left behind by who?

By them; he and his Sun Summoner. She is the light slipping through naked branches, and he is the rot creeping up its bark. He owns her and wraps a chain around her throat, but in the core of himself he knows that she is an entity separate to himself. Her element cannot be contained. Trap it in a jar and it fades from existence. He cannot risk losing her. He refuses to wait another century now that he has her. So he cherishes her, and he praises her, and he lets her be soft while trying to harden her. He wants her to be ready; he wants her to stand at his side without flinching. And if their devastation troubles her, he’ll lick the blood off her hands. She won’t have to carry the burden alone.

⦁ third — ⌜ I am not ruined; hopelessness ⌟

When the creation of the Fold backfired, he fell into his own darkness and drowned in the Unsea that was synonymous with his failure. They called him the Black Heretic, and what was meant to carry his people out of oppression only served to make them more feared. He could have stayed to suffer alongside them, and it’s true that he could have made payment for his mistake by accepting punishment, but he was his father’s son before he was a heretic; so he disappeared from the picture when his siring of the Unsea was complete.

He spent years hiding in the Fjerdan mountains and more trekking through Shu Han valleys. Some rumors say a man strikingly similar to the heretic was spotted in Ketterdam and even seen as far off as Novyi Zem. It was strange; going from a peasant to a king’s right-hand to a feared fugitive. He wore his shame in his hair, which grew as straggly as the whiskers that went untamed across his face. When he lost his fire, he started to look his age. A hermit of a man with shame in his eyes, and no matter how often his mother sought him out and begged him to come home to Ravka, he knew he had to do so of his own accord without any pressure. 

She raised him to be everything. A frightened child and a battle ready man all under one layer of skin, and for so long of being told that nothing could stand against him, everything shook when the volcra tore his confidence away. It was a process of acceptance and discipline, finding himself in foreign places and helping the Grisha of more ravenous nations. He never stayed long enough to be thanked; he did not deserve his people’s praise yet. He would wait for them to speak their worship against the arch of his feet when he brought them out of the Unsea that he had poured. 

How peculiar. To kill those you wish to save, and to spend so long afterwards trying to resurrect them.  He returned and they were sceptical, but he won their favor with his wisdom and his charm.  He snaked his way back into the palm of another king, but this time he remained wise. This time he made no mistakes. He clipped his hair short and he trimmed his jaw, and he became youthful once more. Not hopeful; never bright and smiling like the child Aleksander had once been fleetingly. He was firm and he was stoic, but he was there. That had to be enough for his underlings. He was at least there to suffer alongside them now. The Grisha were not alone, but he was still missing a piece of himself. “Sun Summoner,” he’d whisper in his sleep with eyes wide open. “Come to us. Come to me.”

⦁ fourth — ⌜ I am ruination; plans ⌟

Now that he has Gemma, a missing piece of himself has resurfaced; the hunger he repressed while he was licking his wounds. She is the key that he has seen crafted behind his eyelids for the last century, the thing he has felt in his hand before ever having the chance touch the gold of its surface, and there will never be something more important than her in his eyes. Only two that could combat her. Himself and his people. But nothing draws him closer than those three things. 

She gives him light and he gives her darkness, and together they can finish what he could never complete. He wants to show the world what his intentions truly were. He wants to send the volcra to tear the Drüskelle and their wolves apart, and he wants to send a horde flying across the Sikurzoi mountains to feast on the Shu. Let the witch burners be bled out, and let the experimenters be torn open like they so enjoy doing to the Grisha. It’s the perfect irony. Let those he cannot control swallow the world, and let Gemma keep him and his loyalists safe. She makes him less afraid.

Not even his mother could do that for him. She gave him a spine of iron and made sure his lineage was an image of perfection by mating with the most powerful Heartrender she could find, but she never thought to give him softness. She never gave him love. She assured him that he was above all else, but never told him why that was. All he’s ever had is his power and his eternity, and all else is fleeting. His followers are always changing, and his king is replaced each century. He wants to hold something beyond himself. Beyond the mother who never asked him to love her back; who didn’t teach him how.

He wants to suffer with her, and he wants to prosper all the same. He’s been everything, and he wants to give her a taste of that. He’s going to see his goal be realized. The otkazat’sya will have no king to hide behind. There will be only one empire. Only one ruler and his mistress, should she agree to take his hand and reign beside him. She needs only allow him to lock his being around hers, and then no queen will ever stand higher. No empress could ever be closer to the sun. 

And it will be bloody. They will walk across ashes and wade through darkness, but she will warm him. He will guide her through all the terrors before them. The Grisha will live in peace, without fear beyond the two of their kind that are more than they. He’ll hold his hands in front of her vision should she ask to not see the carnage, but he hopes she’ll revel in it just as he does. He is his mother’s son. His mate can be no less than he. 

EXTRAS:

Here is where you can find my mock-blog for Aleksander.

⌜ PERSONALITY ANALYSIS ⌟ Astrological sign: Scorpio Moral alignment: Lawful Evil MBTI type: ISTJ-A (The Logistician) Hogwarts house: Slytherin

ANYTHING ELSE?

Thank you for taking the time to review this application. You’re always welcome to message me if any issues arise. My favorite book as of right now is Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente. It’s helped me so much with inspiration for each of the applications that I’ve worked on, and I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn’t had the chance to read it yet. It follows a plotline that is rather similar to the Grisha Trilogy in some aspects.

[sahibookworm]

Hello my dear friends.. !!! You are probably surprised to see this post today because I never blog over the weekend. But today is my birthday, so I just wanted to say hi to everyone and thank you all for being such an amazing and important part of my life, particularly for the past couple of years. I saw this post first on Steff’s blog @ Little Book Nook and thought it would be a good one to do on this special day of my life. Don’t forget to checkout their blog for more fun bookish content. And now let’s get started with this post.

1. What was the last book you read?

It’s just the first week of the New Year and I was already overthinking what to read. So, I decided to pick up my go to escapist read, The Warsaw Protocol by Steve Berry.

2. Was it a good one?

It definitely was a lot of fun and I just love the familiarity of reading about characters whom I’ve known for so long.

3. What made it good?

The same factors that have made me continue with this series for almost a decade – lots of history, descriptions of beautiful places across the globe which I would love to visit, and some thrilling action and adventure.

4. Would you recommend it to other people?

I definitely would, especially when anyone needs a little pick me up or to readers who love books like Da Vinci Code and movies like National Treasure.

5. How often do you read?

I try to read pretty much everyday because it’s such an important part of my life.

6. Do you like to read?

Is this question valid???

7. What was the last bad book you read?

I really wanted to like Blitzed but I just couldn’t.

8. What made you dislike it?

I had too many expectations because the main character Brynne was a favorite from the previous books. The book had a lot going for it but some of the actions of Brynne felt very unlike her and downright awful, and the conflict at the end so unreasonable that it just soured my whole experience.

9. Do you wish to be a writer?

I mean, I think I want to be but I’m not sure I can. I’m not a very creative person, so I don’t think writing my own stories is gonna be my thing. But I love blogging about books.

10. Has any book ever influenced you greatly?

I did a whole post last year about books that have impacted me over the years and the first one that I always talk about is the Mahabharata. I have read many versions of the epic and I can still find something to learn from it.

11. Do you read fan-fiction?

I haven’t read much recently but there was a long period of time in 2018 when I was pretty obsessed with fanfics. And I still like them, I guess I just don’t have the time.

12. Do you write fan-fiction?

Nah.. As I said, I’m not a very creative person.

13. What is your favourite book?

Ain’t that the toughest question you can ask any reader..!!! But one of my last year’s absolute favorites is Red, White and Royal Blue.

14. What is your least favourite book?

This is actually even more tougher to answer, because why would I want to remember books I hated. So, I’ll pass.

15. Do you prefer physical books or reading on a device (like Kindle)?

Kindle, any time. I’ve gotten used to reading ebooks on devices and now I find it actually tough to read physical copies.

16. When did you learn to read?

I don’t know, must have been 3 or 4.

17. What is your favourite book you had to read in school?

I didn’t have a lot of assigned reading in school but one my favorites was a Sherlock Holmes short story, The Speckled Band which started my obsession with him.

18. What is your favourite book series?

Throne of Glass… Always !!!!!

19. Who is your favourite author?

Wow there are so many..!!!! Rin Chupeco, Nisha Sharma, Sandhya Menon, Leigh Bardugo, SJM, Robert Jackson Bennett etc etc.

20. What is your favourite genre?

Fantasy… duh!!!!

21. Who is your favourite character from a series?

Credit: Phantom Rin

Again… it’s obviously Aelin. I don’t know why I love her so much, I just do.

22. Has a book ever transported you somewhere else?

I have really felt transported by the Grisha trilogy, particularly Ravka is written very vividly and makes me wanna go there.

23. Which book do you wish had a sequel?

From my last year’s reads, it has to be Descendant of the Crane. I can’t believe there might not be a sequel.

24. Which book do you wish DIDN’T have a sequel?

I’m not exactly sure because I usually love getting more books with the same characters. But I definitely wish Cursed Child wasn’t canon.

25. How long does it take you to read a book?

If the book is good, just a day. If anything goes beyond 2-3 days, then I’m either gonna hate it or DNF it.

26. Do you like when books become movies?

I’m very bad at visualizing what I read, so I love movie adaptations. They just need to be good.

27. Which book was ruined by its movie adaptation?

Allegiant maybe. I loved that series (till that dreadful ending) but the movie was so dull and boring.

28. Which movie has done the book justice?

Lord of the Rings… !!!! I know hardcore book fans might not think so, but I adore the movies.

29. Do you read newspapers?

In childhood yes. Now I get my news from twitter.

30. Do you read magazines?

I might turn the pages of a magazine if I’m in a bookstore but I’m not that much into them. Sometimes, I might buy an Indian one if it has my favorite celebs on the cover or any special interviews.

31. Do you prefer newspapers or magazines?

None.

32. Do you read while in bed?

I actually put on an audiobook and go to sleep while listening to it. It has become a daily ritual now.

33. Do you read while on the toilet?

Well I usually have my phone or iPad with me, so sometimes yes.

34. Do you read while in the car?

I don’t know how to drive and I have a tendency to panic even when I’m a passenger, so reading while in the car is very good for curbing my anxiety.

35. Do you read while in the bath?

Nah.. not my thing.

36. Are you a fast reader?

Yup.

37. Are you a slow reader?

Nope.

38. Where is your favourite place to read?

My couch.

39. Is it hard for you to concentrate when you read?

I don’t think so. I put on tv or music while reading and I can concentrate just fine.

40. Do you need a room to be silent when you read?

No way. I’m not good with silences.

41. Who gave you your love for reading?

My parents were apparently avid readers before I was born and my name literally means “Literature”, so I always say I was destined to be a reader. And books were always what I got as gifts right from when I was around 6 years old, so I think it would be my parents who gave me my love for reading.

42. What book is next on your list to read?

I have no idea. Maybe Trick Mirror or Of Curses and Kisses.

43. When did you start to read chapter books?

I don’t think chapter books were really a thing in my childhood.

44. Who is your favourite children’s author?

Enid Blyton.

45. Which author would you most want to interview?

I met Nisha Sharma once during the Baltimore Book Festival and had a lovely chat with her, but I would love to do a more indepth interview with her for my blog.

46. Which author do you think you would be friends with?

I would love to be friends with Leigh Bardugo and Sandhya Menon.

47. What book have you reread the most?

Review: QoS

Throne of Glass, Queen of Shadows, Crooked Kingdom and Red, White and Royal Blue.

48. Which books do you consider ‘classics’?

I don’t think I like the label classic. It sounds a bit pretentious.

49. Which books do you think should be taught in every school?

Among the books I read last year, I would choose Kindred, How to Hide and Empire,  Between the World and Me, and Good Talk.

50. Which books should be banned from all schools?

I don’t think banning books serves any purpose, other than driving up the interest for them. But maybe we can tell students about the problematic content in certain books and then let them decide if they still want to read them.

I hope you got to know me a little better today through this post and liked reading my answers…!!! If you wanna know something else about me, feel free to ask me in the comments below 🙂

50 Bookish Questions Hello my dear friends.. !!! You are probably surprised to see this post today because I never blog over the weekend.

[daily-ravka]

Keeping Up With The Grishaverse 

Missed the clips? The interviews?⎮ February 2023 - March 5th, 2023

⚡️Rounding up everything in the past month before the junket interview rains down on us.

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Video Format

Netflix’s Shadow & Bone Cast Reacts to Season 2 Trailer | IGN Fan Fest 2023

WATCH: Dazzling April cover girl Amita Suman teams up with Shadow and Bone co-star Jessie Mei Li for Tea With Tatler 

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Reading Format

The Darkling Wages War With an Unstoppable Army in 'Shadow and Bone' Season 2 Trailer**

'Shadow and Bone's Writers Address The Darkling's "Gaslighty" Ways in Season 2**

'Shadow and Bone' Season 2: Netflix Reveals How the Costumes Tease the Story**

Shadow and Bone showrunner teases the Crows’ season 2 story – and the introduction of new characters**

Amita Suman: style sensation! A look back at the Tatler cover star’s most show-stopping moments

Shadow and Bone star Patrick Gibson unpacks his dual 'Tony Stark–esque' season 2 role**

🚨Official Content🚨

Shadow and Bone: Season 2 | Official Trailer 

Meet Wylan

Meet Nikolai, Tamar and Tolya

How Well Does The Shadow and Bone Cast Know Fan Slang? 

Official Clip: New Alliance | Netflix**

Shadow & Bone Cast React to Fan Theory & Thirst Tweets | Netflix**

Links marked with asterisks (**) may contain plot details and spoilers 

✨Need the list of interviews of a specific cast member? Want to know which article your favourite ship was mentioned? Looking for something specific for your edits? Our ask box is open!✨

- Full Masterlist now on our pinned post. 

[daily-ravka]

Keeping Up With The Grishaverse

Missed the clips? The interviews?⎮ March 14th, 2023

⚡️ONE DAY TILL SHADOW AND BONE SEASON TWO!!! Here’s an overview of yesterdays press content! This is our second last ‘Keeping Up With the Grishaverse’ post. The last one will be posted tomorrow, signifying the end of press tour season. 

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Video Format

Entertainment Weekly - 'Shadow and Bone' Cast Breaks Down 2nd Season | Around the Table 

Lewis Tan & Anna Leong Brophy | Shadow & Bone S2 Junket Interview

Ben Barnes on Kirigan, aka the Darkling: He's an 'Evil, Toxic, Nasty Presence' in Season 2

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Reading Format

Tatler - Don’t know Shadow and Bone’s Freddy Carter? You should.

Shadow and Bone's Patrick Gibson on Prince Nikolai's Debut

The Cast of SHADOW AND BONE Chat Bringing Their Characters to Life in Season 2

🚨Official Content🚨

Shadow & Bone: Everything We Can Tell You About Season 2  ✨NEW FOOTAGE✨**

Character Poster: Inej Ghafa

Character Poster: Kaz Brekker

‘Shadow and Bone’ Season 2 Cast: Meet the Heroes and the Villains✨NEW STILLS✨ **

The ‘Shadow and Bone’ Season 2 Episode Titles Tell a Surprising Story - Episode Title List **

Links marked with asterisks (**) may contain plot details and spoilers

✨Need the list of interviews of a specific cast member? Want to know which article your favourite ship was mentioned? Looking for something specific for your edits? Our ask box is open!✨

- Full Masterlist now on our pinned post.

[daily-ravka]

Keeping Up With The Grishaverse

Missed the clips? The interviews?⎮ March 10th, 2023

⚡️Finally getting character posters and more!

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Video Format

TVLine - Shadow and Bone Season 2 Cast Interviews | Jessie Mei Li, Ben Barnes, Patrick Gibson, More

Fancity Central - Shadow and Bone Cast Interview: Ben Barnes, Jessie Mei Li, Daisy Head | General Kirigan's Soundtrack

Popternative - Jack Wolfe talks about The Magic Flute, Season 2 of Shadow and Bone on Netflix and much more!

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Reading Format

Jessie Mei Li: the Shadow and Bone star on season 2 of the Netflix show, and why representation matters

🚨Official Content🚨

Sujaya Dasgupta as Zoya Nazyalensky - Character Poster

Luke Pasqualino as David Kostyk - Character Poster

Daisy Head as Genya Safin - Character Poster

Everything You Need to Remember Before Watching ‘Shadow and Bone’ Season 2

Links marked with asterisks (**) may contain plot details and spoilers

✨Need the list of interviews of a specific cast member? Want to know which article your favourite ship was mentioned? Looking for something specific for your edits? Our ask box is open!✨

- Full Masterlist now on our pinned post.

[daily-ravka]

Keeping Up With The Grishaverse

Missed the clips? The interviews?⎮ March 11th & March 12th, 2023

⚡️Things are eerily slowing down for the weekends but hey oh hey we got some posters!

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Video Format

Jack Wolfe Talks The Magic Flute & His Transition From Stage To Screen

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Reading Format

Fangirlish - Jessie Mei Li, Daisy Head and Ben Barnes Talk Character Growth in Season 2 of ‘Shadow and Bone**

Anna Leong Brophy, Lewis Tan and Patrick Gibson Talk Coming into ‘Shadow And Bone’ Season 2

🚨Official Content🚨

Character Poster: Tolya

Character Poster: Tamar

Character Poster: Nikolai Lantsov

Character Poster: Matthias Helvar

Character Poster: Nina Zenik

Others ⎮ Empire Convention @ Roster Con Paris has added Danielle Galligan, Julian Kostov and Sujaya Dasgupta in their list of attendees. Grab your tickets Here.

Links marked with asterisks (**) may contain plot details and spoilers

✨Need the list of interviews of a specific cast member? Want to know which article your favourite ship was mentioned? Looking for something specific for your edits? Our ask box is open!✨

- Full Masterlist now on our pinned post.

[daily-ravka]

Keeping Up With The Grishaverse

Missed the clips? The interviews?⎮ March 13th, 2023

⚡️It was a Monday and things were gettin hot again🔥

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Video Format

ComicBook - Shadow and Bone: Freddy Carter Discusses Exploring Kaz Brekker's Backstory in Season 2 (Exclusive)**

ComicBook - Shadow and Bone's Crows Reveal Wildest Places They Practiced With Their Weapons (Exclusive)

REVAMP - Anna Leong Brophy On Shadow and Bone Season 2, Playing Tamar Kir-Bataar & Working With Jessie Mei Li

Interviews and Articles with the Cast or Creators ⎮ Reading Format

Anna Leong Brophy For Revamp Magazine

Polygon - Give Ben Barnes his rom-com already! ft. Jessie Mei Li

Country&TownHouse - ‘IT’S GOING TO BE SUCH A TREAT FOR THE FANS’: ANNA LEONG BROPHY ON SEASON 2 OF SHADOW AND BONE

Conversations: Jack Wolfe

Ben Barnes teases The Darkling on “Full Venom” in Season 2 (interview)**

🚨Official Content🚨

Character Poster: Jesper Fahey

Character Poster: Wylan Fan Eck

Links marked with asterisks (**) may contain plot details and spoilers

✨Need the list of interviews of a specific cast member? Want to know which article your favourite ship was mentioned? Looking for something specific for your edits? Our ask box is open!✨

- Full Masterlist now on our pinned post.