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cas-backwards-tie · 1 year

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Chapter Three: Dogma Uncovered

The Darkling's Secret Weapon

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

General Kirigan x Samantha Vercozki

Summary: After her first night with her new husband, Samantha’s eager to explore Little Palace and get to know the layout, its staff, and most of all, who she's married.

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Tradition, Anxiety, Bullying, Degradation, Classism, Racism(?), Mentions of Murder, Religion

A/N: Truthfully, I haven't read the books, and while I've done some research, I just hope that someone likes the take I have on this world and its characters, and I'm glad to be able to get these scenarios out of my mind.

The next morning she'd awoken much later than usual. Muffled voices filter through the walls, making it hard to discern the conversation. Golden sunlight streams through the parted curtains and window adorning the right side of their room. It's not too surprising, the General's lack of presence. A yawn escapes the Princess' lips as she stretches, a slight soreness held between her legs. No doubt it's from last night. Tossing the covers from her body, she makes her way to the lavatory, ready to start her day. Already, there's so much to do.

"Hmm, no morgengave," she concludes. With General Kirigan gone, she felt more comfortable taking in their room, making space for herself as she dressed and braided her hair. Once realization struck that braids are usually kept for unmarried women, Samantha let it fall. Brush in hand, she recombs through her long locks, hazel eyes taking in all the possessions around her. There are many books, a fair amount of stationery, pens, and paper strewn about his quarters. A man with the knowledge of a scholar, she's sure. To think that the esteemed General had boasted his Fjerdan skills after the wedding, only to forgo one of the most sacred traditions.

No morgengave. While taking in all his personal possessions, she'd yet to encounter anything akin to what'd look like a morgengave. A present; it's given to the newly-bed wife as a token of the loss of her innocence. Most often it's jewelry, sometimes symbolic if the man is sentimental. There were low expectations going into this arrangement. However, the lack of this common tradition only worsens the worries she holds for their marriage. In an attempt to think positively, she convinces herself it has to be due to the fact that General Kirigan had business to attend to and has yet to see her in person. Therefore, he's not yet had a chance to gift her this present.

Prepared for the day, Samantha decides that since it's nearing lunch, she'll head down to the kitchen. On her way, she passes few Grisha, all of which give her odious looks. It's hard to ignore, but she knows that being Fjerdan in Ravka, let alone their capital: Os Alta, will cause uneasiness at first. Following the smell of cooking meat, something similar to steke, she finds herself in a hall of bustling servants. She sends a kind and hopeful smile here and there as she makes her way down the hall. It's only when someone speaks up right outside the door she's seen multiple people come in and out of that she stops.

"Are you lost, my Lady?" The unexpected title elicits an excited thumping of her heart. She hadn't realized she'd gained a title through marriage, though she supposes 'lady' is another term for the women in the palace. While she's still technically a Princess in her realm, here, she's traded it for 'Lady' it would seem.

"I'm trying to find the kitchen," she responds hopefully.

"This is it. Is something wrong? Did you want to order something?" The servant looks surprised. Surely she knows she can task anyone with delivering a lunch order. No one ever comes down here. "If there was a problem with the food, we will find the culprit straight away," he assures her.

As the foodstaff seemingly starts to grow anxious, Samantha shakes her head. "Nothing's wrong. I was just wondering if it'd be possible to do something. I have a plan." A smile displays itself across her lips as she brings the staff in closer to reveal her idea.

Without much deliberation over logistics, the staff agrees. Enacting her plan, it doesn't take long for her to get the lunch she'd requested and head back up toward their quarters. With instruction, she knows the adjoining room to their quarters is the General's War Room.

A quick three knocks to the closed mahogany door, she turns the handle.

"What is it?" The annoyed voice of General Kirigan sounds through the door.

Making sure to be careful while pushing the door open wide, Samantha manages to fit the dining cart through the doorway. All eyes in the room turn to land on her, and with only a quick glance she knows there are three pairs. Parking the cart beside a cabinet, she smoothes down her pastel green dress before lifting her gaze to meet theirs.

“Hello,” Sam greets, sending a smile and wave toward the pair of Corporalki stood before her. “I don’t believe we really got to meet last night." She takes a step toward them, “I’m Samantha, though you can call me Sam, Sammy… whatever you prefer, really. Most people in the Ice Court would just call me by my title: ‘Princess.’” With a hopeful smile and outstretched hand, she’s met with hesitancy at first, before the closer of the two reciprocates.

“I’m Feydor,” he greets, “it’s a pleasure to meet you again-” pressuring eyes cause him to conform to the information she’d just given, “-Sam.”

"We don't have time for an intrusion, we're doing business. Now, if you'd kindly leave us," The General announces with a dismissive wave of his jewel-littered hand.

"Surely you do, I didn't bring you lunch all the way from the basement to be dismissed like some common servant. Besides, if there's anything too classified for even me to know, then I suppose it'd only be treasonous," Samantha jokes, a pleasant smile on her lips as she attempts to placate the General.

Unbeknownst to the Princess, the unspoken Corporalki sends a look toward the General. With a clearing of his throat, he speaks up.

"Ivan, My Lady," he introduces himself with a slight bow of his torso and head. "Forgive me if this is too forward or blunt, but you've only just entered the kingdom and become the General's Wife as of yesternight."

"Therefore I must be some sort of plant or spy, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike whilst I gather information?"

"Never mind the fact that you are both Fjerdan and Otkazat'sya," Ivan adds on as if these details add up to paint some sort of awful portrait of the Princess.

A derisive sound leaves her lips with a huff of annoyance. "If you truly believe that then you are all either truly dull, or closed-minded." With hasty hands, she grabs handfuls of her skirts before heading toward the door.

"Wait," the General's command brings a halt to her step. While she doesn't turn, it's obvious she's listening. "Take the cart with you," He commands with a bored sigh. Leaning against the table behind him, he eyes her with annoyance, masking the little intrigue he holds after witnessing the fire that seems to live beneath the confines or her otherwise colorful and chaste appearance.

"No." Arms crossed beneath her breasts, she turns on her heels to meet their inquiring eyes. She's changed her mind, unwilling to give up just like that. Insults and assumptions she knows to expect, and while they're never fun to deal with, she must fight them. "I wanted to properly introduce myself to your men," she speaks with more heed this time. "While I now know Feydor, I can't say the same for this... gentleman." The word has a slight venomous tone to it, yet she still remains upbeat and docile in demeanor. Ready to be pleased and entertained.

"Ivan," the other Corporalki succeeds, another slight bow following, "pleasure to make your acquaintance."

“Can I ask you… is it true?" With a cocked brow and a curious glint in her hazel eyes, Sam looks between the Corporalki with fascination. Puzzled looks instantly appear on their faces before she expands. "You can really stop a man’s heart from more than a dozen paces away- just like that?” With a wave of her hand, she appears flippant.

“Yes,” Ivan answers immediately, no falter in his expression.

“Really?” She stares in awe and wonder. Suddenly realizing what she’d said, she quickly raises her hands in submission, a chuckle following. “I don’t need a demonstration! I’m just curious. My brothers would come back from their adventures with so many stories and feats, but I’ve always wanted to know for myself.”

“You’ve never met a Grisha before?” Feydor asks in bewilderment and wonder.

“Well,” Samantha ducks her head for a moment before raising it in the General’s direction, eyes settled on him as she offers a playful smile. “I can’t say that’s entirely true since I’ve only just met your General, I’m afraid. He would be the first Grisha I’ve truly met, yes.” The astonishment on the Corporalki’s faces leave her more than embarrassed, though the fact that they’ve had very different lives is something she’s sure she can attribute to such reactions. “I mean, I’ve seen them from afar plenty of times on the battlefield… but that would be the sum total of it."

“I suppose living in Little Palace will correct that in short order,” Ivan comments snidely. The fiery remark boiling in his chest as she'd spoken now bubbling forth. “So you’ve seen it then. The way your people slaughter us with no mercy…? And yet you’re here.”

The playful smile on her lips quickly falters into a look of chagrin. “Unlike most of Fjerda, you’d be surprised to know that I don’t follow their beliefs. They’d like you to think we’re all monsters of humans who despise Grisha and want you all dead, yet there are many of us in the outer regions who think otherwise.” A threatening stare sent his way, she stands her ground. “I want the same things as you do. I’m here to ensure that there is a hope for our countries. There’s a solution to our problems that does not involve war and can bring us to a state of peace.”

“And what is it you believe, exactly?” The General’s icy tone slices through the tension between the two as he stares on in skepticism. “If you don’t believe your precious Djel would delight in the extinction of all Grisha?”

“Djel would never wish that, and the people who think so are too foolish for their own good.”

“So all the drüskelle,” Feydor remarks under his breath.

“I believe that we’re all the same; you and me.” She gestures between herself and the Corporalkis before turning her gaze to the Darkling himself. “Though you have different abilities from me, so I have different abilities from you—so does everyone else—you cannot do what I can and vice versa. Of course, with what I’m told most Grisha believe, you’d no sooner admit that than banish the Unsea. But mortal or not, we all have our specialities and that’s what makes us the same.”

The room sits in silence for a moment as they take in her words. While perhaps part of what she said is true, she’s right, they’d no sooner admit that than run face-first towards the Fold alone. “And what is it you can do that’s so… special?”

Meeting Ivan’s eyes again, Samantha smiles, still hopeful that in her beliefs, one she knows she’s not alone in. With the help and influence of the more powerful people in Ravka… they can change the world. “I always seem to manage one way or another to know what someone’s feeling,” she offers,

“I can tell when someone is lying, I’m told I’m quite a people’s person, a good listener, and–” she trails off, smiling at the fondness of her traits, “-I can always somehow bring plants back from the dead. Make them grow? I’m also very good with animals as well, and lastly… somehow I always manage to make whatever I bake taste good?” She laughs as the memories come flooding back.

“I used to send for whatever copies of recipes my brothers or their soldiers could find on their expeditions. They’d bring back Shu recipes, Ravkan recipes, Old Ravkan recipes… even if I had no idea what I was really doing, somehow it always managed to taste good? I don’t know how I do it, but everyone seems to enjoy it, so I take pride in that one.”

“Shall we test this theory, then? What am I feeling?” Surprisingly it’s Kirigan who speaks up first, no change in his demeanor as he now stands loomed over the war table. Samantha smiles at him for a moment until her expression falls flat with concentration. Though she may have found his gaze to be intimidating so far, she also knows he’s testing her, and she isn’t afraid.

“Look at me,” she asks. As he turns his head slowly, dark eyes shifting to meet hers, he does exactly that. He stares. A breath leaves her lips, the Princess searching his eyes for a moment. It momentarily feels as though all the air has escaped the room, her voice suddenly gone, as no one stands in the room except the two of them. Her expression remains flat until a faint smile makes its way onto her lips once more.

“You’re annoyed. Annoyed that I interrupted your meeting for something unimportant,” she easily states with a wave of her hand. "Frustrated because I’m still here and you’re not getting your work done,” she adds on, yet there’s another emotion hidden in his irises that she knows she needs to pinpoint with the correct verbiage. “And… intrigued? I’d say intrigued since you didn’t know those things about me and you hadn’t anticipated me to guess correctly.” Content with her work, she feels triumphant in knowing she’s correct. He remains quiet, eyes unmoving, and she can’t tell what might be going on inside his mind.

“Ooh, do me next!” Feydor asks excitedly, eyes shifting from his General toward her. Looking into her eyes, he waits expectantly, hands clasped in his lap.

“You’re curious… fascinated, and… I feel that there’s hope within you. It’s not hope in a full sense, but, almost like there was a black sea before, and now there’s a pinprick of light in your world and that hole has opened your mind to the possibility that there might be hope for something, even if you’re not quite sure what yet.”

The guess and reading had come much more quickly this time around, more adept at handling those who tend to either wear their heart on their sleeve or those who tend to keep things buried so deeply that they think no one notices.

“Wow! That’s… entirely true, boys. She’s got a talent, this one,” he compliments. Eyes turning toward Ivan and Kirigan before the look on the latter’s face causes him to purse his lips and bow his head a little.

“Thank you,” Sam responds, still smiling as she takes amusement in the fact that she knows it’s true; she has a gift. Whether or not she’s Grisha, she can do something they cannot, and that fact only solidifies her beliefs.

“Okay, well now I think you’d better try for three out of three,” Ivan pipes up. Though he looks at her dead-on, and the emotions are a little harder to place this time.

“I don’t know you as well, so it’s a little harder to read you… but,” she speaks as she searches his eyes. Body language giving nothing away, he stands like the trained soldier he is. “I’d say that you’re feeling curious as well. Frustrated, and though you hold the same sort of hope I mentioned with Feydor, I’d also dare say there’s a confusion in you about it too. An ambivalence.”

“Get out!” Kirigan shouts. Samantha whips her head around, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in shock as she isn’t sure if he’s talking to her, “The two of you, leave! We’ll reconvene at the end of the night.” With a wave of his hand, the two Corporalki give a slight bow before they turn and leave. “You,” his laser-focused deathly stare shifts over to her. “You interrupt my meeting with my men and then you attempt to get into our heads for the sake of some game?”

“That’s not what I was doing,” she argues.

With a shaky breath, General Kirigan finally releases the edge of the war table and attempts to regain the composure he’s steadily been losing. Standing up straight, he speaks again. “Then what, exactly, are you doing here?” Eyes resettling on her as he ever so slowly starts to round the table closer, he waits for an explanation, an answer. What could possibly be so important that took her this long to get to the point when she’d just been conversing with his soldiers like childish friends in the schoolyard.

“I thought we could have lunch together! I’d asked if you’d taken yours yet and they said you hadn’t, so I figured—”

“Why?”

“Why?” She chuckles, looking at him as if he’s the one who’s out of his mind. “Because I thought it might be nice? That I’d be a good wife?” With a shake of her head, she divulges the true reasoning. “I thought it might be nice to get to know one another! It would certainly make pretending to be intimate with one another in public much less awkward.”

“So you come in here unannounced to converse with my soldiers on time that could be better spent actually getting work done and coming up with a plan as to do what you claim you want and bring peace to this world? Yet you come in here with some ridiculous belief that you, a mortal, think you can come into my home and change the minds of my people?”

Whatever surprise she’d once held is gone and instead replaced by the sinking pit in her stomach as she realizes she was right. “Oh…” the disappointment is not hidden in her voice as she tears her gaze away from him, eyes drifting toward the floor as she’d suspected this… but like many things in her life, she’d hoped it wouldn’t be the case. “You’re one of those Grisha.” The comment lingers in the air as her temper quickly shifts into one of anger. Before he has the chance to speak, she comes back at him.

“You really think—what?—that I’m no better than some street rat because I don’t have abilities like you? That you’re so much better than me, and what? All because I can’t do the things you can? And I’m the one who’s being ridiculous? Wow…” Pacing the length of the room by the windows, she tries to keep her composure.

“I never said that,” he argues. Stepping in front of her, he stops her pacing, eyeing her with curiosity. His dark gaze rakes down her body, fingers coming up to her face as he toys with a strand of hair that’d fallen into her face. The fiery look in her eyes affects him in a way he hadn’t anticipated, yet, he decides it’s worth it to be upfront and honest about his intentions. “We’ve already been intimate, there’s no need to pretend. As for your accusations… I’ll be clear. I see no point in indulging an Otkazat’sya when you have no power to make any real change here. As far as getting to know one another, there’s no need. You know what you need to, and there’s no point for me considering you’ll die much sooner than I.”

The words, the outright nature of his demeanor... it takes her aback. While she's heard many nasty rumors of General Kirigan, she hadn't anticipated he'd be the same behind closed doors. Now, it's obvious that the rumors weren't far from the truth at all.

“I hoped this wouldn’t be the case," Sam whispers, not meeting his eyes. She doesn't retreat from his touch, yet is aware of it, however unwanted it may be. "But if you’re so desperate not to get to know me, then fine! Don’t. Make things harder for us. Think you’re all that, but know that I won’t stop doing whatever it takes to make sure that things get better. Know that I tried my best to make this marriage work, and that I wasn’t the one who backed down first!"

Pulling herself out of his reach, she finally raises the daggers in her eyes to meet his steely gaze. "But don’t come into our quarters and tell me about how upset you are that things are only becoming worse when you’re the one who has the power to change it! Not by dividing us, but by uniting us in a way that’ll prove more beneficial!”

“If you think you can beat the Grisha, then fine, believe that. But that doesn’t make it any less ludicrous. You really think you can change the world when what? You won’t live long enough to most likely even see any substantial change?”

Kirigan argues as she walks across the room, lifting the top off the tray of food she’d brought. Gathering her plate to take with her back into their shared quarters in the adjoining room, Sam spares one last death-glare in his direction. Angered and hurt by his egotistical beliefs. “Maybe I should go and tell the King then that you don’t plan to see any substantial changes in the near future and that you seem to be wasting his resources and time!” Using her emerald heel to kick the door shut, it slams behind her.

~~~~~~~

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