#general kirigan/reader

[rose-sophia-isabella-rogers]

A Steel That Went Through Hottest Fire: Chapter I - Steel Your Heart

Summary: You're a Durast in the Second Army of Ravka. You work in the Little Palace, having a quiet life. But that changes, when one day General Kirigan takes an interest in you. Your life is about to change. The question is… for better or for worse?

A/N: Happy New Year! I know, I posted I may have another fic about General KiriganxReader for Christmas. It didn't work out due to some things, but here it finally is! And still in this year (at least in my time zone). So, it's not a Christmas present from me to you, as I intended, but at least it can be a gift for a New Year. I hope it will be wonderful to you all and that we will get "Shadow and Bone" renewed for the third season. Enjoy this story! As usual, I don't own anything from "Shadow and Bone". Nor you. English still isn't my first language, so if you see some mistakes, let me know.

Chapter Summary: You're helping David with a project, when suddenly General Kirigan decides to give you another one. You give it your all, wanting to prove yourself and that the Darkling wasn't wrong to give you this task. But be careful not to lose your heart in your attempt to get to know the Black General.

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, Fedyor Kaminsky, David Kostyk, Baghra Morozova

Word Count: 4262

A/N: Inspired by prompts: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089935819/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089794821/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798519/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089802382/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089924742/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798506/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798495/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798516/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798487/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/ARu68-bzs_bGOVcrs4gXCM_ZWb65MO-UrWyE8K1XgCr8gzVz_9vI5Fo/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089794814/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

@marrymonrich

@wonderland2425

@chelseyyouraverageluigi

@thehufflepuffavenger1

First, you hear footsteps. Then, voices. You pay them no mind, too focused on your task. You also ignore the sound of clearing of one's throat. What finally gets your attention, is someone positioning themselves in front of you. And only because they're blocking the light.

You raise your head and meet a smile of a Heartrender. Fabian? Felix? Fedyor. That's right. But he's not the one blocking the sun. The person next to him is and he could do it without positioning himself in front of the window. He could do it from the end of the room if he wanted to.

'General,' you greet him politely and you glance at Fedyor again. 'Fedyor.'

'Good afternoon, [Y/N],' the Heartrender says, still smiling. He often smiles. You like that about him.

'Where's David?' General Kirigan asks. He, on the other hand, never smiles. Actually, you don't think you ever saw him smiling. Not that you spend much time with him. You circle completely different orbits. How could you not? You're a mere Durast, while he is the Shadow Summoner and the General of the Second Army.

'In the infirmary,' you answer calmly and return to your work. You miss the frowns on General and Fedyor's faces.

'In the infirmary?' the Heartrender repeats.

'Mhm,' you hum. 'Again.'

'He often ends up there?' General asks.

'Quite,' you confirm. 'But still, he's improving. It's only his third visit today.'

Fedyor's eyes widen, while General closes his. But you don't see it, still engrossed with your work.

'He went there a while ago, though, so he should be back soon,' you say. 'If it's urgent.'

'That depends whether creating some sort of light that could help us cross the Fold without attracting Volcras is urgent in your opinion,' General says, his voice emotionless.

'Ah, that,' you say. 'That's actually why he ended up there. Again. So, don't worry, he's working on it. Well, we are.'

You look up, giving the men a pointed look. General moves to the side a bit after a moment, after understanding that's what you're working on and they're actually interrupting you.

'Sorry,' Fedyor says, sending you a sheepish smile. You shrug.

'It's fine,' you say. 'David only asked me yesterday for help. I'm still trying to understand what he's done so far. And why it's not working like it should. Or works as it shouldn't, like setting David eyebrows on fire.'

General's eyebrows shoot up. Fedyor snorts and marks it with a cough.

'Eyebrows,' Kirigan repeats.

'And eyelashes,' you add. 'For a moment we thought he lost eyes.'

You return to your work. But then someone else calls your name in a tone you know so well. You freeze and exhale slowly. You turn to the coming person with a small smile.

'Petro,' you greet the incoming Tidemaker. He sends you a charming smile. He leans on the table and looks you over.

'[Y/N],' he says. 'You look very nice today. I love your-'

'What do you want?' you interrupt him. Petro freezes, then smiles sheepishly. He pulls out his dagger from his sheath. The dagger is bended in a weird angle. Fedyor tilts his head with a frown, wondering how he managed to do that with Grisha steel. Kirigan stares at it grimly, clearly not impressed.

'Again?' you ask, raising your eyebrows.

'Yeah… could you?' Petro asks, looking at you with puppy eyes. You extend your hand in answer. The Tidemaker hands you the dagger, beaming.

'Thanks, you're the best!' he says. You look the dagger over.

'Mhm,' you hum. 'Come back for it in an hour or so. I should have it-'

'Yeah, yeah, see you then!' Petro interrupts you, still grinning. He salutes to the General, finally seeming to notice him and walks away with a spring in his step.

'I truly don't know what ladies see in him,' Fedyor says. 'He's just so… bleugh.'

You don't answer him, focused on the dagger. The men watch as you grab the blade with your hand, while the other is grabbing the handle. You hum quietly and slowly the metal twists and bends. Merely a minute passes and the dagger looks like new. You nod, satisfied, and put it on the edge of the table. You return to your work, while men give you blank stares.

'Why did you tell him to come back in an hour?' Fedyor can't help but ask.

'Because that's the third time this week, he can wait for it,' you answer. You think you hear a snicker coming from General's lips, but you're sure it's just your imagination.

'And here I thought you're a good, quiet Durast,' Fedyor chuckles.

'Oh, Fedyor,' you say, glancing up at him. 'Never underestimate the quiet people.'

The Heartrender shivers at the look in your eyes. He stares at you, a bit disturbed, but you return to your work. You don't even notice the way General gazes at you. Like you're an interesting puzzle that needs to be solved.

Just then David enters the workshop. He looks a bit ruffled, but seems fine. He has a look of deep concentration on his face, so you know everything's alright with him.

'General,' he says, surprised, stopping, once he notices who's in the room.

'Mr Kostyk, I'm glad you could join us,' General says, putting his hands behind his back. 'I hope you're alright?'

'Um… yes, I'm fine, thank you, General,' David says and walks slowly to you.

'And?' you ask. He gives you a confused look.

'What did we learn today?' you clarify.

'Oh,' David says. 'Not to lean too much over the fire we don't know how works.'

'We don't lean too much over any fire, but that kind especially, yes,' you say. That's when you turn off, completely focusing on your task, since David is here to answer all of General's questions.

The Durast tries his best to explain his progress. But he's standing in front of the fearsome Darkling, so he's nervous. His arms are all over the place. He ends up turning over things on the table. The effect? The dagger on it falls from the table… straight on General's foot. But at the last moment it stops in the air.

Fedyor and General stare at it, surprised. They look up and see David's pale face turned toward you. You, who's holding a piece of paper in one hand, reading it, and have the other one extended toward the dagger. They watch how you move your hand and the blade follows its movements, to finally land back on the table.

'David, I don't think the General fancies the journey to the infirmary,' you comment casually and put down the piece of paper.

'I… I am so sorry, General,' David apologises, flustered.

'It's alright, Mr Kostyk,' Kirigan says, his eyes focused on you. 'Miss [L/N].'

'Hm?' you hum, looking at him with an absent-mind expression.

'I know Mr Kostyk said you're valuable to his work, but I have a different task for you,' General says and you raise your eyebrows at him. 'I was thinking about creating lighter and faster skiffs. And something tells me you're the right Durast for the job.'

You frown, already calculating how would that be possible. Something sparks in your eyes.

'Yeah, I can do that,' you nod. 'No problem, General.'

'I know you won't disappoint me,' Kirigan says and looks at David. 'Neither of you.'

Your friend gulps and bows his head. He elbows you and you do the same. General glances at you one last time and leaves with Fedyor.

'Why did you give her that task out of the blue, sir?' the Heartrender asks, curious.

'That paper in her hand was completely blocking her the sight of the dagger,' General says. 'And yet she stopped it. Without even seeing it's falling. Which proves that she was right and it's better not to underestimate her.'

'How so?' Fedyor asks. General's lips twitch upward.

'Because the silent ones are the most observant ones,' he answers. 'And that also makes me believe she's the right person to be able to make our skiffs faster and lighter.'

He speeds up. Fedyor quickly follows him, lost in thought. They don't speak to each other until they reach the General's chambers.

*

Next time Kirigan sees you, is while you're already working on the skiff with other Durasts and Alkemi. He's pleased to see that the work is going well. He is, though, confused by you.

When he saw you in the workshop, focused on your work, almost alone, you were a completely different person than you are when you are surrounded by other Grisha. People ask you for help almost all the time and you help them with a smile on your face. You're the one responsible for the project, but almost every time you suggest something and someone dismisses the idea, you don't push and you seem to close in yourself.

When the work is done for the day, everyone leaves but you. Kirigan is about to go as well but something stops him. He observes you. The moment others are gone, smile disappears from your face. For the whole time General's been here, he was trying to figure out what was bothering him so much about your behaviour. Now he knows. Your eyes. Your mouth was smiling, but not your eyes. He can see it now, when your lips are turned downward.

He walks out of the shadows and walks slowly to you. You only notice him when he's right next to you. You jump, startled. Seeing it's him, you put a hand on your chest and force yet another smile.

'General,' you greet him. 'I'm sorry, you scared me.'

Kirigan stares at you. You tilt your head, confused.

'Miss [L/N], are you alright?' the man asks.

'I'm fine,' you answer after a moment, turning your face from him. You try to focus on materials in front of you.

'You don't look fine,' Kirigan insists.

'Then stop looking,' you snap. You look at him, startled. He raises his eyebrows.

'I am so sorry, General,' you apologise. The man frowns, seeing how you seem to cower, becoming smaller than you are. It doesn't seem like the girl who told David off for almost hurting him and stopped the dagger from hurting him even not looking at it.

'I think I'm just tired', you try to excuse yourself, looking away from him again. 'It's been a long day and we had some problems. I swear it won't happen-'

'Do not pretend that you are some meek, pathetic little girl, when I can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes,' Kirigan interrupts you harshly. You flinch and look at him with surprise. He stares at you coldly. He doesn't even know why he's so annoyed by your change in behaviour. It frustrates him.

'Sir?' you ask, confused. He clears his throat.

'I've watched you today,' he says and is even more surprised. 'How is it, that when I last saw you, you told a boy to wait for his dagger and today you were doing everything people asked of you at once, often stopping your own work?'

You stare at him in silence. You don't say a word, still don't act like when he saw you that day. However, something changes in your eyes. Something that he saw then and couldn't quite place it. But now he knows. He sees it every day in his eyes.

'You're full of anger,' he says. He reaches out to you and puts a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It makes you shiver.

'Why?' he asks. You don't answer. You stare at him blankly. He doesn't push. After a moment he allows his hand to drop and turns to walk away. He takes a few steps-

'I am angry because of my father,' you speak up. Kirigan stops. He smiles. There.

'I can hold a grudge like it's a hand,' you say. General turns. He raises his eyebrows.

'Your father,' he repeats. He crosses his arms. The look in his eyes tells you he waits for more. To be honest, you don't know why you told him that at all. But there's no turning back now, is there?

'He's not a good person,' you say slowly. 'I think… he hated me for not being a boy. He definitely let me felt that. I don't think I ever saw him in a good mood.'

'What about your mother?' General asks. You smile against your will.

'She was trying to always ease his anger,' you say. 'I always admired that in her. She was smiling and helping others, even when she was sad, scared or tired.'

'And you're trying to do the same thing,' Kirigan understands. You nod.

'I have my mother's joy and my father's anger in me,' you say. 'They're always at war.'

'You're angry because you believe your father didn't love you?' Aleksander asks. 'I'm sure that's not true.'

That's a lie, obviously. He's seen many parents beating their children for the smallest things. And doing other things to them. But he wants you to say more and he knows this will. The look you give him, tells him he's right.

'The moment my he realised I'm a Grisha, he grabbed me, took me to the Little Palace and demanded a really fancy price for me,' you say, your voice void of any emotions. 'He didn't even let me say goodbye to my mother.'

Kirigan stares at you in silence, not sure what to say. You smile sadly at him.

'So, I think it's safe to say I have a father, but I never had a dad,' you say and shake your head after a moment. 'I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. Sir. Or why do you care…'

You give him a curious but also a wary look. General clasps his hands behind his back. The usual 'mask' is on his face.

'It's my duty to care about Grisha under my care,' he says. 'Make sure they're well.'

You hum, your eyes not leaving his face. You tilt your head. There's something in your look… a question.

'What is it?' Kirigan asks.

'What about your father?' you blurt out. 'What was he like? The former Darkling?'

'I never knew him,' General says after a long pause slowly. 'I grew up outside the Little Palace, away from him. Safety reasons.'

'Right, yes, of course,' you say, nodding. 'And… your mother?'

He tenses. He looks away. His lips press into a thin line.

'She loves me in some way,' he answers after a moment wistfully.

'She's alive?' you ask.

'Yes,' that's all he answers.

'It must have been hard,' you say.

'Lonely, mostly,' General says before he can stop himself. You nod and look down.

'Loneliness can be the worst kind of torture,' you say quietly. Kirigan looks at you, stunned, but you don't see it. He opens his mouth but then closes them again. You look up at him and force another smile on your face.

'I should finish this up and retire to bed,' you say and bow respectfully to him. 'General.'

'Goodnight, Miss [L/N],' he says, nodding.

'Goodnight, General,' you respond. Kirigan stares at you for a moment longer, then turns and leaves. He stops behind a corner. He clenches his fists. He won't. He won't. He won't. But he does. He turns and peeks from behind the wall.

You're standing where he left you, carefully putting things away. There's that sad look on your face again. It stirs something in Kirigan. He doesn't know what. But he doesn't like it. Nor the need to find a reason for you to be happy.

*

Are you surprised the materials you figure out you need are far away from Os Alta? No. Do you insist you need to get them yourself to properly inspect them? Yes. Coincidentally, General Kirigan is heading to a town nearby, because that's where one of your regiments is stationed. So, you and few other Grisha are riding there with the Darkling himself.

You visit the regiment first. You walk around with curiosity, as you've never been this close to war. You decide you don't necessarily want to be. You're glad when you leave that town and head to the one with your supplies. You don't stay long there. You quickly find what you need, inspect it and argue about the price. Satisfied, you head home.

At some point you take a break in a forest. After a discussion you decide to stay for the night. Kirigan leaves setting up the camp to others and goes for a reconnaissance. You never know where you can meet Fjerdan or Shu-Han's spies. And sure enough, he finds one.

The Fjerdan panics at the sight of the Darlking himself and falls from the tree he was hiding on. It catches Kirigan off guard, so he has to duck, as the Fjerdan uses the moment of confusion to fire a gun at him. He cries and throws himself at General. There's a short struggle and a moment later Kirigan throws the dead body from his own. He huffs and stands up.

He hears a sound of a gun clicking behind him. He tenses. He expects the other man to fire… but instead of gunshots he hears gurgles. He frowns and turns swiftly, ready to use the Cut. He's surprised to see the man tense and… wriggling in place? A moment later he falls on the ground, unconscious, revealing you with your hands brought together.

'How did you…?' General asks after a moment, shocked. You let your hands drop.

'Durasts can do more things than just create things, you know,' you say, raising an eyebrow. 'We can manipulate anything that's solid. Like metals. And one of metals is iron. Which is an important part of blood that flows in our veins.'

'So… you manipulated the iron in his body?' Kirigan slowly says, astonished, glancing at the man at your feet. 'How did you discover you can do that?'

'Focus, girl,' Baghra's voice rings in your ears. 'Focus on every bit of metal in this house. What can you feel?'

'Steel… bronze… copper… brass…' your younger self said on that day during your lesson with the old woman, '… silver… iron… Lots and lots of iron.'

'Iron,' Baghra repeated, frowning. Which you couldn't see, because your eyes were closed.

'Focus on iron,' the woman said, curious. 'Try to call it to you.'

You nodded again and exhaled slowly. You brought your hands together and concentrated on iron. For a moment there's nothing. Then you heard Baghra's surprised gasp and groan.

'S-stop!' she barked, her voice strained. You quickly dropped your hands and opened your eyes. The woman was breathing heavily and clutching her stomach. She looked up at you, surprised… and impressed? No, can't be. Not Baghra.

'You can control iron in human's body,' she said. 'Not many Durasts can do that…'

You blush, still embarrassed that you almost caused Baghra to bleed, because you called to yourself iron in her blood cells. You clear your throat and look away.

'During one lesson with Baghra,' you answer General's question. 'I sensed iron in her house and she told me to call it to me. We had no idea I was sensing the iron in our bodies. I… may have… almost do to her what I did to that Fjerdan.'

Oh, how Kirigan would love to see that. See Baghra surprised and gasping for breath. Almost killed by a hand of a Durast still in training.

'Impressive,' General says. He wants to say more, but then other Grisha run from behind the trees, calling him. They separate you two, asking if he's alright and checking the state of the two spies. The alive one is taken as a hostage to interrogate. They dispose of the body of the other one and you all return to the camp. General doesn't see or talk to you again that night.

In fact, the next time he has a chance to talk to you is on the day you return to the Little Palace. Or rather, later at night. He's just finished a rather frustrating meeting and goes to the kitchen to grab something to eat as a late supper. Or maybe early breakfast. However, what he sees inside the kitchen, causes him to stop dead in his tracks.

'[Y/N]?' he asks, surprised. 'It's four a.m., why are you baking a cake? And what's with the party decorations and sweets?'

He stares at you, standing in front of a table and spreading a cream on the sponge cake. Like he said, there are party decorations in the room and more sweet things to eat. You lick the spoon in your hand and look at him calmly.

'I'm celebrating the death of my sleep schedule and sanity,' you answer and reach into a bowl with cookies, then offer one to him. 'Want a cookie?'

General is silent for a moment, trying to understand this bizarre situation. Finally, he sighs and sits down opposite to you.

'Might as well,' he answers and takes the offered cookie. You nod at him and return to your task. He watches you as you do that.

'It calms me down,' you explain. 'Baking. When I'm stressed or angry. Or both.'

'Is it my doing?' General asks. 'The task I asked you to complete?'

'No,' you deny, shaking your head, but then think. 'Well, yes and no. It's because I'm a perfectionist. Everything I do has to be perfect. And when it isn't, when something is not going how I want, I get frustrated. So, I bake. And today I understood that this task is exciting, but also challenging… which I love, don't worry… so I'm going to sleep less. Hence, the little party.'

Kirigan stares at you. He hums and eats his cookie.

'I see,' he says and suddenly freezes, as if remembering something. 'I didn't thank you, did I? For saving my life.'

'I'm sure you'd have been fine,' you dismiss him, shrugging.

'Nevertheless, you saved my life,' General says. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome,' you say, looking down, embarrassed. You finish your cake in silence. When it's done, you cut both of you a piece of it and you eat in silence. Until Kirigan asks:

'Why didn't you kill him?'

'I've never killed before,' you answer after a moment of careful consideration. 'It's not something I want to do. One of the many reasons I'm glad I'm a Durast, not a Heartrender.'

General doesn't say anything to that. You continue to eat the cake in silence. Then, you stand up and slowly start cleaning up. Clearly, you're dragging out the moment of going to sleep.

'I'm starting to think you're a masochist,' Kirigan says, a bit amused.

'Look who's talking,' you say, not looking at him. He freezes.

'What do you mean?' he asks, his voice a bit hard. You carefully think about your answer.

'When you told me about your parents… I saw something in your eyes,' you say finally. 'I couldn't understand it for some time. Until I looked in the mirror and saw the haunting look I always have whenever I think of my time before I came to the Little Palace.'

You turn to look at him. He stares at you coldly. It doesn't faze you.

'Something happened to you when you were younger,' you say. 'And it haunts your soul, hurting you… maybe even destroying you.'

'I'm fine,' Kirigan says harshly after a moment. 'I don't need any… help.'

'You don't need… or you don't want it?' you ask and look away. 'Sometimes we don't want to heal, because the pain is the last link to what we've lost.'

Suddenly, you're slammed against the wall, your wrists pinned on the sides of your head. You look with surprise, and a bit of fear, at General's angry face hovering above yours.

'Don't ever try to get inside my head,' he snarls. For several beats you stay there, his grip crushing your wrists. Finally, his dark eyes soften.

'It's too dark for you,' he says and lets go of you. He turns and walks away, watched by you.

'Goodnight,' he calls over his shoulder. He's almost at the door, when you blurt out:

'Show me your thorns and I'll show you hands ready to bleed.'

He freezes. Your heart is beating fast. You have no idea why you said that. But when he turns his head to look at you with surprise, he meets your determined gaze. Because something draws you to him. Maybe because your past is similar. Maybe because you're both lonely. But you know one thing. You don't want him to be in pain.

General frowns at you. He opens his mouth, but not a word comes out. He turns and walks away briskly. You stand in place for a moment. Then, you finish cleaning up and go to sleep.

In the morning you find an envelope under your door. Curious, you pick it up. It's black and is addressed to you in a familiar writing. You take out a note and read it. It says:

Something must be done about your rest schedule. I don't want the Durast responsible for building my new skiffs falling dead from exhaustion. From now on, I expect you in my chambers at seventeen for a cup of tea. No arguing. No excuses. You're to be there.

Sincerely,

General Kirigan

You smile.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could.

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52696933/chapters/133293721

[kasagia]

Secret affairs

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x fem!grisha! reader Summary: Rumours and whispers are circulating in the Little Palace that General Kirigan has found himself a mysterious woman with whom he spends his nights. One morning Ivan learns that the rumours are true. Fedyor will not rest until he finds out who their Black General's new lover is—who is the one who makes him much less grumpy. Requested by: @drinix (I AM SOOOO SOOO SORRY THAT IT TOOK ME AGES! BUT I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE IT, HONYE!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤) Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

One morning, Aleksander sips his coffee and looks through the reports Ivan has just delivered to his desk. He has a meeting with his colonels in a few minutes, and he's struggling with his lack of sleep. At least this time, he has a better reason to stay up late than answering letters and planning new battle tactics.

He smiles, remembering the night he spent with you. He runs a hand over his jaw, trying to shake the thought of you beneath him. How you trembled at his every little touch, the sweet sounds you made as he struck your most sensitive spots with pinpoint precision, how wonderful you looked sprawled out on the bed, a clean, quivering mess as he tasted you to his liking…

"Forgive me, General, but I can't find your kefta." Ivan's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Aleksander absentmindedly picks up the reports again, knowing full well that he has to read them before he goes to any meetings, and, ignoring Ivan a bit, mumbles under his breath, asking him to repeat what he just said. "I can't find your kefta, sir."

"My kefta?" Aleksander repeats, surprised. Ivan has never had any problems with this simple task before. Suddenly he remembers why his heartrender can't find his keft. "I must have left it at hers." Aleksander mutters under his breath, unaware that he is saying it so loudly that Ivan can hear him.

Heartrender frowns and stares at his general in shock as he casually takes his reports and heads to the main war room for a meeting.

As soon as Ivan enters the room, he meets the questioning gaze of his beloved. Feydor immediately notices how pale and nervous Ivan has become and that his heart is beating a little faster. He decides to ask him what happened. And a few hours later, Ivan confirms to Feydor the rumours that have been circulating in the Little Palace.

General Kirigan had a secret affair.

"I can't believe it! Him?" Alina's whisper reaches you as you sit down at the table right next to Fedyor.

"Who are we gossiping about? The healer who almost broke a bone in one of the Inferni yesterday while so-called healing?"

"No. Ivan couldn't find the general's kefta this morning. And when he told him, he mumbled that he must have left it at HERS. Do you understand? At HERS. HER. SHE. A WOMAN."

"Yes, Fedyor. I understood at first time when you said it." You laugh at his excitement about this new rumour.

"No you don't! You don't know what it means if you are not at least as interested and excited as me or Alina." Fedyor informs you in a very serious way.

You roll your eyes at his foolish behaviour and looks at Aleksander who is coming into the great hall. In his black kefta.

"No way! It must be someone from the Little Palace! Look at him, he is wearing it now! Someone had to give it to him." Fedyor whispers conspiratorially to the three of you, staring at the general.

You raise an eyebrow at him, amused when the man quickly feigns interest in his food as Aleksander's gaze falls on the three of you. He nods at you and leaves the room.

"Sorry, duties." You say and take an apple from the table. "Try not to interrogate everyone around you about the general's new beloved. She may get embarrassed or scared and leave him and he'll become a pain in our asses again." You tease him and leave him and Alina to discuss this new revelation.

You walk quickly through the hallway of the Little Palace, practically running after Aleksander. You burst into his war room and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours.

You moan softly, surprised by the suddenness of his kiss. You tangle your hands in his hair and hum against his mouth as he slips his tongue into your mouth, pinning you against the door. You’re breathless as he practically devours you, drinking in all your moans and whimpers of pleasure as his large, strong hands caress the cheeks of your ass.

"I was thinking about it since I left your side." He mumbles, pressing small kisses to your jaw. You sigh, digging your hands into the collar of his kefta and pushing him away from you with a heavy heart, but you have to get the message across to him before you get lost in each other again.

"You have to be more careful. Fedyor got something out of Ivan and knows you have a mistress."

"So you are my secret mistress now?" He asks, chuckling against your neck. You bite your lip as his beard teasingly grazes your neck, plump lips nipping at your skin.

"Call me that again and you will be comming back from my chamber to yours all naked." You growl, but your threat carries little fear as Aleksander begins to unbutton your own kefta.

"You wouldn't dare..." He mumbles against your skin and all you can do is tug on his hair in retaliation as he traces his marks across your collarbone and moves lower, approaching the valley between your breasts.

"So sure?" You gasp, trying your best to remain intimidate to him, but it is a challenge when his fingers work so smoothly in undressing you.

"Uh-huh." He mumbles and kisses you again, this time more forcefully than last time, making your legs buckle slightly. He holds you tightly by the waist and lifts you up, navigating through his room and laying you on his bed, which is filled with books.

"I... um... sorry. I should have cleaned up here." He mumbles to himself and throws the books to the floor in his haste. You laugh at him and grab his arm.

"I don't mind... besides it will be quite hard to explain why you suddenly clean your rooms without any suspicion about this new lover of yours." You tease him with a smirk, but he doesn't seem to share your good humour at all.

He's lost in thought, stroking your cheek with his thumb thoughtfully and not responding to your teasing, just staring at you sprawled beneath him, shadows slowly creeping out of his control and draping over the foot of the bed.

"Shouldn't we... make this official?" He asks, staring at you with those night-dark eyes of his. You shiver, surprised by his question.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and control your slight panic attack as he continues to stare at you, waiting patiently waiting for your answer and searching your face carefully for any reaction.

"What for? That's... quite a comfortable... deal we are in. Besides, I don't want them to talk that I am your second-in-command just because I slept with you. And I thought you liked that our relationship is strictly private and well... not to anyone's eyes?"

"Yeah... yeah, I do. You probably are right. Having you in the darkness is much more entertaining than in the daylight."

You know from the way he frowns slightly that this isn't the answer he was expecting. But if anything, Aleksander is a pathological people-pleaser. So he doesn't say anything about his true feelings about the secrecy of your relationship and instead leans in for a kiss.

Which subconsciously makes you feel incredibly guilty.

"Come here... let me help you relax, moi soverenyi." You moan against his lips and straddle him, deciding that this afternoon you will serve your general.

But no matter how many kisses you press into his skin, how many marks you leave, or how many times you make him moan your name, you still feel a burning feeling of guilt inside.

You try with all your might to focus your attention solely on giving him as much pleasure as possible, but your thoughts involuntarily wander to his proposal. You weren't ready to show the two of you to the world yet. You weren't ready for the judgemental looks from others. You'd rather everything stay the way it was. Just you and Aleksander, your little secret, stole kisses and nights between each other's sheets.

You were completely happy with that. But as you can see, your Sasha wanted more.

And you weren't entirely sure if you could give it to him now.

You wake up blissfully aching. Aleksander's shadows float across his bedroom, obscuring the entire room, blocking out any sunlight. You turn your gaze to the man whose chest your head rests on.

You smile, watching the sleeping shadow summoner. It's rare to see him so... calm, rested. Unable to stop yourself, you run your hand along the line of his jaw and gently cup his bearded cheek. You stroke it with your thumb, drinking in his appearance, enjoying every tiny hickey you've left on him.

You lean down and kiss him sweetly, slowly, unhurriedly, enjoying the softness of his lips and the roughness of his beard. Kissing him had always been a surreal feeling for you. Sometimes you couldn't believe that you could actually press your lips against his and declare your claim to the most powerful Grisha that existed.

You feel him start to wake up as the kiss continues. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly by the waist, rolling you so you're straddling him as he kisses you passionately, hungrily. You sigh into his mouth, feeling his manhood press against you as if last night hadn't worn him out.

You run your hands over his chest and slowly settle yourself on him. You sigh as the head of his cock slowly opens your soaked walls. It feels so good and so damn full, as you settle yourself completely on him, as you become one. You bite your lip and hold your breath as he sits up, wrapping his arms around you tightly, digging his fingers into your back.

"Y/N..." He murmurs into your ear and kisses his lobe. You sigh, feeling him perfectly fill every little space of you.

"Morning." You gasp as he pushes you onto your back, hovering over you. He sucks hickies on your neck, mumbling quiet good mornings against your skin as he lazily thrusts into you.

You wriggle and moan beneath him, trying to press yourself as close to him as you can. There’s no space between you as he claims you with every thrust, destroying you for any other man. You sigh as he presses his lips to yours, kissing you possessively, stealing your breath with each deep, hard thrust into you.

He trails his kisses down your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he caresses your lips. You moan his name loudly as he suddenly sucks onto your breast.

He smiles evilly against your skin. Aleksander revels in the way you dig your nails into his shoulders as he works tirelessly to please you. He loved seeing you like this. Hair tousled against his black sheets, eyes closed from the rush of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet moan of his name when all you could think about was him. That was when you felt truly his. And it was a pleasant change for him to know that someone belonged to him, that he owned someone. It was just a shame he couldn't claim you in the sunlight as well.

A sudden movement in the war room makes you both freeze. Aleksander stares at his bedroom door and instinctively raises his shadows, causing them to wrap around the two of you defensively.

"General, we got a report from the west border with Fjerda..." Fedyor's voice trails off in the realization as the heartrender realizes he hears two heartbeats in Darkling's bedroom. Two fast heartbeats. "I... um... should I come later?"

"Preferably." Your lover responds, still on his guard.

You listen for Fedyor's footsteps and sigh in relief as he walks away. You laugh uncontrollably, which earns a soft chuckle from Aleksander. His heart heats up as he watches fondly as you laugh beneath him at the absurdity of the situation.

"Oh my dear saints. He's going to be so determined to find out who you're hiding under the sheets."

"Yes... probably." He replies. You frown thoughtfully, but you quickly distract yourself when he moves again. You moan, biting your lower lip and digging your fingers into his arm as he reaches deep, hitting that weak spot inside you that sends tingles throughout your body. "But you'll manage, right, milaya?"

You nodded, unable to utter any coherent sounds. He smiles pure evil and continues to pound into you at a punishing, rapid pace. You bite your lip, almost drawing blood as you try not to moan his name too loudly in the darkness of his chambers.

Yep... you definitely loved your stolen mornings with him.

A few hours later, you smile to yourself as you pack your things. Due to suspicious activity by the Fjerdans on the border, Aleksander decided to go and see for himself what was going on. You were supposed to be on the lookout for Morozova's stag.

Despite the sudden events of today, you couldn't just forget about the morning spent with him. The thought of it made you blush, and a smile appeared on your lips. Lost in thoughts about the shadow summoner, you didn't even register when Zoya entered your room with a packed backpack.

"Oh saints, you had sex!" You jump suddenly at her excited squeal and stare at her like a deer caught in the light of a hunter's torch.

"I beg you pardon?"

"You had sex! You're glowing, relaxed, and oh my, you're blushing like a teenager! Who's that? Do I know him? Handsome? What order is he from? Or maybe it is she?" She bombards you with excited questions. You hide your face in your hands, not wanting to watch her wicked smile as she settles on your bed, staring at you intently.

"I... have no idea what are you talking about."

Before you can somehow defend yourself from her accusations, you are interrupted by a knock on your door. Fedyor enters with his things, all excited, with Ivan hot on his heels.

"Y/N, you won't believe it! He really does have someone! You have to tell me if you saw anyone in the corridors leading to his quarters last night when you were leaving his chambers after the night briefing. Remember every detail, I need to know everything."

"Y/N had sex with some mysterious lover." Zoya briefs Fedyor before either of you can add anything to the man's long rant.

Ivan raises a surprised eyebrow at you, silently analysing the information in his head. You see the gears turning in his head, and as he connects the dots—as Alexander's closest confidant after you—he blushes. You shake your head slightly, staring at him as Fedyor and Zoya exchange gossip. He swallows and nods silently. You note it as a problem for later and turn your gaze to the two excitedly gossiping Grisha.

"I can't believe it! You too?! Who is it?! With your busy schedule with Kirigan, I didn't think I'd have time to find anyone, but here you are. Is it that handsome inferni? The one who's going on the mission with us and has been hanging around you for ages?"

"I… would prefer to keep my… boyfriend's privacy for now. It's a quite new thing, we're… testing if we're a good fit." You stammer, explaining yourself, knowing full well that you can't deny these two for long. They would have known the truth anyway. You're terrified of the moment when they realize that you and Aleksander are something more.

"Oh, I understand that perfectly. Ivan and I went through the same thing, right, honey?"

"Yeah..." Ivan mumbles thoughtfully and continues to stare at you in shock. However, Fedyor is too lost in his conspiracy theory to pay attention to his significant other's behavior. For which you silently thank the saints above.

Eventually, you all gather up and head for the stables. Zoya and Fedyor mumble something to each other in the front, and you and Ivan follow. You decide that this is a good time to approach him and ask for discretion.

"You know, don't you?" Ivan stares at you for a moment, then nods silently. You swallow hard, nervously playing with the sleeve of your kefta. “Listen… can we keep this between us? I… I doubt it’s a good idea to talk about all this now. He doesn't need to have such rumours running about us in the Little Palace."

Ivan nods at you, agreeing with your words. But you can see that something is bothering him. For a moment he grits his teeth in silence, but then he mumbles under his breath, barely audible.

"He seems… less tense. Less worried." You blush along with him. You clear your throat and turn your gaze to the walls of the corridors you pass, thinking of a… neutral response to his observation.

"I... I guess he is."

"I think… I want to say… it's good that he has you." You look at him in surprise, almost tripping on the exit steps as he says this. The blush deepens on your cheeks as you think about what he told you. "Everyone needs their own Fedyor."

You smile, seeing his gaze on his other half. And perhaps for the first time you see that they actually fit together, and Ivan is worthy of your best friend. You wonder involuntarily if Aleksander looks at you like that when you don't see...

"Yeah... I think you are right. Thank you, Ivan. You are a good friend. For both of us. Well, mostly to him." You say, referring to Aleksander. Ivan nods in silent agreement.

This strange harmony between you seems to be going strong. You are united by one goal. The good of your shadow summoner.

The four of you reach the stables. Alexei - the inferni, who as Fedyor mentioned was supposed to join your mission and had a crush on you quite openly, runs up to you quickly. But your eyes and attention are focused only on the general. Or rather, on the general and his sun summoner, as other Grishas maliciously called it.

Your blood boils, a strange feeling of jealousy hits you like a hunter's shotgun hits an animal, and you can't even do anything about it as Alina is clearly flirting with him. All you can do is stand there and try to swallow the bile of jealousy with dignity as Alina adjusts the collar of Aleksander's kefta. He somehow senses your burning gaze on him, but you quickly turn away and mount your horse without even waiting for his reaction.

He's lucky you're not official yet. And that it'll be hours before you can calm down before you can talk to him in private. But you're starting to understand why keeping your relationship a secret no longer works for the Black General. Especially when you see the way his jaw clenches when you laugh at some joke of Alexei's, causing the young inferni to give you lovey-dovey puppy eyes, to which you wink back.

You may have been cruel, but the knowledge that your lover was as jealous of you as you were of him calmed you down a bit and lifted your spirits. And if by any chance you made sure that Alina rode with you and away from Aleksander during the journey, that wasn't intentional at all. Not at all.

"So... Ivan knows." Aleksander comments as you lay in his tent, wrapped in his arms.

Ivan stood guard over your small camp while the rest slept. You decided to take the opportunity to sneak in on your shadow summoner to share the revelation. And maybe just a little to steal a few kisses and hugs from him.

"Indeed." You mumble, playing with his fingers that are slowly dripping shadows.

You bring one of his fingertips to your lips and press a small kiss there, which makes Aleksander's heart melt even more for you. He tightens his grip around you and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head before resting his bearded cheek on it with a small sigh.

"Well... sonner or later Fedyor will figure it out too. It's just the matter of time."

"Maybe... that's why I want to enjoy you in privacy for as long as I can." You prop yourself up on your elbow and lean in to steal a quick kiss. You pull away from him with a smile, but you frown, not finding any of the malice in his eyes that he would normally have at this gesture. Something was wrong.

"Y/N... Don't you think that's enough? We've been going around each other for a long time. I think the rest should know about us." A cold shiver runs through you at his words.

You try to control your heartbeat, but you know perfectly well that you are no longer able to hide your emotions from him so well. He knew you as well as you knew him.

He knew that you were not exactly keen on making your relationship public. That is why you cannot lie and pretend that it is not so. You have to convince him to change his mind somehow... but how?

"But it's so sexy to have you all to myself, a secret from everyone. Don't you love the thrill every time we sneak around each other for a kiss or something more?"

"I like that. But I don't like that I can't hold your hand outside the four walls of our chambers. I don't like that I can't go up to you and kiss you when you look so lovely after training with Fedyor or Zoya. I don't like that I have to watch others flirt with you and touch what's mine. I don't like that I can't make your cheeks blush in front of others. I don't like that I can't look at you for as long as I want without suspicion. I don't like that I can't play with your hair during particularly boring council meetings. I don't like that I have to hide the fact that I love you."

His confession hits you harder than any punch Baghra had ever given you during training. You swallow hard and kneel down next to him, watching him carefully as you try to process what he’d just told you.

"You... love me?"

"I do. And if it is not enough for you to make it public... I don't know if I can go on like this anymore. I don't know if I can keep my trembling hands from reaching for you in the light of day, not just in the darkness of night or my shadows. I need more. I need all of you, Y/N."

You stare at him, utterly shocked by his sudden confession. His words both overwhelm you and warm your heart, but it's not enough to quell the panic rising within you.

Because as much as you want to be his, as much as you want him to be yours, you know that the members of the Second Army won't look so... favourably on your romance. Besides the public opinion... you're afraid that once the thrill of excitement and mystery wears off, Aleksander's feelings for you will fade dramatically and he'll realise that you're not a good match at all and that Alina would be a better choice for him.

"I... it's hard for me... to give you an answer now." You mumble, watching anxiously as his brow furrows, face darkening as he retreats back into his shell and tries to hide his true emotions from you.

"I thought it should be easy. You either want me or not."

"I want you." You respond quickly, reaching out for his arm in panic and holding it in a tight, almost bruising grip. The desperation on your face makes Aleksander sigh with relief inside. You cared. That was for sure. So why do you hesitate for so long and postpone the inevitable?

"Then why do you insist on keeping us hidden?"

You don't answer. You know he'll think your uncertainty about his feelings is baseless and pointless. You think it's stupid. But you can't escape the overwhelming feeling that the moment your romance stops being a tightrope, his feelings for you will burn out like a candle. And you really wanted to keep him by your side.

Your silence, however, is not what he wants. Or something that could help you stop him. He nods silently and stands up from your makeshift bed of blankets.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside. I'll take guard duty for Ivan." He replies emotionlessly. You swallow nervously and sit up, following him with your eyes as he puts on his black coat as he is giving you a cold arm.

"Aleksander." You whisper with a pained tone in your voice. He stops for a moment and gives you a long, haunted look. He sighs and shakes his head at your silence and walks out of the tent, leaving you alone.

The lump in your throat grows and tears well up in your eyes. You close your eyelids and lift your head, taking a few calming breaths. You fucked this up. Not for the first time, but this time you really hoped you wouldn't get cold feet and that you'd somehow stifle that little voice in your head that had always questioned your worth.

Because you felt you weren't worthy of Aleksander. Yet for some twisted reason he thought you were perfect for him. Maybe this time you should take a chance and trust him? Trust that at the end of the day he'll decide you're enough and that you don't have to be a Sun Summoner to be his equal?

After a while, you stand up unsteadily and walk to the tent flap. You glance through it and freeze when you see Alina and Aleksander talking quietly by the fire. She says something to him and puts her hand on his shoulder, but instead of moving away from her touch, he seems to cling to her and answers her with one of those smiles that make your knees weak. You feel a painful stab in your heart. As if scalded, you jump away from the tent flap and lie back down in the pile of blankets.

You bury your nose in the material that has soaked in the scent of the Shadow Summoner and close your eyes as tears freely flow down your cheek and soak into the black fur. A hundred dark thoughts, doubts, and different scenarios in which Aleksander leaves you for Alina go through your head, and to be completely honest, you don't blame him. She was a real sun. How could you possibly compare to her? You were stupid and naive to think that he would stick to you when he could have her.

The only comfort you find is that at the end of your crying, when you had no more tears to shed and were only shaking uncontrollably, Alexander came back. He came back and practically silently laid down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest, burying his nose in your hair. He sighed quietly and ran his thumb over your waist, holding you so tightly as if you were the most important thing in his life, and he couldn't let you slip through his fingers.

You don't make a move, don't give any sign that you're awake. You spend the rest of the night half-awake as you try to memorize the way Aleksander holds you, the way he still wants to come back to your bed at night.

Because something tells you that this state of affairs won't last long.

"Just as I thought, you look adorable even after a week of horseback riding and searching for a group of Drüskelle." Alexei compliments you as you and Zoya return to camp after scouting. You let out an uncontrollable laugh at this, amused by the absurdity of his flirting, and join the group sitting around the campfire.

"It's a pity I can't say the same about you." You say spitefully and accept from Aleksander, who is sitting next to you, a stick with a fish that Fedyor and Alina had caught earlier. Aleksander takes another stick with a raw fish and starts roasting it again. Everyone else laughs at your remark, even Alexei.

"You'll see, one day I will melt your cold heart." You roll your eyes at this. Zoya, sitting next to you, hits your arm in amusement.

"Come on, Y/N. Tell us about this secret lover of yours. Maybe it will cool Alexei's ardor."

Fedyor perks up at Zoya's words and nods enthusiastically, while Aleksander, sitting next to you, tenses slightly. You see that his knuckles have been clenching around the stick since Alexei began his flirtation with you. You fear his further reaction to this conversation, which is heading in a rather dangerous direction.

"You have a lover?! Who beat me to it?" Everyone around you laughs at the exaggeratedly hurt tone of Inferni's voice and the way he dramatically aimed his fishing rod at you. You smile involuntarily and shake your head, trying your best to keep the blush from spreading to your cheeks.

"Thanks for your concern, or rather curiosity, but my lover and I would rather keep our privacy. Besides, I can't talk about him left and right without his consent."

"Maybe it wouldn't bother him at all?" Aleksander comments, not looking at you, instead focussing his attention on the fish in the fire. You feel an uncomfortable feeling in your chest when he won't even look at you. The bitter feeling of guilt resurfaces within you, and you wonder how the hell you're supposed to fix what you've broken.

"Exactly! I don't care what you want, I wanna meet this guy who is the best sex you've ever had!" Zoya comments, practically making you choke on your own saliva and freeze in embarrassment.

Everyone around the fire is laughing at this and asking you snide questions about your mystery lover's… prowess. You glance briefly at Alexander and almost punch him in the arm when a smug, dark smile appears on his face. And from the mischievous glint in his eyes, you know he'll only put the final nail in the coffin of your embarrassment.

"The best sex you've ever had, you say?" He asks, amused, raising an eyebrow at you. You bite your lower lip and slam your shoulder into his, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall over the log. He laughs at your feeble attempt at attacking him.

"Oh, piss off." You snap at him but he just reaches over and ruffles your hair with his hand. It's only the deafening silence around you that makes you realize you've done something… wrong.

Everyone stares at Aleksander in shock, as if waiting for him to yell at you for overstepping his bounds, but he doesn't. You see genuine shock and surprise on their faces. Before your general can say anything, you take over, trying to save the day.

"What? Haven't you ever seen two good friends banter?" You sneer at them and nod at their sticks. "Your food will burn if you sit there with your mouths open and stare at us much longer."

Somehow your words disenchant them. They go back to their usual joking, teasing demeanour, and the camp buzzes with their conversations again. You glance at Aleksander, and you can see from his face that he doesn't like the way you've handled this. You know this was the perfect opportunity to admit you're together, but after what you saw last night—the way he acted with Alina—you got too scared to tell them. If they all didn't know you were together, maybe his inevitable departure would hurt less?

You flinch as your secret lover sitting next to you suddenly takes the stick with the fish out of your hands.

"You'll burn it if you stay in your tangled thoughts any longer." He grumbles and takes the fish off the stick. You see he's completely abandoned his in favor of preparing your meal. You nod with a smile as he hands you a slice of bread and seasons the fish with the spices you brought with you.

Unconsciously to you, someone's eyes are watching the two of you closely.

Aleksander thrusts the food under your nose. You instinctively lean forward and bite into the offered sandwich, used to him feeding you, most often in the late hours of the night, when you both sit in the war room and spend time planning new tactics. You glance around quickly, but fortunately the others are too busy with themselves to notice. Or so you think.

"You're going to burn your own fish." You notice and take your food from him.

He's holding his stick back, and you decide to give him a bite of his before he gets his food. After all, he practically made you yours. You make sure no one notices and feed Alexander. He hums and brushes his lips against your fingertips before licking them teasingly. You sigh and punch him in the arm, to which he just grins wolfishly at you and winks.

You feel warm just from your playful exchange. And as the darkness grows deeper, you reach for Aleksander's hand and hold it tightly, shielding it with the hem of your coat. You smooth your thumb over the back of his hand, laughing at the stories Zoya tells. Aleksander seems much less tense, and a little satisfied, when you hold his hand tightly in yours.

And while you think no one has noticed, they have. Or at least one of them has.

At some point, Aleksander gives you his coat, insisting in a quiet conversation between you that you'll freeze and get sick if you don't take it and that he'll be fine because he's survived winters much worse than this one, and with much thinner clothing.

Your heart aches that he's had such an experience, but for the sake of peace, you take the black coat from him. You blush when he whispers that when he gets back, he'll make sure David makes you one that matches his, so everyone knows you're his.

And when he presses his lips to your forehead to check that your body temperature isn't too low for his liking, Fedyor awkwardly reveals that he's been watching you.

"Saints, Fedyor!" Alina squeaks in panic as the heartrender somehow loses his balance on the log and almost falls into the fire.

He hadn't leaned any closer to hear what you were whispering, and he hadn't nearly fallen into the fire in shock when he was the only one to notice their general's affectionate treatment of you. Not at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him worriedly and kneel down next to him.

Fedyor swallows, trying hard not to show that he noticed the way Kirigan's gaze softens when he looks at you. He was such an idiot. How could he not have noticed that before?

"Yeah... yeah, I am fine. I should probably just go to sleep. Ivan?" Fedyor calls his beloved.

He helps him up and leads him to their tent. Before he can ask even one question about his well-being, Fedyor blurts out:

"Did you notice that Y/N and general are... very close?" Ivan at first seems not to react to his words. Fedyor only realises, through the very slight acceleration of his heartbeat, that perhaps his partner knows something more about... the unexpected connection between his best friend and the Black General. "Ivan... do you know what I think you know?"

"What do you think you know?" Ivan clears his throat awkwardly as they both enter their tent.

"Oh saints, you know right?! How long?! Was it that obvious?!"

Fedyor's mind flashes back to a million moments when your feelings for each other were painfully obvious. He remembers how Kirigan would let you playfully tease him, how he would always make sure you weren't overworking yourself and were eating the right amount of meals, and how he would look after your well-being. Hell, the general even delayed your trip to the fold because you were sick with a cold from your recent trip to Kertch! And he had behaved like a jilted, angry, resentful lover during those months! It was so painfully obvious that Kirigan was head over heels in love with you... but were you? Or was it just a passing fling? Fedyor had to know more.

"That's why we shouldn't get involved and let them decide for themselves… Fedyor, honey, where are you going?" Ivan asks confused as his other half runs out of the tent.

Fedyor throws a quick see you later over his shoulder and runs to your tent hoping to find you there so he can have a serious talk with you.

And fortunately he succeeds.

"You told Ivan, and you didn't tell me?! I am your best friend!" Fedyor shouts at the entrance to your tent. You stare at him, holding the report the falcon just delivered to you in your hands, as you are trying to understand what he means. You blush as you realise what he could be so angry about.

"I… since when did you…"

"Oh please. You've obviously been like this the whole time. I'm a fool for not making the connection. It's literally written all over his face that he loves you. What about you?" Fedyor sits on your blankets. Your palms are sweating and you put the reports on the ground, wondering how the hell you're going to get out of this situation now.

"I… it's complicated."

"Love is quite complicated. Maybe that's why you gave Alina a deadly look a few days ago when she was practicing her powers with the general? And you snapped at her, giving her a completely traumatic tantrum when she lost her sword?"

"I… it wasn't intentional and you know it." You mumble, blushing even more, but this time with embarrassment.

"It's a simple question Y/N. You either feel it or you don't. And from what I see, you probably also… reciprocate. Although it's clear that he fell much harder."

"You think?" You ask with a smirk, unable to help yourself at his comment. Fedyor nods and stands up. He walks over to the shadow and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Yes. And believe me, I don't blame him. If I didn't play for the same team, or didn't have similar tastes as you, it would be really hard for me not to fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I know. We'd be a great couple if you weren't gay." You laugh at him and pull him into a hug. "But don't tell Ivan or Kirigan that."

"Sure. We don't want to upset our grumps, do we?"

Your laughter is the first thing Aleksander hears as he approaches your tent. He opens the flap with one finger and sees you standing in Fedyor's arms, laughing. A cry of jealousy and a sudden need to take you in his arms and hide you from the other man pierce his mind for a moment, but he calms down, reminding himself that Fedyor... is no threat to him. At least not romantically.

"Can I interrupt?" He asks and goes inside. You step away from Fedyor and nod at him.

Fedyor nods at him and leaves, throwing you a mischievous wink over his shoulder. Alexander notices this and connects the dots rather quickly. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He plants a kiss on your forehead, then rests his chin on your shoulder.

"So I guess he knows?"

His hot whisper against your ear makes you shiver. You burrow your face into his chest, nuzzling his neck as you wrap your arms around him in an equally tight embrace. Maybe Fedyor is right? Maybe when you know… you just know?

"Yeah... At this rate soon the entire Little Palace will know."

"Do you mind?" He asks uncertainly, expecting his words to hang in the air and for it to take you a while to respond with another excuse.

But you decide to bet on the truth. Show him all your cards and the same vulnerability he has for you. It was going to be everything or nothing and you knew you couldn't put it off for long. Not if you didn't want to lose him.

"Partly. I... I am afraid that once it will stop being a secret affair you will... loose your interest in me. I mean... look at me. I am not Alina." You laugh nervously and try to hide your face in his black kefta. Aleksander is not having that. He gently takes your middle and forces you to look into his dark, beautiful eyes.

"I don't want you to be Alina. I don't want you to be anything else but you, Y/N. I love you as you are. Heartrender, healer, sun summoner, inferni or whatever else, I don't care. I care about you. The way you make me feel. The way you hold me. The way you kiss me. I want you for what you really are. Not for the power you hold. Not for anything other than you."

You can barely hold back the tears in your eyes. Instead, you just nod and lean in to kiss him softly. You melt, as always, at the softness of his lips, the way he gently cups your cheeks in his hands and holds you like you're the most important thing in his life, like he can never afford to lose you. And you hope it stays that way forever.

"You damn manipulator how can I say no after that?" You gasp as the kiss ends and he rests his forehead against yours. He chuckles deeply and envelops you in the tight, warm, safe embrace of his arms.

"You can't." He mumbles against your temple and places a tender kiss there. "You are all mine. As I am yours, milaya."

And you have to say, his words have never felt more true, as he kisses you with a passion unlike any other men. You only hope that he secretly draws 'mine' on your skin for the rest of your life… not just in his shadows and the darkness of the night.

[call-sign-shark]

Echo of Shadows || Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!OCreader || Alina Starkov x Heartrender!OCreader || Malyen Oretsevx HeartRender!OCreader

Summary: "They called her the White Plague, a saint or a monster—but she was neither, only destruction wrapped in a pretty bow."

In Ravka's frosty heart, the legend of the White Plague spreads—a woman with snow-white hair, frozen-fire eyes, and powers that rival those of Jurda Parem. Once a slave in the Menagerie, the one who calls herself Heaven is now a myth, either leaving towns in ruins or former disease-ridden people crying with gratitude. A Sankta.

General Kirigan's interest soon turns dark and his desire obsessive. Never had he been so captivated and haunted by someone. Someone he could finally share his eternal life with. Caught in a cruel game of power and love, she's torn between Kirigan’s corrupting passion and Alina Starkov’s promise of freedom.

Amidst the chaos, one question arises: will she become a savior, a monster, or something far more dangerous?

TW: Explicit sexual content, slow burn, borderline consent, heavy pinning, toxic relationship [manipulation, obsession, extreme jealousy, controlling behavior], graphic sexual description, graphic depiction of murder and torture, blood!kink, size!kink, radioactive couple, codependency, reference to past SA and child SA, dark romance & mad romance trope, ambiguous relationship with Alina. This story is brutal, bloody and rated +18.

ACT I: A BURNING LIMERENCE

1. Keep Moving, Little Girl

2. Their Frozen Shackles

3. The Court of Shadows

4. The Fear Within

5. Beneath his Watchful Eyes 🔞

6. Until Nothing is Left

7. Dangerous

8. Blood and Honey

9. Gazed Into the Abyss, It Gazed Back Into Me 🔞

10. Raw

11 Burn Your Village 🔞

13. Light of my Life.

14. My Night and Stars. 🔞

ACT II. RAPTURE OF THE DEEP

Queen of Spades

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Light

Like a Feeling of Déjà Vue

Blinding Light

I was Made for Loving You, Baby 🔞

It's in Our Veins

Your Darkness Flayed 🔞

After the Storm, the Sun

Safe in the Dark 🔞

Paint Me Black 🔞

Golden Cage for a Pretty Bird

Your Heart, My Chains

Good Ending? You Haven't Been Paying Attention

ACT III. THE CALL OF THE VOID

The Assasymphony

Never You

Barbwire Kiss🔞

It Has Always Been You 🔞

I'm Not Ruined. I'm Ruination.

Here Comes the Wolves

Your Love is an Open Wound 🔞

The Starless Saint of Broken Hearts

The Mask of the Red Death

Candy-Coated Suicide

Symphony of Our Ruins

Epilogue: Eternal Eclipse

ONE SHOTS

Much Ado About Jam Toasts- fun & fluff

A Dangerous White Tigress - action, Hurt/Comfort

Away From the Deep Shadow

Damaged

MODERN AU*

Mental Health Is Sexy Masterlist

*Amos is Aleksander's modern identity.

GAME OF THRONES AU

Damaged Masterlist

*Amos is Aleksander.

VISUALS

Light in the Dark

"Call me Aleksander" - trailer by the beloved @elizabethblood9

My Night and Stars

ASK

Modern!Aleksander x Heaven for Christmas

Notes:

☾ I haven't read the books so this work is based on the TV show even though I know it's fairly different from the original Grisha verse. If you're an adorable lore psycho, you might not want to read that! :(

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989, @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows5 @kasagia @watersquirtpewpewboomm @the-sweet-psycho @sarahsobsession @elizabethblood9 @ritzzzzz @sophialeiros @noortsshift @sassyvilliantrope @sherwoodforesttales @a-smidges-stuff

[lupinsversion]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 - 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

• summary: aleksander notices that something different is going on with reader, and his suspicions raise. how will he react when those suspicions are confirmed?

• contains: aleksander morozova x fem reader, mention of pregnancy/symptoms, mention of sickness/throwing up, fluff

• word count: 1.1k

masterlist || requests

Aleksander had started noticing subtle changes in his partner. She was constantly tired, nauseous in the mornings, and had a strange aversion to certain smells. His mind started putting the pieces together, and suspicions began to form. Although he didn't have any concrete evidence yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that she might be pregnant.

He would observe her closely, noting her increasing fatigue and the new patterns in her behavior. Each observation further fed his suspicions, strengthening his belief that she was indeed carrying his child.

Days passed, and he could hardly concentrate on anything else but the thought of her being pregnant. He observed her more closely, noting her mood swings, her growing appetite, and the small changes in her body. The possibility of fatherhood was both exhilarating and terrifying, and the thought consumed his mind.

One day, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands on her stomach. She was deep in thought, her expression a mixture of fear and wonder. The sight of her, lost in her own thoughts, struck a chord within him. He walked over to her, his heart beating a little faster.

"Are you okay?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He sat down beside her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

She stared off into nothing, and when she started to speak, her voice was quiet and hesitant. “First, my breasts started to hurt. Which was strange, I’ve never felt anything like it before…”

“And then, I couldn’t even stand the smell of my favorite soup. My favorite soup, Aleksander.” She exasperated as if it were a crime.

He nodded, his mind racing. The changes she mentioned were classic signs of pregnancy. The nausea, the aversions to once-favorite foods, even the tenderness in her breasts. It all pointed in one direction.

“I’ve been throwing up the past two days…” She continued once she knew he wasn’t going to speak. “It wasn’t much, but it was still awful. I went to the healers, which was probably foolish because what could they have done for me?”

His stomach churned at the mention of her vomiting. The healers at the Little Palace were knowledgeable, but it was true that without knowing the cause, they could only offer general advice or remedies. "Why didn't you come to me first?" He asked, his voice a mixture of concern and irritation.

Her brows furrowed together, as she shook her head slightly. “What were you meant to do? Massage my breasts? Make my soup smell better? Hold my hair?” She rambled.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her sarcastic comments, the sound of his laughter breaking the tension that had settled over them. "Those are all important tasks, you know," he teased, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

She couldn’t help but playfully roll her eyes. “They may have been nice gestures, yes. But that wouldn’t help me out much, would it?”

"Oh, I don't know," he replied, his smile turning more suggestive. "My hands are very skilled, and I have been known to be quite calming."

She nudged her shoulder into his, a small bit of laughter coming from her as she felt the tension between them lift. This reminded her of why she loved him, how he always made her feel better.

He relished the sound of her laughter, the way her smile lit up her face. He loved the way she responded to his teasing, the way she always softened his hard edges. Leaning into her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

She looked up at him through her lashes as she whispered the words that would change everything. “I’m pregnant, Aleksander.”

The moment the words left her lips, time seemed to freeze. His breath caught in his chest, his eyes widening in disbelief. He had suspected it, but hearing her say it out loud, confirming his suspicions, was a shock he hadn't fully prepared for. Thousands of emotions swirled within him, each one fighting for dominance. Shock, joy, fear, and uncertainty all vied for attention, leaving him speechless.

His thoughts raced as he tried to process her revelation. A child. A life, one they had created together, was growing inside of her. It was a prospect both thrilling and terrifying. He took a moment to regain his composure, his arm still around her shoulders, his hand gently stroking her hair.

"Are you sure?" He finally managed to ask, his voice rough with the weight of her confession. He needed to know for certain, needed to hear her confirm it again.

“I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t certain.”

His heart hammered in his chest at her words, the confirmation settling heavily in his mind. A thousand thoughts and fears flooded through him, but he fought to keep his emotions in check. He exhaled slowly, his eyes studying her face, searching for any sign of uncertainty.

She knew why he was looking at her as if he were studying her very soul. “I’m certain.” She repeated.

His eyes locked onto hers, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. He believed her, trusted her completely. If she said she was certain, he had no reason to doubt her. The realization that she was carrying his child, their child, settled within him, a mix of awe and trepidation. His hand moved to gently rest upon her stomach, his palm flat against her abdomen.

"A child," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Our child."

The words slipped from his lips like a reverent prayer, filled with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. He had never imagined himself as a father, never thought he would want to become one. And yet, now that the possibility was before him, he felt an unexpected tenderness in his heart.

“Our child.” She repeated, her hand covering his, a small smile tugging her lips upwards.

The touch of her hand on his, the sight of her smile, sent a new wave of emotions coursing through him. He had never allowed himself to dream of a family, always believing his path was one of solitude. But here she was, carrying their child, and the possibility of a future he had never dared to imagine seemed within reach.

He gently intertwined his fingers with hers, a silent acknowledgement of what was now undeniably real.

As they sat together on the edge of the bed, their hands intertwined and their minds wrapped around the news of her pregnancy, a mixture of emotions coursed through Aleksander. Excitement, anticipation, fear, wonder - it was all there, swirling around in this moment they shared. He looked down at their hands, his fingers gently tracing the back of hers.

"Our child," he repeated once more, the words tasting sweet on his tongue. He smiled then, a genuine smile of happiness. "We're going to be parents."

© lupinsversion 2024

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

hysteria

kinktober, day twenty-eight

a/n: look, we already know that I'm a nerd when it comes to medical history, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise. only thing surprising about it is how fucking long it took for me to finally write this kinda fic, damn, because this fantasy is ancient.

summary: “miss, I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

warnings: doctor!aleksander morozova x innocent!reader, smut, dubcon, historical au, medical kink, time accurate sexism, fingering, sex toys (vibrator, fuck machine), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, size kink, squirting, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation

word count: 1607

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Eyes glued to the clipboard in his hand, doctor Morozova quietly read up from the list of symptoms he had just scribbled down, “…unmarried, insomnia, increased nervousness during social interactions… miss,” he then lifted his obsidian gaze and told you gravely, “I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

“I-I do?” 

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry,” he laid the papers down on the desk before him, “seems like your womb is not where it’s supposed to be and that can cause all sorts of problems as you can see by your symptoms.”

Fingers weaved so tightly in the fabric in your lap it nearly broke through, ruining your dress, your panic began to bubble out, “what should I do, doctor? Is there a cure?”

“There is,” he nodded, subtly raising a hand up to soothe your nerves, “the way to relieve this disorder is by causing something called a hysterical paroxysm,” he informed, abruptly redirecting his stare down upon the woodgrain of the tabletop, “now, usually, if a woman is married, the husband is to perform the treatment, but since you’re not,” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “I’ll help rid your body of this ailment.”

“Really? Thank you,” you gasped, “what, uh, what does it entail?”

“Oh, it’s simple enough,” he waved a casual hand, “you just rid yourself of your undergarments and lay down on the exam table for me.”

“I-…” you blinked, eyes wide before you swallowed, “…alright…”

Getting up from the chair opposing his desk, you walked around the flimsy partition set up in the corner. Reaching under your dress, you timidly pulled your underwear down your legs, past your stockings and off. Folding the garment in a neat little bundle, you settled it on the small stool that stood back here before stepping back out from behind the cover. 

Now settled at the bottom of the exam table on a seat, he gestured for you to get up onto the slab before you apprehensively did so. 

“If you would please just put your feet up in these stirrups,” he adjusted the metal legs below you, “then we can get started.” 

As you then shifted, settling your feet into place, your skirts tented and began to ride up, a gust of crisp air kissing your exposed centre and causing your cheeks to heat up.  

Hearing his chair scoot closer, you then felt his touch softly ghost from your knees all the way up your thighs till his fingers were gently prying your petals apart. After taking a good look, he then briefly retracted his touch, unscrewing a nearby dark glass jar, swiping up some of the glossy contents before grazing through your folds once more, the cool temperature of the lubrication causing you to suck in a sharp breath. 

“Sorry, if it’s a bit cold,” he murmured as he continued to smear it in. 

Head faintly shaking, “it’s fine,” you tried just to focus on your breathing. 

Pushing your dress a bit more out of the way, he told you, “just try and relax for me, it will go by a lot smoother if you relax,” his touch then suddenly changed, “now, tell me,” zeroing in and pressing down on your clit in a way that made the office around you go fuzzy, “how does that feel?” 

Blinking down at him, you found that his vision was already firm on you, “I-… I don’t know… how is it supposed to feel?”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” he rubbed a bit harder, “so, does it feel good?”

“I-I guess so,” your vision fluttered back up towards the ceiling, the doctor’s dark eyes being too much to stand, “yeah.”

“Good, good,” his attentive touch then shifted, “now let me just have a feel inside. Deep breath for me,” your lungs expanded at his command, “there you go,” and his long finger pressed inside, gently curving it around against your walls as he examined, “yep, there it is… your womb, it’s in the completely wrong spot,” he swiftly worked another digit in, watching as you stretched around his fingers, “it’s good that you came in now before it got even worse,” pulling back out, he ended the contact with an unnecessary rub against your buzzing clit.

As he then scooted a bulky and mysterious machine over, you asked nervously, “w-what is that?”

“Just a little apparatus that’s gonna help cure you,” he twisted a vaguely phallic shape into place at the end of the device’s long arm. After noticing your startled expression, you felt his warm hand sprawl across your thigh, “don’t worry, love. It’s all gonna be just fine,” lining it up, “just try and lay still,” he turned a switch and the attachment slowly drove into you. 

“Oh my god!” your palm slammed down against the exam table. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” he caught your eye till your body slowly began to give in, calming under his gaze. Reaching his right hand up, he tickled your puff as the gadget slowly eased in and out of you, “you’re doing great so far, just relax for me,” you saw his free fingers sneak down to enclose around the apparatus’s knob once more, turning the speed further up.  

Feeling like you might fall off the table entirely, you panted, “doctor, I think something might be wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, love,” he nearly chuckled, “this is how it’s supposed to feel,” smiling as you let go an uncontainable moan, knees nearly closing as you tumbled over the edge, “there it is, good, good…”

Expecting for the machine to be shut off, the doctor instead pushed your trembling knees aside and conjured a bulky ward-like device that buzzed in his tight grip, the other hand firm on your leg as he pressed the vibrator against your sensitive pearl, “ah! Doctor! What are you-”

“We’re not done yet,” he stated firmly, vision fixated on the mess he was turning you into. 

The squelching of your pussy cut through the loud buzzing of the gizmos, “but it’s too much, I can’t-”

“You wanna get better, don’t you?”

Fists tight in your dress, crumbled at your waist, you let out a shaky, “yes.”

“Then quit your whining and let me treat you,” his stare snapped up as he warned you, “if you keep that up then I’ll have no other choice but to restrain you, is that what you want?”

“N-no,” the overwhelming sensation caused you to tremble like a leaf. 

“Be a good girl and take it.”

When the second wave hit, it crashed into you so fiercely that you let out a lewd scream. 

“There you go, that’s it!” the doctor bellowed as your pussy gushed, crying out around the intense toys, “oh, fuck…” unable to peel his eyes away as he finally turned off the machines, additional juices squirting out as they withdrew. 

Limbs twitching, you hazily asked, “was that it? Are we done?”

Palming himself through his pants, his gaze stayed glued to your weeping core, “not quite yet, miss… that release of excess fluids was a very good sign, very good sign indeed, but we’re not quite done… there’s still more that needs to get out in order for your uterus to align itself again,” your eyes then flicked down to his fingers as they worked at the buttons on his slacks, swiftly freeing something much bigger than the apparatus he had just fucked you with. 

“Doctor?” your eyes grew as he stepped closer, rubbing his tip against you in a way that made your eyes flutter. 

Finally meeting your gaze, he uttered, “please, call me Aleksander,” before thrusting his hips forward, stretching you apart with his cock. Fingers digging into your thighs, he glanced back down and smirked, “I think your womb just needs a little reminder of where its home is,” before he slammed in, all the way, pushing the air out of your lungs as his balls nuzzled against you.

“Ah!”

“Just need to knock at its door a bit to call it home,” the tip of his generous length kissed your cervix with every rough thrust, borderline going too deep as you clambered around him, “that’s it, taking the treatment so well.”

Just as you had thought he had settled on a rhythm, he pulled the rug out from under you by suddenly withdrawing his girth entirely, spreading you apart so that he could watch how he made you gape, only to bury himself completely once again, repeating the cycle over and over, relishing in the way it drove you up the wall. 

“Fucking hell… I can feel it, you’re getting close, clamping around me like a desperate little whore,” he groaned, watching as after a few more breath-taking rounds, your pussy began to weep once again, “oh, there it is,” squirting out every time he retraced himself, “atta girl,” the fullness he then granted you only persuaded more to appear. 

When you were nothing more than a literal puddle in his grasp, Aleksander truly lost control, pounding into your trembling mess before he made it even more so, stuffing you full of his hot cum. 

Low groans still flowed from his lips as he retracted from you for good, the sensation of his seed trickling out of you and onto the exam table nearly going unnoticed from how exhausted the treatment had made you. 

“Was that it?” you asked weakly, “am I cured now?”

Tugging himself away as he caught his breath, he answered, “not completely,” glancing back up at you with a glint in his dark eyes, “I think you’re gonna have to come back a few more times …”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[elizabethblood9]

Me with Aleksander's versions of @call-sign-shark and @kasagia 🧎🏻‍♀️

[simp2537]

Darkling x breeding kink + spanking?🙈

Marking

a/n: My motivation has been low as of late, and my life has gotten really busy as of late. Also I’m really liking my tidemaker! Reader that invented so I’m gonna used her unless specifically told otherwise or if I just feel like not using her. As always hope you enjoy.

Warnings: breeding kink, spanking, dom!Aleksander and sub!Reader, safe word is not established but is their, p in v smut, dacryphilia, war room smut, tidemaker!Reader

Aleksander Morozova x fem! Reader

You weren’t sure if it was the hard wooden desk digging into your bare hips, the relentless pounding of Aleksander cock inside your dripping cunt or if his harsh hand landing in your ass was what sent you to tears. Your hands grinned onto the desk, trying to center yourself as Aleksander took out all his pent up frustrations of the day on you.

It had not been a good day for your lover. First the king had been particularly nauseating, the grisha were still unsafe as always and to top it off some new noble man made a move on you in front of him. Loyal as you were you denied the man and went to go to him only for the man to touch you.

Aleksander grunted as he felt you grip his cock deep inside. Your moan and gasps were bouncing off the wall and he hoped that everyone would hear. His hand landed hard against the angry red of your ass. You jolted as his opposite hand dug its way through your hair, pulling you up slightly.

He sucked up your neck, biting and leaving marks in his wake. You moaned as he began to suck on the sweet spot of your neck. His gently lowered you back into the desk that moved with every snap of his hips. His free hand moved to your pearl, rubbing fast and steady circles on the nerves. Your moaning increased as he kissed at the back of your neck. His hand colliding with your red ass.

“You’re doing so well for me milaya.” Aleksander praised as your tears hit the desk. You babbled cockdrunk as he hit that spot that always left your mouth gaping.

“I’m gonna shove my cum so fair into your cunt that it takes and everyone will know you’re mine.” The coil inside you tightened the eating to burst. Your moan grew higher, louder, more erratic.

“Sasha! I’m gonna cum- Sasha! Please!” You begged as he smacked your ass again. His over composer began to dwindle as he groan his thrusts growing fast as his own organism grew more apparent.

“I can’t wait to see you swelling with our child. All round and so full of me, all mine. Mine.” He grunted as you whimpered. With a cry of his name you came hard. His own release happening right after. You both panted as he pulled himself out. Your mixed juices dripped onto the floor until her shoved his finger in.

“Don’t want to waste anything, right my Tidemaker?” Aleksander sighed as he kissed your neck. You mumbled softly, not having the energy to be much of a brat. After a while her pulled his finger out and sucked in your combined juices. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap.

He scrapped his kefta over your bare form and kissed your forehead. You nuzzled into him as your eyes dropped.

“Do you think my seed will take?” Aleksander mumbled in between kissing your neck.

“If it doesn’t we can always try again.” He chuckled a smile landing in his face. His darling Tidemaker, always so eager.

[drinix]

I mean why Benjamin. Why do you a have to be so adorable!!!!

[inknopewetrust]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫/𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐈

𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐊𝐞𝐲: ❤️‍🔥 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 💔 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 | ❤️ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | ⭐️ 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞(𝐬)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 [𝟏𝟖+, 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐨𝟑] 💔/❤️‍🔥/⭐️

𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. ❤️

𝐄𝐭𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

𝐀𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. ❤️

𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞. ❤️

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤

𝐊𝐚𝐳 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞. ❤️/💔

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨. ❤️

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝟒 𝐔

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬… 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭. ❤️/💔

[writerslittlelibrary]

"What, are you?"

masterlist ao3 version

summary: when your abilities show themselves during a viscous Drüskelle attack, General Kirigan has you immediately transferred to the Little Palace for protection

pairing: Aleksander Kirigan x sun summoner reader

warnings: canon level violence, mention of blood

genre: angst, fluff

words: 2683

a/n: I watched the show Shadow & Bone a few years age, and I was absolutely obsessed. recently I picked up the books, and I cannot express how upset I am that they’ve cancelled the series. It literally had so much potential :(

also, I apologise for literally falling off of the face of the earth these past two months. I was depressed at first, and when I felt a little better me and my mom went on a two week vacation to Ireland, and this week I was at a figure skating camp, so I didn’t really get to writing lol. anyhow, I’m feeling better, and I am planning on writing more fics and hopefully do a flufftober week or something :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |—————————— ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ——————————|

The war in Ravka had been raging on for as long as you could remember. It had taken your parent’s lives, and very likely their parent’s lives as well. Now it was your turn to take your place in the army and fight in the war. 

You had never possessed much physical strength. Ever since you were a child, you were weak and fragile. It had pushed the caretakers at the orphanage to give you other tasks. 

They wanted you to posses as many skills as possible, to ensure you would have a future, even if you wouldn’t be able to fight in the war. As you got older, you seemed to develop a true talent in drawing. Your drawings were detailed and realistic, and so the caretakers pressed to ensure you would continue developing that talent. 

When you became of age, you were send to join the first army as a mapmaker. 

Currently you were stationed at a camp just next to the fold. There were several skiffs being readied to enter the fold, but after running a little detour, you found out you were not scheduled to go on any of them. 

At the moment, you were sitting with a Squaller. You had met her years ago, when both of you were just little girls. A boy had been bullying you, and she had thrown him across the field. Ever since, you had been friends. When she would return to the Little Palace, you would write to her, and when you were stationed at an encampment, she would request to be sent to the same place.

As you were laughing at something Zoya had said, you heard yelling coming from a few tents away from you. You figured it was just another soldier fight, but Zoya knew better as she stood, pulling you up with her when she seemingly spotted something that frightened her.

She pushed you behind her, grabbing your hand and she made a run to the edge of the encampment, towards the forest.

You could hear shouting behind you, and the noises of a fight reached your ears. This was not a friendly soldier fight. Too many people had been involved for that. Before you could reach the forest, you could feel two arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you away from Zoya. 

She screamed, reaching out for you before someone took her out from behind. 

The language the man spoke was foreign, and it didn’t take you long to realise they were Fjerdans. They must’ve dressed up as soldiers so they could infiltrate the tents and eliminate the Grisha. 

You fought against the man holding you down, kicking him in the stomach and managing to punch him in the face. 

He struggled, falling backwards. You didn’t hesitate to run away from him, spotting Zoya on the ground, the Drüskelle on top of her. He had a knife in his hand, undoubtedly planning on slicing Zoya’s throat. 

You ran over quickly, jumping on the man’s back in order to get him off of her. Zoya struggled for a bit, surprised by your return before regaining her composure, raising her arms to blast the man backwards. She made her way over to you, grabbing you hand once more before she was pierced by an arrow. A Drüskelle stood behind her, a few feet away, holding a bow. 

Zoya fell to the ground, and the Fjerdan you had managed to push to the ground was now behind you again, restraining you as the other one walked over to Zoya.

He grabbed her hair, pulling her to her knees, with her head pulled backwards. He mumbled a few words in Fjerdan, something about salvation of the witches before he pressed his knife to her throat. 

You screamed, fighting against the Drüskelle holding you as they prepared to slit Zoya’s throat. 

The moment the Drüskelle drew blood, you screamed. An anger releasing inside you that you didn’t know you were holding. Your view went black, a bright light shining through the blackness before you felt your body giving out. You could faintly hear screaming, and you could make out Zoya’s voice as she held you head in her lap. 

After that, everything went black. 

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

When your vision returned, you could make out you were in a tent. You saw Zoya’s face first, looking concerned as she wiped a wet cloth over your forehead. It appeared you were burning up, yet the cool cloth felt as though it had burned you.

You groaned, moving away from her touch and shielding your eyes. The light was too bright, even though the tent was fairly dark. 

“She’s awake,” you heard Zoya say to another person in the room, who hummed thoughtfully before dismissing her.

“Thank you, Zoya. You may leave,” you heard a male voice command. 

You saw Zoya shaking her head, holding one hand on your arm as her head was turned to the other presence. 

“Please, General. She’s confused and scared as is. Allow me stay, please,” Zoya said, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard her use the word ‘please’, let alone use it multiple times in the same sentence.

“Very well,” the male voice commanded, and you could hear large footsteps cross the tent towards where you were lying down.

You groaned, grabbing onto Zoya as you pulled yourself into a sitting position, noticing you were indeed in the tent of the Black General. You breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, and your eyes fell to two Heartrenders standing guard at the entrance of the tent.

“You’ve made quite the show, miss…?” the General trailed off, looking at you expectedly. 

“y/l/n, y/n y/l/n,” you said quietly, turning your gaze to fall on Zoya, who had moved to sit next to you on the cot you were previously laying on. 

Your head felt heavy, and your hands felt clammy. 

“Miss y/l/n, tell me, what are you?” the General asked, leaning against a desk placed in the tent. 

You looked at him confused, thinking about what he could possibly mean. 

“A mapmaker, sir,” you told him, turning to look at Zoya. You couldn’t read her expression, so you turned back to the General, who looked slightly offended. 

“Don’t fool me,” he started. “What are you,” he stated firmly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you admitted honestly, not wanting to upset him.

He looked at you for a moment, determining whether you were lying before speaking again.

“Were you tested as a child?” he asked, to which you nodded. 

“What was the result?” 

“I wasn’t Grisha,” you said, a hint of pain in your voice. You had always wanted to be Grisha. To be in a place where you belong, amongst people who were like you. Instead, you were just normal, with no place where you belonged.

“Your little display of power this morning suggests otherwise, miss y/l/n,” the General spoke.

You looked at him confused. 

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you told him honestly.

“You singhandly managed to scare all of the Drüskelle away, yet you claim to have no knowledge of what you were doing?” 

“I’m sorry, sir, I truly don’t,” you replied, flinching slightly when the General pushed himself off the desk, closing the distance between you. 

“Hold out your arm,” he stated. 

You did as he said, extending your arm towards him while pulling up your sleeve, knowing what he wanted. 

“You say you were tested as a child?” the General asked in confirmation, noting the way you nodded, almost disappointed. “Were you injured during the testing?” he asked you, seeing your face contort in confusion. 

“I don’t recall… does that matter?” you asked, looking up at him as he stood before you. 

“It is the whole point of the test,” he said, taking ahold of your arm and bringing his sharp ring towards it. Gently, he pressed the talon in your arm, and you gasped at the slight sting before a warm beam of light shot from your arm.

You eyes widened, and the moment he let your arm fall back you grasped it, looking at the cut in disbelief. 

“You are very much Grisha, miss y/l/n,” the General said, motioning towards the Heartrenders at the entrance of the tent. 

You couldn’t find any words, turning to Zoya who just looked as bewildered as you. 

“I’m Grisha…” you whispered quietly, looking at Zoya. 

Before she could say anything, the General had returned to your side, gently grasping your upper arm and pulling you up. 

“We’ll have to work quickly. The Drüskelle are already on alert after the attack, and word of your discovery will spread fast,” the General said, handing you a red Kefta, urging you to put it on. “You’ll travel in my coach,” he spoke, before handing you to the two Heartrenders. 

You looked towards Zoya, who stood and asked the General if she could accompany you. 

He shook his head, insisting that she was still needed at the camp. 

Before you knew it, you were being dragged outside and towards the Darkling’s coach. Two Oprichniki stand at the doors, opening them upon seeing your arrival. You didn’t resist, taking the hand one of the Oprichniki offered to help you step inside. 

Once you settled into the coach, the two Heartrenders followed, sitting across from you. The doors were closed, and the two Oprichniki moved to the front, no doubt riding on horses beside the coach. 

You were silent for the first part of the journey, admiring the detailed embroidery on the red Kefta adorning your body. 

“It’s bulletproof,” said the man across from you suddenly. You looked up, meeting his kind smile and realising they had been watching you. “It is why the General wanted you to wear it,” he finished.

You nodded, allowing your hand to fall to your lap. 

“I’m Feydor, and this is Ivan,” the Heartrender introduced himself, motioning towards his partner beside him. He carried a stern look on his face, turning to look outside instead. 

You nodded in reply, turning to look outside in thought. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, turning back to Feydor. He smiled.

“The Little Palace, of course,” he said. 

You nodded once more, settling your gaze outside again. “Why the hurry?” 

“By now, every Drüskelle and Shu assassin will have heard what happened at the camp. What you did. We need to make sure you are behind safe walls when they come for you,” Feydor explained, and you nodded once more.

“I don’t even know what I did,” you then said, earning the look of both Feydor and Ivan. 

“You saved us,” Feydor started. “Your light killed two Drüskelle, and scared the rest away. The disguised themselves as First army to kill Grisha. Without you, they would have succeeded.” 

You looked at him surprised, not expecting that reply to come from his mouth. You could not remember a single thing that happened at the camp, let alone the Drüskelle attack. 

After the conversation died down, you turned to look outside once more. You felt your eyes drooping, exhausting settling into your bones as the world outside passed you in a blur.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped, and an Oprichniki opened the coach door. 

“There’s a fallen tree on the road, we’re moving it now,” he stated, closing the door again. Ivan looked uneasy, glancing out the little window. Feydor did the same, studying the other window until there was shouting. 

Immediately, Ivan and Feydor got up, both heading out the doors.

“Stay here, get down, and don’t move,” Feydor said, pushing a blade of Grisha steel into your hands before abandoning the coach. 

You did as he said, crouching down onto the floor of the coach, pressing your knees against your chest. You could hear screaming outside and multiple guns firing. When it stilled for a moment, you thought it was over, until the glass of the coach broke and a smoke bomb was thrown inside.

You coughed, pushing the door of the coach open and stumbling outside, falling to your knees as you tried to catch your breath. 

You heaved, clutching the Girsha steel knife in your hand when you looked up, barely registering the boots of a figure marching towards you, grabbing your hair and dragging you away. 

You fought, struggling against his hold as he pressed his knife to your throat, pressing harshly. You felt a trickle of blood stream down you neck, and you grabbed the knife in you hand as tightly as you could before stabbing it backwards, hitting the person in the stomach. 

His hold on you faltered enough for you to push him away, running away from him, into the forest. 

You ran for as long as your feet could take you, registering the fighting still happening behind you. When you stopped for only a second to catch your breath, you were tackled to the ground, a figure laying on top of you.

His held his knife high above his head, muttering a prayer of kinds before preparing to bring it down.

You could faintly hear a horse in the background, and you closed your eyes tightly, figuring this was it. You heard a yell, but you didn’t feel the sharp pain of a knife digging into your skin. Instead, when you opened your eyes. You could see the man on top of you, slowly falling in two. 

You turn your head, seeing the Darkling standing there beside a group of other Oprichniki. You realised he had cut the man on top of you in half. 

When he fell, you pushed him off of you, moving away from the body, and catching your breath. 

The General walked over to you, extending his arm, which you gratefully took as he helped you up. He studied the cut on your throat.

“Are you alright?” he questioned. 

You nodded, moving your hand to rub the sore spot on your throat. 

“You’ll ride with me,” he stated, walking over to his horse, leaving no room for argument. 

You followed him, standing beside him as he mounted his horse, extending his hand to help pull you up. You allowed him, settling in the saddle as he took off in a gallop. 

He held onto you firmly, ensuring you wouldn’t fall at the movement of the horse. 

With you were riding multiple Oprichniki guards, and you spotted Ivan and Feydor both riding on a horse themselves. They must’ve won the fight in the woods. 

After riding for nearly half a day, the group stopped at an abandoned barn. The Oprichniki secured it, while the General dismounted the horse, extending his arm to help you off as well. When the Oprichniki secured the barn, the group moved inside. 

The horses were giving water and something to eat, while a small group of Oprichniki went outside to hunt for dinner. 

You settled on the ground, close by the fire that Ivan had made. Once the sun had set, the temperature had dropped significantly, and you could say with certainty you were freezing.

You pulled the dirty Kefta around you a little tighter, hoping to conserve some warmth. The General seated himself beside you, reaching out a gentle hand to touch the cut on your neck. You winced slightly at the sting, and General Kirigan retreated his hand to retrieve a small, black cloth from his pocket. 

Gently, he wiped the blood away from you neck and face, making sure to avoid pressing to harshly. 

Once he retreated his hand, you gave him a small smile. 

“Thank you,” you said in a quiet voice, and he nodded. 

“Once you’re in the palace you’ll be able to clean up properly. The cut isn’t too deep, but in your weakened state it is enough to stir some worry,” he explained, tucking the small cloth back into his pocket. 

You nodded once again, moving to lay down, using you arm to support your head. The palace. That is where you were headed, after all…

this fic has been continued on ao3, link

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @daddipantherr @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st @superlegend216 @ravensinthedaylight

[rose-sophia-isabella-rogers]

A Steel That Went Through Hottest Fire: Chapter XII - Holding Out an Olive Branch

Chapter Summary: You wake up and discover Aleksander is gone. You hurry to the Fold, determined to help him, save him or die with him. Will you get there in time? And what do the results mean for you?

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov, Genya Safin/David Kostyk

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, Ivan, Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov, Mal Oretsev, Inej Ghafa, Zoya Nazyalensky, Nina Zenik, Nikolai Lantsov, Genya Safin, David Kostyk, Baghra, Tolya Yul-Bataar

Word Count: 4333

A/N: This chapter contains plot and dialogues from episode eight of season two. Also, we're get into the story from the King of Scars. Not much taken in this chapter, but later on I'm going to take some fragments from the book. Enjoy! https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089684638/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798515/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089786937/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

@marrymonrich

@wonderland2425

@chelseyyouraverageluigi

@thehufflepuffavenger1

When you wake up, you don't open your eyes at first. You lay in it, remembering with a smile the events of last night. You reach to the other side of the bed but you don't find Aleksander with your hand. You frown at the feeling of very cold sheets. You move your hand and suddenly feel a piece of paper.

You sit up abruptly. You grab the letter and scan it quickly with your eyes. Your face goes pale and your heart stops.

'Damn it, Aleksander!' you curse and spring out of the bed. You quickly dress yourself. For a moment you can't find your kefta. You finally notice it, but when you unfold it, you see it's not yours. You freeze for a moment. In some places, grey embroidery turns to black. In another situation, you'd be touched by it, appreciate it and maybe even cry a bit. But now you just put it on and gather your things.

You take a peek outside. In the letter Kirigan mentions that Fedyor and Ivan will look after you. You understand it as making sure you won't run. So, you look for them. You see them with their backs to you and a few feet away, talking quietly.

You quietly sneak away past them to the horses. You prepare yours and mount it. You direct him toward the Fold and urge him forward. It neighs, and galops away.

Ivan and Fedyor's head snap toward the sound. They're eyes go wide at the sight of you riding away. They sprint toward their horses.

'General will kill us!' Fedyor says, cursing under his breath, as they mount their horses.

'If he'll me merciful,' Ivan says gloomily and they ride after you.

But you're riding faster than you've ever had. Your heart beats faster, when you see the Fold is closer. Aleksander has spread it again. You bite your lip, fully believing nichevoy'a will protect you from the Volcras, and ride into the Fold.

You don't have to worry about the monsters of the Unsea long, though. Suddenly, everything is covered in blinding light. When you can see again, you're no longer surrounded with darkness. The Fold is gone. While part of you is glad, you're mostly concerned with what that means for the Darkling. You ride faster, praying to the Saints to arrive in time.

In the middle of the Unsea, Aleksander and Alina face each other. Starkov won, but Mal sacrificed himself, so she could destroy the Fold. Kirigan is wounded, but he still wants to join forces with the Sun Summoner. But when she pushes him away, nichevo attacks her, and doesn't listen to the Darkling ordering it to stop. Inej, the female thief from Ketterdam you've met, throws a sword made by Sankta Neyar at it, destroying it. It's the only thing that can do it and it's been acquired it with great difficulty.

'You can't control them, can you?' Alina asks. 'You can't control any of it.'

She's on her knees. Aleksander is already standing. He offers her his hand. She stares at it.

'I thought I could control it all… once,' he says. 'Find peace. And for a moment… I swear I did.'

He closes his eyes with a soft smile. Memories of you flash in his mind. Your smile. Your laugh. Your teas. Your kisses. The nights you've spent together.

Suddenly, he feels terrible pain in his abdomen. He coughs out blood and opens his eyes. He looks down. The sword is lodged in him, held by Alina's hands.

'Without me… know they will come for you,' he says. She stares at him angrily.

'Let them come,' she says and pulls out the sword with the grunt. Kirigan gasps and falls backward. A moment later Starkov shows up in his vision, blocking out the sun.

At that moment, you arrive. Your heart drops at the sight of General on the ground and Alina above him.

'No,' you whisper, dismounting. 'Saints, no, please!'

You run to them. Alina hears you or sees you, because she looks up. She tenses and gets ready to fight, but you ignore her and fall on your knees next to your lover. He groans as you touch him.

'Hey, hey, hey, hey. Shhh,' you say gently, as you scoop him up in your arms.

Saints, no, please, no…

'… [Y/N]… you're here?' Aleksander asks, trying to focus on you. You manage to laugh, tears in your eyes.

'Yeah. Yeah, of course I'm here,' you say. 'Now don't talk.'

There's so much blood…

'It h- it hurts,' he cries out.

'I know, darling,' you say, brushing the hair from his forehead. 'But don't talk. And don't move, either.'

No, no, no…

'H-hey, [Y/N]?' Kirigan asks. His breaths are rattling.

'Yeah?' you ask.

Stay awake…

'I-' he says and coughs. 'I love you.'

His eyes close. You freeze. You finally heard those words. But he… he's gone.

'No…' you sob. You whine, your shoulders shaking, as you press your head to his chest. You clench his kefta tight, begging him to come back to you.

You're not even aware you have an audience. Zoya and Inej are standing not far, looking at you sadly. You're only pulled back to reality after hearing a relieved laugh.

You lift your head up. You see Alina hugging Mal. The tracker is alive. A Heartrender, Nina, is next to them. Did she save him? But no, she's shocked as well. You focus on Alina… and feel it.

You feel anger. She killed Aleksander for using merzost to save Grisha. And now she's used it to save her lover? What a hypocrite…

You feel something burning inside, begging to get out. The moment you realise what it is, you calm down. You look up and meet Zoya's hesitant look calmly. Everything is gonna to be different now.

*

You don't know how you return out of the Fold. Or what used to be it. You get to an old camp at Kribirsk. You meet the rest of Alina's army there. Including Prince Nikolay. Your eyes meet, but he quickly looks away, finding something unnerving in your look.

You're taken away to a tent. On your way out, you didn't allow anyone to take you from Aleksander's body. Now you hesitate only for a moment.

You sit on a chair, your hands spread and bound. After what feels like hours, Nikolay enters the tent. You don't look at him.

'Baghra claims these bonds won't stop you,' he says after a moment and walks toward you. 'That if you want, you can break them free. You don't need to touch your hands for that.'

'And why would I do that?' you ask, your voice flat. The Prince… or maybe the King, just not crowned yet, sits on a chair opposite to you. You still don't look at him.

'To run away,' he answers. You focus your gaze on him. Once again, something in your eyes disturbs him.

'Where?' you ask.

'Anywhere you want,' he answers, shrugging. You smile bitterly.

'And what would I do?' you ask. 'I used to think I can use my powers to help others. To make this world a better place. How would I do that on the endless run?'

Tears glisten in your eyes. You hastily look away. Nikolay observes you in silence. He knows you were on Kirigan's side. But he can't imagine you approved everything he did. Others told him that as well.

'Are you going to kill me?' you ask.

'Do you want me to?' he asks. 'And that is a serious question. Do you want to die?'

'No,' you answer after a moment. 'I… I've done some things I'm not proud of. I need to atone for them. My death wouldn't do that. I'd be just running away from responsibility for my actions.'

'Did you really love him this much that you didn't hesitate to break your own rules?' Nikolay asks quietly. You look at him.

'I do,' you confirm. He almost shivers under your gaze. He looks down.

'You'll be a prisoner until…' he says but doesn't finish the thought. Until you atone? Until they decide you're not really a villain?

'You weren't with others,' he says instead and looks at you again. 'And you weren't with Kirigan in the Fold from the beginning. If you had been, you'd have stopped Alina from killing him. So, where were you? Why weren't you there?'

'Because he didn't want me to,' you answer after a beat. 'He was protecting me, since I'm not much of a fighter. He didn't want me to get hurt. And he also… didn't want me to bend my morals even more. He already believes… believed… that he had ruined me enough.'

Your look softens. You clench your fists.

'I'm not trying to minimalize what's he done,' you say. 'He committed hideous crimes. But he… he cared. There was goodness in his heart.'

Silence falls. This time you don't try to hide tears in your eyes.

'You know this is my third time in this camp?' you say. 'The first time was when I created my skiff. The second time when… we crossed the Fold that day.'

'Did you know what he's planning?' Nikolay asks.

'I figured it out,' you admit. 'I didn't approve of it, though. And I'm glad the Fold is gone. I didn't believe controlling it would make Grisha safe. Just as now I don't believe it being gone will do it.'

'It won't be easy,' the King says, easily getting back his confidence. 'But the country is united once again. We can do it.'

'The land maybe is reunited, but not its people. It won't be that easy. You lost what could unite them. Because it's easier to unite against a common enemy than under the kind ruler.'

'You think Alina made a mistake killing the Darkling.'

'You know my opinion on that matter. But yes. He could have been someone that could help you stitch this country back together.'

'If you didn't believe in neither controlling the Fold nor destroying him… what did you believe in?'

'Him.'

Silence falls again. Nikolay observes you, thinking how to break certain news to you.

'We have to burn him,' he finally says and you stiffen. 'Will you let us?'

'I know how dangerous it would be to simply bury him,' you say softly and then look at him with a hard gaze. 'But I have one condition. Or rather… request.'

'What is it?' the King asks, actually curious.

'Let me prepare him for it,' you answer and your lip trembles. 'Let me… say goodbye properly.'

Nikolay thinks about it carefully. But finally… he nods.

'I will send someone for you,' he says, standing up. 'But after you're done, your being tied again and in Os Alta you're going to be put in a cell.'

You nod in agreement. The King looks at you for a moment longer, then leaves.

You're not sure how much time pass until it's time of the ceremony. For the burning of the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, which is obviously attended by many people. Because officially, Alina Starkov has died while destroying the Fold. She chose a simple life with her Tracker. You can't really blame her. It's what you would want with Aleksander.

You glare at her. She's here, disguised, of course. But she wanted to see it. See him being burned. And herself. So, since you're present as well, you glare at her, angry that she can get to live the life you want.

You turn your head, not wanting to explode. You glance at your guards and look at his body. In the corner of your eye, you see Nikolay giving the signal. You watch as the Inferni summon the fire to ignite the stake. People around you call Alina's name. No one calls his. Because not many knew it.

'Aleksander,' you whisper. Suddenly, you feel arms around you. Zoya, your friend, who's not sure how to treat you now, puts her head on yours.

'It's over, [Y/N],' she says softly, with a dose of compassion, you think.

'No, you're wrong,' you say quietly, your eyes not leaving the pyre. 'It has just begun.'

*

Two years and a half have passed since the civil war in Ravka. Nikolay is still trying to stitch his country back together. He has help, of course. But some things only he can do. One of them isn't the new threat to Grisha. To deal with that he needs all the help he can get.

Jurda parem. The drug that modifies Grisha's power by changing their perception of the world in an opposite and unnatural direction. It is extremely addictive to them, and rapidly weakens the body of the user. Many want to use this to their advantage. Fjerda. Shu-Han. It seems only Ravka wants this drug out of the market and to save Grisha. But even though they now have the son of the creator of the drug, they're still not closer to finding an andidotum.

Nikolay sits with his Grisha Triumvirate – Genya, Zoya and David – and they have a brainstorm. The Durast is trying hard, but so far, he's getting nowhere.

'It is frustrating,' Zoya sighs, after yet another dismissed idea. 'Why did Bo Yul-Bayur have to die?'

'I'm sure he didn't just decide to die and leave us all in this mess,' Genya says grimly, but suddenly frowns. 'David? I know that look. You have an idea.'

'Well…' the Durast starts but closes his eyes. 'I'm not sure.'

'Share with us, David,' Nikolay encourages him. 'Surely it's not worse than Zoya's idea to set Fjerda and Shu-Han on fire.'

'I still think it's our best option,' Zoya says, raising her head haughtily. She is ignored.

'I have tried many things with that drug to find an antidote,' David says. 'I am skilled… but there is someone whose mind is far brighter than me… who may think of a solution.'

'There is no one smarter than you,' Genya says, squeezing the hand of her husband.

'There is one person,' Kostyk disagrees, staring Nikolay in the eyes. The King slumps in his chair. He closes his eyes and pinches his nose.

'You can't think…' Genya starts, realising what the Durast means as well. 'She won't agree.'

'She cares about Grisha,' David argues softly. 'And she's not… She helped you escape.'

'She's spent two years and a half locked in a cell,' Safin argues. 'She couldn't use her powers. Don't you think that changed her?'

'Surely,' Kostyk agrees. 'But not enough not to help.'

'Can she really find a way we haven't found?' Nikolay interrupts them.

'We've all been surprised by how powerful she really is,' Zoya speaks up. 'All but one.'

An hour later Nikolay knocks on the door to Baghra's hut. He comes in after the invitation. The old woman is sitting in her armchair. She looks at him.

'Do what do I owe the pleasure of the King himself to visit me?' she asks with sarcasm.

'I need to talk to you about our problem,' Lantsov explains, sitting on a chair.

'Jurda parem,' Baghra says and spits. 'Another abomination. Are the Durast and Alkemi any closer to finding an antidote?'

'No,' Nikolay denies and exhales. 'But David believes someone else may think of something.'

'[Y/N],' Baghra immediately guesses and nods. 'She has a unique brain. One of the reasons he was so drawn to her. Yes, if anyone can find a cure, it's her.'

'Will she do it, though?' the King asks. The old woman is silent for a moment.

'Yes,' she finally answers. 'Her heart hasn't changed. She still would do anything to keep Grisha save.'

'But what will it cost us?' Lantsov asks. Baghra smiles.

'You have to ask her about it,' she answers. 'But don't worry. Without my son, she's not your enemy.'

Another hour later, you hear footsteps coming your way. You know it's not Baghra, who's visiting you quite often, as they don't sound like hers. You look, curious, at the door to your cell and a moment later you see a guard and… Zoya.

'Have you come to kill me?' you ask.

'No,' your former friend simply denies and nods at the guard. He unlocks and opens the door to your cell. The Squaller walks inside and he closes the door behind her, but doesn't lock it. Then, he leaves. Zoya sits on a chair usually occupied by Baghra. She crosses her legs and looks at you.

You're sitting on a chair. You're thin, almost all skin and bone. Your complexion is grey. There are dark circles under your eyes. Your hair is matte. You look like a ghost.

'Then why are you here?' you ask. Nazyalensky sighs… and tells you everything about jurda parem. By the end of her story, you're frowning.

'That is… I've always known Fjerdans are bastards but what they did to those Grisha…' you say and shake your head. 'Still… I don't know why you have come to me.'

'We need to find an antidote,' Zoya explains. 'And you're the brightest person we know.'

'I'm not a Alkemi, though,' you say, frowning. 'And since Bo Yul-Bayur was one… you need another one to create an antidote for his work.'

'We don't have an Alkemi smart enough, apparently,' the Squaller says. 'And since you're a Durast-'

'It's not the same. We have completely different abilities.'

'Maybe. But you're still the smartest person I know. If you can't figure it out, no one can.'

You look away. You think about it in silence.

'Please, [Y/N],' Nazyalensky says quietly. 'David believes in you. So does Baghra. And… I do, too.'

'Trying to use my sentiment, well played,' you say.

'I'm not trying to manipulate you,' Zoya snaps. 'I'm not-'

She stops herself. She goes pale. You close your eyes.

'I still find it funny,' you say quietly. 'He manipulated everyone. I was manipulated by everyone but him.'

'I know he said with his last breath he loved you…' the Squaller says slowly, '… but he still didn't deserve you.'

'Perhaps,' you concede. Silence falls between you two again.

'Fine,' you finally say. 'I can try at least.'

'What do you want in return?' Zoya, who's relieved but also wary, asks. You look at her with a frown.

'I care about Grisha, too, you know,' you say. 'I want them to be safe as much as you all do. But since I can ask for something… there's one thing I want.'

*

A few months have passed since you've been officially pardoned and released from prison. It felt nice to return to your old room and not to have your hands bound. But other Grisha, obviously, don't trust you and look at you with disdain. You ignore them.

Together with David and other Materialki you try to find an antidote for jurda parem. It's not going well. One day, you even throw a mortar at the wall. David stares at it with wide eyes. You exhale slowly and run a hand through your hair.

'You know, I think it was simpler with the skiff,' you say.

'It is complex,' Kostyk says. 'Give yourself time. We're getting there.'

'And how much of that time I have?' you ask. 'The only reason I'm out of the cell is because you believed I can figure something out. When does Nikolay's patience runs out and I go back there?'

'It won't happen,' the Durast promises. You smile sadly at him. He decides to take your mind of this.

'Did you think what will you do after we find an antidote?' he asks. 'Will you… stay?'

'I am not welcome here,' you say after a beat. 'I… I don't know what I am going to do. They say, "follow your heart", but if your heart is in a million pieces, which piece do you follow?'

You blink away the tears. David looks at you with sorrow.

'You know… I miss him sometimes, too,' he admits and you look at him with interest. 'He… had something about him. A charisma. He drew us all in. We felt safe, needed. I believe that he actually cared and wanted to make Ravka better. Or at least better for Grisha. I don't think he was evil. He… just lived too long.'

'Sometimes I think so, too, ' you agree quietly. 'But then I think we didn't have enough time.'

'Did he… tell you he loved you?' Kostyk asks hesitantly.

'They were his last words,' you answer after a beat. 'For weeks I wondered whether he feels what I feel. And when I finally got a confirmation… I couldn't even be happy about it.'

You look down. The Durast wants to reach to you and squeeze your hand. But while you work, joke and spend time together… you're not as close as you used to be. He still wants to comfort you somehow.

'I'm sure you hear others gossiping,' he says after a moment. 'That he didn't and was just manipulating you. I don't believe it. He truly cared about you. I saw it. When he was dragging you away from workshop, so you could rest, for example. He was also more relaxed around you… more cheerful. And yes, it was friendship at first. But at some point, I noticed that he was looking at you differently than he used to.'

You smile at him, grateful for his words. But he's not done yet.

'When he was leading me to the workshop in the mansion,' he continues, 'he said you're there and you're definitely going to be happy to see me. He… he seemed so happy he can brighten your day. He always was like that with you.'

'If you won't stop, I'm really going to cry,' you chuckle, trying really not to break down. 'Thank you, though.'

David nods. You go for the mortar you've thrown and return to work. Your fellow Durast observes you.

'I think, though, that you deserve more,' he says after a moment. You look at him, curious.

'You deserve to be someone's priority,' he explains. 'And while there's no doubt Kirigan loved you… he cared more about the Fold and power.'

'Thank you, David,' you say. 'I… I think I really needed to hear all that you said. About… him… and me as well.'

Just then Tolya Yul-Bataar shows up at the door. He looks at you grimly.

'Speaking of,' you say and pack your things. 'See you in a week.'

'Until next week,' Kostyk says, nodding. You smile at him and leave with grumpy Tolya. You go outside and mount your horses. You set off immediately.

A few days later you reach your destination. You ride through an open space that used to be the Fold for so many centuries. Finally, you stop and dismount. Tolya stays with the horses and you continue on foot for a moment longer. At last, you stop and stare at the ground.

This is your price for helping with an antidote. Every two months, you're to travel here with someone, not always Tolya. To the place where Aleksander died. It's your way to deal with grief. At first, you wanted to come here every month. But since travelling there and back takes about a week, you agreed for two months. You're relieved Nikolay agreed at all.

'So, here I am again,' you start. 'Missing you the same way I did three years ago. I told you, didn't I? That I would never forget you. Three years it's probably not much for you, since you've lived hundreds of years. But I know you'd want me to move on by now. I don't think that's ever going to happen. You'd probably be frustrated by that.'

You exhale slowly. You can hear Tolya pacing behind you, but still giving you some privacy. You know he wishes to go back already.

'To be honest, I'm a bit frustrated, too,' you admit and your lip trembles. 'You were never supposed to mean this much to me. I was never supposed to fall so hard. But you know what? I did and that's the truth. That's what keeps me holding on, because it hurts like hell to let you go.'

Tears stream down your face. You don't stop them this time. You sniffle.

'It's hard without you,' you whisper. 'I feel lost. I don't know what to do. I wish you took me with you that day. Maybe then everything would be different.'

You fall silent. You think of what else to say, as you remember your last moments together. You saved him from merzost. But he died anyway. Still… at least you had that one last night. You smile at the memory.

'I don't know what will I do in the future,' you finally say. 'But I will find an antidote for jurda parem. And protect the Grisha. Because that's what you'd want. You'd want them to be safe and healthy. Mind you, you'd probably want to rip Fjerdans apart for what they're doing.'

You chuckle. Then, you kneel and press your hand to the sand. You focus on the ground beneath it for a moment, remembering how you held Kirigan in that spot three years ago. Your heart breaks, when you remember how he fought for his breath. But he still tried to hold on, wanting to at least tell you how he really feels.

'Until next time, Aleksander,' you whisper and stand up. You turn and return to Tolya. He fails to mask his relief that it's finally time to go. You almost roll your eyes, but you understand that most feel uneasy here. You don't. Not anymore.

'Done?' Tolya asks.

'Yes,' you confirm, mounting your horse. The Heartrender does the same.

'We can go back,' you say and you look at the place where the Darkling gave his last breath. 'I'm done here for today.'

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could. Every comment makes my day!

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52696933/chapters/134689462

[kasagia]

I alone can see your light

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/Darkling x fem!sun summoner!princess! reader Summary: The Sun Summoner turns out to be you - the princess of Ravka, who wants nothing to do with her powers or being a Saint. General Kirigan intends to change your mind about yourself and wipe out all your doubts. Requested by: anonymous ; I hope you will like it!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤 Warning(s): uncertainty, shyness, self-doubt on 1000 level, suspecting manipulation Taglist for Darkling: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat @meadowshelby Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist

The first time you see General Kirigan is at your 20th birthday ball.

Or rather this is the first time you actually talk to him, rather than seeing him walk through the Grand Palace like one of his shadows or sneaking back to the Little Palace after returning from one of his campaigns.

"Moya tsarevna." He greets you. His tone of voice is… like you remember when he gave many speeches. Dark, silky, pleasant to listen to, you're sure many have fallen for him just because of the way he spoke to them. "Happy Birthday. May the saints watch over you."

He bows to you when it is his turn to approach your throne. Or rather, the small dais with the chair that your father so generously offered you for your birthday.

In any case, this gives you the perfect opportunity to take a good look at him. You find exactly what most people who have encountered him have described to you.

Self-possessed and mysterious, with eyes so dark and unreadable that they could be an extension of the fold his ancestor had created. Well-built, with sharp features, the embodiment of control and power. Even without his black kefta, you would know who was standing before you.

Sure, you'd had some impressions of him before. You had eyes like most people in the capital, and you'd seen how handsome he was. But he was also dangerously powerful.

The kind of man you ran from. The kind you should have run from.

But you don't.

"Thank you, General." You say as he steps closer to hand you his gift.

You smile politely, offering him your hand, on which he places a kiss. And in the moment when his lips meet your skin something changes.

A shiver runs down your palm, down your spine, and into your core. Something strange comes to life beneath your skin, some burning energy you've never felt before. You frown, quickly hiding your emotions behind a polite smile, not noticing the general's calm, collected facade momentarily break.

Your heart beats like crazy and your breath catches for a moment as the intense gaze of his eyes falls on you. And you see curiosity in them. Interest. In you.

"You would do us a great pleasure if you honoured us with your presence at the next Winter Fete." He adds, prolonging your conversation a bit.

Your heart immediately speeds up at the thought of participating in another farce for your father – the Tsar. You give him a polite smile, noticing from the corner of your eye the Kerch ambassador heading your way with his own wishes.

"I can't promise anything. I'm often away from the palace during this time, as you're well aware, General." You answer, referring to the numerous social activities your parents sent you to at that time.

"Anyway, I hope you will enjoy your gift and birthday. Once again, best wishes, moya tsarevna."

His watchful gaze leaves you only when another guest comes to wish you well. And even many hours later, when the ball is in full swing, you can't shake the feeling of being watched…

Little did you know that this little meeting between you would change your future by 180 degrees.

You lean against the wall, sipping champagne in celebration of your father's birthday. You hated all these formal gatherings. You planned to run away from here as fast as you could, to retreat back to your chambers or your private library; you weren't sure yet.

At least you had that intention until he walked up to you.

"Moya tsarevna." General Kirigan's voice echoes behind you as you eat the sweet treats the waiter brings. You quickly swallow the chocolate, momentarily lamenting the fact that you can't savour it properly, and turn to face the Black General. "Welcome back."

“General.” You nod and offer him your hand with a soft smile. He takes his time, placing a kiss on your knuckles—always gallant and considerate of you and your family. "I trust the Little Palace is in even better condition than when I left. I believe you have recently expanded the west wing for the little Grisha?"

You see the slight quiver of his eyebrows as he tries to keep his neutral face. But you could notice through this small gesture that he was shocked that you remembered something like that.

Most of your family, all of the royals, in fact, didn't put much stock in social matters, and certainly not in anything that concerned Grisha. As a princess with two brothers, you knew what it was like to feel excluded, less important. That's why you were sure to show support and attention to all those your father had come to despise and neglect.

"Indeed, Princess. It's kind of you to remember that. And to dedicate some of your resources to this cause. I can't express my gratitude enough."

"It's a pleasure to help a little for a great cause." You answer shyly, barely able to stand the intense gaze of his dark eyes.

You weren't intimidated by him; of course he was a dangerous, strong man, and you knew his capabilities perfectly well, but... you noticed more how breathtakingly handsome he was. Which was definitely not befitting a princess like you.

"Probably almost as much of a pleasure as seeing you here." You're glad you let Genya put a little more powder on you than usual. Maybe it at least covered your little blush. "We missed you at the Winter Fete. I was secretly hoping you'd come…"

"As charming as always." You comment nonchalantly, pretending his words didn’t make the slightest impression on you. “The orphans in Karemzin were waiting for my visit… or rather, for the gifts and money I was supposed to bring. I couldn’t let them down, General Kirigan, could I?”

"Of course not. But I strongly believe the Grisha here would enjoy your presence as well... maybe a little more than the orphans of Karemzin." He says and leans towards you.

You hold your breath as he gently wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb – probably wiping away a remnant of the chocolate dessert you had eaten earlier. You don't know if it's from the suddenness of his action, the surprise, or the outrage at his audacity, but you stand there, frozen in place as he licks the chocolate off his finger, looking you straight in the eye. You clear your throat and turn your gaze away from him to the dancing couples in front of you, but he doesn't give up.

“I assure you, princess, there are only a few people in this court to whom I am so… charming so willingly.” He whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you or the General can say anything more, one of your mother's ladies-in-waiting approaches you to take you back to the Queen, to fulfill her duty as a princess and stand beside her family as they toast another successful year of your father's rule.

Standing with a glass of champagne a comfortable distance from your parents' throne, your gaze wanders over the crowd. And you almost blush as you catch the eye of a certain general.

If you had known that your absence of several weeks, due to visiting orphanages and doing charity work, would make the Shadow Summoner so interested in you, you would have left sooner.

You're not entirely sure when his strange fascination with you began.

Not that you weren't flattered by that or not interested in him. It was obvious that he was undeniably handsome, that all the ladies-in-waiting were whispering about how attractive and magnetic the Second Army general was. But it wasn't his looks that attracted you to him, or at least you want to believe that.

No, it was something about the way he spoke, the way he made sure his Grisha were well cared for, the way he looked after each of his men no matter how useful they were to his army. He was gallant, charming, and cunning.

He knew the language of diplomacy as well as force and brutality, and while he was certainly much older than you (you couldn't quite remember when exactly he had succeeded his father in that position), you felt something for him that went beyond mild admiration. Something that was far from decent.

It made you wonder what had caused such a sudden change in him. What had caused him to go from indifference and ignorance towards you – something that so many did, considering you were just a princess – to actively seeking you out at parties, even asking for your presence at events he attended?

And that wasn't all. There were letters, too. At first, just informing you of certain actions of the Second Army, or your escort to certain parts of Ravka. Later, they turned into questions about your opinions on matters that concerned the court and Grisha, and later... less formal... the kind you wouldn't dare show your most trusted maids.

Not to mention the gifts. One moment you were missing your coat; the next day Genya brought you one specially made for you from the material that was used to make Grisha keftas. Did you lose your earrings? An hour later David – one of Kirigan's Grisha – gave you an entire collection of jewels that you adored and which were not necessarily Lantsov dynasty. Or the fact that ever since your birthday gala, it seemed like everywhere you went, you saw someone from his Oprichniki or the Grisha. It was, to say the least, odd.

In your thoughts about the general, you completely miss the moment when the suspicious man pushes through the crowd of people, reaches your father, and puts a dagger to his throat, especially since the man behind you turns out to be not a guard at all but an assassin. In an instant, you land with the trigger of the gun at your neck. Your eyes wander to your parents. Grisha and the soldiers of the Second Army push through the fleeing and screaming nobility, but all you can hear is the movement of the hand of the man holding you as he pulls the trigger.

You close your eyes, waiting for the bullet to pierce your throat, but all you feel is someone pulling on your arm. You open your eyes, meeting the dark, anger- and fear-clouded irises of the general, when suddenly, a beam of bright white light explodes around you, blinding everyone, including yourself.

The last thing you remember before you passed out from exhaustion were the dark eyes of General Kirigan, who had caught you at the last moment. And the screams of the people.

Sun Summoner.

You knelt by the fireplace in your chamber, your hands trembling in your lap. The events of the last hour flashed through your mind again.

Sun Summoner.

That's what Genya called you after you woke up. You shudder as you remember the look she gave you. Like you were their saviour. Like you were suddenly going to magically fix Ravka and unite the Grisha with its inhabitants. Bring peace to the world.

You dismissed the redhead under some pretext and locked yourself in your room, not wanting to see anyone. You knew you should be planning, immediately thinking of what to do next or plan your escape, but for a moment... for a moment you had to be alone with your thoughts.

You shift your gaze from the fire to your hands. Hands that killed Fjerda's soldiers, hands that were likely meant to bring even more suffering. Panicking, you notice they are beginning to glow again. You hold them tightly to your chest and repeat the mantra that has allowed you to suppress your abilities all these years.

Feel nothing. You can't fear. Fear will kill you. Fear will destroy you. They will cast you out. Once they know what a threat you are to them, how easily you let your control slip, they throw you out. You will be a Heretic, not a Saint. A threat. A plague. A bane.

A knock on the door tears you from your thoughts.

"Moya tsarevna?" You take a few deep breaths as General Kirigan's voice stops you from shaking. You bite your fist and let out a shaky breath to calm yourself down. Or at least pretend like nothing's wrong with you.

"I want to be alone." You respond, gathering all the strength you have to keep your voice from shaking.

The silence after your words allows you to believe for a moment that you have managed to drive him away for a while. Unfortunately, General Kirigan is anything but compliant.

"I'm back from meeting with your father - the Tsar. I have... some updates I need to give you, Princess." You bite your lip, weighing your options. You know he won't leave until he gives you the message. And you just want to be alone. "Please. It won't take long."

You wrap yourself in a blanket, trying to maintain the last remnants of decency and composure. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, take a quick look at yourself in the mirror and fix your hair before you open the door to your room.

It always shocked you how the general managed to maintain his... flawless, intimidating appearance. Even today's attack hadn't ruffled the material of his kefta, and his hair was still in absurdly intact, perfect condition. He looked like he had just returned from Genya's magical appearance-enhancing services, not after a long, stressful day of searching for the remaining Fjerdans and dealing with your... predicament.

"Therefore, the Tsar and I have concluded that it would be best for you to spend some time in the Little Palace under my care." You catch the last sentence and almost blush when you realize you've been staring at him instead of listening. Your heart pounds as the meaning of his words sinks in. "Moya tsarevna?"

"I... I'm good here." You respond quickly, inwardly scolding yourself for your stupidity when he raises an eyebrow at you. "Besides, I don't need a training. I... I am not the Saint you are all waiting for. I mean... it was't me. It's not what you all think. If I really was... Then we would have known sooner. It must have been some kind of Fjerda trick. I... I can't be a Sun Summoner." You mumble in a desperate attempt to get out of this situation.

You couldn't be their saint and hero that you read about so many times in your books. It just wasn't you. You couldn't be.

You were a mere princess, a point in history that everyone would forget, supposed to fade safely into the memory of Ravka's history as another in a long list of female names that really meant nothing. And you were fine with that. You were fine within the safety of your chambers and library. You couldn't be…

"May I?" You shiver as he suddenly takes a step towards you and enters your room.

The General takes your hand with incredible gentleness. He gently strokes your hand with the pad of his finger, as if trying to calm your furiously beating heart. You feel nervous, both at his closeness and at the thought that somehow he can assure himself that you are... the one he and his men have been searching for all these years.

But then, his dark eyes meet yours. And for a mere moment you let yourself get bogged down in his gaze, your worries and concerns fading into the background as a warm sense of safety suddenly washes over you.

The longer his skin touches yours, the more you feel confidence, peace, and power flowing into you, which in some strange, indefinable way wants to break through your skin, to sing a melody that will answer his call.

You sigh softly as he pierces your skin with his sharp ring. You try with all your might to keep your power from flowing out, but it proves to be an impossible task. Your powers scream in relief at his proximity. They pull you toward him, causing your room to illuminate with a strong, bright, golden streak of light that flows from you at his call.

You dare to look at him just once before closing your eyes. And when you do, a small, winning smile spreads across his face. In his dark as shadows eyes you see a glimmer of an emotion you don't recognize.

"Looks like you are much more than you claim to be, moya tsarevna."

You're incredibly scared by all of this. Because you know that the moment he finds out you have absolutely no control over your powers, he'll cast you out. Just like your parents did an hour ago when they found out you were a Grisha.

And then, you will be completely alone.

"I've suspected it since your 20th birthday, but now I'm absolutely certain. You're one of us. You're Grisha." You shake your head at his words, pulling your hand from his grip. He frowns as if your reaction was anything but what he expected from you.

"No, I… I don't… you don't understand… this isn't… I'm not who you want me to be. You want a hero. I'm not one, I… I'm just a princess. Nothing you could use…"

"Heroes aren't born. They are made. Every bird needs a little training before it can spread its wings and fly properly. And with a power like yours… with a gift and a blessing like yours, you can't be anything less than great."

He interrupts you, his eyes betraying great agitation, and you shudder at the thought of how he'll want to use your powers…after all, that's what got him interested in you, right? The possibilities that opened up for him with you by his side, the things he could do. You knew that was what he had been after from the start.

That's why it hurt even more. Again, it wasn't about you.

"And die in a great battle or be known for a glorious death like our saints? No. Thank you, General. I am fine here alone, I… I do not want these powers." You say, pulling away from him and keeping your hands close to your chest, as if you were able to hide what he already found out, what everyone in the Palace already found out.

"You are not alone. Never again. You are one of us. You may not want it now, but it is what it is. And that's how it will be." You nod, losing this fight for now.

You no longer had the strength to argue. He would have done what he thought was right anyway. All that was left for you to do was prove how wrong he was.

Besides, your foolish heart had to process the fact that the man before you had no interest in you at all. He only desired your powers in you. And nothing more.

It would be wise if your heart came to the same conclusion as your mind. But perhaps the look of compassion, admiration, and fascination that the Shadow General was giving you now drowned out everything else.

For the past weeks, you couldn't find your place. The Little Palace was... surprisingly more pleasant than the Grand Palace you grew up in, but the feeling of alienation and not belonging to this new community made you spend most of your time in a distant corner of the library, nose deep in a book, hoping that Ivan - the heartrender who was supposed to watch over you on the general's orders - wouldn't find you too soon.

Honestly, the man in the red kefta irritated you more than your family. Which was a huge accomplishment in your opinion.

Today was supposed to be no different than any other day. You were hiding in a corner of the library, wrapped in a blanket with your legs bunched up to make yourself as small as possible on a comfortable couch.

Only this time someone else came to find you.

"Shouldn't you be training with Baghra, moya tsarevna?" You shiver as the general's voice echoes behind you. You put the book you were reading on the table and shift your gaze to him.

For a moment, you felt like a child again when, instead of listening to your governesses about etiquette and the rules of the court, you preferred to run away from Nikolai and hide in the gardens or other corners of the palace. You remember that once you were brave enough to hide in the Black General's chambers. You wonder if Kirigan's father was the same as him.

"She... canceled our class." You respond timidly, coming up with a weak lie on the spot. The role of the liar usually fell to Nikolai…

"Did she now?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You bow your head and look down at your hands, trying to hide your embarrassed blush. You shiver as he suddenly sits down on the couch next to you, but you don't have the courage to face the deep blackness of his eyes again. "Do you like your kefta?"

You glance at the black material of your new kefta, absentmindedly smoothing out the embroidered gold patterns representing the sun and its rays as you take your time to answer him.

"I... it's beautiful. Although, I haven't seen anyone else wear black, General. Well... besides you of course." You reply, playing with the black material. You catch his gaze for a moment, then you grab a book from the coffee table and stand up to put it back on one of many bookshelves.

"Yes... it's a colour reserved only for shadow summoners due to our... uniqueness. Just like you are. I thought it would match perfectly for you. Like calls to like, isn't that right?" He adds jokingly and also stands up to take a few steps towards you.

"I... unfortunately, I'm afraid I'm not who you want me to be. I definitely don't deserve such… special treatment." You voice your concerns with your back turned to him as you thoughtfully trace the leather spine of the book you've put aside with your fingertip.

You know very well how little time you have left here. Baghra will soon discover that you have absolutely no control over your powers and, when the general finds out... there will soon be no room for you in the Little Palace. Maybe it would be better this way. Maybe you should run away before you expose yourself to the burning pain of their disappointment. And especially his disappointment.

You sigh when he unexpectedly places his hand on yours, gaining your attention almost immediately. And holy Saints above, it was so easy to just lose yourself in his attentive, warm, non-judgmental gaze.

You stand by the bookshelf, not daring to move an inch from your spot. When his skin touches yours again, you feel that familiar feeling of warmth spreading through you.

"I have been waiting a long time for you, moya tsarevna. All of us did. But believe me, I doubt you will be able to disappoint me. Unless you perpetually avoid your lessons with Baghra." You bite your lip, not wanting to ruin the moment between you with your snort of amusement.

"She's... specific."

“I guess that’s a more gentle way to call her.” He laughs at your careful choice of words. For a moment he traces patterns on your palm, thinking hard about something. “You will practice with me. Once a week, in the evenings in my office. I will personally see to it that you… do not miss these lessons.”

"No. This isn't necessary. I'm sure you have more important things than this." You respond quickly, panicking internally. You alone with him in his chambers… your poor heart can't take it.

"Nothing is more important than you." His response is as quick as yours, decisive - definitively killing any attempts you make to gently reject his proposal. And for a moment, for one brief moment, you allow yourself to believe your foolish heart that it's because he cares about you more than he cares about your powers. "Right now you are the most important thing for me... and for Ravka and for all of us. You should start to get used to it, moya tsarevna."

He mumbles and pulls your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your skin. Another thing that set him apart from the rest. Everyone else kissed the Lantsov ring on your finger. He avoided it like the plague, instead caressing your skin.

But it was just a game, right? So why did you feel like a heroine from one of those romance novels you shamefully read? Why did your heart beat faster every time he appeared next to you, to guide you through all the Grisha customs you didn't know yet? Why did it feel so real when it was supposed to be fake and a game from the start?

You knew the court games, the toying with women's hearts by meaner men, and even the dirty tricks ladies used to win the hearts of their chosen partners. But never... never had anyone shown you such ardent, deceptive, genuine interest and respect as he had for you.

So how much of this was a game, an attempt to keep you in line, and how much of it was the general's true heart revealed only for your eyes? How much of his gentleness was genuine, and how much was a show to inspire in you the trust he needed?

How much of this was the dirty play allowed in love, and how much was a disgusting deception to benefit himself?

"See you for dinner?"

The way he looks at you, with all the hope he has in you and a kind of adoration that you don't quite know the reason for, makes you able only to nod politely and agree to his plans.

Sure. A dining room full of Grisha. A wonderful time to spend an evening. A dining room where he will also be by your side.

The lump in your throat grows as you realize that now you're more afraid of letting him down than of a sudden outburst of power that you won't be able to control.

You freeze as he leans down to press his soft, plump lips to your forehead. You stand there in a daze, all you can do is stare at him as he bids you goodnight and walks away - presumably to his war room so he can continue planning how to use your powers to finally tame the fold.

You had no idea what kind of spells he cast on you, but it was working. Slowly, you began to fall for the Black General. And you found it both very terrifying and exciting. So much so that for a moment you forget that you are a ticking bomb that no one knows about yet.

A few weeks later, you are on your way to your chambers late at night after a lesson with Baghra. Or rather, torture, judging by the blood dripping from your hands onto the floor of the Little Palace.

You try with what little dignity you have left to hold back the tears as you practically run for the safe walls of your chambers, your mind replaying all the insults the old hag had hurled at you.

A loser. A weakling. A whiner. A failure. A brainless, lazy princess who can't do anything except keep her nose in her books and her mouth shut. Delusional little girl who is able only to live in her fantasy world and would die if she was left alone to face the real world.

You press your bloody hand to your mouth, desperately holding back a sob as you run forward to get to your chambers. And then of course you have to run into someone.

With your luck you don't even have to open your eyes to know who you've collided with. Besides, over the weeks you had learned to recognize his presence just by his scent. (Pathetic and unfortunately true.)

But you look up nonetheless and meet the dark irises of General Kirigan.

And then the dam breaks.

You break down into a full-blown sob, letting him pull you into his arms as he notices the emotional mess you’re in. You cry into the soft material of his dark kefta, holding on tightly as he rocks you in his arms and strokes your hair, ignoring the fact that you’re staining his kefta with both blood and your tears.

After a while of sobbing into the general's chest, you manage to calm down enough to be able to register something around you again, more than the warmth of his arms and the murmur of incomprehensible whispers he spoke to calm you down.

You didn't have to understand his words thogh. The rumbling of his deep voice alone brought you incredible solace - one that was both your salvation and the harbinger of your doom, releasing in you feelings that you shouldn't have for the much more powerful Grisha.

When you calm down enough to realize where you are, you discover that the general has taken you to his private chambers. You pull away from him gently, wiping the tears from your eyes with your hands and feeling even more helpless and smaller than before you cried into him.

How humiliating it must have looked. Princess of Ravka, Summoner of the Sun, crying in the arms of the Black General like a little child.

"I'm not suited for this." You tell him, looking at your hands instead of at him. Your royal signet ring with your family's crest burns your skin like never before. "I'm not a warrior, not a Grisha, not even a leader, I... take this from me. Please. Just take it away from me." You say and raise your watery eyes to him.

"I... you have to understand, princess... we all have our bad days. Don't just give up this... gift. You don't know how many of us would like to wield such power."

You saw the hunger in his eyes, the exact same hunger that was always there alongside the delight whenever he watched the light come from you. You were perfectly aware that he wanted your power. And you were more than willing to give it to him. You were desperate to give it to someone else. Before you hurt anyone with it.

"I know that perfectly well! As well as that I am not the one who should have it. I am not... I will not be your saint." His gaze hardens slightly at your firm statement.

"I have no idea what Baghra told you. I can only promise you that she will pay dearly for it and that everything that came out of her lying mouth was nothing but a poisonous lie. This old woman had long ago forgotten how to be a decent human being. Or at least a human being."

"It doesn't matter, I… she told the truth. Everything everyone in this fucking palace thinks, but doesn't have the courage to tell me to my face. I'm not cut out for this, I can't fight, I'm not one of your soldiers, and I'll be of no use to Ravk or the Durga Army or your Grisha. I'm a princess. The only thing of value is my lineage, the dynasty I belong to, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool."

Kirigan lets go of your hands and stands up from the couch, and from the way shadows began to circle the room and the wrinkles in his forehead, you know that whatever plans he had for you, none of them involved you bucking him. Or the sheer belief in your uselessness.

"Princess..."

"Exactly!" You interrupt him, gathering all your courage and standing up from the couch as well as you glare at him with a stern, cold stare—the same one you’ve seen on him, your parents, and other people so many times. "I am your princess and you are subject to me and my family. You must follow my orders and if I say you must take these... powers from me then that is what you must do, General."

The atmosphere in the room is thick. You know that by playing the princess card, you have most likely destroyed the tentatively building... bond between you. However, you come to the conclusion that you would rather have him hold a grudge and dislike for you than die because one day your power will slip beyond the little control that you had over it.

And though your heart aches with every second he gives you that cold, even hurt look, you know you're doing what's best for yourself, Ravka, Grisha, and even him.

"As you wish, moya tsarevna." An unpleasant shiver runs down your spine as he pronounces the title in a completely different way from the sweet one you were used to. Cold, forced, with a hidden mockery. Just like he addressed your mother, brothers and father. "However, you must know that I must discuss this with the Tsar before... we think of any way to solve your problem."

You can't tell what offended him more - the fact that you took advantage of your higher rank and title, or the fact that you reject this gift of summoning the sun, which he considers sacred.

But what did he expect from you? You didn't belong here. You never did.

When he mockingly bows to you and walks away, you want to call after him and take back your words. But you don't.

You stand frozen in the middle of the room, tears streaming down your heated cheeks as you sink to your knees. You put a hand to your mouth and sob quietly, turning the room into a small beacon as your power once again spirals out of control.

Your eyes hurt from the amount of light you're emitting, but you don't even try to shield them with your hand. You take your pain as some kind of penance for what you're about to do.

You know that your father has no intention of letting you give up your power. Because as much as he despised Grisha, he feared them. He would rather have that power stay with you than fall into "their" hands. That's why there was only one thing you could do.

You run.

After carefully analyzing your situation, you come to the conclusion that running away may not have been as great a solution as you thought.

It's true that you managed to cross the palace walls and even the capital's gates, but now, as you walked alone along the forest path, your courage and morale dropped significantly.

You shiver, holding your coat tighter as the cold air makes your bones feel unpleasantly hot. You should definitely bring the kefta though. It was warmer, with fur, and the material was so nice... You shake your head, tightening your grip on the handle of the oil lamp - the only thing besides the coat you'd stolen from the general's chambers. Your thoughts briefly wander to him as you smell his scent still lingering on the material.

Stupid, naive idiot, you think, walking forward. You have no idea why you cared so much about what he thought. In the past weeks, he could have been your only support in this difficult situation, but you knew that all he cared about was how to use your powers for himself...

The only thing that you couldn't understand was why he was so angry and hurt when you demanded from him to take these powers away from you.

This was the perfect solution for him. He would have all this light that was buzzing under your skin completely for himself. As both the Summoner of Shadows and the Sun he could have done a great things - maybe even taking over all of the Ravka for himself, if not the whole world.

He wouldn't have to deal with your sudden, hysterical emotional outbursts, your lack of any fighting skills, or any of the shit you've been putting him and yourself through these few months.

You were an intellectual, a strategist, not a soldier or a saint. You were a princess—the most useless person in the kingdom. And that was how it was supposed to stay, until he... until he saw you as something more. Someone you weren't at all.

Unless… unless he really cared about you. Not just your powers.

You sigh, shaking your head and walking forward, completely ignoring in your intense thinking that someone was following you. And they weren't soldiers of the First or Second Army at all.

You want to say it came suddenly, that you couldn't possibly have predicted Drüskele's attack, but the truth is you felt something coming. Maybe you simply didn't care about your fate anymore to even try to fight.

The ease with which they capture you is downright embarrassing. Sitting tied up against a tree trunk with a few Fjerda soldiers guarding you, you only reinforce your belief that you shouldn't be the Sun Summoner.

You only regret that you couldn't pass on your power to a general or some other, more capable Grisha.

Because of you, they will have to wait another century for someone who could be able to harness such great power.

As you prepare to die, you don't even consider the possibility that someone will save you. And certainly not that your saviour might be the Black General himself.

Everything around you is happening too fast for you to process it properly. One second your wrists are tied up; the next you feel someone tugging on your ropes as the forest around you is darkened by familiar shadows.

Your survival instincts kick in, and you start to struggle in the arms of someone pulling you away from the shadows you are immersed in. Panicked, you feel your heart pounding in your chest as you desperately try to reach for your light, but all that comes out of you is a tiny ray.

"Don't move, you stupid girl. We haven't chased you for half a month just to have you accidentally die from one of his cuts." Ivan growls dryly in your ear.

You feel him using his powers on you to slow your heart rate, to force you to cooperate and follow him. And while it seemed logical to you to go with him, all you wanted was to get as far away from here as possible – feeling free and in control of your fate for even a short moment.

And then something inside you shifts, like it's falling into place. You scream as pure, unstoppable light bursts out of you. Ivan's grip on you falls away completely, and all you can feel is the warmth washing over you again as your power comes to the surface, as you release everything you've suppressed for so many years.

As if through a wall, the screams of the Fjerdans reach you as you burn them to ash with your light, but you can't stop it. Finally, you lose control, as if to spite them; you want to show them all how dangerous and unstable you are, how they should all stay away from you.

But they aren't. At least not him.

You wonder when exactly you learnt to recognise the General's touch on your skin. You can't seem to remember. But it doesn't matter, not when he gently cups your cheek in his hand, forcing you to open your eyes that you had so tightly squeezed shut and look into his dark irises, so different from the bright light that emanates from you.

He sees you. He hasn't turned away. He doesn't run away. He doesn't look at you like you're a monster or a dangerous weapon that may turn against him.

For the first time, you feel like you have control over your powers, not them over you. When you are sure that no one will attack you again, you retreat. You hide your power, pulling on the beams of light as if they were ordinary string, and coil them deep inside you.

You did it. You controlled it.

"Ivan, see what's left of them and gather those who can still be questioned. We're going home." The general wastes no time in pushing you towards his black horse.

You resist for a moment but eventually allow him to put you on it. You were too exhausted from running and using your powers to ride alone anyway.

His arms wrap around you as he settles behind you and takes the reins in his hands. You shiver as his kefta wraps around you like a blanket, trapping you even tighter in his arms. And strangely, you don’t feel like you’ve lost any of your freedom.

"Cross the walls of the Little Palace without my knowledge once again, and I will order David to bind you to me for eternity." He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on the horse’s reins and pulling you closer into the cage of his arms.

You rest your head on his shoulder, getting used to the feeling of his toned chest against your back. The fabric of his black kefta brushes against your shoulders. It flutters in the wind around you two as he leads the horse into a gallop.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" You whisper, your voice barely higher than the sound of the wind around you. You are surprised that he is able to hear it at all without expecting an answer from him.

"Both."

There's a moment of silence between you, broken only by the pounding of his horse and your breathing. You get the feeling that if you concentrate hard enough, you'll be able to hear the quiet thump of his heart behind you.

One of his hands drops the reins to rest gently on your hip, seemingly steadying you in the saddle as he pulls you closer to him, leaning fully against his body. You swallow and place your hand on his, your finger tracing the edges of the ring he wore on his thumb.

"Do you want me or my powers?" You gather all your courage and ask, taking his hand in yours and placing two fingers on his wrist to feel his pulse.

"If I wanted your powers, would I go through the trouble of teaching you to control them?" He replies after a few seconds of silence. A mocking smile involuntarily spreads across your lips.

"That's not really the answer."

"And you won't get one. For your escape, downright treason, I should personally use the cut on you."

And though his threat should make you tremble in his arms or stimulate your survival instinct to run as far away from him as possible, it doesn't. You know they are just empty words and that he would never do such a thing to you. You were too precious for him, both as his ally and something more...

"That's not how you should address your princess."

"Moya tsarevna… there are many ways I would like to address you… and believe me, most of them do not even border on appropriate."

He grabs your hand and lifts it to press a kiss to your knuckles. Little streaks of light shine through your fingertips at the gesture.

"I'm still not the soldier you want."

"I see that. It was painfully obvious they were following you, only an idiot would not notice. But I have another use for you."

"As your weapon that you can direct and use at your will?" You question him, turning in your saddle so you can take a look at him, hoping to read something from the depth of his dark eyes. And the longer you looked into them, the longer it seemed you were falling down a rabbit hole of adoration for him.

His answer, however, exceeds your wildest expectations.

"As moya tsaritsa."

"But..." You shake your head at his words, not even noticing when he stops his horse.

He cupped your cheeks gently in his rough hands. The cool metal of his ring digging into your delicate skin is reminding you of all the differences between you.

He was rough and hard, chiselled by years of fighting not only your father but also Fjerda and Shu Han – all who would dare to hurt his Grisha. You, on the other hand, were a delicate rose hidden behind the bell jar of the Grand Palace, put on display only to wither in the depths of your cage.

But not anymore. Not since he had spotted you and snatched you away.

"I alone can see your light. I alone know your mind. I saw all of you and I have never turned my back on you. Not like your family or your subjects will when they find out what you are truly capable of. But your power is not all that you are. I was the first to see it. Maybe even the only one. You won't find anyone better than me."

He speaks in a matter-of-fact tone, laying out all the advantages of marrying him, of agreeing to his plan, as if he were discussing military strategy with you. But there’s something in his eyes, a spark that you’ve never seen when he was speaking to his men or negotiating military business with your father.

"Is this your proposal?"

"Is this your consent?"

"You'll have to do a little more than feed me sweet words and gifts to get me to agree to this."

"It's good that we have eternity, my little saint." He mumbles, leaning towards you, giving you a few seconds to push him away from you before he captures your lips in a kiss.

It's gentle at first, testing the waters, caressing your lips with the utmost reverence, as if he were truly touching something sacred. But soon enough he's gripping your waist, pulling you as close to him as he can. He places a hand on the back of your neck and tilts your head so he has better access to your mouth as his tongue delicately tastes you for the first time.

You don't care anymore if this is his plan, if this is his way of making sure you stay on his side. Your heart is pounding as you bask in the glow of attention, of being seen and appreciated, and if you're sinning, then you don't want to be his little saint. You want to be his tsaritsa.

The feeling of his lips against yours, the whisper of your name on his lips between kisses, and the gasps of pleasure as you respond with equal attention and tangle your hands in his hair erase all your doubts.

All you want to feel is his touch on you, his gaze on you, his adulation, devotion, and affection – all the things you've been denied for years. And maybe you're naive; maybe it's not real, but if it isn't... then you don't want to know the truth. What he gives you is enough for you.

That he sees you is enough for you.

[call-sign-shark]

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

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

Words: 7k

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

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

Part V - Beneath His Watchful Eyes

Previous || Masterlist || Next

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

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

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence fell on the room.

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

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

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

A Saint or a Monster.

A blessing or a curse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boom. Boom.

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

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

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

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

Tanya nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some destinies were inescapable. She concluded grimly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And from the shadows came the irresistible pull.

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

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

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

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

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

The softest and most caring caresses you had ever experienced.

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

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

“Al— Aleksander…”

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

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

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

Heaven.

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

No, it was definitely fucking real.

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

Stay.

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

Stay with me.

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

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

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

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

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

A second sigh resounded in the silence of your room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LiStEn YoU sTuPiD GiRL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, everything went still. Black. Incredibly peaceful.

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

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

Aleksander.

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

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

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

You didn’t fight it.

You didn’t even want to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cold settled back in his heart. And in yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☾ Please consider reblogging and commenting if you want the story to continue. It is what motivates writers to write the next chapters...

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art , @lightinbug , @kmc1989 , @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows58 @kasagia

[lupinsversion]

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 - 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧

• summary: when billy finds himself getting a call about his drunk girlfriend on halloween night.

• contains: billy russo x fem reader, partying, drunken reader, halloween

• word count: 820

masterlist || requests

Billy received the call from his girlfriend’s friends late at night. They informed him that she was at a Halloween party at a club and was a bit too drunk to handle herself, and thus she needed a ride home. With concern and also a hint of amusement at the situation, he quickly got ready and made his way to the club. He found her friends outside, waiting for him.

He approached the group, his eyes scanning the area for a moment before catching sight of her. His heart skipped a beat as he saw her, dressed as a pirate, swaying slightly on her feet. He couldn't help but chuckle softly, amused by the sight of her, but also concerned for her well-being.

His lips curved into a small, fond smile as he noticed the details of the costume she was wearing. It suited her strangely well, the costume looking quite cute on her. He walked over to her friends, acknowledging them with a nod before addressing the situation at hand.

“Thanks for calling me.” He said, his voice a mix of gratitude and concern. “How drunk is she, exactly? Will she be able to walk or will I need to carry her?” He asked, his tone displaying his willingness to care for her despite her drunken state.

That’s when she noticed him and she stomped. “Aw, you guy’s called the fun police?” She whined.

His gaze immediately locked onto hers, his expression shifting from one of concern to slight annoyance mixed with amusement. He couldn't help but chuckle softly under his breath at her comment. Even in her drunken state, her words held a familiar tone, filled with a hint of attitude that he recognized all too well.

He walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close. He felt her body sway against him as he tried to steady her and keep her upright. "Looks like I have my work cut out for me, huh?" He said, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and resignation.

“I don’t wanna go home.” She whined some more, almost like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

He sighed playfully, rolling his eyes slightly. Her childlike behavior, a result of the alcohol, was actually quite entertaining. He couldn't help but find it adorable, but he knew he had to be the responsible one in this situation. "Well, maybe you should have stopped after drink number three, babe.” He teased gently, his voice carrying a mix of affection and slight annoyance.

“For your information I can hold my liquor quite well.” She protested as she placed her chin on his chest stubbornly.

He chuckled, shaking his head at her stubbornness. Her chin on his chest, her eyes looking up at him with that stubborn expression, it was almost too cute to ignore. "Is that so? Because it sure doesn't seem like it right now.” He countered playfully, his voice mingling with a hint of amusement.

She grumbled curses and protests stubbornly, incoherently in her slurs.

He couldn't help but shake his head with playful annoyance, as he listened to her drunken mumbles and protests. Her stubbornness, even in this state, was characteristic of her. He couldn't help but smile at how cute it was, even as she mumbled incoherent curses.

He tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer. Her unsteady balance and her stubbornness reminded him why he adored her. He rolled his eyes affectionately, looking down at her. "Come on, captain. You need to get home and sleep this off.” He spoke, his voice gentle but firm.

“I don’t wanna.” Her whining started back up again as she stomped. “M’ having too much fun.”

He sighed once again, but the amusement in his eyes remained. Her stubbornness, her stomps, her whining... it all made her seem so adorable, even though it was annoying. He couldn't help but find it cute, even in the midst of her drunken state.

He gently turned her around, facing towards the car. He put his hands on her shoulder, a little firmer than she would be used to, just to assert some authority. "Alright, babe. Time to go."

He guided her towards his car, his hand still firmly on her shoulder, ensuring she didn't have the chance to waver or bolt in the opposite direction. Her drunken stubbornness was almost endearing, but at the same time, rather frustrating.

He opened the car door and helped her into her seat, strapping her seatbelt into place before closing the door once she was secured inside. With a sigh, he walked to his side and got into his own seat. He turned the engine on, the car purring to life as he glanced at her, who was pouting like a small child in her seat.

She rolled down her window as he started to drive off, yelling to her friends. “Y’all suck. Suckkkk.”

© lupinsversion 2024

[dearmantis]

Golden Crown of Sorrow

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: After sending dozens of letters begging your father to help you flee from your betrothed and his family, someone finally comes to save you

Warnings: domestic abuse, neglectful/abusive parents, sexism/violence against women, mentions of suicide, murder, mentions of child murder, mentions of getting attacked by an animal (if you get bitten by something, even a human, get checked by a medical professional), Fjerda slander, mention of pregnancy

Word Count: 4k words

Authors Note: This was originally part of A little loss of Innocence but it works way better as it's own one shot. Also, please pay attention to the warnings. English is not my native language and I didn't edit this

"Did my father send you?" You ask as you settle in the carriage, voice timid and quiet in a way that is so unlike the version of you that he knows that it throws him off for a second.

You haven't spoken at all during the ride here, contempt in burying your fingers in the mane of his horse or sleeping as he led it away from the house of the family you were promised to, and starring at the forest or the small fires he lit to cook food during the breaks.

His gaze wanders over you, taking in the way your shoulders are pulled together to make you appear smaller, the small, almost invisible cut on your left cheek, the way you keep wincing when the carriage shakes a bit, and how your eyes keep jumping around, gaze always flickering between the window and the position of his hands.

He can't lie to you, he realises. You're suspicious and filled to the brim with fear and paranoia. Whatever happened in Fjerda has shaken you to the core and thrown you right into survival mode. If he lies to you and you find out, you will never trust him with anything ever again.

Because even if you recover from this, you will always remember the fact that he lied to you when you were in your most vulnerable state. And Aleksander needs the trust of the royal family, as much as he might despise that fact.

"No"

You bite your lip harshly, teeth digging into the chapped, dry flesh before you nod, eyes finding his. The suspicion in them is stronger now, accompanied by a bit of confusion.

"Then why did you come? What's in it for you?"

Aleksander frowns. "Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why are you saving me? Why did you decide to come here instead of letting me die in Djerholm? My own family was ready to watch me perish there after all."

There is no anger in your voice, no sadness, nothing. Just this monotone, quiet, submissive voice that doesn't fit someone born into the status of royalty.

But your gaze is scrutinizing, clarifying that every question you ask is a test designed to make him trip in hopes of revealing his true motivations. You're expecting him to lie to you. In the back of your mind you're probably already planning how to weasel the truth out of him, so all he can really do to take control over the situation and reassure you into trusting him is to reveal the truth and in turn his playing cards for this specific game.

You want him to lie, and he has never enjoyed doing what the royal family wants.

"Glory"

Your surprise is like a shooting star: Visible for a singular heartbeat, then gone forever.

"Glory?" Your eyes look back down to your knees, your hands playing with the fabric of the skirt of your dress while the volume of your voice drops into a whisper. "You won't achieve glory like this. You will most likely be punished for saving me, and I'll be sent back."

Your behaviour is starting to bother him. It was a welcome change when he first got you out and traveled through Fjerda with you on the saddle in front of him, but now all he wants to do is shake you until the words start falling out of your mouth.

He thought you were just quiet because you were scared of being caught, but evidently, nothing has changed for you after he led you across the border to Ravka.

Maybe it would've been better to lie? To tell you that he was some kind of chivalrous knight in shining armour who had come to Fjerda out of the goodness of his own heart to save his struggling princess?

"I doubt that you'll be send back, your highness," he responds carefully. He never thought about the fact that your family might be upset about him saving you. They did give you away after all, and he simply acted on the assumption that they love you and want you to be safe, like all parents should. He should know by now that many parents don't love their children.

"I hope you're right," you mumble, averting your gaze to look at the scenery of Ravka rushing past the window, "For the sake of both of us."

You sink back into silence after that, and the letter still stuck in a pocket of his kefta is suddenly heavy as a bag of bricks. It's a short one, written on a scrap of paper that you must've somehow smuggled out of the house of your betrothed. It had ended up in his mail one day, either through an accident or through a servant who couldn't continue to watch the king ignore your cries for help.

Please father. I don't know how much longer I can survive this. I dream of taking a knife to my throat every day. I'm not strong enough for this.

The next time you speak, you're less than ten minutes away from the town where he planned to take a break, your quiet voice piercing through the air like an arrow.

"Do you have to bring me to my father?"

Aleksander looks up from the documents he had been reading, a deep frown on his face. "Where else would I bring you, your highness?"

You mirror his facial expression. "You could hide me at the Little Palace."

"No, I can't. What if someone catches you?"

"Nobody would catch me, I promise. I would be so quiet, I would never leave my rooms I would-"

"No. End of the discussion, or I'll tell the coachman to turn around and bring you back to your betrothed."

His voice is sharp and cold, the stress from the last few days finally boiling over, and you flinch back from him so harshly that your head hits the wood behind you. Fear burns like a small fire in your gaze, your frame curling in on itself even further.

You don't talk at all for two days straight after that. The only time he hears your voice is when you scream and cry at night, probably due to nightmares.

Looking back, he probably overreacted a bit.

The next time you talk, it's only because he asks you a question.

You're both sitting in a tavern, quietly eating together, and while your gaze keeps jumping from the three other people around you to the door and the windows, his is glued to you.

He has collected a thousand questions on his tongue in the last few days, and his mind works overtime trying to discern the differences between you now and you before all of this. Before the betrothal, before your travels to Fjerda.

"What exactly happened to you in Fjerda?"

Your attention shifts to him, brows furrowed.

"The same thing that always happens when a woman of Ravka gets betrothed to a man of Fjerda."

In the back of his mind, he remembers the death of Princess Fruzsina. How her brother, crown prince Konstantin, didn't let anyone see her or her newborn daughters corpse when they were transported back to Ravka, not even her own parents.

"Nobody needs to see this. It's better to remember her the way she was when she was still here."

He feels acid rising in his throat.

You talk again a few hours later, attention flickering from the window of the carriage to him and back a few times before you finally manage to find your voice again.

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You ask carefully.

Aleksander looks up from the book he has been reading, a small spark of annoyance visible in his eyes at the interruption.

He regrets it as soon as he sees you flinch again, his mind immediately travelling back to that young woman completely wrapped in shroud, her small babe right next to her. Just bundles of linen, not a milimetre of skin visible.

"Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You repeat, "Or one of your ancestors at least. Wouldn't that make sense? Tie you and the Darkling line to the royal family through marriage and kids, force allegiance that way?"

Closing the book slowly, he lets your words roll over in his head.

"The Darklings have been loyal to the Royal Family since the Black Heretic died."

"Yes, but wouldn't it be better to tie the families together forever? It would also help to smooth over past animosities, I think. Suddenly, the king isn't just a stranger. He's the current Darklings father in law or uncle. And the Darkling is no longer a random stranger to the Princes and Princesses either. He's their cousin."

The idea is simple and logical, he has to give you that, but he has also spent the last two centuries making sure he wouldn't be betrothed to anyone. It kind of ruins his whole "faking his death and pretending to be his own son" ruse, after all. But he can't explain that to you, can he?

"No ravkan king would ever betroth their child to a Grisha, your Highness. Not when all over the country highborn children are still drowned in lakes and bathtubs as soon as they show their abilities." The words come out harsher than originally planned, but he doesn't correct himself. "Why are you thinking about this? You've never shown interest in Grisha, me, or the politics surrounding us."

He has to wait almost thirty minutes for an answer to that question. He's gone back to reading, carefully annotating his thoughts and questions, when your voice rings through the carriage once more, almost getting swallowed by the noise of the horses outside.

"At night, when I couldn't sleep, I often asked myself if I had other options. If I could've gotten betrothed to someone else. One of the only men I could think of that were still eligible is... you. And as soon as I realised that, I also noticed that the Darklings have never married someone highborn."

There's something else, he can tell by the way you speak, slow and careful like you're holding something back, but before he can even think to push you the carriage shakes and your face contorts into a pained grimace.

He doesn't have to see the skin hidden by your clothes to know that you're probably covered in bruises and cuts, maybe even some animal bite marks.

You should rest, and he can still interrogate you later, so he slowly nods and returns to his book, his eyes gliding over the paper without absorbing a single word. His mind stays with you.

You start having an easier time moving and walking a week after escaping your betrothed and his family, but you're still visibly keyed up and stressed. Everything scares you, everything wakes your suspicion, everything worries you.

He hears you mutter under your breath sometimes, especially during the late hours of the night and the hours before sunrise, convinced that he must be asleep. He can never quite understand what you're saying, only catching a few words at a time when it happens. You whisper about wolves following your scent, of someone sending you back into the north, of shoving a knife into your neck, deep enough that not even a well trained healer would be able to save you in time.

Your lack of sleep worries him as well. The only times he has seen you truly sleep well were at the beginning of your travels. You almost slept for two days straight, sitting in front of him on his horse, his arms keeping you stable in the saddle, only waking up after he made camp for the night and forced you to drink and eat. Now, the only sleep you get is through small involuntary naps in the carriage, when the exhaustion claims you like it did in those first two days.

The nightmares that wake you as soon as you fall asleep don't help either.

You're petting and brushing the horses while the other Grisha accompanying you fill the water bottles at a nearby river, your only guard being the General himself sitting a few metres away, eyes on the forest surrounding you.

"I was surprised how much I missed you," you say after a while, your attention still fully on the beautiful horses in front of you, carefully brushing the dust and dirt out of their fur in hopes of making them a bit more comfortable, "I missed my brothers, of course, and my friends and servants as well. I missed the gardens of the Grand Palace, the beauty of Os Alta, my own bed. I missed being home and not being scared for my life. But I also missed you a lot more than I thought I would."

You don't look at him, your voice light as if you were talking about the weather.

"I kept thinking about how much time I spend bothering you, how much my own parents brainwashed me into disliking you, and how much you must've suffered because of that. I was a brat before I was sent north, I know that now, and I want to apologize for my behaviour. I can't thank you enough for coming to save me despite everything."

Aleksander is speechless for longer than he would like to admit, starring at you with visible shock on his face. It takes him a while to shake it off, to find the right words to respond to you.

"You were a child for most of it, Your Highness. It would be stupid of me to hold a grudge because of that."

He has held grudges because of less, but you don't need to know that. You're the first member of the Royal Family to actually apologize to him. Sure, you're probably only doing it because he saved you from your betrothed, but he can tell that you genuinely feel bad.

"It wouldn't be. I was a terror as a child and grew up to be a brat."

The Darkling frowns weakly, watching you carefully as you move onto the second horse to brush it.

"I was a brat, and stupid too. I heard the story of Princess Fruzsina a thousand times. I even dug through the archive to read the reports from the Healers. I know everything they did to her. I'm probably the only person alive that actually still knows, since no one ever bothers to read through those documents... and I went north anyway. I betrayed her memory. She begged in her last letter before she was murdered that they could never send another ravkan girl north, and I went anyway."

He shakes his head, responding to your words before he even realises that he opened his mouth. "You did what your parents wanted from you. They were the ones suggesting the betrothal, and they encouraged you to go through with it. If anyone betrayed Fruzsinas' memory, it's them, just like they betrayed you when they suggested the betrothal without educating you on the sensitive political climate in Fjerda and their exact traditions and rules."

"I'm a woman grown, General, and I did research on Fruzsinas murder on my own. I should've done the same with the treatment of women in Fjerda instead of blindly believing my mother when she assured me that the men in the north don't hit their wives anymore. That they wouldn't dare to hurt a girl from a royal family. I'm a stupid little girl, nothing more."

"You believed that your parents would keep you safe instead of selling your life away for a political alliance. You assumed that your family would do what they're supposed to do. That's not a sin, your highness."

"Oh, but it is!" You bite back, eyes finally meeting his. There's anger and hate flickering in your irises, but he knows it's not directed towards him. It's directed towards yourself. A weapon pointed at your own heart and soul instead of his head. "I'm old enough to think for myself, to make my own decisions. People expect it of me, but instead of using my head I follow my mother and father around and copy them in everything, playing the obedient little princess instead of developing a personality and beliefs of my own. It took a man beating me half to death in front of his men to change that, to free me of the shackles I put onto my own wrists and ankles."

Your voice is sharper than a knife, colder than the permafrost up north, and your breathing is getting harsher. Gone is the sumbissive, quiet thing he pulled out of that house in the middle of the night. "I did everything to apease my parents, to be the perfect princess in their eyes, in everyones eyes. I loved what they loved, hated what they hated, and did what they did. And for what? To be sold off like an animal to a slaughterhouse?"

A scoff escapes your lips, an unladylike sound that you would've never let yourself make before. He guesses you stopped caring. There are many unladylike noises that you've probably made while laying in your own blood, cowering from the man who was supposed to protect and cherish you.

"That's what I meant when I said that they will send me back. I had the help of two of the servant girls. They smuggled letters out for me and sent them off to my parents, but no answer ever came. The only reason why I got out is because you somehow knew that something was wrong and wrongfully assumed it was an opportunity for you to gain glory."

He doesn't mention that he knew of your predicament because one of your letters ended up with him on accident, nor does he disrupt you for any other reasons. This is the most you've spoken since he dragged you out of that forsaken house in Djelholm and smuggled you out of the city. It would be insane to cut you off now and risk never hearing of your thoughts and opinions ever again.

"It's ridiculous. Even if a miracle happens and I don't get sent back immediately, they will simply betroth me to someone else from Fjerda, like that's somehow going to fix the years of tension between our countries. I will never be safe again. I will never be allowed to stay here. I will never be free the way I was before all this. I didn't even realise how privileged I was."

There is a way to save you from that fate. Several, actually, but one of them would play right into his hands if he simply played his cards right.

Aleksander suggests it two days before they reach Os Alta while they sit in the carriage.

He doesn't do anything special, doesn't prepare anything or bothers to give a speech. It would be filled with lies and manipulation anyways, and you would probably be able to tell. He hasn't officially accepted your apology for your past behaviours, after all. He just says what he wants you to do, nothing more.

"Marry me."

Your head whips up, attention dragged away from the book you had been reading.

"What?"

He smiles. "Marry me."

The carriage is currently driving through a town, the noise of children playing and people talking filling the silence between you two.

"Why?" You finally ask, suspicion barely hidden in your body language.

He has many reasons to make a suggestion like this, of course. Tying himself to someone, an otkazat'sya no less, is incredibly risky for him, after all. It needs to be thought through carefully, which he has.

Aleksander feels like he has done nothing else other than think since your rescue.

You're popular with the people, ravkas beautiful rose, kind and sweet and obedient. If the commoners found out what happened to you, what your parents knowingly put you through with this betrothal, they would riot in the streets. It would only get worse if they found out that they sent you away from your lover.

The story basically writes itself. It would be easy to plant rumours amongst the merchants and peasants, make them believe that you were in love with him and planned to run off with him, knowing that the king and queen would never allow for your love to flourish. That your parents found out and sent you away for a betrothal to a harsh and violent man as a punishment. That he saved you because he loved you so deeply, marrying you on the road back to the Grand Palace in a small chapel, hoping that the marriage will tie your souls together forever even if he gets killed for disobeying the wishes of the king and queen.

If he does it right he can claim that your father attacked you and that he killed him and the rest of the royal family to defend you, or that Fjerdans assassinated the royal family in revenge for the failed betrothal and that Aleksander somehow managed to save you, placing you on the throne, him right next to you.

He would no longer be General, then, but king consort. Your reputation should be high enough with the otkazat'sya to balance the hatred they have for him out as well. The rose of ravka would never fall for an evil man, after all.

Of course, this plan could backfire horribly. What if you hate him after he slaughters your family? What if you don't want to be queen? What if one of your relatives manages to kill you before he can kill them? He would have to claim the throne through right of conquest, and the people would hate him for it, would turn your family into martyrs and put his Grisha at even more risk.

But the risks might be worth it. He just has to be smart.

And he'd be saving you from an awful marriage. He could be a god husband to you. He could make you happy.

Probably.

Of course, he can't confess these things to you. The best way to force you to participate in his plans is if you don't know that he's planning anything at all.

"They can't send you back if you're married. You'll be mine. I'd be able to hide you away in the Little Palace, just like you wanted."

You make a face, clearly not convinced.

"They'll just order a priest to annul it or kill you to make me a widow and renew the betrothal," you warn.

"Your highness, as much as I respect the swordsmanship of the guards, I sincerely doubt that they would be able to kill me. Besides, I don't think that they would be able to betroth you to a fjerdan man after we consummate the marriage."

The book you've been reading drops to the floor of the carriage with a quiet thump, but you don't even notice that it has left your grasp, your full, undivided attention on him.

You're probably trying to discern if he's serious, and if you should slap him for even suggesting something like this.

"There's a chapel in this town, and a small tavern right next to it," he murmurs after a while, offering his hand to you, "It wouldn't be like the royal wedding you probably dreamed of, but you would be safe. I swear it. I protect what is mine."

He watches you swallow, traces the movement with his gaze, gleeful at the visible effect his proposal has on you. He can see the temptation in your eyes, the battle you're fighting in your head.

Are you willing to go behind your parents' backs to marry him? Are you willing to become the Darklings wife, to carry his children?

You grab his hand slowly, the look in your eyes vulnerable.

His smile widens when his fingers wrap around yours, his hand moving to knock against the wood of the carriage to get it to stop.

[elizabethblood9]

The way I am obsessed with this man should be studied...