#pavel volchek

[poisonouslili]

Letters From A Disgruntled Courier

A short letter fic for Our Last Liaisons by @rotting-ink who's amazing work has been plaguing me with severe brainworms.

ao3 link here!

♡ ship: pavel volchek x princess reader (x the aide if you squint)

♡ about: pasha's needy sister throws a tantrum on paper while he is being a dutiful soldier, the aide is more talkative when pissed off.

♡ warnings: err, its fluff but the ship is step-cest so.

To my most beloved, my darling, my sun—

To His Highness Prince Pavel Tasiavich Volchek,

From your afflicted sister, left abandoned in the frosty forests of silence,

It has been a hundred years since I last glanced upon your face, and it will be near as long—nay, a thousand more since I have received nary a word from you. Each morning I rise with the sun and ask the steward if word has come from the battlefront, and each morning I am told, with the cruelty of indifference, “No, none yet.” far too much for my liking. Shall I die of disappointment? Shall I wither like a frost-bitten lily? Shall I perish from neglect?

I so terribly want to quarrel with you, I would scold you most heartily, but how am I to do that with a ghost? For that is what you are now!—a wraith! A shadow of a brother! A prince of fog! You leave me no letters, and thus no way to quarrel with you. You rob me of my earned right to voice my displeasure so cruelly!

Oh! Rabid werewolf! Rat-sucking vampire! Turkey cock! No, a peacock! Exotic tom-cat! Golden pheasant! Salty snail! Serpent in the sheets! lion in the reeds! You are all these things and worse!

When you left me  saddled in your house and rode off in your accursed red uniform, you gave me your word to write to me so often that I would forget your absence. Yet you broke your vow to me for I know nothing but! You lie, precious brother, and you should be ashamed of it! I shall demand the army strip you of your medals for such crimes! Mother herself should strip you of your rank and title for such a great betrayal against your own kin!

Am I to lose my mind along with my health? Would that please you, brother? Will you be satisfied then, seeing me become an empty husk with how much I long for your company? For you to come home only to find your sister a shell of longing and silk?

I remain, despite my better judgment, your loving, suffering sister

——— Tatsiavna Kiss-Kosa of House Aureus

To General Pavel,

Write.

She has not ceased her whining for fifty four days. I know because she counts every day aloud.

The household sleeps not in trying to appease her. The cook has taken to weeping in the storage room at the rising number of abandoned meals. 

She paces from dawn to dusk, announcing your betrayal to the heavens, the walls, her dolls and to me. I am but a person of few words. I have used them all in telling her to sit. She will not sit.

If you have mercy on the staff hired in this estate and wish to return to a sane retainer, write. I do not care if you are still barricaded somewhere or all the couriers are dead. Write. A single page. A line. Your name. Send a fucking strand of your beard if there is no ink.

Do not make me endure a fifty fifth day.

(dividers by bronzewasp)

[rotting-ink]

I love this IF Blog so much with how unfiltered and HILARIOUS it is 😂😭👍🏼

Idk how fleshed out your characters are for OLL but if it’s possible can we get intro of all royal MCs siblings (also how many are from the first husband and the second spouse ?), what are their relationships like with each other (including MC and Queen Tatiana) ?

AHAAAA! YES, MY TIME TO SHINE. OKAY!

First born: Pavel Tasiavich Volchek. Aged 32.

Pavel, or, as you knew him, Pasha. You haven't seen him in years. He went off, to everyone's horror, into the military. He came home once or twice but too many arguments has... Well, you fear, driven him off for good. He was stoic, called aloof at times, but he was the one who taught you how to ride a horse when your teacher made you too scared of your little sleepy pony, with stories of people kicked into mental impairment drilled into you. He was always gentle with you. He called you his little soldier.

Second born: Aleksandr/Aleksandra (Sasha) Tatsiavna/Tasiavich Volchek. Aged 28.

You already know them. Second born of Tsarina and her first husband. Who is now bones being nibbled on by fish.

Third Born: Aksana Tatsiavna Volchek. Aged 27.

Born a year after Sasha. Looks more like Sasha and her late father. Always tried to be quite motherly towards the youngest children, but since her engagement to the second son of the Monarch of the Isles, she's been rather preoccupied with packing up her things and getting ready to take her household with her. She always liked to read to the MC at night and would take them on picnics when the weather was clear for it.

Fourth Born: Stansislav Tasiavich Kiss-Kosa. Aged 26.

Stanislav, or Stas, is the worst trouble maker of the bunch. The first son of the Tsarina's second marriage, his own father's nonchalance rubbed off on him. A rebel, troublemaker, a lazy good-for-nothing are all things he's been called. Not that close to you, unless you've been into helping him with his... Exploits. Has a harsh rivalry with Sasha especially. He split his court away from the family one as soon as he was able to, and it's quite popular with the rowdier folk.

Fifth Born and Sixth Born: Albina and Abraim Tatsiavna and Tasiavich Kiss-Kosa. Aged 24.

The twins. The reason why your mother took such a long break between your own birth and theirs. Their birth was so tumultuous it was said your mother couldn't even walk for over five months after it. They are... Known sadists. Ever since childhood, they've been your bullies, even lightheartedly. They were so bad at times that to this day, they have been banned from the nursery.

Seventh Born. You! Good luck. Aged 21!

Eighth Born: Evdokiya Tatsiavna Kiss-Kosa. Aged 11.

Currently fondly nicknamed Kissy, instead of her demanded "Eve" (more grown up). There is 10 years between you two, so for a fraction of your life, you got to spend with her in the nursery before coming of age. She's still quite demanding of her time with you, as she isn't able to connect to the other siblings like she can with you.

Ninth Born: Inga Tatsiavna Kiss-Kosa. Aged 7.

The baby. Even close in age with Evdokiya, Kissy sees herself too old to play with Inga. The last child, that came as quite a surprise. She's babied by all except the twins, of course. She's quiet and likes to stick to her imaginary friends but does like it when people visit the nursery.

[rotting-ink]

How do the ros react to ServantMC feinting do to being overworked?

Arkasha: Panics. Immediately takes you back down to your shared room. "It's okay. I get it. Just good Lebedev didn't see or he'd probably cane you." Going to sit with you and gets you things but will have to get back to work.

Dasha: Pre-Test Subject Phase: Feels bad for you. Sits you down somewhere and gets you a drink. "I know how it's like. Please take care of yourself." Post-Test Subject: Raises an eyebrow. "... Either this is more draining that you let on, or you're doing servant work behind my back. Speaking of, all that I've demanded of you is to be on yours as I work. What's going on?"

Sasha: Pre-Tagged: Raises an eyebrow, but that's it. "Take it easy. We can't play if you're tired." Post Tagged: "...Is something stressing you out?" Checks forehead. "Do you want to take a break from the physical stuff for a while? I won't drag you on the hunt or horse riding for a while."

Priest J: Sighs softly. Brings you to the temple to rest. " This life is ruining you, I can tell. Rest now." Just ups the fact they want to take you away from this life.

Pasha: Would immediately send you home. "I'm working you too hard. The weather is making an impact on your health. I'm sorry for dragging you out here. You may rest in my tent and then I'll send you back."

The Aide: Stares. Bitch, they're not fucking demanding, why are you passing out? Your main job is looking after them right now, so they can go back out and bring the Royal home. How is that making you faint. Crosses arms and sits back.

[rotting-ink]

Which ROs have/would entertain a breeding kink? No particular reason. Just... Science, or something.

Doesn't want pregnancy or kids (net yet), but loves breeding (safely):

A Lancaster, Bryn Heron, The Aide, Riley Lynch

Wants kids, really likes a breeding kink:

L Rawlins, Clem von Mejer, E Rawlins, Pasha

Is a demon and wants that tapeworm:

Saleos, Seir, Sabnock

The thought of baby trapping gets them hard:

Bryn Heron, Priest J, D Woolf (getting baby trapped themself. freak)

Is a mad scientist and takes notes on it:

Dasha

Baby traps:

Saleos, E Rawlins, Dasha, Bryn Heron, Sasha

[poisonouslili]

tradition’s ligature marks always yellow through

I blacked out and somehow spewed even more words for OLL by @rotting-ink. Enjoy almost 4k words of madness!

This started when I thought about the cultural difference between the Isles and Varan, and how the general public thought about their marriage practices.

Please ignore the lame tree joke, I was in the plane and even when I got back was too lazy to think of something smarter. It's also hilarious to me how I just wanted to write spoiled princess mc and couldn't even do that til the end.

Thanks to lovely raven for beta reading this mess!

ao3 link here!

♡ ship: pavel volchek x princess reader. and somehow also sasha volchek x princess reader.

♡ about: (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort) a young, sickly princess is faced with the reality of of how her affection for pasha might be perceived.

♡ warnings: still step-cest. illness, child experiencing medical distress (e.g., wheezing, coughing blood), anxiety and panic attacks.

"Princess? Princess, come out, please. You'll be late for your check-up!"

You puffed your cheeks in frustration and wriggled deeper into the bush, hiding yourself further as your nanny's voice crept closer. Did she think you were a fool? Why would the promise of your checkup tempt you away from your hideout? The twins were right when they called her a stupid birch. However, you were not sure why one tree in particular was considered stupid. You made a note to ask Papa over supper. That is, if you were allowed to eat dinner with everyone else tonight.

You held your breath as she passed the bushes you were hiding in. You could see her worn shoes from your crawl space, wandering in nervous circles around the place, pausing before finally leaving.

You smiled brightly. You were so much better at hiding! Your siblings will definitely be amazed with your improvement, and you could not wait till the next hide-and-seek game so you can make them all gasp in awe at how good you've gotten! Even Pasha would see no need to hide with you anymore, saying silly things like how you were 'too small to hide alone'. You were confident you were skilled enough to hide quietly for days now! Months even, if you had enough snacks. Pasha would definitely be proud if he couldn't find you at all.

(He'd be worried, but you wouldn't know that.)

Aksana had been starting classes for nobles to prepare for marriage, and she told you that they were teaching her skills that should impress her future spouse. Surely, being a good hider was one of them! The thought made your cheek turn pink as you imagined Pasha's proud smile as he praised you. Giving you a big, warm hug and—

"…trouble…ditch…"

Huh?

Your monologue of triumph and rose-tinted fantasies was put on pause by the unfamiliar sounds that you heard. Rising slowly, you dusted off your dress. Which was now grass-stained so much it looked like a new color was dyed halfway. Oops. That wasn't important right now. What was important were those voices. You walked with wary steps to the source of the voices, wondering who it could be.

It was strange, hardly anybody was allowed near Papa's garden. The greenhouse was closed, and you saw the chain yourself as you snuck away from your nanny.

Your chest throbbed a few times, as it had been for a while now, enough to cause discomfort but not enough to be painful, at least not yet. Still, you pressed forward. You had to check them out! Even if it was a bit scary. Papa loved those plants, you did too! You had a lily and a snappy dragon that Papa was helping you raise, it wouldn't do if some ne-fari-ous person was gonna steal or ruin them!

Gathering your courage, your hands clutched your skirt as you made the last few steps up until you arrived at the back of the greenhouse. Everything was darker here, the shade of the building hiding everything in scary shadows. You gulped, your steps now tepid. Should you just go back? Maybe tell—

"I already told you, no one comes here at this time of day! My god."

You jumped, startled at the angry yell. Quickly, you pressed yourself to the wall of the greenhouse as you slowly peeked around the edge.

There stood two men you didn't recognize. They must have been servants because their clothes were very dirty, all covered in soot. Even their faces and noses were black. Chimney-sweepers, perhaps. Their sight usually made you giggle in the rare times you caught them leaving the rooms after cleaning the chimneys, but with how dark the back was they looked…scary.

"If you've a mind to grumble, take it elsewhere so I can smoke in peace," the closest person to your hiding place, a tall, burly man, gruffly huffed to the man next to him as he continued puffing from his pipe.

"Artem," the other guy, who was short and lean, looked disapproving but didn't leave as he leaned on the wall. "You'll give yourself away if you shout like that. The royals come here all of the time, one of 'em might hear you."

Artem snorted, unimpressed. "They aren't here at this time of day, Yury. Too busy practicing dancing or some shit."

"They're preparing for a ball, actually," Yury informed him as he got out his own pipe. "Word is, they're beginning the match-making for the eldest daughter."

Were they talking about Aksana?

"Ah, whoring out their spawn this early? Typical of highborns." Artem muttered darkly as he took a deep inhale of his tobacco.

You didn't understand what that meant entirely, but the way Yury's eyes widened and his urgent whisper told you it was not proper. "Hey! You cannot—you cannot say such things aloud. Especially inside the House! You do not know who is listening and the punishment for saying things like that is—!"

You couldn't see Artem's face as he was far too tall and was hidden in the shadow of the roof, which made him look frightening. Like the shadow puppets the twins made late at night to scare you when you got ready for bed.

"Bah," he ignored Yury's warning, leaning back on the wall and dragging deeply from his pipe. "Why are they bothering with a suitor anyway? I thought Varan royals married each other."

Yury sighed, "You speak as if it is abnormal. They do, but it depends on the House and whether it brings gain. Besides, House Aureus has not done so in decades. It's not a sure thing."

A light cough. Your chest throbbed again. 'Not a sure thing.'

Artem took a long drag off his pipe again, releasing a puff of smoke into the chilly autumn air. "You lot are the only ones who think it…normal. Nobody in the Isles agrees with this shit. Marrying your kin, your siblings, it's nothing short of disgusting."

…Disgusting?

The heaving cough that was building up almost burst out of you. Your eyes watered as you tried to stop it, clasping a hand on your mouth as quickly as you could. Your chest tightened as you felt the familiar and painful sensation of your lungs constricting around the air. The words echoed in your mind, reminiscent of the twins when they repeated insults over and over so they'd stick in your head.

Disgusting? Wanting to marry your—was he—Pasha. Pasha.

The small takes of breaths were replaced by painful wheezes that got worse with each deepening cough. You whimpered as you tried to be quiet, but it was in vain.

"What the fuck?"

"Wait—what in the—Is that—the little Princess?!"

You didn't have time to worry about getting caught as you doubled over on the ground, shuddering as your body did nothing but wheeze as it tried to breathe. This…was so much more painful than usual. Your chest throbbed like someone was holding it in their fists. You grabbed the grass's blades in kind, and your nails dug into the dirt, and as you felt the familiar damp feeling of the soil on your fists, it did little to comfort you, only succeeding in reminding you of how much you needed your Papa right now."

The two men were panicking, but you were too far gone to even focus on what they were doing. You could feel the blood coming out again, traveling through your lungs, making it near impossible to get enough air. A pathetic sob managed to get wrung out of you as the bloody phlegms dotted the grass in red. Your new dress, too. Mama…will be cross with you.

You heard a scream, it sounded…like your nanny? Voices were arguing…you felt dizzy. Your eyes felt hazy.

You just wanted to breathe, cry in Papa’s lap as he gently patted your hair.

You were not sure how long you drifted in and out of consciousness.

It was a familiar but thoroughly unwelcome sensation when you could barely register your surroundings and were too fatigued to do anything about it. At first, you were only able to hear the faint sound of your wheezing and felt your chest go up and down in tandem with it. Then, something soft covering you. Eventually, the sounds around you started to become more clear.

"Sweetheart," your Papa called out, sighing in relief. "Oh, my poor little darling. Can you hear me?"

He rubbed his cold hand on your sweaty forehead and you leaned into it gratefully. You tried to speak, only hacking instead.

"There, there. Take it easy."

You did as you were told, remembering the usual steps after an attack. You wet your lips as you looked at your father with bleary eyes. It hurt. This wasn't…this wasn't the usual pain you were used to. It wasn't just your body, something else was wrong. Your chest hurt.

He gave you a soft, hesitant smile, leaning down as he continued to rub your head. "There you are. Do you remember anything of what happened to you?"

What happened?

"Disgusting."

Needles, sharp and twisted, poked at your chest. A sob wrenched itself out of you, as painful as the breaths you tried to take. You saw your Papa's expression crumble before it blurred with your tears, hot and streaming fast down your waning cheeks. You weren't sure what you stammered, doubtless, you were incoherent as you tried to make sense of the pain you were in. You managed to make out the constant exclamation of "it hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts!" that you don't remember voicing.

Papa gathered you in his arms, the usually comforting action making you feel even more stifled from how tight it was. Two other pairs of hands pulled you away from him as they all argued, just like your siblings when they fought over a helpless doll. You kept wheezing and sobbing until a cloth was shoved into your nose, the smell of it sweet as unconsciousness abruptly took you away again.

You felt as if you coughed your lungs out.

The doctors assured your Papa and Mama that you were better, even as you sobbed quietly into your father's chest. You couldn't answer any of their questions about what happened, you—you didn't want to be reminded of it. Every time you did, your chest started to hurt again and you couldn't breathe. You were so tired from it all, all you wanted was to be held and for everyone to be quiet and leave you alone!

"I do not care if they claim they have not laid a finger on her," you heard Mama's voice from somewhere far away. But it was not the warm or the stern tone you were used to. That one was…cold and scary. You whimpered as you buried yourself further into Papa's embrace, who cooed and rubbed your back. "They did something, and I want to know what it is before I have them publicly flogged!"

"Y-your imperial majesty, I understand the need for justice for the poor princess. But even after the interrogation by the witches, they swear they haven't even spoken to her!"

"Useless! All of you!" Your Mama yelled, making you flinch.

You didn't want her or anyone else to find out! With puffy eyes and flushed cheeks, you raised your head and made up a lie about how they were only nearby as you got worse.

Nobody seemed convinced, but no other explanation had presented itself and everyone silently accepted to focus on your recovery first and foremost.

Your Papa never left your side, which you were utterly grateful for. The whirlwind of confusing emotion and the painful reality of your discovery would have been too much to stew in alone.

Once your breathing calmed to the occasional cough and the pain in your chest settled into a dull throb, your papa casually asked, "Now that you're feeling better, how about I call out your siblings to come here and greet you? They have been very worried about you, and I'm sure a visit will cheer you all up."

You tensed in his lap, staring at the book he was reading to you. "N-no. I am not feeling well enough."

Papa's eyebrows furrowed. This was…unusual. It was you who always begged for the company of your siblings, especially when you got sick as it made you feel left out.

"Well," he cleared his throat as he moved to the next page, which had an illustration of a black cat with a dead rat in its mouth, staring right at you. Like it knew the dark thoughts swirling deep in your gut. "How about just Pasha?" He offered easily. "He's been so awfully concerned about you, you know."

You stiffened. The cat's eyes seemed bigger, you swore you could smell the stinking stench of the rat. "No."

"Sweetling?"

You took a deep breath, the words cracking in your throat. "I don't…I don't wanna see Pasha."

You missed the shocked intake of breath above your head, too busy tracing over the words on the neighboring page and trying to ignore the all-knowing feline eyes near it. "Can you continue please?"

"O-one second, my love." He called out to the maid standing dutifully in the corner, who promptly came and leaned down. "Send a message to the Tsarina that I need to speak with her urgently."

You did not notice the worry in his voice, busying yourself with trying to make out an unfamiliar word under your fingertip.

That night, your fever worsened. It wasn't unusual, probably a side effect of one of the many treatments the doctors and the witches had you on. Papa gave you a kiss on the forehead before he left, but now you were alone.

When you felt a hand comb through your hair, a wet, ragged cough dragged you back to waking. Groggy and disoriented, you assumed it was Papa until you heard Sasha mutter, "Mother should have hanged them."

"Sasha?" You croaked out, throat raw, "Why are you here? I told Papa—"

"I chose to ignore your request," he said flatly, "because it was silly, and you're being a silly little princess like you always are." He pinched your cheek lightly and you whined, blindly swatting at his hand in the dark.

"Sit up, I brought you some sweets."

You blinked at him through fever-blurred eyes but did what he asked obediently. Sasha had always been the one willing to break the orders of your doctors' for you, and tonight was no exception. Besides, you were so drained physically and mentally that you felt you deserved a treat.

He smoothed your tangled bedhead with one hand as the other fed you a piece of Medovik. You made a noise of happiness that made Sasha grin. "They made it for dinner, and I knew those annoying doctors told the servants not to save some for you because they are morons."

The honey cake soothed your throat and warmed your aching chest, but it was Sasha's presence that made you feel better, not that you'd ever admit it after he ignored your wishes. He didn't ask questions about what happened, something you were very grateful for. You didn't want any more questions, you didn't want to think through the fog in your head. Once the plate was empty, he put a fresh wet cloth on your head and tucked the blankets around you again.

"I'll come back tomorrow, hmm?"

You nodded, not bothering to argue. Sasha always got what he wanted, and you didn't want to feel alone at night anymore.

Those weren't Sasha's steps.

You knew the sound of your siblings’ strides as well as you knew your own heartbeat, erratic as it was, and this one was slower. Heavier boots.

Quickly, you ducked beneath the blanket, but the tremble in your limbs betrayed you. Making you look like a shivering leaf in the wind.

Slowly, a hand peeled back your fortress, gentle but firm. No servant would dare, so your breath hitched as you finally got a good look at your visitor.

It was Pasha.

Pasha, who you've both longed for and was terrified to see.

His face was drawn, his expression lined with exhaustion and…hurt? You hardly recognized him like that. 

"So," he said quietly, "you are fine with Sasha visiting. But not me?"

The small crack in his voice struck deeper than it should have. It sounded so unlike the steady, unshakable Pasha you knew. The disbelief in his words cut you like shards of glass.

Your throat felt like it was closing up, swelling with a sharp pain as it lurched you into another fit. Worried, he stepped closer. But you stumbled back in fright, out of the reach of his outstretched hand as he tried to touch your forehead. His hand froze midair in shock.

You watched as his face crumbled, making your chest ache. You didn't mean to! You never, ever want Pasha to make that face again. You were about to apologize when his gaze turned cold, intense in a way you only saw after a big fight with Mama. His pale grey eyes searched your face for an explanation of what just happened.

"What did they do?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.

"Huh?" You blinked.

"Those two," he clarified. “What did they do to you? Because it can't be a coincidence—" his voice faltered, "—not if you're looking at me like this. Not if you are this terrified of me."

"I'm not! I'm not terry—I'm not scared of Pasha!" You insisted, tears pricking behind your lids as you whimper weakly. You want to hide, you want to crawl under your bed or burrow away in some corner of the palace and never come out, but there was no way to hide from him now.

"Then why do you not wish to see me? Why do you not want me near you?" He asked helplessly.

"I do! I want—" You don't know what to say, your words tasted like the cotton in your dolls, scratching your throat as you tried to speak. So you settled on the truth. "I want Pasha, m-more than anything."

His jaw twitched, he looked as tense as one of the strings of your violin after your tutor turned the pegs. "Then why—"

"Because I don't want Pasha to think I'm disgusting!" You yelled, unable to hide it any longer. You didn't…spout out the truth as much as it got ripped from the pit of your lungs, and with it, another coughing fit, you whined before you held your chest, wheezing as you tried to calm down.

Immediately, Pasha gathered you in his arms and sat on your bed as everything blurred and distorted with the tears in your eyes. Once you were breathing steadier, you realized your head was on his chest, his hand was rubbing comforting circles on your back and all you wanted to do was cry even harder because you might lose this forever if he—

"You're okay," he reassured, planting a kiss on your head. "You're okay. Just take deep breaths for me."

Once you were calm enough, he started combing through your hair. He always…he always knew how to calm you when you were upset, and he seemed angry that he couldn't manage to do it so easily this time.

You hid your face in his arms, knowing the questioning was coming.

"I would never think you were disgusting."

He would. He would if he knew.

"What if I did something that made me disgusting?" You coughed into his chest. Hoping some blood will come out and save you, stain the white of his shirt like a tangible proof of your sin. But your illness never worked in your favor. "That's what h-he said. That I'm…d-disgusting. S-so Pasha will think so too."

Pasha only held you tighter, his voice sounded furious. "I won't," he insisted with such confidence that it made you irate because it wasn't true. You dug your fingers into his shirt in retaliation. Why was your brother so stupid when he didn't know anything!? "I will deal with that man myself, I will make him scrub the chimneys of the whole damned House with his tongue and make sure he never opens his mouth again. Whatever he said to make you believe otherwise is simply not true and will never be."

You clung to him, unable to argue anymore. You wanted to believe him, oh how badly you wanted to believe him. But the word kept echoing in your ears, whispered like a curse.

Disgusting.

Pasha rubbed your back again, his cheek resting gently atop your head. "You don't have to tell me everything, not right now," he murmured softly. His warm breath touched the skin of your forehead as he leaned down. "But you must know…whatever it is you think makes you… awful, or wrong, or…disgusting—it doesn't. You're my heart, you must know that? Nothing you feel could ever be wrong to me."

A fresh wave of tears fell from your eyes, hot and fast as you finally looked up at him properly. Blinding despite the pale glow of the candlelight. His eyes had dark shadows under them, but he looked beautiful. Always beautiful.

"You promise?" you whispered hoarsely, voice thick and cracking.

"I promise," he said, without hesitation. "On my name. On my soul. There is nothing in you that could change my mind."

Your chest tightened again, not from pain this time, but from the relief that started to melt all the dread that resided in you for the past few days. You let out a choked sob, and his thumbs moved to wipe your tears before they could fall past your cheeks.

"Y-you cannot change your mind later!" You hiccuped, and Pasha smiled as the situation moved into a more familiar territory. "I-if you do, I will never forgive you, I will—I will steal your horse from you!"

"Oh?" Pasha tilted his head, amusement breaking softly across his face as he shifted you slightly in his lap, keeping one arm around you as the other reached to wet the cloth to dab it gently on your brow. "Even though you will not be able to ride one for at least a few more years?"

"I will keep her in the stables then. Far, far away from you," you sniffled, managing a small pout.

He hummed thoughtfully, pretending to mull over your threat as he started rubbing your back in that practiced way that helped with your coughs. "Then I better keep my promise, I wouldn't wish to lose the horse I spent so long training. Anything else you would use against me as leverage, little tyrant?"

"'m thinking," you mumbled with a yawn, words slurring as the fight drained out like water through cupped hands, "thinking…"

"All right," he murmured, brushing the damp hair from your brow and giving it a kiss. "Take all the time you need. Plot all your little schemes. I'll be here."

You didn't answer, not with words at least. Only a soft content sound escaped your throat, half a hum, half a breath, as your fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his shirt and eventually stilled.

(dividers by bronzewasp)

[rotting-ink]

What if I cried? What then!?

(also, yes Pasha you deserve happiness but what about your baby siblings happiness, huh? Did you even think about that, huh? And then you had to do damage control by sending them a pervert.)

THE AIDE IS NOT A PERVERT, IN FACT, THEY LOOK DOWN ON PERVERTS AND ONLY LIKE MEANINGLESS HOOKS UP, THANK U

but yeah <3

Good news for Royal Pavel-mancers, dw, he's coming back, soon, and most likely pissed off <3

[rotting-ink]

What kind of weapons are the OLL cast proficient in and which do they prefer? I feel like the Aide, Sasha and Pasha were trained (Sasha less so because they’re both in the army).

Arkasha: Just about able to use a knife pretty well.

Dasha: Has Magic. Ain't going to use anything else, but used to be pretty good at hand to hand.

Sasha: Fuckin excellent with a flint lock pistol. The only one to be a force to be reckon with with one. Also a blood witch but doesn't use it to fight most times.

Priest J: :}

The Aide:... What CANT they fight with? sword, pistols, knives, garroting wire, hand to hand, fire, they're solid.

Pavel: Sticks to blood magic to fight, but is passable with a pistol and much better with sword fighting

[rotting-ink]

...sorry to interrupt anon's martyrdom fantasies, but I have an important question: If the Witch ever gets an actual pet, will Seir be jealous or get along with it? (or do actual animals dislike familiars?) Question 2 because why not: what are OLL RO's romantic\sexual wants (you pick which) that they are afraid to admit to themselves? If any? Bonus: archival gem! baby pic of my baby!

OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT PERFECT BABY OH MY GOD. I LOVE THEM!!!! LOOK AT THAT WEE FACE!!! AH!!!!

oh god. Okay. So Seir knows they aren't just a pet. But man, if your own pet takes over Seir's favourite spot, it's going to turn into an Odie and Garfield relationship so quickly. Like, not going to do anything, just going to side eye and grumble.

For the OLL? It is a bit harder due to them being fucking freaks and proud of it but:

Arkasha: Exhibitionism in front of any person they deem a "threat". They would NEVER do it, because they have their soft, sweet mask to maintain, but god they want to fuck you in front of someone else and totally WRECK you.

Dasha: They are pretty fuckin open. I guess the closest thing is that they would adore truly intimate sex, with absolutely no pretense between you two. It's hard to get there and it feels weak of them to admit, but it's true.

Sasha:... Dude its the incest guy. But, hmmm... I'd say... God it's hard. They're very open about what they like. I guess... They'd be a bit embarrassed, but a nursing handjob? Finger/stroke them as they get to mouth at your chest or your clit/cockhead. It'll get them so pleasure drunk.

Priest J: Hm. I think... A SORT of cucking is it for them. Would love to murmur that you need a proper tending to and has some servants or their fellow Basilica members to fuck you as they hold you to their chest, cooing at you. Likes it more if you're clinging to them.

Pavel Volchek:.. Tis the incest. Most probably. Out of that, secretly getting you off or being gotten off in a public place. They're embarrassed that they want it, but eating at the table or in the middle of something public? Fingers hungrily slipping underneath clothes or groping or sucking off- dear god.

The Aide: Free use. Jesus christ just use them. They're horny most days so just fucking casually use them like they aren't even a person1!!!!!!

[rotting-ink]

Our Last Liaisons- The Royal Siblings

Since I've gotten about... 5 asks about it, time to show off the siblings. NOW, KEEP IN MIND! The MC's own skin color will impact their own half siblings. Canonly, Laszlo Kiss-Kosa, the father of MC and their stock, has darker skin that the Tsarina, and will be darker than the MC, but your own choice of color will still impact how he and the rest look. Tsarina is canonly pale as anything, so Pasha, Sasha and Aksana will stay pale while the other half of the siblings will range from anything from pale to dark skinned. So, I just made them look a bit mixed for this picrew, for variety. Picrew by @elena-illustration

Pavel Tasiavich Volchek

(Beardless. The picrew doesn't have very good beards sadly.)

Aleksandr/Aleksandra (Sasha) Tatsiavna/Tasiavich Volchek

Aksana Tatsiavna Volchek

Stansislav Tasiavich Kiss-Kosa

Albina and Abraim Tatsiavna and Tasiavich Kiss-Kosa

(Different picrews for the kids)

Evdokiya Tatsiavna Kiss-Kosa

Inga Tatsiavna Kiss-Kosa

[rotting-ink]

excuse me? excuse me? the trigger toggle?? why is there. what. WORD FOR WORD:

If you don't want to see content from these side relationships:

The Aide x Pavel Volchek

Sasha x Dasha

Albina x Abraim Kiss-Kosa

EXCUSE ME??? I WAS NOT ALERTED TO- WHAT? HELLO?

Yea? :> what's the matter? I see nothing wrong with this. I remember the conversation with the other anon who didn't want to see content from other RO relationships and I decided <3 why not. Hm? Yes? Hello?